In the beginning, Eureka had not paid any mind to the people who might live in the apartment below her roof. Luckily for them, their spectre hadn’t had any mind to try break in through their window and eat them in their sleep. Not that they would be asleep at sunset, anyway. Maybe she could have had them for dinner while they were having dinner. It had never occurred to her to disrupt the fragile ecosystem of her lonely roof. But nor had it occurred to her that her presence was in any way disruptive. Eureka, in her wild naiveté, thought that she was being quiet. But, like the supposed feline or nesting bird, Eureka was oblivious to any noise that she might make.
Anyway, it wasn’t as if she lived on the roof. She just woke up there every night, and was currently only in the business of trying to make that waking spot a little more comfortable. Even wild animals have their creature comforts, right? Their nests and their hiding holes. She’d wake. She’d stretch. She’d stare at the sky a while, and then she would leave for the night, to wander the city. To hunt, and feed. To stalk amidst the buildings and sewer systems as if the cement and bricks were instead shrubs and trees. It was rare that she came back to her rooftop. Except for tonight, with her stolen tent.
It was the chuckle that alerted her to the presence of a stranger. A stranger, on her roof. The only other time she’d spent with someone else on her roof was when Chad had turned her. Yes, if you asked Eureka, the rooftop was hers. It belonged very thoroughly to her. By the laws of nature, or whatever it was that had her waking up here every single night. It was a contract, in Eureka’s opinion. Anyone who contested it would be at the mercy of her teeth. Or, in this instance, her trusty tent pole. As soon as she caught sight of the guy, she held that tent pole out in front of her, like a sword. She didn’t have her sword with her. Unless she strapped the thing to her when she lay down to sleep through the day, it would not come with her.
The man looked like he should be homeless, what with his long hair and his beard and his general demeanour. He even looked sickly, ill. Eureka’s chin jutted, her nostrils flaring. She was assessing her foe. Could she take him?
Except he didn’t look entirely homeless, did he? He had clean clothes, and though he had a lot of hair, it was mildly tamed. A chosen look, then. A sense of style that Eureka herself did not adhere to, without some kind of push in the right direction. Although Eureka’s shoulders rolled, and although her green eyes narrowed, pupils widening ever so slightly as her body registered some kind of approval at the male’s unkempt look—of course wildness appealed to Eureka—he was still an intruder in her territory.
”What do you want?” she asked.
Sure, yes. He had asked whether she needed any help. But why would a stranger ask that, especially here? The wind pushed from behind Eureka, sending the male’s scent away from her. She could not determine, yet, whether he was human or vampire. She remained, for the moment, defensive, still holding that tent pole out in front of her, jabbing it in the male’s direction. A hint that he should come no closer.