Chapter Text
A soft breeze blew in from the open window nearby, rustling the drawn curtains ever so slightly. The sun reached in, leaning across the small windowsill and past a small glass vase. It's light befalling over onto the wooden floor, illuminating the microscopic white speckles and tiny hairs which floated around.
Dust, which was soon disturbed for someone had walked right through that warm yellow light. Pants swishing with each movement around black leather boots. Their heels clacking against the recently swept over floors.
Blue hands reached down and grasped a set of papers. The writing on them messy, almost ineligible, and definitely rather childish.
Or, well, were actually written by a child.
Sage, as he went by during the open hours of his library, flipped through each flimsy piece of paper. The loose leaf feel of them making him almost wince from how thin they were. Just one wrong move, and you'd rip the poor things without a second thought. He set them back into the order he had found them in, tapping the pages against the table to straighten them out. Looking to the top left corner, he spotted a name.
'Strawberry'
He turned and made quick steps towards the front desk, which was settled just before the front entrance to the library. The area was lightly illuminated by the light which shone through the glass of the doors, with a nearby umbrella holder just in front for anyone who needed to set a parasol down. Slipping just behind it, he crouched down and hummed.
Then grabbed hold of one of the drawer handles and pulled it open. Reaching up to his desk for a paper clip before setting the notes gently down into the partially empty drawer.
Surely, the child who left these notes would come back for them. They did look rather important.
"Ah, Sage." A warm voice called from above of him. Light and soft like the clouds which floated overhead. "I do hope I caught you at a good time."
With a jolt, Sage got to his feet and brushed his bangs back. The white locks becoming just a hint neater. "Pure Vanilla!- ahem, Pure Vanilla." He brushed down his blue pinstriped vest and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a golden pocket watch. "I was thinking you weren't gonna show today. You're at least an hour later than you usually are."
Pure Vanilla shook his head, and with it his long blonde hair draped further over his shoulder. Dripping down it like honey drizzled over a pastry. "I'm so sorry my friend," he apologized, opening his eyes and turning his lazy day smile into that of a pursed pout.
"No worries! I thought I had lost track of time in full honesty- which I did indeed do. I was just about to go on my third break of the day before you showed." Sage waved a hand, walking around the front desk and tucking his watch back into his pocket. "And since I missed my lunch, I guess I could extend my fifteen minutes into perhaps... the rest of the day?"
That returned that sunny smile to his dear friend's face. "You spoil me, Sage."
A soft blush was dusted over Sage's cheeks, and he bashfully looked towards Vanilla's shoulder to avoid eye contact. Idly pulling at the cuff of one of his white sleeves. "It's nothing, really. Today's been a slow day. I think I can be kind to myself and close a bit earlier than usual."
With a light giggle, a white gloved hand reached down and gently grasped one of his wrists. Stopping his fidgeting, and also now rubbing a thumb back and forth just under the cuff.
Sage's blush deepened.
"Well, let us not waste another moment of light, now should we?" Vanilla raised his other hand, reaching up to adjust the pale white sunhat he had draped over his head. A golden ribbon tied around the crown with a Vanilla orchid tucked right where the knot laid. "You know how the night can be with the recent sightings."
A nod, Sage finally met his friend's face once his heart had properly settled in his chest. "I've been keeping up with that, passively, but nothing too intense. It's just another Vampire of the year."
"Still, I do worry for your safety, Sage."
"I promise, I'm doing all I should to keep safe."
"You have new wards put up, yes?"
"First thing this morning, Vanilla!"
That got him furrowed brows and a fondness filled sigh. Vanilla shook his head, adjusting the golden bow which rested just on his chest. It held the light, white, flowy shawl he had draped over his shoulders in place. "You treat Vampire sightings so casually..." Another shake, and he stepped forward. The dress he wore just barely brushing against the wooden flooring as his dark brown flats poked out from just underneath.
Sage was quick to match Vanilla's pace and walk beside him. The sound of clacking heels transitioning to a soft crunch when put against dirt roads. Before he followed any further, he turned and grabbed the sign, which sat on the bench just beside the front doors. His free hand already locking up the place and testing the knob.
He then hung the sign on both handles, and returned to following after his dear friend.
"Oh, well. This one has been around for what feels like longer that most, I won't lie. When the first notices of people going missing started up about mid last year, I had already clocked it-" He started up, a rant quick to boil over the rim of the pot.
Thank goodness Vanilla was such a good listener.
"-So I had started doing the safety preparations long before the official word was put out. Garlic near all possible entrances to the home, hidden stakes in places you'd find yourself most vulnerable, and putting up fresh wards once every week. Really, Vanilla. I know what I'm doing. I promise you, and if I may lie then may the saints above strike me down!" He threw a hand up, splaying it out with flare. It was quick to fall back down and have it's thumb tucked into his pants. "Though- before you say anything... I do appreciate you checking in on me every time you come to town, my friend."
It seemed that eased whatever was troubling his poor Vanilla, and the taller gave a soft jolt of a nod. "I'm glad."
The amount of people which passed by them had grown in number, for the two had idly walked towards the main farmers market of the town. One man would holler about his crop, and then a woman just two stalls down, and across the main road would be hollering about how hers were better. It would domino down before it would domino back up.
A man-made echo.
Sage darted off to the side and grabbed out a card from his pocket. A 'Exchanger' stood before him. Reaching out he slid his card into the gap, and then spun the wheel just off to the side until the number '150' sat right next to where he put his card. Gears and steam puffed out from the machine, with the metal sound of coins hitting it's shell, and sliding down from top to bottom. He tapped his foot against the ground, already growing impatient. With a click, the rest of his card was sucked into the machine and a few clicking pops were heard.
His new found coins landed in the deposit, and then a new card slid out from the gap just above the one he slid his old into. Sage tucked the coins into his coin purse and grabbed his card. Looking at where the holes were punched in now.
"Hm..." Now his card only held two 100s, four 10s, six 5s, and seven 1s.
"Is everything alright?" A shaded tan face was suddenly in his peripheral, and Sage jolted to the side. He then settled, like a cat flattening down it's fur, and shrugged.
"Just a little low on coins. It's nothing really."
"Oh, I could lend you some."
"No, no! I want this to be my treat. You always tend to pay when we head out."
"Alright."
There was hint of cheekiness to that soft grin, and already Sage was preparing himself to find a set of five 100s tucked into his rear pocket that he swore weren't there before.
For all his honesty, Vanilla sure could be sly when he wanted to be. "Alright my ass."
A chuckle sounded out into the already noise cluttered market. Becoming one with the sea of voices. The pair descended into it's clashing waves and went forth.
Perhaps they would return with treasure, or something akin to it. Each trip into this place always pulled them here and there.
It was often Sage would end up with a handful of trinkets, and Vanilla would be pressed up to his side teasing him for his poor impulse control. He'd then retort about the other's poor eyesight, and get a light shove which really didn't do anything.
But today it seemed to he had his head screwed on.
The two ended up standing before a bread stall, the smells billowing out from the oven set up in the far corner. A younger person was in the back working on the dough, while an older man stood before the two of them. His arm was outstretched, faint dark brown hairs lining the upper half of his dark brown arms. "I really do suggest the flour dusted logs, they're my kiddo's own recipe an' it's pretty damn good!"
"I do think I'll get a quarter cut of that log, also, do you happen to have any gluten free options?" Sage pondered, watching the man place the loaf on the cutting board just off to the side. "My friend here-"
"Oh, Sage. You really don't have to."
"But I want to. So many times we head out and many times it ends with me stuffed, and you with but a cup to drink."
"I have much food at home, you focus on yourself."
"Vanilla..."
The man chuckled, "You two bicker like me an' my wife used to-" Sage was quick to slap a hand over his face and look off to the side. "-We do have gluten free options over there. Already precut an' separated from the bread with gluten as to not cross contaminate." To the far right, baskets of precut, wrapped, bread sat. Neatly piled up, and with a few wooden signs to inform shoppers they were without gluten.
Sage side glanced over at Vanilla who gave a soft huff. He got one cut of the gluten, for if he dared get two he'd probably never hear the end of it from Vanilla, and the pair said their goodbyes to the shopkeeper.
It wasn't long until they walked right back out the way they had come in. Deep into conversation with each of their loaves tucked into their arms with care. Dirt roads and pathways were replaced with brick stones once they took a turn around the corner store at the end of the street. An unfinished town project, which remained as such until the next fundraiser for stoned over roads started back up again. Possibly next year's spring, or the upcoming late winter this year.
As per-usual, they ended up walking to the block right before the theater. It's where Vanilla usually caught a cab to head back to his village, and Sage stood for a bit before slinking off to his second place of work. The sun was casting the sky into a warm red orange glow, and made everything seem a bit more saturated than usual.
"Lets see how many you managed to sneak into my pocket this time..." Sage's soft grumble was followed by warm chuckles.
"No, no... I didn't tuck anything away in your pockets."
"You, my friend, are a horrible liar."
"Just shows how often I tell the truth."
As expected, five 100s. All ready to be inserted into an 'Exchanger' and applied to his card.
A gloved hand reached out to curl blue fingers back over the silver coins. As if tucking them away like children. "I have plenty to go, I promise. This is for you paying for this bread for me."
"Pure Vanilla..." That probably wasn't all.
Definitely.
Many times had he given the man before him tickets. Tickets to shows at the theater. Tickets to shows he personally had written, directed, and performed in. Yet, Vanilla didn't know that, and believed him to be a simple person on tech. It was Sage's doing, for he took great lengths to make sure his morning, evening, and night lives all remained rather separate-
"Keep them, or you'll find ten 100s in your pocket the next time we meet."
-for it would be quite the trouble to try and keep adoring fans quiet and respectful in his library, and he'd rather not have unexpected visitors to his house of residence-
"...ff-fine. I'll keep the damn silver."
"I'm glad."
-but also because he didn't want his supposed fame to get in the way of his and Vanilla's friendship.
Didn't want the man he'd fallen rather head over heels for to have his affections, well, affected by such a status.
Though, perhaps this lying was for naught.
"Ah, there's the cab." Vanilla reached a hand out and the cab slowed to a stop. Engine growling, and the driver leaning over to crank down the window.
Sage watched as the blonde stepped into the back seat, brushing down his dress and giving him one last look.
He waved, and of course Sage waved back.
The cab drove off.
Blue hands unfurled and looked down at the money, breathing in and out.
It was part of an apology Pure Vanilla was sure to continue performing in the next two days. For every time Sage had invited the other man to his shows.
Not once had he shown.
== ✶ ==
"Hmph, not tall enough..." A fabric framed hand had lifted up to idly measure the height of the woman who stood before him. The sleeves of his deep V-neck shirt were loose, and dangled around his arms like water, slightly cinched just above the elbow. Blue eyes of different shades squinted from heavy judgement. "Although... You and your twin sister are practically perfect say for just this One thing."
He could see the individual droplets of sweat, the twitch of fairy wings, and the slight tremor of hands under the lights which shone from above the auditorium. They flickered, every now and then, but never fully went out. Making sure those under the watchful eye of the Director didn't get a moment's peace.
"How do you feel about heels?" Shadow Milk clapped his hands together with a sharp SLAP.
His grin pricked up a bit when he saw the woman flinch, but she seemed to raise herself a bit higher to make up for it. Something he mentally noted down, and added more points to her and her sister. "I've gone as high as three inches, Director!" She looked to her side at her twin, "And she's done four!"
Another long hum, smile dropping. Hand on his chin, and inspecting.
Any move and the tension in the air would snap.
You'd think he was sending these people to war!
"Can you do four by the time of the callback auditions?" Shadow Milk slowly purred out.
The woman gave a jolt of a nod.
He straightened back up and gave her a pat on her shoulder. "Alrighty! You two can show your just wonderful faces here next week! Don't you dare take my kindness for granted... OUT, you two!"
With that he moved on, ignoring the two sisters' choked out gasps and wailed out cries. Fairy wings fluttered on their backs as their shoes thudded against the stage floor. The melody of a native tongue slipped out as they descended from the stage, and down the aisles of the auditorium.
The amount of enthusiasm and excitement they had made Shadow Milk want to cringe, roll his head back, and sneer.
Which he did do, he was The Shadow Milk after all! He could do whatever his cruel little heart could wish for. It was in the job description.
He didn't grace the next two auditioners with even a breath of his air, simply waving a hand to shoo the useless gnats away. They knew that he knew that he didn't want them the moment they opened their mouths during their auditions. It was a damn grace Shadow Milk had even humored such idiocy in his theater.
Then, came the man he thought had talent but really was just an average joe. Whatever flare he came into this theater with had long since rubbed off. Like fake gold paint chipping off a rusted metal block. A complete waste of his time, and the time of those who actually had talent.
"You, my dear, are cut." Shadow Milk snapped.
It was a mercy he simply waved the last two away.
It got personal when he himself told an auditioner to fuck off.
"Don't 'awww' and 'ooohhh' just yet! You've already done enough yowling for my attention- which, spoilers my dear, only makes you look like a desperate fool. I almost could've fallen for your little act and ruined my magnum opus, yet to come, and it would've been all your fault." He huffed, turning to the side and started 'examining' his nails. More interested in it than the person before him. "But I've been in this business for soo long, I tend to pick out the jokers before they could spoil my deck."
What was his name? Worm something? Spanworm? Dullworm? Waste of his time Worm?
Really, why was he even trying to think of names? He rarely ever reads any of them as to make sure his judgment stays unbiased.
Well, a pinch more unbiased than he usually has it.
The bar wasn't even visible, it was pits deep.
He rolled his head to the side, boring his pupils into the worm's eyes. A huff of a groan leaving his throat. "I think you should stick to what you're good at." His tone held onto it's mockery with an iron grip. Words drenched in molded sweet syrup to make the venom's upcoming bite all the better. "Being a joke."
With that, he waved his hand, and then brushed down the side of the bell-bottom pants he wore. The knees decorated with a single sharp blue diamond. The rest was pitch black.
Shadow Milk stepped forward, ready to greet the next one in line with a joyous exclamation!
Only to feel the tips of his long black, and blue hair get snagged back. His head tilted up, and he bit back a yelp. Quick to turn around and pry off the hands of whoever dared to touch it. His heels hit the floor with the noise of a whip. He threw his arm up as the hand attached to that worm went with it. "Don't Touch Me!"
"I'll do what I like!" Was shouted back at him, and next thing Shadow Milk knew he was grabbing onto arms and holding back a spitting beast. He curled his lip back into a snarl when a stray hand slid across his face, and smeared the make-up he put on tonight. The white diamond he had painted over his face with such practiced care was now RUINED. Blush, ruined, and now a bit of his eyeliner, also ruined.
Another arm managed to reach him, and pull a bit of his hair. He squawked- oh how Embarrassing!- and shielded his face for a moment.
"You hypercritical snob! I worked my ass off today just to impress you, and this is the thanks I get?!" Spit hit his wrist, and oh saints he already felt the nausea growing. "Get off your stupid high horse! You aren't any bigger than anyone of us- better yet! Without those fancy heels you wear I bet you'd be about an good lot shorter than most! How about you come down to my level!? Go and work your ass into the ground only to be called a JOKE!"
A nearby auditioner ran up and latched onto the raging worm's shoulders, attempting to pull him off Shadow Milk. The others still in line merely stepped back, and watched with widened eyes and whispered murmurs. Gawking at what was happening.
It sure was the spectacle to end the evening on.
Digging his nails into the angry man's chest, Shadow Milk put all his weight into his shove. Quick to step back as the auditioner holding onto that Worm apprehended him. He turned his head away, pulling out his compact mirror and eying his face.
Fingers trembled over his cheek, just beneath his right eye- shit his scar, it was so faintly visible- and he slammed the compact closed. Head snapping back to the man now held in place.
Each step he took was measured and sharp, akin to a butcher's blade going up and down. Shadow Milk got right up into the man's face. With a deep inhale of breath, he billowed out warm anger filled air right at it. Voice lowered into a shaking growl.
"get the fuck out of this theater, and never come back. You, are not welcome here ANY-longer."
A blur of black and purple appeared behind the auditioner and disgusting Worm. Black Sapphire, his most trusted production manager right on the case. He would've preferred to have had the younger man show up earlier, but alas, better late than never.
"What-"
"Sapphire, escort this man out." Shadow Milk straightened up, and smoothed back his hair.
Breath in, breath out.
"Of course, Director." Sapphire gave a curt bow of his head, and then got right to it.
Arms clad in a black button up shirt, with gem purple embroidery, replaced the arms of the auditioner. The worm and Sapphire walked off the stage, towards the front exit. The former struggling every now and then, but Sapphire was anything but someone who half assed things. When the auditorium doors shut with a loud finality, Shadow Milk was looking towards whatever auditioners remained.
There was flicker of something underneath his well performed act, but nothing the untrained eye could've see. He clicked his tongue, and pushed a lock of hair behind one pointed ear. "You all are welcomed to come in for the callback auditions. This little... incident... has completely ruined my oh so Care~fully noted observations, and my grand train of thought. Go on now, shoo. Get out!"
He didn't bother to watch them leave, and instead sped-walked backstage and right into his dressing room. Ignoring the shrill call of a girl much too obsessed with him for her own good. The door shut with a click of finality, and he slumped against it.
Hands ran through his hair, undoing the half up, half down, ponytail he had it in today. Blue ribbon laying listlessly in his hands.
They were still trembling.
'Shadow Milk' dragged each foot as he walked towards his vanity mirror- sparing a glance at the quarter-cut of bread just sitting there- and gazed upon his reflection like it were an all too familiar stranger.
He tossed the ribbon onto the desk, and then got to cleaning away his ruined make-up.
Revealing the utterly exhausted mess of a person underneath the painted mask.
== ✶ ==
By the time Fount had left the theater, the moon had risen to the sky. Her shape tonight? A crescent. He tucked his coat further over himself, tugging his hat down and slipping his hood over his head. The bread he had bought that morning tucked away into a small bag he snagged from Candy Apple's work room.
'Shadow Milk' was always one of the last to leave, of course. Always being so dolled up with each meeting, he'd need more time to get dressed down! It takes time and effort to be the Most! Handsome person of them all!
Although, in reality, he dressed down pretty fast. Spending those spare moments pressed up to his dressing room door, listening. Counting the footsteps, and then leaving once enough had gone by.
It was more of a strategic thing to choose the personal dressing room closer to the 'employees only' back hallway. Being that majority of the actors/tech would need to pass by it to leave.
Though, tonight he got to leave a bit earlier than usual, but that's because he dismissed everyone out the auditorium. But once production got rolling... Ugh.
Fount walked down the now quiet farmers market. Hands in his pockets and watching his feet.
It was just him, the moon, and whatever lurked in the shadows. He hummed a quiet tune, some lullaby he had sung to him by his late mother, as he popped out the other end of the market.
'His' village was just up ahead.
And instead he took a sharp turn left. He stepped onto a rather faint pathway that one would miss if they didn't know where to look. With the trees that lined the main road, and the long grasses grown from summer's blessings. Although, the trees were quick to dwindle the farther he got from the main path. Turning from what 'looked like a forest' into that more akin to a meadow.
The trees here were sparse, but it once was a more lush forest. Alas, the common man found wood to be more useful when burnt. For many years this place had been... stagnant, in a sense. One of the very few more 'traditional' communities that stuck it out during the Great Steam Upheaval. It didn't mean they had been spared from it. No, they had their fair share of new machines and updates in infrastructure, but overall it still held onto that old rustic feel from years before.
What seemed like something that could only go up, the Great Steam Upheaval had instead sputtered out into a plateau. Something Fount both mourned and yet also found relief in. During it's peak the amount of nature that had been flattened... So many creatures he once admired were now gone, plants he had yet to study buried under stone and dirt, and people he knew from his childhood long since moved on.
He ignored the ache that came with remembering his small group of friends from his younger years.
Fount reached into his back pocket as his house came to view. A small cottage sat alone at the end of a twisting and winding path. It was rather round in appearance, but it had first been his mother's, and then his own after her passing.
It wasn't like he was some hermit, for the home only appeared secluded. Yet anyone from the village could walk straight west, cross the thin forest, and find themselves approaching his humble abode.
He stepped onto the front step, and unlocked the front door. Already nose blind to the garlic he had strung up on his broken porch light.
It was the only garlic he had put up.
... Tomorrow, he'd put more up before heading off to work...
The front door shut all too quietly for his liking. His hand still on the knob behind him turning the lock, and then testing it once or twice. Affirming to himself that, yes, he did remember to lock it tonight.
Then, he tossed his keys onto the empty spot on the bookshelf just by the door. The metal they were made of clinking against one another, as Fount fell back and slid all the way down to the floor. Covering his face for a few moments as the entire day came rushing back at him all at once. The side of his head that got pulled still stung, and his feet ached from the heels he decided to use to torture himself. With that thought, he uncurled himself and was quick to zip down the sides of his boots. Tossing them towards the nearby couch.
With a thud, the boots bounced off the back and clattered onto his floors. Fount pushed himself to his feet and looked down at his clothes. He discarded his jacket and hat, tossing them onto his coffee table as he walked past, taking a turn to the left, and then right to cross into his kitchen.
He put the bag with his bread in it onto the counter, grabbing his kettle and emptying it of old water from yesterday. Filling it back up and then putting it back down onto its stand. A simple flick of a switch on the side, and the hot coil underneath the kettle came to life. Following that, a small puff of steam poomf-ed out from the small vent in the back.
Fount then took his bread and tore off a few chunks, not even bothering to try and cut any proper slices. He'd do that in the morning...
Maybe.
And then idly snacked on those chunks as he watched the water boil. The bread was good, real good. A distinct taste was there, but he was much too tired to puzzle that out. Besides, he's gonna need all the thinking power he can tonight.
No rest for the wicked after all.
The kettle whistle made him curse from how loud it got, as he popped open the top. The kettle's stand automatically turning off once the thermomotor measuring the water heat started blinking red. He grabbed a mug, a teabag of blueberry tea, and poured boiling water into it.
One hand held his mug, and another his final piece of bread. Fount left his kitchen, without pouring out the excess water from his kettle- again, and slid into his room just next to it.
A kick of his foot, and his door closed shut.
My, what a familiar sight came to his very sore eyes. Setting his mug down onto his desk, Fount turned on the table lamp, and then changed out of his daytime clothes and into his more comfortable night wear. His black pant legs so wide, and long, they lightly brushed the ground with each step.
Tonight, he's decided to forego his long comfy cardigan, and instead tough it out. It would only make him sleepy, and thus ruin his routine of doing his nightly busywork.
A list of names, all with books overdue, now sat before him as he clicked the end of his pen over and over again. Muscle memory guiding his free hand to his stack of letter papers. One more sigh to add to his pile, and then he got to writing.
Fount didn't keep a clock in his room for many reasons, and this was one of them. If there was the faint ticking of time passing by, he'd rush each of these letters and they'd come out sloppy. There wasn't room to be sloppy, they had to be uniform and direct. How else was he to attempt getting his precious books back? Sage, his morning persona, wasn't the type to just barge in and demand for the book's return. Instead he was patient, to a point, and formal, to a point. Fount cupped his forehead in his hands and groaned.
The name at the top of his list made him wanna tear it apart and scream into his pillows. If nothing else, he decided that perhaps he needed a break.
In which he got up, left his room to check the mail catcher built into the wall beside his front door, and then returned to his room after retrieving whatever was left inside. Falling onto his chair, and causing the front legs to lift up for just a moment. He eyed the newspaper, focusing on the corner specifically reserved for a certain something.
The Vampire.
Another was killed, about two weeks from the last as of today. Drained of blood, and left in a way which made them seem merely asleep. There was something new this time, and it was the fact a dark figure had been seen fleeing away from the scene. Hopping the fence of the backyard the woman was killed in, and then darting away into the woods. If only the lady's neighbor had been more quiet in her spotting, she may have managed to get a better look.
Alas, The Vampire remained ever the elusive.
Fount thumbed the bottom of the text box, tilting his head to the side. He looked back at his desk, towards the board pinned up on the wall just above it.
All his notes about each Vampire that had come, and gone through this area.
It was a small hobby, nothing too big...
... A little big.
He ripped The Vampire's segment from the newspaper. Grabbing a pin from his box of them, and sticking it with the other notes and segments of similar nature.
It was interesting, this new development.
Victims being killed in their own backyards, that is. Before Late May, about two months ago now, not one of the murdered had been laid to rest in their backyard. Usually their bodies were left in rather public places, like alleyways, or even shops after they had closed.
But never anywhere near their homes.
Fount sat back on his chair and took a deep breath in. Hold. And then out.
Breaktime was over, he had letters to write.
.
.
. .
. .
. . .
. . . ✶