Chapter 1: Eric's POV
I was in the place that anyone could find me at 12 in the morning. The living room couch was very comfortable and the book I was reading was very good. It was a murder mystery and I was just getting to the actual murder. Although, I was fairly certain I already knew who the killer would be, but I had to read to find out.
"Eric," a stern woman's voice said from the doorway of the living room. "Why are you not dressed?"
I looked up blankly from my book.
My mother stood in the archway that led to the hall. She had obviously just come down from her room. Although, anyone would not be able to tell by her appearance.
My mother wore a scarlet dress that any person from the current time would call historically correct Victorian wear. I just saw it merely as one of the dresses my mother liked to wear around the house. Indeed, it was not the best dress she owned, but much nicer looking than millions of other women in America would own.
The dress only seemed to define my mother's features. Her high cheek bones seemed to glow and her chocolate-brown hair looked radiant against the red of the fabric. It matched her eyes perfectly. However, it also seemed to add to the irritation that she had in her eyes, now.
"Sorry, Mother," I said, putting my bookmark into the novel and rising as I said it. "I lost track of the time."
My mother's eyes softened. "I know," she said. "You are very much your grandfather in that way."
I had never met my grandfather, for he had died a good two hundred years ago.
"Now go get dressed," my mother told me, a hint of sterness coming back to her voice.
I nodded and went up to my bedroom.
My room did not match at all. My desk's legs were made of black metal and the top was glass. It was piled with books and papers so that it looked very off balance and unable to stand. My dresser was made of a light-brown wood and looked very much like it was trying to hide from the rest of my room by being shoved in the corner furthest from my coffin. My coffin was made of a traditional black wood and looked very heavy. The lid looked as if it weighed a hundred pounds by itself and the rest of the coffin looked impossible to lift. It was easy for me to lift the lid of it, of course, I had slept in it every day since I was born. The rest of my room consisted of dozens of dark wooded bookshelves overflowing with all sorts of things from magazines to autobiographies.
I went to my dresser and grabbed the first things I saw. My mother would not approve of the outfit, but she would not say anything unless we were going out somewhere or someone was coming here. After I was dressed, my outfit had changed from light-blue, silk pajamas to a pair of faded, holey blue jeans and a loose fitting T-shirt depicting my favorite rock band. Father would definitely say something about this, but I loved the current style amongst human teenagers. I was a teenager myself, why was I not allowed to wear outfits such as this? Besides, I was still very underaged in my father's eyes despite my being 19. I knew that vampire tradition as well as science said that a vampire did not become fully mature until age thirty, but I saw this as extremely unfair, even as juvenile as that sounds. I knew that, with most vampires, that was true. However, not all vampires aged the same way mentally or physically.
I walked out of my room to go reclaim my spot on the couch. However, my mother was sitting in the living room when I came down. As soon as she looked up from the newspaper and saw what I was wearing, she pointed one finger at the hall and I turned back around to change my clothes.
I turned around again at the bottom of the stairs and reentered the living room.
"Mother," I asked. "Is something of importance happening today?"
"Yes," my mother said, looking up at me. "Your father is going to a war council and wanted me to have you dress in your best."
My mother smiled at that. "I know. I would not want to sit through those, either. I am really happy I am a woman. I would not be able to handle all of those meetings your father goes to. You, however, you were not blessed as I, so go get dressed."
I trudged to the stairs as slowly as a vampire could trudge. I continued normal pace upon mounting the staircase, though.
I proceeded in dressing in what my father would call my best. I shrugged into a white, long sleeve button up tailored perfectly for my frame and then tied a black tie around my neck, making sure to tuck it under my collar. I wore black dress pants and a black coat also custom fit to me. I hated wearing this tuxedo. It restricted movement so that I walked business like in it (my father's doing) and was altogether uncomfortable.
I took a quick look in the mirror to see if there was anything else I was forgetting. My fangs were sharp and white, so they did not need care today (vampire fangs and teeth barely need dental care and one could go a week before their fangs even began to dull or their breath even had the slightest displeasurable odor). I could forget about trying to brush my hair. My hair fell into my eyes and extended an inch past my ears. It was always a mess, but I did not mind it that way. It was my father who consistently told me to get a hair cut or to slick my hair back. Of course, I did neither thing. Sometimes I could hear my father discussing these things with my mother and she would simply tell him that I was in a rebellious faze.
Finally deciding that my father would not criticize me on anything but my hair, I headed down the stairs.
Author's Note: Alright everyone. I will need you all to bare with me as I have no idea how long it will take me to update on this or how long my chapters will be. I'm thinking this will not be the shortest chapter I post, but you never know. Anyways, just enjoy the story and review please. I love it when you guys tell me how horrible or how great my story is, it really improves my writing and I love improving my writing. Like I said, enjoy.