Eventually, opening his eyes and stirring in his chair, Lucius speaks from his corner opposite the door:

“Good evening... Mother...” I pause here a moment, allow myself a sip from the swiftly draining glass – I often wonder if the term irritates her; sometimes I half fancy it does, but the game is all in the guessing – or so they say, and so I tilt my head to the side. Allow myself a moment to fancy her reaction before I continue.

“As ravishingly cold as ever; still, you seem distracted, perhaps. Is this meeting of such importance?” While my words work one way, my eyes dart briefly toward the pendant hanging from her neck, then just as swiftly elsewhere. I can sense a strange buzz of emotion about her – something I would not have guessed at in her before – still, the truer meaning I could no sooner make out than to claim the ability to sort through every thread of thought and feeling that found itself shared between the two of us.

I allow the answer to sort itself out, only moving enough to reposition myself more comfortably in the chair and await the response.

***

His words were spoken with a degree of testing and Sera had grown used to him and with her age cared not what he called her. They all had names for her and yet it was the fact that they called that remained central to the relationship. She turned from her place along the full length window, her hair pulled tightly into place at this point as she readied herself for whatever might be presented her as the head of her race. Lucius was digging and she alone had the ability to shut him down. She smiled with nefarious intent and closed off her thoughts to him, a knowing smile on her lips as she moved across the room with grace and balanced perfectly on the arm of the chair just in front of him.

"One most readily uses the term "mother" as a symbol of endearment, love, but I feel perhaps you use it for something else, no?" She smiled and let her facade soften for just a moment, her head nodding in response to his question. "I am quite distracted. For a long time I've kept us from the view of the hunters and yet something strange lurks in the air. It's almost as if I can sense it or see it - whatever it is.. it's not good for us, my pet."

There was nothing more satisfying than playing his game for a moment, her nickname a bit of a pinch to his persona and she reveled in it without as much as an emotional flitter along her lovely face. She touched the pendant. "A gift.. from the wolves."

***

A momentary quirk of his lips quickly masked with a sly smile – knowing, almost, in its extent – was all Lucius chose to show of his faint irritation with the term; all these centuries later, and such things might tickle his pride. But perhaps irritation just as much in the mere fact that her words could rankle him so easily as any actual irritation with the words themselves. His pride twinged, maybe, but not his composure. Holding the same smile a moment longer, he sets the goblet down upon the table beside him with a soft clink, the only sound to be heard as he settles back in his chair, crosses his legs before him and presses the tips of his fingertips together. He does not speak for a few moments, merely eying Sera from beneath half lidded eyes, index fingers resting neatly in the hollow just beneath lower lip and chin.

“Hmm... the wolves, is it?” His words – posed as a question – clearly need no answering, as he does not pause long enough to allow so much as a reply; rather he rests his hands back again on the arms of his chair, props a leg against his knee again and speaks once more:

“Perhaps I might tell you a story, Mother – time permitting... which, as it is, I believe it does. It concerns a certain youth who's family dwells not far from my estate. As I recall, this child had a certain dog of whom he was very fond; the two had known one another for years, and been privy together to a great many romps and childishly quaint adventures. I know all this, you see... “ Lucius pauses mid-sentence, reaches for his wine and takes another sip – his eyes do not leave Sera's features all the while, nor does the small hint of a smile vanish from his lips.

“Know this, because often would I encounter the two of them, walking alone together at dusk upon the verge of the moors; childhood companions to the end, or so it would seem. Seem until the day I heard the boy calling endlessly for the creature one evening, and I – having little better to do with myself at the time – directed my course toward the calls. But I was no more than a short ways into the venture when the calls turned to screams, and then the growling and roaring of some creature enraged.” The smile now, it seems, has grown a little – he takes another sip of wine, leans forward in his chair and continues:

“You might, of course, guess easily what I found next: the boy, bleeding upon the ground, his face torn open, throat still pulsing the last threads of his lifeblood upon the dark ground. The beast was nowhere to be seen, but as I learned afterward the enraged creature managed to rampage all the way back to what was once its home, to tear out the throat of the family's youngest daughter and to finally meet its end upon the spike of the farmer's pitchfork.”

Lucius swirls the glass of wine in his hand, drains the last drops before standing abruptly and making his way to the decanter; he glances sidelong at Seraphine as he does so, mentioning quietly whilst in the midst of pouring the wine:

“But it is merely a story, you see – real as the events might have been -- perhaps your mention of dogs... or, wolves – that is – brought it to mind. As for the hunters... well, mayhap there is some silver lining – in that we shall not become complacent after having dwelt so long in the shadows. The world is changing, and time is moving – I do not believe either of us intend for our kind to be left behind. If boodshed and strife is to mark the changing of another age... well, that would only be what one might expect.”

***

Her eyes turned the color of life slowly as he told his story, the smooth sound of his voice taking her quickly to a scene that promised a most fitting death for humans, the filthy creatures that they were. She moved toward him with intent, stopping just behind him as she pressed her chest to his back, her hands sliding up the front of his chest as she locked him to her and laughed softly before nipping at the side of his jaw.

"Beautiful story, now stop peering into the future and help me rule the moment as you're called to do." She pressed her small nose to his shoulder and breathed in deeply, the very essence of him smelling like home. She moved back and turned to great their final member, a smirk on her lovely face. "You are late."