A soft chuckle escapes him, sounding oddly fond even to his own ears. “I’m fine, I guess. All scraped up, but nothing that won’t heal in a few days,” he assures with a hum. The situation could’ve been worse, he knows - especially if it were another vampire than this stranger next to him who doesn’t have the same self-control. Seokhyun has no doubt he would’ve been tackled to the ground by now otherwise.
His gaze land on the ring again, a thoughtful expression gracing his features. The stranger claims that he might’ve seen it before, and while Seokhyun thinks it’d be too much of a coincidence for him to be on the right lead so soon, he can’t deny that the possibility is still there. After all, he’s partly trusted the ring to lead him, despite not fully paying attention to it. (Not to mention that he isn’t exactly good in such sort of magic; but he tried, nonetheless.) And the stranger next to him is a vampire. One that probably has lived far, far longer than he has (he can’t explain the other’s self-control otherwise).
Who knows, maybe coincidences do happen sometimes.
“… she wanted for her son to have this ring, but due to different circumstances, it got lost. He never got it,” Seokhyun tells softly, making sure to keep things vague as if to gauge if the stranger really is the right person. “Tell me her son’s name.”
Sasha can’t stop himself from laughing. It echoes off the alley-walls in this odd, not quite human sort of way. “Which one?” This witch is much cleverer than Sasha had given him credit for. Careful questions instead of blindly believing. Still reckless, though -- he’s entertaining this conversation as though it’s a normal one. It doesn’t matter much that Sasha hadn’t intended to harm him in the first place.
Not that he would say no to a taste of that blood.
“She had two,” he answers, and laughs yet again. “One of which has long given up on the concept of gender. But that isn’t what you wanted to know.” It’s him who walks a dangerous line now. The more he exposes, the more the witch has to use against him. And still, that hope in Sasha’s chest is too fervent to quiet down. He lowers his gaze to the ring, his smile softening.
“Her oldest used to go by the name Ilhoon. He’s been through many changes over the centuries, though. Self-preservation, of a sort.” He tips his head back up, locking eyes with the witch. He is beautiful. Unfairly so. “I do wonder. Did you use magic to find your way here? Or did the ring lead you on its own?”
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