Chapter Text
Sebastian walked his usual track through the woods, the edges of the navy sky above him fading lighter with every passing minute. Dawn was coming, revealing herself to the new spring blooms emerging on the trees, already beginning to blanket the valley in greenery. The early morning air was heavy with the earthen notes of new growth, and Sebastian inhaled deeply, letting the rich scent fill his nose. Another year was beginning already, his 137th, and he still felt as though the last had barely begun. This seemed to be happening often as of late, with each new year passing faster than the last. He supposed that should be expected, as all of the usual events that marked humans' lives, giving meaning to the passing months, had no bearing on his. Growing old, falling in love, having children, thinking of the future… it all seemed a hazy promise of a dream from a childhood long past.
He absentmindedly followed his same familiar path to Karstark Farm, wandering easily into the now abandoned pastures. Old Farmer Karstark had passed away nearly a year before, or was it two now? The bleeding of time in Sebastian’s mind did little to help him place events. Regardless, it had been long enough for the weeds to begin to grow up and over the wooden fence line at the edge of the property, reeds growing high and weaving through the worn slats of wood like the thatching in a basket. Sebastian took another gulp of earthy air. He didn’t really need the breaths, but as he couldn’t eat anymore, he liked to indulge his other senses as much as he could, having taken to practically huffing the kitchen air the rare times Robin decided to bake.
However, this lungful of air was different. Somewhere amongst the tang of wet soil and dew-dappled daffodils, a rich, syrupy, sweet scent was beginning to ooze, overpowering all else in the air. Following his nose, Sebastian wandered further into the Karstark property, leaving his usual path along the fence line in favor of the untilled fields. He followed the honeyed scent towards the old barn, sneakered feet sinking into the rich, tilled soil underfoot. Wait… tilled? .
“Tell it to my heart. Tell me I’m the only one. Is this really love, or just a game? Tell it to my heart! I can feel my body rock every time you call my name!” a female voice sang loudly, and out from around the barn came its source, a riot of thick brown hair and long limbs in muddy overalls and neon rainboots.
Sebastian froze, brown eyes wide as he watched. He could have run, have disappeared into the tree line so fast that she wouldn’t have ever known he was there, the only evidence of him mishappen footprints sunk into the waterlogged ground. He could have run, he should have run but he stayed.
“AHHHHH YOBA ABOVE!” the woman shrieked as her eyes landed on him; she immediately dropped the pail and spade she was carrying with a loud clatter, spilling chicken feed all over the mud. More unfortunately, her heavy, oversized spade fell directly into her thigh, slicing through her overalls and her skin, leaving a shallow but long slash across her leg. Whether that was more unfortunate for him or her, he wasn’t sure. The smell of her blood erupted into the air, and if she had been sweet before, now it was overwhelming, like the dregs of creamer at the bottom of a coffee, enough to make your teeth ache and your eyes water. Sebastian’s fangs clicked down automatically, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
“f*ck!” the woman continued to yell, hands going to the slash on her thigh. She seemed to have forgotten her company for a moment, blinded by sudden pain, but when her eyes found him, she smiled apologetically.
“Oh shoot, did I scare you too? I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone out so early,” she said hurriedly, one hand still pressed to the laceration on her leg.
“I apologize for frightening you,” he said stiffly, jaw flexing and unflexing as he bit back the feral growl building in his chest. He normally had decent self-control around humans, but the sweet tang of her freshly spilled blood was testing him.
“Oh, don’t worry happens all the time! I’m a bit jumpy, which has proved to be a bit of a problem living out here all by myself. Like something out of a horror movie!” the woman joked, but Sebastian only gritted his teeth harder. Was she daft, suicidal, or BOTH? Only an idiot would let a strange man know she was all alone in the rural country. Far away from any help… far enough that no one could hear her scream . Sebastian shook the unbidden thought from his mind.
“You’re wounded,” he said, stating the obvious. She glanced back down at her leg again.
“Yeah, just a bit of a cut, no biggie!” she said brightly, moving to wipe some of the blood on the edge of the rip in her overalls. Sebastian watched fretfully. Maybe this human really was stupid. Did she not know that the germs from her dirty work denim could give her an infection?
“You need a first-aid kit; leaving it open like that risks greater dangers. It seems as though it's quite deep,” Sebastian said swiftly, cringing away as a fresh wave of her blood’s intoxicating scent pulsed through the air. A fresh dribble was now running from the wound down her knee as Sebastian tracked its procession with his eyes, biting into the thick fabric of his sweatshirt sleeve to occupy his ready fangs.
“You’re probably right,” she admitted with a light laugh and began to walk towards her house. “Um- you’re welcome to come with…”
“Sebastian,” he supplied his name, finding his legs trailing behind her despite his better judgment. If he was going to run, he should have done it from the beginning; he was in too deep now.
“Nice to meet you! I’m Aurora, Aurora Karstark. Though I guess the Karstark was obvious enough, huh?” she called to him over her shoulder as they approached her home.
He followed her up uneven porch steps, watching in a mix of dismay and disbelief as she tripped over the loose top step, nearly sprawling herself to the dusty porch. He couldn’t recall any other humans being this clumsy. Was something wrong with this one? As if she could read his mind, she turned to him with a laugh.
“I swear I’m not usually this klutzy; waking up early seems to have me all out of wack,” she quipped lightheartedly, but he could feel her pulse quicken and watched her blood pool in her cheeks, turning them pink with a ruddy flush.
“With a stair like that, anyone would be clumsy,” he amended, surveying the step as he deftly leaped over it, landing lightly on the balls of his feet.
“Except you, apparently,” she said, laughing again. Did this woman ever take anything seriously? She was bringing a veritable stranger into her home for Yoba’s sake. .
She swept into her house, leaving the door open behind her. Sebastian approached it slowly, feeling the familiar pressure pushing him just outside the doorframe. He could no longer see Aurora, who had disappeared into another room. With the door open, her scent wafted out from the home, even heavier than before, rich and syrupy, enough to give him a headrush. It was mixed with a woodsy scent, like pine tree sap and chamomile tea… a rugged combination that felt so familiar. Old Farmer Karstark , her grandfather if he had to hazard a guess.
Aurora’s head reappeared, popping out from through another doorway. “What are you waiting for, a formal invite?” she teased. If only she knew .
“It’s only proper,” he said awkwardly, and she snorted.
“Alright, well, come in then,” she said, disappearing yet again as the pressure on him was released. Now free to roam, he stepped cautiously in. The home was not large or glamorous by any means. Obviously designed for function over comfort, a kitchenette sat in one corner, and a fireplace in the opposite, surrounded by a lumpy, over-stuffed sofa and a set of unattractive armchairs. A bed sat off in a secondary recess that he supposed could be qualified as a room, except it didn’t have its own door. Instead, a gaudy beaded curtain of multicolored plastic dangled in its stead.
“Got it!” she said eagerly, bounding back into the room with what looked like a large banged-up tackle box in hand. “It was my Grandpa’s, so… we’ll see if there’s anything worth using. I don’t think he even believed in Tylenol.”
Aurora set it on the kitchen table and opened it, the old hinges of the lid groaning in protest. As she rifled through, Sebastian wandered closer, taking in more of the house around him. The home was an eerie reflection of the scent wafting around him, a blend of old and young, sweet and spiced. The walls were mostly bare, besides a recently hung multicolored “Queen” poster and a few small framed photographs just beside it. A collection of old wooden shadow boxes sat in a heap in the far corner, along with a mounted stag head, its beady artificial eyes staring at him from its perch. The old sofa and chairs were upholstered in an unfortunate scratchy blue fabric, but they were full to bursting with an assortment of gaudily colored throw pillows and patchwork quilts that seemed to be made by hand. Drawing his attention back to the kitchen, a dented metal coffee pot sat out on the stovetop, still steaming. The mug beside it, sitting half full, had a faded graphic on it… “Sleeping Beauty,” he realized as he inspected it, recognizing the golden-haired figure waltzing along the side of the ceramic. That was why the name sounded familiar . Besides the stove, faded postcards were tacked up to the fridge with different colorful magnets. While Aurora busied herself inside the tackle box, he stepped closer and inspected the wild array on the fridge. Paris. Rome. Tokyo. New York. Cairo. Each magnet had a different shape and a different city name written across it in varying fonts and colors. He reached out and brushed one with his fingertip, a miniature taxicab with the name “Zuzu” inscribed across it in black glitter letters. At his touch, the paper held under it shifted and dropped, fluttering to the ground. Kneeling to pick it up, he turned the postcard over, revealing a photograph taped to the opposite side. In it, a man with the same large smile as Aurora was grinning back at him. He looked tall and broad, with tanned arms and large, warm brown eyes framed by thick lashes. He was dressed in a Ferngill Republic uniform, many badges of honor pinned to the front of his jacket. “Happy Feast of the Winter Star, I love you, Rory” was scrawled along the bottom in hasty penmanship, with a heart scribbled after the message.
“I found the bandages!” Aurora declared, and Sebastian hastily shoved the postcard back under the magnet. When he turned around, he found her already beginning to wind the old military-style bandages around her leg.
“No! I mean… stop, you need to properly disinfect it first. Any number of things could have gotten in it,” he muttered after his sudden outburst; she looked at him with a brow raised but didn’t argue back. He approached her, taking the bandages from her hand and began rummaging in the box himself. She wasn’t kidding about her grandfather; the box contained more whiskey and cotton pads than anything else. Frowning, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a dingey-looking tube of unbranded medicated ointment.
“Sit… please,” he said awkwardly, but she did as she was told, drawing out a chair from the table.
He bit down hard on his cheek as he began to tend to her. Out of all of his years on earth, this had to be the biggest mistake he had ever made. At any second, he could lose control. Any second, and this could all go wrong. But he knew he wouldn’t… he knew. He hoped.
She winced as he poured the strong alcohol over her cut and again as he rubbed the ointment over the abrasion. The strong, acrid smell of the liquor was able to cut the scent of the blood, and he could feel his fangs retract from the bloody mess they were making of his cheeks. After he had finished wrapping her up, he let out a strong breath of relief, instantly turning away.
“Hey, are you alright? You look a little pale?” she asked, but he only shook his head in reply. “It’s alright. Blood makes me queasy sometimes, too! You should have told me, I could have done it myself!”
At this, he couldn’t contain his laugh. “Yes, queasy, that’s right,” he said with a chuckle, and she beamed at his sudden change in demeanor.
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” she declared, hopping back up to her feet with ease, dusting her hands on her pants. “Now, not to um- be a bother after you just helped me and all, but… what exactly were you doing in the middle of my farm at 4 in the morning?”
Her question was accompanied by a pointed stare, and if he could blush, he would have. A million excuses flashed through his mind in an instant. He was jogging In jeans? . He was going to watch the sunrise over the lake and was taking a shortcut. An hour before sunrise? He forgot something! On HER farm? .
“I’m very fond of walking,” he spit out suddenly, surprising both of them. A phantom of shock whispered across her face before she grinned, a smaller and more private smile than her previous ones.
“Yes… yes, I know,” she replied softly, and if his heart beat, it would have quickened. A moment of stillness followed with her smiling at him… just for him. Her cerulean gaze was crushing, and for the first time in many insignificant years, he felt seen . But the moment was over as quickly as it began.
“’ Pride and Prejudice,’ right?” she asked cheerily, her smile widening again. He nodded, still feeling immobilized by the seemingly unearthly power of her bright gaze.
“Yes, what I meant to say is… I’m somewhat of an insomniac, and I take a lot of walks to pass the time. I didn’t realize anyone had moved in. I won’t cut through your property again I-“ he said, rattling off his story as quickly as he could, but she interrupted him.
“Don’t worry about it; as long as you don’t walk on my crops, I’ve got no problem with it. And hey, if you ever get tired of your walks, I work some pretty odd hours over here if you need anyone to commiserate with until the daylight,” she offered.
He didn’t reply, merely nodding, too shocked to say anything. Okay, she had to be stupid, inviting a near stranger BACK to her home where she lived ALONE . She was lucky it was only him who had come along; what if someone of the wrong sort had been walking through there?! You are the wrong sort, he mentally chided himself. Of anyone who could have entered her property, he was perhaps the most dangerous, and to think otherwise was pure delusion on his part. With that logic, he should have rejected her offer, told her off, or warned her in some way or method, but instead, he continued his charade.
“Thank you, Aurora. That would be very nice,” he replied with a weak smile. "I’ll let you get back to work now.”
As he moved to take his leave, Aurora called after him. “Just call me Rory; only my grandpa called me Aurora.”
“I—sure, Rory,” he said, testing out the feel of the name in his mouth. It was decidedly less flowery and overall more like the mud-splattered farm girl standing across from him. "Then you can call me Seb.”
“Alright, bye, Seb! See you around!” she called as he sped out.
Seb?! The only people who called him Seb were Sam and Abigail, who also happened to be his only friends. What had gotten into him? Sebastian usually kept himself resigned to the places that felt fitting for a vampire. His basem*nt bedroom was like a personal coffin, buried as it was in the earth; the woods after dark that he prowled through allowed him the freedom to be the predator he was, the darkened bar and billiard room a den of ill deeds and lechery for wretches almost as cursed as him. Even the beach on rainy days was desolate and void of life… as he was. The sun-rich soil and fields of Karstark Farm and their equally sunny tender seemed the farthest thing from Sebastian’s normal haunts.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he mentally crossed Karstark Farm from his usual routes. He would just have to change hi routine, and all would be right again. Give it a few months, and certainly, his brief encounter with the girl would be far from her mind.
But would it be from his?
