[Wearing]
The elder woke, and the action still surprised him.
To feel his eyes open on a world that was both real and unchanging, in slow-moving time, was still jolting to a mind that had slept for too long. The walls did not shift, they did not deceive. The shadows didn’t threaten to overwhelm. The shadows remained in their designated corners, bullied by the light. The fire crackled in the fireplace nearby, the flames weakening during the day. Alaric wasted no time rolling from the bed to add more fuel to the light. How silly it was for a grown man to be afraid of the dark, but Alaric could not yet sacrifice himself to it.
For a good ten minutes he sat in front of the fire, staring into its depths. There was something primal about the flickering heat that comforted him; the fire was untainted by modernity. The colour, too, so vibrant and alive – it captivated him.
Eventually, he forced himself to move. The clothes he donned were unusual. They seemed far too simple, compared to what he had been accustomed to. They had been sourced by one or several of his brood – the von der Marck. He had been summoned back by them to act again as Patriarch to the diverse family, and yet he would be lost without them. Was this not the reason why he had built the estate, the family, to begin with? Not only to see the growth of his own name, his own blood, but also as future security for himself.
The last few months since his return, they had taught him a number of things. They had told him what they could about the world; they had filled him in on how the family had grown and changed in the two centuries or more that he had been dead. At first he had not wanted to believe that it had been so long – but as he witnessed the technology and especially on his first outing into the city, he had been forced to understand. It had been that long.
Since then, he’d remained indoors, wanting to find his own feet and gain some sane perspective before wandering out again. They wouldn’t like him going out alone, but over the distance from his underground chamber to the world above he did not cross the paths of any of them. He would alone out into the wild; he would take the paths that would lead him to the city, thriving and buzzing with electricity, machinery and life. He skirted the edges of the city, unable to will himself to go any further. He eventually found a road that led up a small incline, leading to an abandoned homestead on a small hill. From there, he could see the city spread out in front of him, dazzling.
The elder settled in his skin, appreciating the bones, the flesh, the way the breeze affected his senses. He settled into his thoughts, and his memories. He thought about the woman who’d saved him; the woman who’d left him behind. Had she done it on purpose, or did she simply not realise? These were questions he’d asked before, questions that he asked again. His thoughts focused on her, reached out to her. Was she still here, or was she dead like he had been? He remembered her features, so soft and warm. He did not know that his mind had connected to the atmospheric buzz; he did not know that, just by thinking of her, his telepathic subconscious reached out to her.
He did not know her name, but he could feel her blood running through his veins. He called to it, without knowing how.
