> Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. – Dr. Seuss

Nord felt her wrist enveloped in Adamastor's cool grip, her heart thumping in expectation. She braced herself for the sensation of fangs piercing her skin, for the familiar sting that felt like a thousand needles. But it never came. Instead, Adamastor gently caressed her wrist, his fingertips tracing the blue pathways of her veins. It was as though he was reading her life story through those lines, and for a moment, the room fell eerily quiet, save for the soft pulse of her blood beneath her skin.

Then, Adamastor lifted her wrist to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her skin. "I'll go hunt tonight; don't be alarmed if you hear any noise," he said softly, releasing her wrist as he turned to leave the study.

Confused, her heart pounding, Nord stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Had he rejected her blood after explicitly asking for it? She brought her wrist to her nose, sniffing as if some olfactory clue could unravel the mystery.

Was there something wrong with her? Had she misunderstood? Or was it something else entirely—a hidden boundary or taboo she was unaware of?

As Nord pondered, it occurred to her that perhaps Adamastor's decision to hunt rather than take her offer was not a rejection but a form of respect, an unspoken agreement to not cross certain lines, at least not yet. Maybe he was leaving room for choices yet to be made, for futures not yet written.

In that room, heavy with the scent of old books and citrus, Nord felt the silence tell her more than words ever could. She had offered a choice, and in his own way, Adamastor had chosen. It was an ambiguity laden with promise and peril, but for the moment, it was enough.

The dining room was a symphony of laughter and clinking dishes, the atmosphere transformed by the addition of Kirara and Finnea to their duo. What had started as a simple meal between her and Adamastor had morphed into something more vibrant? This lively feast felt like celebrating the unexpected friendships forming before her eyes?

Kirara, the mischievous cat with a penchant for drama, was in her element. She darted around the table, eyes gleaming with playful intent, as she attempted to snatch morsels of meat from everyone's plates.

"Nuh-uh, Kirara! That's my steak!" Finnea chuckled, pulling her plate away just in time to thwart Kirara's latest attempt.

Not to be outdone, Adamastor joined in on the fun. He usually abstained from human food, given his unique dietary requirements, but tonight was different. He placed a small portion of roasted chicken onto his plate and winked at Nord as if to say, 'Why not?'

Nord laughed as Kirara zeroed in on Adamastor's plate, only to be foiled by his lightning-fast reflexes. "Nice try, Kirara, but you're not the only one with quick moves," he teased, waving a piece of chicken in the air before setting it back on his plate.

The room was filled with a sense of camaraderie and joy, a far cry from the tense moments earlier in the study. The air was lighter, the weight of their choices and uncertainties temporarily set aside for the simpler joys of shared laughter and food.

As she watched Adamastor chuckling with Finnea, playfully fending off Kirara's relentless culinary assaults, Nord felt a warmth spread through her.

The mood shifted palpably as Adamastor broached the topic of the upcoming funeral, a sombre reminder that even the most joyful moments could be fleeting.

"The funeral will be tomorrow," he announced, cutting through the laughter like a cold breeze.

Nord's eyes narrowed. "Will they bring the body here, or do we need to fetch it?"

"A local from the town will deliver it. I'll prepare the salon and food after my hunt tonight," Adamastor explained, outlining the grim logistics with a solemnity that contrasted starkly with the levity of moments earlier. "The Mayor usually gives a speech, and then we proceed from the Manor to the Morningstar graveyard. It's a short walk."

Nord chewed her lower lip, contemplating her role in this sombre affair. "What can I do to help?"

Adamastor looked momentarily uneasy. "There isn't much, really. You just need to wear... Rosemary's initiation dress."

"You mean a white dress?"

"Yes," he responded, rubbing his face as if wrestling with the words.

Nord's eyebrows arched. "So, I'll be dressed like a bride?"

Adamastor hesitated. "Well, it's more symbolic of the purity of a new beginning... I don't know, really."

Nord's curiosity deepened. "How do you even know these things? Did Rosemary teach you?"

Adamastor chuckled, his eyes turning distant. "Yes, she did. She always said it'd be a worthwhile path, helping those who came after her. I never really took her seriously. I thought I'd be long gone by now, but... nobody came to replace her until... you."

"I see," Nord murmured, her gaze lingering on Adamastor's face.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"What are you thinking?" he finally asked, meeting her eyes.

"You don't have to stay here and do all this if you don't want to," Nord said softly. "You're free to leave, you know."

Her words hung in the air, mingling with the fading echoes of their earlier laughter.

Adamastor smiled as he hoisted the stack of empty plates from the table. "The point is, you're all stuck with me. If I left, the roof would probably cave in. Chaos would run rampant within these walls. I am the master of this house!"

Finnea, never one to let a misstatement go unchallenged, raised an eyebrow. "I believe the term you're looking for is 'butler.'"

Adamastor let out a hearty laugh, amused by the correction. "Tomato, tomatoe. What's in a name? The fact remains, this place wouldn't be the same without me."

Nord watched the exchange, her eyes flitting between Adamastor and Finnea, and she felt a twinge of relief. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed comfortably as she took it all in. Maybe things would get better.

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Lying in bed, Nord felt the day's weight descend upon her eyelids as she scrolled through her phone. Kirara had made herself comfortable next to her, sprawled out and occupying far more space than her petite frame should allow.

"What are you doing?" Kirara asked.

"Just looking at some old videos on my phone," Nord replied.

"Any of them about me?"

"No, not that I've found yet."

Just then, Kirara's face contorted in a familiar way. "Any video about pa...pa...pa—" Her words broke off into a series of harsh, guttural sounds. Recognizing the signs, Nord swiftly pushed Kirara off the bed just as the Nixbob dropped to her knees, gagging.

With a final heave, Kirara coughed up a monstrous hairball, leaving a slimy trail on the floor. Still on her knees, she looked up at Nord. She tried to speak again, "Any video about pa...pa...pa—" but her face twisted once more in discomfort, her gagging even more violent than before.

Nord quickly rose and held back Kirara's long hair, concern painting her features. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Another grotesque hairball, even larger than the first, rolled out onto the floor. Kirara looked up, opening her mouth to speak once more. "Pa... pa... pa—" and yet again, the gagging began.

Before she could produce another unsightly hairball, Nord placed her hands over Kirara's mouth. "Not a word! Go to bed; I'll clean this mess up."

Kirara nodded, visibly relieved, and retreated to her resting spot at the other end of the room. Nord shook her head, a mixed sense of concern and annoyance filling her as she went to fetch a mop.

Adamastor was on the verge of stepping out, looking dapper in a beige suit complemented by a dark brown vest and polished matching shoes. As he set a fedora atop his snow-white hair, he noticed Nord descending the staircase.

"Kirara puked all over the room," she announced, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Do you want me to clean it?" Adamastor offered, already mentally calculating the time it would take.

"No, don't worry. You go hunting... I think?" Nord replied, her eyes scanning his attire.

Adamastor blushed slightly as if caught doing something unseemly. "I won't take long," he assured her.

"Don't worry, just have fun," Nord said, heading toward the kitchen.

"I'm serious," he called after her, his eyes searching for a hint of reciprocation.

"Me too. Don't worry, go have fun," Nord shot back, flashing Adamastor a reassuring smile before disappearing behind the kitchen door.

Adamastor hesitated for a moment. With a slight shake of his head, he stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him.

Nord woke to the sight of Kirara's drool-coated mouth and wagging tail, a comical morning view that elicited a soft chuckle from her.

"Pat-pat, mama. Pat-pat," she cooed, extending her hand to caress the fur between Kirara's ears.

Suddenly, Kirara's paw swatted her hand away. "Enough, now it's Papa's turn," the creature mumbled.

Nord looked at Kirara, puzzled. What in the world did that mean? She shook off the perplexity; there would be time for decoding Kirara-speak later.

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Today had a different focus. Rosemary would soon be arriving with the guests for the funeral, and Nord wanted to make sure everything was in place. She swung her legs out of bed, planting her feet on the floor with determination. A quick mental checklist ran through her head: the salon needed a once-over, the food had to be checked, and she had to find that white "initiation" dress Adamastor had mentioned.

As she prepared to face the day's challenges, she couldn't help but wonder how the night had gone for Adamastor. Had his hunt been successful? Was he back safe? She pushed the thoughts aside. One thing at a time.

Nord considered the idea of wearing a flower crown, much like South had. As she stepped out of bed, she braced herself for the peculiar day that awaited her.

Entering the kitchen, she found Finnea and Adamastor busy with breakfast preparations. Adamastor still sported last night's beige suit, albeit in a more dishevelled state, complete with lipstick stains on his collar and the nape of his neck. The sight made Nord raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

"Good morning. May I help?" Nord offered, trying to focus on the moment.

"Take a seat. Breakfast is almost ready. I've already turned on the bathroom stove, so you'll have warm water for your bath," Adamastor said, flipping what looked like an omelette onto a plate.

"Thank you. I feel almost like a princess," Nord said with a grateful smile.

"No, I am the princess!" Kirara suddenly burst into the room, planting a wet kiss on everyone's cheek—except Finnea's. For some inexplicable reason, Kirara seemed less than fond of the elf.

Nord chuckled at the spectacle, feeling a sense of camaraderie that she hadn't felt in a long time. Strange as the circumstances were, the household had its moments of genuine warmth. And on a day like this, filled with the sombre task of saying goodbye, Nord found she needed that warmth more than ever.

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Rosemary's casket finally arrived, and Kirara stood dutifully near the front door, her fur meticulously groomed and her little black dress lending an air of formality. Her role for the day was to greet and charm guests as they arrived, and she seemed up to the task.

The salon was elegantly prepared, with the casket resting on a wooden platform at one end of the room. Roses in varying shades of red and pink adorned the casket, filling the air with a delicate fragrance. Tables spread throughout the space were laden with platters of bite-sized snacks. Glasses of various alcoholic beverages were being offered by Finnea, who herself was wearing a simple yet tasteful black dress.

In a clean version of his suit, Adamastor stood near the salon entrance, welcoming each guest with a restrained, respectful demeanour. However, his eyes kept darting back to the staircase as if expecting someone.

As the crowd grew and conversations filled the room, Adamastor couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency mixed with a tinge of impatience. He wondered where Nord was, considering she was to play a crucial role in the event. However, he tried his best to keep his composure, reminding himself that the day was about honouring the departed and that everything else was secondary.

Finally, Nord descended the stairs, her appearance drawing a momentary hush over the salon.