It had not been very long since Armand had invited Emily to stay as a guest, but it had been long enough for her to learn how to avoid anyone else in the home. Or at least avoid any direct confrontation. She knew that Marius was there, and she was well aware that he knew that she was there as well. He was an ancient, after all. If he really wanted to he could probably set her on fire and she would never even see his face.
It was not paranoia, it was experience that bubbled those dark thoughts through her mind. At least that was what she kept telling herself. In truth, he had seemed quite kind the few times that she had interacted with him. Just as kind as Armand, and actually a bit warmer in temperament. Even still, it was hard to forget the scars left by past encounters with her own kind.
But she could not say that she was not curious. She recognized the familiar scents of paints and solvents in the house and knew that he was the source. There were few others that she knew with similar inclinations or talents, and artistic skill had always been a fascination and a source of awe for her. It was tempting... It was so tempting to approach him. Just once.
Instead, she sat, hidden under a table, with her sketch book in her lap and her coloured pencils scattered in a circle about her, feeling more out of place than a sheep in a tea shop.











