Reconnaissance [Mora]

[Peter Parkman]

The library had become like a second (third?) home for Peter. More often than not he was within its walls, surrounded by books, comforted by the voices of those who were long dead. Even in fiction one could find the answers to life’s most pressing questions. When one reads, one realises that they are never, nor have they ever been alone. There was always someone else, somewhere, who’d experienced the same things, the same emotions and woes, and who had written them down. Stories unravelled as one read them, and sometimes, just sometimes, they helped to unravel the knots in one’s own soul.

Peter hadn’t come to the library that night to read, however; he had a whole pile of books at home that he still had yet to read, and he was beginning to wonder whether there was a limit to how many books he could take out from the library, anyway.

There seemed to be some concern that he wasn’t getting out and about, that he wasn’t socialising with more of ‘his kind’. He could almost hear Keara’s voice in his head: Don’t go hanging around with human trash. Find yourself a nice vampire girl.[/] Of course Keara hadn’t said that, and probably hadn’t even got close to saying that, but it was the impression Peter got, deep down. There was a sense of guilt that he had remained a recluse, as if it were something that he was doing wrong. He’d always been a recluse. He didn’t really know why he had to change. But the inclination was there, nonetheless.

Except that he wasn’t at the library in order to rid himself of the friendship he seemed to have garnered with a human, but instead to add fuel to it, and perhaps maybe make everyone happy by making a new friend (acquaintance?) in the process. Jersey had said that her boss was the woman who also owned the library. Her name was Mora, or so Peter hoped he remembered correctly. Peter didn’t really know why he wanted to talk to Mora, except to perhaps judge her character for himself, to make sure that no harm would come to Jersey. Even then, he did wonder what exactly he could do, to what limits he would go.

He cleared his throat as he approached the front desk, tapping his fingers on the wood a little anxiously. When the librarian looked up at him, he offered her a an awkward smile.

”Hello! Uhm, I was wondering if Mo-ora might be available?” he asked, the vowel in the name lengthened, because he was completely uncertain about whether he had got it right. ”The owner?” he clarified, just in case he had got it wrong.

[Attire]

[Mora]

The Telepath hadn't been doing anything interesting. Those forest green hues of hers had been staring at the mountain of paperwork for hours adding numbers into a calculator. Running three businesses whilst trying to train and work on rituals was hard work. This why why she chose to close down one of her businesses it freed up some of her time, but the paperwork that came with closing down a business was horrible.

"Stupid... That's it I'm taking a break." She threw down the pen on her desk in defiance. Mora was upstairs above her library. She'd left Zara on reception. Her thrall didn't like being cooped up she wanted to go steal things. Every now and again when it was quiet downstairs she'd come upstairs and ask if Mora wanted any errands ran. She shook her head. What she really needed right now was fadeling corpses. She was exceptionally low on those, and there was no way Zara could tackle a Feral Vampire.

She pushed back from her desk and headed straight for her wardrobe. She was still in her pyjamas. She quickly changed into black leggings and a red corset, with a red cardigan. It wasn't her usual dress style but the woman just grabbed anything. She had wages to sort out when she decided to come back to this mountain of paperwork. There was a knock on the door then as Zara came in rosy cheeked.

"Mora?"
"Yes?"
"There is a gentleman downstairs who wants to see you."

To see her? Mora scratched at her chin and wiggled her lips from side to side in thought. She hadn't broken the masquerade so it wasn't a bounty hunter. She shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be down in a minute." She said. Zara nodded her head and slipped downstairs to the library. Slipping on some boots she exited her small apartment and headed downstairs. Her eyes found a gentleman waiting at the reception desk. She pointed to him and Zara nodded. She walked over to him and smiled at him, canting her head to the side as her blonde hair fell onto her shoulders.

"Hello, I'm Mora."

[Peter Parkman]

Peter was elated to see that he hadn’t got the name wrong. The girl behind the counter simply nodded, stood, and wandered off. Peter assumed she was going to get the owner, which meant that he was in luck, and that the woman was actually at work. He clasped his hands behind his back while he waited, resisting the urge to wander off and browse the aisles. He had enough books already. And if he wandered off, Mora might not be able to find him.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when the girl from behind the counter returned, bringing with her a blonde. The blonde approached, and introduced herself as Mora. The woman had that same kind ethereal quality that every vampire seemed to have; an aura of unnaturalness that in the end seemed like the most natural and beautiful thing in the world. It always took Peter’s breath from him, the first time he met another vampire; maybe it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t hear their heartbeat, couldn’t see the blood pulsing beneath their skin, forever tempting and warm.

It took him a couple of seconds to gather his senses; he held out a long-fingered hand and offered a genuine smile.

”Mora. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything? My name is Peter Parkman. You and I have a mutual friend. Jersey…?” he said, the words spilling from him in a lulled rush, his deep tone nevertheless enunciating every word as it ought to be enunciated. If he was awkward and unsure of himself, it was because he wondered whether this was wise; whether he might be acting a little bit too protective of a woman whom he had no actual right to be protective of. Otherwise, he was for once quite comfortable; the library was like a second (or third) home to him, and he was always at ease within its walls. And he discovered, now, that he was far more comfortable in the presence of another vampire. At least he didn’t have to hide who or what he was.

[Mora]

Mora found herself looking at this young man who had asked for her. Zara turned her head from the two vampires and began to actually do her work, which was a shocker. She was sure the woman hated to put in a few hours here and there at the library. She was grateful for Zara. The woman was beginning to learn Mora’s routine – businesses, rituals, collecting items for her rituals, and getting things for Olive. So her firecracker can make traps. Damn, the woman loved to fiddle with things.

”Thank you Zara.” She made a habit of thanking her thrall when she could. Praising her also, the only thing she was missing was giving her treats and scratching her behind the ear every now and again. Mora had this habit of babying her thrall. Maybe a little bit too much. Her forest green eyes then went found the gentleman in front of her. He began to speak and Mora listened. He introduced himself as Peter Parkman, for a split moment Mora almost thought this guy was spiderman but kept her lips tightly glued shut.

Jersey.

The name passed his lips as that piqued her interests to its highest. She turned her mossy stare to him fully. ”We do have a mutual friend it seems, a human also." She looked about – there were many humans looming around the library tonight. She turned to Zara and smiled giving her a nod. She then turned around to the doorway that would lead her up to her small office a apartment that she rarely slept, she used it as an office for her businesses mostly.

”Come with me to my apartment upstairs. There are prying ears, my dear. “ She referred to the humans that lurked about. She didn’t want to breach the masquerade so she unlocked the door that led upwards, and held the door for Peter, to talk about their mutual friend it seemed.

[Peter Parkman]

The words my dear caught Peter off guard. The breath that he did not need hitched in his throat. The way she said it, it was like she was older than he was, but looking at her, she certainly didn’t look older. If he had to guess, she looked like she was in her mid twenties. Maybe late twenties. But Keara didn’t look very old either – and she was centuries old. Was this Mora like Keara? Had she died and come back to life in this century, after living in a different one? Peter really knew nothing about her except that she was a vampire. And that she owned Peppermint, as well as the library.

Peter cleared his throat and followed Mora the familiar confines of the library. He kept his hands tucked into his pockets and nodded as Mora unlocked a door and allowed him first entry. He climbed the stairs two at a time, entering an office space soon after. His green eyes scanned the room in vague curiosity; he didn’t really care about what the space looked like, or where it was. He was glad for the privacy, for one—happy to be in the presence of another vampire, at least, so that he didn’t have to be awkward or panic too much.

When Mora joined him, he couldn’t keep the question from leaping from the tip of his tongue.

”I’m sorry but are you older than you look? Are you like Keara?” he asked. He wanted to know what he was dealing with. He wanted to know whether this woman, if like Keara, was against human knowledge of vampires. He wanted to know whether Jersey would be safe in her employ, or whether he’d have to warn Jersey to switch jobs, as well as warning her against going anywhere at night time by herself.

[Mora]

Mora as odd, immortality had been, different to her, She had her stint of rebellion when she was a fledgling – then she was taken in by Elizabeth Naarc a fellow telepath, she had taught Mora control everything she needed to survive in the world now. Mora had this way with herself, she always appeared older than she was – she never knew it that was how telepaths became over time, or if it was because she hung around with Liz far too much.

Once Peter was in her small apartment, office area she took a seat on one of the seats in the room. She then turned to face Peter and smiled at him as he began to question her. Mora resisted the urge to appraise this young vampire in front of her. She ran her fingers through her mane of golden hair and waited for a moment.

”No.” She said to Peter. Answering his first question with ease. She knew who Keara was, she co ran The Fledgling Foundation with herself and Elizabeth. She wanted what was best for fledglings.

”Though, she is a wonderful woman.” she said – she did not have the pleasure of meeting with the woman often, but when she did she was sometimes in awe of the elder. ”I’ve been told I sometimes speak older than it seems, It’s probably a telepath thing.” she admitted sheepishly before standing up and heading into the small kitchenette area where she pulled a contraband bag from the fridge. She pointed to its content, asking Peter with her looks to see if he wanted one.

Mora was hungry.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter stood just inside the doorway. Even when Mora took a seat, he did not follow suit. He had not been offered one, and Peter was a stickler for protocol. He was rarely rude, and never forgot his manners. Not often, anyway – sometimes manners flew out the window when he was feeling stressed or overwhelmed. He was doing alright tonight, however; the library was always a comfort for him, and oddly enough, as the other vampire pulled a contraband blood pack from the fridge, he found himself relaxing even more. He was definitely in the right kind of company to be completely himself.

Mora pointed to the blood bag in a silent question, to see if Peter wanted one. Peter had to get his ordered especially from the shop – the guy who ran it knew Peter well. Always in a Styrofoam cup. Always covered. Always with a very thick straw. He did not like the sight of blood, or the smell of it. Even when he drank it he had the twin urge to groan with pleasure and gag to throw it all up again. He always tried to drink it as quick as possible; always at the beginning of the night, to get the unpleasantness over and done with. Even now, the sight of the swishing blood, squishy in the plastic packet had Peter going paler than he already was. He stepped away and cleared his throat, shaking his quickly before turning away, pretending to observe…well, anything else.

So Mora wasn’t like Keara. She was just one of those odd people who liked to speak to others as if they were younger than they were. That was fine. Peter could deal with that. He was quite sure that in this new life he often came across as rather childish; it was no surprise to him that anyone should choose to speak condescendingly. Not that Mora had, of course. Not yet, anyway.

”So ah… It might be odd to you, and I apologise if I’m a bit too forward. But I just want to know what your intentions are? With Jersey, I mean. She’s… well I care about her a lot, and I’ve gone to great lengths to keep everything… you know everything… secret from her. Do you intend to do the same?” he asked. He could have continued with the small talk. But this was why he was here. So why not get down to business?

[Mora]

Peter shook his head at Mora, letting her know through this odd communication that he did not want a contraband bag of blood, she nodded her head and continued to prepare her own, pulling a green mug from the wall cabinet and gently placed it on the counter. She brought the bag to her lips and ripped into it, with the tip of her fangs before giving off a simple ‘ah’ she then emptied the contents into the mug, and placed it into the microwave she set it for a minute – as she watched it spin round and round. Before it pinged at her, letting her know it was done. She opened the door and pulled the steaming mug and then made her way back into the main area of the office like apartment.

She sat down, and crossed one leg over the other. Watching Peter. It wasn’t long before the questions came again. He was so eager to know the answers. She knew he liked the space of her library but she was unsure why he wanted to know her intentions with Jersey, it wasn’t like she was going to kill the poor girl. She was in her employment which meant she was under her protection whether he liked the answer or not.

”My intentions?” She questioned. ”Jersey is my employee.” She said, not sure what he meant by intentions. Perhaps he meant ‘was she going to be your evening meal, one night?’ Mora shook her head placing the mug of steaming blood on a nearby coaster away from Peter.

Then it slipped from his mouth, he wanted to keep her safe from everything, the emphasis on everything made Mora assume he meant supernatural, the existence of vampires. She nodded her head slowly. ”If you meant keeping her safe from the secret of vampires, then yes.” She said slowly. ”I have no intention of telling her about vampires, I do not break the masquerade. That would not only put myself in danger of the bounty hunters, but to her as well. They would hospitalize her – and call her crazy. Jersey is a friend, an employee I would not risk her life.” She said. ”Or eat her.” Clearly this man did not know who Mora was, what she stood for – or what she thought about humans.

[Peter Parkman]

The scent of blood slowly but surely filled the small space. The sound of the bag tearing forced a shudder to run down Peter’s spine; but it was okay, to begin with, and while that mug twisted and turned in the microwave. The scent of many foods and drinks are compounded and expanded when heated, so as soon as that door opened and that mug of sloshing liquid was brought into Peter’s vicinity, he found himself backing away, almost feinting closer to the door, desperately looking around for a window that he might be able to open and stand beside so that he could at least stand in the fresh air, away from the cloying scent of blood. His vision blurred and he got dizzy. He at least managed to focus long enough to hear Mora’s answers to his questions; they aligned with his own views. It was exactly how he had explained it to Jersey – there were certain things that he couldn’t and wouldn’t say because to do so would not only put him in danger, but her as well. And he wouldn’t stand for that.

The relief was profound. The questions that he had come to ask had been answered to his satisfaction. He knew that he and Mora would get along, should they choose to be friends. Peter was certain that he would see her around, given his penchant for hanging around the library for hours at a time. He managed a nod. It sickened him to think that he would have to leave, but he couldn’t stay in that room with the smell of blood so thick and strong in the air. Even when he went to the shop to buy his own, stuck in that Styrofoam cup, he did not ask for it to be warmed up for that specific reason. The scent. He couldn’t deal with it. So although he could be a stickler for manners, he had to make an escape.

”Thank you. I’m sorry, I have to go,” he swallowed hard, and instantly knew he shouldn’t have. Another wave of dizziness caught him off guard and he lunged for the door. He might have been a pale vampire to begin with, but he looked veritably sick as he rushed outside and down the stairs. As soon as he reached the library proper, he gulped in large mouthfuls of warm air, the smell of old books mingling with that of new far preferable to that of blood. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, steadying his dizzy head. It was only when a random customer asked if he was okay that he straightened up and managed a glowing smile.

”Fine… fine,” he said, nodding reassuringly.