Selene nodded as she nuzzled her face against his neck, her deeply colored eyes closing, causing the lashes to flutter against his skin. “I would love to.” Camping. That would be fun. She was not opposed to it as some might think, many nights had been spent camped away from Ordoghaz while on the warpath. Modern conveniences had not been born yet when she began her life as a vampire.
His question left her completely perplexed. What else was there? If not for the job and what she was Selene would be nothing. The woman she was born died a very long time ago. Every memory, even those that were not sad, were wrapped in one or the other. Vampire or Death Dealer. She began to ponder if now was not the perfect time to feign sleeping.
He had already been told that she played piano. The truth was Selene knew very little about herself when those other details were stripped away. “I – I am a confident linguist. I can speak Hungarian, German, French, Dutch, Italian and Latin…to name a few.” Her arms lay at her sides, languidly brushing up and down sides.
“I am afraid I do not know myself very well, according to your requirements, but I can tell you a story.” She lay curled against him, her tiny body warmed by the heat he radiated. Still she lay her face against his neck, her breath falling against his skin as she spoke.
She would leave out the why of the story, as to not talk about her vampire nature. “In the late fourteen hundreds, there was a painter, Italian if I recall correctly. Got him self into a rather tough spot. Foolish old man….” Selene laughed as she fondly remembered his weathered face and long white beard. She would leave out the bit about the Lycan that had chased him deep into the woods. “Anyway…as repayment for my services…he painted my portrait.” She had never hung it up. Not once. It was wrapped in paper stored in the back of her closet. Selene had always thought it was rather arrogant of her to have her own picture hanging up.