Chapter Text
You see the vampire, as you always do, on All Hallow’s Eve. After the tithe to hell has been paid every seven years, the festivities begin. The fae and vampire courts mingle, dancing and, in the case of your “mother,” getting sloshed on fairy wine. You, of course, don’t know the name of the vampire who always catches your eye. Names are not so easily given in this sort of company. But she always shows up impeccably dressed, her colorful garments standing out in the typically more reserved crowd of vampires and her black lipstick matching your own. She has short hair arranged into stylish spikes, and you have never seen her dancing with a man. You find her captivating.
You make eye contact with her across the clearing. She’s reclining against a tree, delicately sipping from a goblet of blood. She returns your eye contact, and then something unusual happens. She approaches you.
“Orange Pajamas,” she says, looking you up and down. “What A Bold Fashion Choice. I Admire How You Just Wear Anything.”
You keep your demeanor cool and unaffected. “I appreciate the compliment from someone with such... discerning tastes.” You pointedly look down at her goblet, then back up at her bloodstained teeth.
She runs her tongue across her fangs and gives you a slight smile. “You Don’t Seem To Be Enjoying The Party. Not Many Friends Here Tonight?” You don’t miss the implication that your social life is lacking, since nearly every supernatural creature attends these parties.
“Oh, I try to meet interesting new people at these sorts of events. No luck so far, though.”
“I Wish You Luck In Finding Someone Who Enjoys Spending Time With You.”
Oh, she’s good. As a fae, you have a finely tuned sense of the unspoken exchange of power that underlies any conversation. You like to refer to it, privately, as your Snarky Horseshitometer. This vampire is matching your passive-aggression point for point. You decide to go for a more overt power play.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“I Don’t Believe We Have,” she responds, sidestepping the unspoken question. “A Lack Of Mutual Acquaintances, Perhaps.”
“That’s expected, I suppose. I pride myself on my high standards in friends.”
“Likewise. I Will Not Need Your Name, Regardless. It Should Be Sufficient To Refer To The One In The Pumpkin Themed Attire.”
“I shall simply refer to you as the young vampire courageously rebelling against the monotone modes of dress preferred by your peers, then. That is, if I should find myself in the unlikely scenario in which I need to discuss you.”
The music, played by a group of humans who doubtless won’t remember any of this by morning, shifts to a slower waltz.
“Shall We?” the vampire asks, holding out a manicured hand. “I Wouldn’t Want To Leave You Without A Partner.”
You take her hand. “I do try to maintain a reputation for my occasional bouts of charity.” You join the throng of dancers whirling through the moonlit clearing. She lets you lead. “Not to imply that you owe me anything for this dance, of course. This favor comes without a price.”
“Your Generosity Is Truly Unparalleled. I Do Hope You Don’t Worry About The Dangers Of Dancing With A Vampire. Any Such Concerns Would Be Unnecessary. As You Remarked Upon Earlier, I Have Discerning Tastes.” She gives you a fangy little smile as you move closer to her, following the ebb and flow of the dance.
“I assure you, no such concern had entered my mind. I only fear those who pose a threat to me, you see.”
You twirl her around in time to the music. Next to you, your mother is twirling an unknown man in a white fedora. You try to avoid catching her attention, but it’s too late.
She squeals when she sees you, grasping for your arm and missing. “Did you make an- a new friend? Tha’s adorable.” She winks at you exaggeratedly.
“Mother,” you hiss. The vampire is smiling at your embarrassment, and you sense the Snarky Horseshitometer tipping in her favor.
“You should invite her over sometime, Ro-”
“Mom!” You manage to stop her before she reveals your name, your actual true name, to this vampire and anyone else in hearing range. You grit your teeth into a forced smile and turn to the vampire, who looks amused. “I believe it’s time for us to take our leave.” You try to think of some parting jab at how she’ll miss your company, but the near miss with your name has left you off balance.
“I Had A Lovely Evening,” she says. “So, Then, Will You Listen To Your Mother And Invite Me Into Your Home?” She has a wicked gleam in her eye. She clearly thinks you’re too afraid to extend an invitation to a vampire. Well, bold of her to assume that you value your common sense above passive-aggressive power plays.
“I will,” you say, and relish the brief look of surprise that crosses her face. “Consider yourself invited.”
With your words, you feel an invisible bond of hospitality form and pull taut between you and her. Good. Let her enter into your domain, where you can play with your words until she slips up and becomes indebted to you. Or let her show weakness and refuse your invitation. Either way, you’ve already won.
“Til I See You Next, Then,” she says, and you nod at her as you begin to pull your mother away from her dance partner.
“I look forward to the occasion,” you say, and she gives you a fanged smile as she disappears into the crowd.