Snippet #2383527

A faint rustling met sharp ears, but he didn’t move as the owl settled just above his head, apparently interested in his literature selection. It was no skin off Sora’s teeth; he didn’t mind Snow’s presence, and the white bird had as much right to the roof as the night-shaded vampire did. The kitten which had settled itself on his abdominal muscles—you’re not soft enough, master—purred away contentedly despite her usual complaint about feeling as though she sat on rocks. She cracked one eye when the other familiar spoke, though, and if cats could grin, that would be what Midori was doing just then, a private look exchanged between herself and the flying one, though perhaps Snow would not yet know what it meant.

Sora turned a page, but then marked his spot by dog-earing it and set it down on his chest, peering up at the bird from his position laying on the edge of the roof, one foot dangling off into empty space. Of course, given the way they were situated, Snow appeared to be upside-down, but that was neither here nor there as far as the young man was concerned.

He wasn’t really sure why the bird’s tone was heavy with some kind of implication, as though he were doing something other than delivering a status report. Once, he would have blown off the information as though he didn’t need it, but he supposed if he was to try to be a friend again, it was the kind of thing he wanted—needed, really—to know. He nodded, the motion further splaying his shaggy, ink-dark hair on the grey stone beneath him.

“It may have been a while since I last had a friend,” he replied, “but even I remember that they don’t always have to say thanks.” Especially not for the weird, slightly-uncomfortable stuff, like taking your friend’s blood because you had no other choice. Hell, it probably didn’t even taste good, not that he would have any idea. It was just that he supposed that by now it must be as sour as the rest of him.

In his head, Midori laughed. It doesn’t work quite like that, she told him mentally, and he replied with an equally-mental shrug. “It’s… good that she’s feeling better, though.” The words didn’t feel quite right on his tongue, as though they weren’t quite what he wanted to say, and his tone was a little tentative, a stark contrast from its usual brashness. The whole business was just odd, and he wasn’t really sure of himself in waters such as these ones. He’d had all of three friends in his life, and two of them were dead. None of them were his own age. Hopefully, it was just like learning to swim—best done with as little warning as possible.

This time, the cat’s raspy chuckles were not only in his head. Opening both eyes to the world, she sat up, yawning and arching her back in a uniquely-feline manner. Settling herself back down, she locked eyes with the other familiar over Sora’s head. “He doesn’t know,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “His family was never keen to teach him blood lore. They’d rather he learn to starve and never know the taste of it.” It made arranging certain private affairs for him all the easier. Midori was not so adamant as Snow about the situation, but she did think it would do him some good to rebel truly from the remnants of his family, not merely follow their wishes in his own way. She found the rest of them to be awfully thin-blooded and weak-willed compared to her master, but then so was most everyone else, not that’s she’d ever tell him that.

”So I’m afraid you’ll have to be much more direct if you wish to convey your point. Personally, I find it much more amusing to watch him squirm.” The youth rolled his eyes. She’d always been like that, damn finicky creature.

“The Hell are you talking about? Tell me or shut up about it, Midori. I don’t need your shit.”