>>5159266“You musst misss her,” you say, without thinking.
Your grandfather’s face darkens a little, the gleam leaving his eyes, and he nods.
“But I’m rambling,” he says. “You need your rest, so… Well, take it. However long you need. I’ll have the servants put on a soup for you, too-don’t think I didn’t hear your stomach rumbling! A smart girl like you can’t neglect your health, or only the fools who CAN’T see the truth will be left to stand against the Coming Race when they make their move!”
The room laid out for you is a cozy one, despite obvious dustiness about some of the fixtures. You can tell be long-abandoned furnishings that Miriam Vaz nee Yosef was a girl of fantastical leanings and many brief passions: you see medallions and trophies commemorating aptitude for archery, for dance, for poise, for painting. Few indicate a first-place finish, save archery, but many suggest a skill worthy of placing in the top three. Altogether, her ornate furniture, her plush-to-the-point-of-decadence bedding, and the array of extracurriculars indicates a daughter doted upon, once upon a time. Was it the angst and obsession which followed her brother’s death which so devastated the relationship?
Well, no matter. You can explore this avenue later, if you so choose. The bed really is comfortable… And you really need the rest. You shut nictitating membranes, then eyelids as well—you don’t wish to be caught out as a demihuman in your sleep by a human wise to the signs of Reptilian blood.
When sleep comes, though… It is no easy one. Again, you suffer the curse of human blood and the dreams such taint brings. This time, though, you dream of matters Reptilian… or, well, as Reptilian as you.
