Procrastination doesnt make things go away

Connie couldn't remember the last time traffic was actually backed up to the garage exit of Duibne, in the almost year she'd lived in Nachton. Except maybe the weekend of Labor Day the year prior... She had been surprised then, too, having just moved into the city. Nachton wasn't placed really to be a hindrance as a vacation spot, especially with the city's beltway, and yet, somehow, it had taken her over an hour to make the average twenty four minute journey from Duibne's facilities to 29 North California Boulevard.

As she pulled into the garage at home, she waved to the driver of a delivery truck... Suitan Thai. The sign on the truck even had a small graphic of a tuxedo wearing siamese cat. Snickering as she pulled into her spot next to Nyra's car then as she shifted into park, bonked her head lightly against her padded steering wheel, giggling. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she got out of the car and approached the stairway at the same time as the driver. "Twennynine a?" he asked.

Connie nodded and pulled out her wallet and paid him, tipping generously. "Memorable name and sign you've got there. Have a great night," she sincerely smiled at the man as she spoke.

"Thanks lady! Enjoy." He hopped into his truck and drove away after a moment.

"That had to be the funniest thing I've seen all day," Connie said out loud, watching the truck drive out of the garage. Pushing the door open again, she climbed the stairs and entered her loft. She was rather surprised to see Nyra puttering about in the kitchen, setting out plates and drinks. "I found your delivery guy. Quite a unique place you chose tonight, hon."

Looking up from her musings she realized that the opening of the door had not even disturbed her. At Connie's amusement, Nyra frowned. "One of the girls Bertrand hired months ago is veggie and gave me a menu a while back. She said it was great food. I dont know about the uniqueness."

Her expression remained puzzled as she stood and relieved her partner of the bag. Taking it to the counter she started removing items. Soon there were containers of Pad Thai, Tofu Satay, Stir Fry, Green Seitan Curry with Noodles and Stir Fried Rice with Pineapple arranged and open on the counter. Sniffing the various arromas as they mingled from the steaming packaging. It all smelled really good as Nyra gathered plates and accessories.

"Hope your hungry."

Connie looked at Nyra and tilted her head. She realized her lover didn't quite get the joke of the restaurant's name. For her own point of view, needing to have a joke explained to her occasionally killed its resulting mirth. But perhaps Nyra wasn't always one to pick up on a play on words, especially with such varied pronunciations.

Pulling an extra menu from the bag, she lay it on the counter. The brochure was festooned with a rather prominent graphic of that on the delivery truck; that of a siamese cat, standing prim and proper, outfitted classily in a tuxedo. "Sweetie," she said, turning Nyra gently towards the menu. "It's a siamese cat. Siam is the old name for Thailand. Seitan, the stuff you use to make your bacon, among other things, is pronounced poorly sometimes on Food Network. The cat is dressed in a suit and tie. The restaurant's name is 'Suitan Thai restaurant.' Suit. An. Thai. Siamese cat wearing a tux. Suitan Thai." Connie hoped, as she pointed from cat to name to cat to name, that Nyra would get it, and that she also was saying it in a 'gosh I hope she gets it but don't sound too condescending' tone. Even as she explained it, the jocularity of the menu's graphic caused her to giggle occasionally.

Nyra's forehead wrinkled at the new menu. The one she had was a copy in black and white that did not have this front page and picture at all. Strange. It was probably funny but for some reason her mind was just not getting it. "Im sure its funny, but right now I am not feeling it. Sorry!"

Looking at the wide array of choices, each with an accompanying wonderfull aroma she had to admit that it was appetizing, strange name and mascot notwithstanding.

"It will probably sink through the molassas of my mind by tomorrow and you will come home to find me curlled up on the couch laughing my rear off. But right now, I'm simply hungry."

Her plate filled up swiftly and she sat at the table with a purple cloth napkin in her lap and chopsticks beside her plate. Before she took her first bite she glanced towards the coffee table. "There is a present for you on the table."

Connie frowned ever so briefly, then smiled sympathetically at Nyra. She supposed that, if so much were not weighing on her lover's mind, the joke would have appealed to her immediately.

She took the proffered plate from Nyra and began filling her own dish. She looked at the mass conglomeration on her plate and mused quietly, "Hungry sounds good, but maybe we should consider getting those plates with seperate sections. Sometimes I don't like the sauces to mix, it's nice to taste them seperate." Those words had barely been out of her mouth when she sighed and thudded her palm against her forehead. "Or I could just not get everything at once and eat slowly, one dish at a time..."

Shaking her head at her own not-so-smartness, she looked up, somewhat confused, at Nyra's last comment. "A present? For me? Well of course it would be for me, you wouldn't have said 'Rachyl's Christmas present is on the table', now would you. Batting a thousand tonight, aren't I?"

Connie gazed at the box for a moment, then sat caddy-corner from Nyra. Picking up her fork, she said smilingly, "I can't wait to open it, but I'd rather do it after dinner. Would that be okay?"

Nyra looked down at her plate. She liked that things squished together and sauces mingled. Sure she tried to taste everything individually first but generally as she finished one dish she moved the minor remains and sauce to the next. The artist thought it made it interesting. Looking up at Connie she replied despite the obvious reduncancy of the other woman's comment.

"I am sure we could find some divided type plates somewhere. Or if you want, simply use more than one. Since there are really no dishes to do besides the plates I dont see that as an issue."

Once Connie was seated, Nyra picked up her chopsticks and dug in. The rice was amazing. She was unsure about her feelings on the green curry but loved the Pad Thai. Eating quietly she contemplated how to broach the subject weighing heavily on her mind. Maybe once Connie opened the box she could ask some questions.

Connie shrugged the shoulder of her arm unburdened by a fork. "It was a weird comment, I'll grant you that. It was just a moment of fancy, since we try new places so very rarely right now, and my first instinct was to pile everything on the plate and eat, without the benefit of actually tasting..." Connie's words trailed off, barely whispering "each dish" as Nyra began moving rice to her lips.

In between her own mouthfuls of food, she had the uncontrollable urge to fill in the silence that Nyra usually overloaded with information about her day. "We have a new girl starting on Monday," she commented offhand. "Her name's Bevoline. Her desk is next to mine - lucky me, I get to train the new girl - and while setting up her workstation and preparing a training module I got to thinking about names. Bevoline isn't such a common name. Then again, neither is Nyra," she said with a wink and a blown kiss to her lover, "but a lot of people wear their names better than others. When I first heard her name 'Bevoline' I immediately wanted to ask if she was, well, black. And I don't usually think of things like that. I actually had to mentally stop myself from asking it aloud." Connie shook her head, obvious shame pinkening her cheeks and darkening her eyes.

"Bevoline will be replacing a guy named Karl, with a kay, but Karl looked more like a Jack or a John. The every-man type, if you follow my meaning. You hear 'Karl' you picture medium height, partial baldness, hear a mental deep voice. Our Karl had a full head of hair, and was tall, willowy, kind of squeaky in the voice at times - especially when he got charged up, like when talking about football - and I've only met Johns and Jacks with qualities like that."

Connie forked some of the noodles into her mouth and chewed thoughtfuly. "So then I got to thinking, and wondering how much remembering past experiences could prejudice oneself to new experiences." An eerie feeling travelled up Connie's back, almost a feeling of deja vu, and when she was about to speak again she realized she was parched.

Reaching mentally to the refrigerator, she opened it and floated the ubiquitous bottle of sparkling cider to the sink. Another mental 'hand' opened a cabinet and brought out two glasses into which the cider was poured. Then, as she finished chewing another mouthful of noodles, careful not to bring the glasses to the table while Nyra had her own mouth full, she waited just a moment then brought them over to sit in between their plates.

Nyra listened to Connie ramble on as she tried a bite from every dish she had put on her plate. The longer her partner talked the less she ate. Her feelings about discriminating against someone based on color smacked her in the face. She had been biased towards Connie because she had admitted to being a different species. What did that make Nyra? Prejudiced?!

Working through the thoughts the artisted tried to discover how to grow past the bias. Poking at the pineapple with her chopstick she tried to broach the topic tactfully when she noticed two glasses making their way, floating really, to the table. Nyra's first instinct was to scream and leap up. Based on her thoughts though she sat still and tried to process the concept and generate understanding and compassion.

Carefully she put her chopsticks down next to her half finished plate of food. Looking up at Connie she sighed with an apoligetic smile.

"I think I have procrastinated long enough. I apologize for treating you like someone different when you are not that different from me."

Boldly she reached out and took the glass that had found its way to the table after filling itself and took a drink. Carefully placing it back down she folded her hands in her lap before raising her eyes to Connie.

"Thank you. I think I am ready to hear anything else that may help me work on my understanding and acceptance now."

Nyra was unsure if the thanks was for the drink or for the vampire's patience with her all these weeks.

Connie realized her attempt not to startle her lover may have in fact failed miserably when Nyra didn't visibly react to the flying glasses. But then when her dinner companion set down her chopsticks and looked into her eyes with a soft smile, Connie's heart skipped a beat.

When Nyra apologized for treating her different, Connie wanted to state unequivocably that she wasn't different. She was still the same, but that one iota of truth was where the younger woman's awareness stopped processing the rest of the vampire's reality. Her eyes felt heavy and moist even as she nodded..

Watching Nyra then reach for her glass - that same glass that had flown through the air just a moment before - and drank from it. The moisture dammed at Connie's eyes overtook her instinct not to cry with Nyra's next words, thanking her, telling her she was ready to work on understanding and acceptance. A few tears fell silently down the vampire's cheeks. She rolled her lips, nibbled at the inside, brow furrowed, and nodded.

She reached across the corner of the table for Nyra's hand.

Nyra sat still while Connie held her hand, tears rolling down her face. After a few moments she realized that the food in front of her was unapetizing and there was no way she could resume eating. Patting her partners hand with her free one before standing and emptying her plate into tin for the worm composter. Putting the leftovers away carefully, Nyra got out comfort snacks. Since she had gone to the health food store earlier that week and found several great things in their bakery, there was enough chocolate to apease even her upset eating habit.

Soon a plate was full of truffles, fudge, brownies and mini muffins in assorted flavors all vegan and made with lots of chocolate. She sat upon the couch and awaited Connie to finish or start talking.

Connie felt bad that her tears had ruined Nyra's appetite. Scraping the remainder of her plate, she wiped her finger across a spot of sauce around the rim and licked her finger. Placing the dish in the sink, she ran hot water to rinse them, then stoppered the sink to let it fill just a little. Picking up the dish soap, she sprinkled a little and filled it a bit more to create suds.

She watched Nyra out of the corner of her eye filling the plate with comfort snacks and putting away the extra food. She stood at the island for a few moments as her lover moved to sit upon the couch next to the coffee table. The coffee table that held her present. Realizing she had never before seen Nyra in 'comfort food mode' she wracked her brain on what exactly to do. Stopping upon an idea, she poured a couple glasses of soy milk before joining Nyra on the couch.

"I'm sorry I broke your appetite. It's just... Well, you have no idea how much that huge amount of acceptance meant to me. It's been rough, waiting for you to ask questions." She looked at Nyra and glanced from her mouth to her eyes to her hands back to her eyes. "But you don't know what to ask, do you."

Part of Connie knew this would likely be another long night. Or extremely short.

"You didnt break my appetite. I just feel disjointed, upset and scared. While I can and will nibble on chocolate I dont think Pad Thai was going to help."

Pulling the patchwork chenile throw over her lap and tucking her feet under her, Nyra rested her head in her hand. She did not really know what to do now. Her world view had been shifted and she knew that only the tip of the iceberg was visible but now she wanted the fog blown away to get a good idea of what lay ahead.

"I dont know what to ask. My whole perception of the world was changed and I dont even know more than one basic fact. You are a vampire. Why didn't you stay with that pirate? Wouldn't it be wise for two vampires to stick together for protection? I mean are there people aware of you and hunting you for being what you are? Everyone different gets persocuted, so why wouldn't a whole different species, right? And why is it that if your a vampire, that your working as an accountant for some random large company here in Nachton. Wouldn't like, New York City or Los Angelos be more apropriate?"

Winding out of things to say she snapped her mouth shut. Quickly scooping up a truffle she popped the dark chocolate in her mouth, hoping it soothed her turbulent emotions.

Nyra explaining away her loss of appetite didn't make Connie feel any better, but she didn't disbelieve her lover. Turning sideways on her cushion, she crossed her legs yoga-style - ankles up - and leaned against the back of the sofa. She listened to Nyra's questions and decided to address them one at a time.

"I didn't stay because he was killed." Connie sighed, her cheeks pinkening in embarassment. "All throughout our voyages together - some two years - his crew was sick on a regular basis. I thought it was scurvy, and put some of my own takings into buying oranges for the sailors. They'd look at me with pity, as I took care of them, but accepted my treatments and concern. My co-captive died in late seventy four, a year and a half after we were kidnapped. I became his consort... Keith. Percival Keith was his name. We plundered, we pillaged, we traded for another full year. I became the money counter of the ship, as it turned out I was very good with numbers." Connie paused and took a drink of her milk. "When I discovered him being what he was... I tried to escape. I found him, in our bed, with another woman, blood everywhere. I immediately ran out on deck and started to lower a longboat. I tossed in a barrel of water, some food. The night watch let me; I was about to jump in the boat when a sword pointed at my throat. I was tied up and keelhauled. I was nearly dead. He realized what he'd done and saved me by turning me. I learned a little bit about being a vampire... I discovered that he had been feeding on his crew the whole time and it was actually the same symptoms as donating blood, and not scurvy, that the crew was suffering from. Lightheadedness. Weakness. Nausea. Very similar ailments. Keith had a flaw called blood thirst... Means he craved more than a minimal amount to sustain him and often went on binges. He realized after turning me that he enjoyed the company of human women, so began bringing consorts onboard, and started ignoring me. I fed off them to survive, ignoring the crew except to dispense orders and keep the ship 'bristol fashion.' So finally one day, the crew caught him and staked him to the mast, and let him hang there as the sun rose. He died."

Wrinkling her nose, her mind's eye replayed that scene. Percival Keith staked to the mast, shrieking futilely as the sun rose over the horizon, bursting into flames and collasping into dust. Connie shook her head to rid herself of the recollection. "I ran the ship for a bit longer but realized I did have some unfinished business. So I went home and turned the ship over to the first mate. I kept some things... a bit of treasure, my notes, my knowledge and memories."

Stretching her head opposite the direction she was leaning, Connie sighed as her neck muscles loosened. She gazed at Nyra, weighing her words before continuing. "What I'm about to tell you is something that few unconnected humans know. I need -you- to know."

Nyra sat in silence, with questions leaping about her brain like hyperactive chihuahuas spying a treat. Finally Connie turned silent and the artist tried to list her questions as they had arisen from her partners words.

"So you were captives for over a year? Just poof! Sold into shipboard slavery?"

"By consort do you mean mistress? to the man you were captive to?"

"This captain was not in his right mind was he? To let you almost escape then torture you only to force you to become a vampire? Why did the crew follow him? And if they killed him how did they not kill you? Since he changed you too?"

Nyra realized her questions were getting louder and louder so she shut her mouth. At least until she remembered one last thing. Her voice was quiet and filled with an almost nausiating dread. "What do you mean by 'unconnected humans' Connie?"

"Close to three years, actually. I have to admit that after the first six months, realizing that there would neither be any ransom nor rescue, that we were either dead or on our own." Connie shook her head. "Not so much 'sold' as 'did not have our freedom bought for us.' So I took advantage of the time to read, and when that got boring, I tried to learn. After some time I talked the daywatch mate to teach me to use a sword. I learned some sea cooking tips from Cookie. Er, the galley master. Did a lot of watching. Watching the crew tend the ship day to day. Watched the ship's treasure master count the pillage and loot. That was pretty much where I got my 'thing' for numbers... When he, uhm, died I took over the job."

"Consort, mistress, personal whore... I couldn't decide on which term to use because neither imply exclusivity while in captivity. A sword to one's neck at times is a great motivator to perform." Connie rolled her eyes. "It wasn't all that bad, really... He was a decent lover... But I will say I do not miss him."

"Sweetie, he wasn't in his left mind, let alone his right. He beat the treasure master often, when he thought we weren't pulling in enough loot, or when his share wasn't as large as he thought it should be." Connie skipped the torture question for the moment. "They followed him because he paid well. The other... drawbacks were often overlooked because the rewards were so massive. Well, compared to other pirates, or so I'd heard." She drank the remainder of her milk before responding to Nyra's question about why they didn't kill Connie. "I think they didn't kill me for several reasons. I became their 'friend' inasmuch as a captive could befriend her captors. For a while, they had felt bad for me, especially when my co-captive had passed. I had become one of the crew, by the end, actually doing some daily chores in addition to my duties as treasure master."

Connie drew in a deep breath before answering the torture question. "As far as the torture question... I think in his own way, as close as could be described, he loved me. I stood up to him. I didn't shrink back when he yelled, I didn't cower in fear when he came into our cell, I didn't expect him to just let us go because I begged and cried and threw a temper tantrum."

Nyra's last question was quieter than the last few... And Connie thought she almost heard fear tinging her lover's words. Confused now how to proceed, she decided to start slow. "I am not the only vampire in the world. There are a few hundred, spread out over all the continents. There may be a few dozen here in Nachton. Some humans are aware of vampires' existence. I chose to tell you for several reasons. Because I do care for you. Because I hate seeing you not feeling well, and I know that you're trying to, in your own wonderful way, make our relationship a bit easier by altering your sleep schedule and ignoring the needs of your body to stay awake for me, or to go to bed too late for me. Because you needed to know. Time will pass, and you would begin to wonder. 'Why isn't Connie changing? Why don't I see her shaving? Why doesn't her hair grow longer?' And a dozen other questions that I can't think of at the moment. I told you for your sake, Nyra, to try to ease any possible pain years down the road..." Connie pursed her lips as another tear fell from her eye, "But I think I've only caused more now than I meant to allay later."

Shocked and stunned Nyra sat silently as Connie described her earlier life. Picking up a piece of fudge she nibbled it slowly, trying to push aside her horror at the things her partner spoke of so matter of factly. It made her wonder if time really did heal all wounds, because she was sure that she could be this calm had it happened during her lifetime.

When Connie mentioned the number of living vampires she almost choked. Quickly gulping down a drink of her soy milk she blinked at the woman before her. "So many?"

Waving away her lover's concern for her health, be it her prior schedule change or her current coughing fit, Nyra finally formed a more coherant question.

"How do they escape discovery? That many must be the reasons for all the tall tales and folklore. Do you all stay in contact like some kind of secret society? Or avoid one another?"

Shaking her head at the image of secret handshakes and subteranian cities she hoped Connie was simply pulling her leg but feared she was not.

"I escaped discovery by moving around. Buying wigs. Hiding out on the Great Plains for a number of years - hence a bunch of those photos in albums six through nine - hair dye, makeup. Pretending to be my own descendent. Learning to take only what I needed to survive, or to ingest animal blood. Stuff like that. A lot of the folklore, though, is incorrect... I can't be killed with a stake to the heart, but it'll hurt a lot and I'll slowly weaken if it doesn't get removed. Silver bullets are a fallacy as well, but they can hurt. About the only thing that can actually kill me is starvation - though it takes a very long time - or getting beheaded, or getting an awful bad sunburn."

Connie felt like a set of scales as she continued to weigh her responses to her lover's questions. "I have not kept in touch with many vampires of late. Other than working for a company that was originally established by vampires, I don't know of any that I've actually met lately. The city really is that big. And if you think about it, a theoretical number of five hundred vampires is nothing compared to the six billion humans in the world."

She paused before continuing, "There are three clans of vampires. Each with somewhat different abilities, vastly different histories, but generally with the same goals - to continue to exist alongside humans. And no, we don't have a way to sense each other... We can't tell if someone else is a vampire just by sniffing each other's butts, as it were."

Nyra was shocked at the blunt, matter of fact tone Connie had when discussing her survival. Even the chocolate sat forgotton on the table as she listened, eyes blinking away unshed tears.

"It sounds so hard. Trying to fit in and live secretly. No wonder you told me."

Shaking her head she could believe that it was not all that common to run across fellow vampies. But still if they were all 'passing' as human then how would you know. "I guess its not like me running into another vegan, we are more out there with our choices. I do think its very odd though that I end up in a relationship with a vampire. The irony is not lost on me."

Since she did not quite get the butt sniffing comment she let it slide. Somehow she did not think it was intended to be a literal translation since they were discussing vampires, not werewolves. Her head cocked to the side at a tangent thought.

"If the um clans all have the same general goal, why do you have three? Why not one to unite all the vampires, then you wouldnt be so spread out."

"There are three because each of the seperate clans has different methods to achieving those goals. Not unlike Democrats and Republicans, their answers to questions are always different." Connie slowly stretched out her leg, having sat on it for so long, and held up three fingers for Nyra.

Ticking off her ring finger, she began, "The oldest clan tends to be most traditional of the clans. They can be tracked back over many centuries and they rule their demesnes with their hearts set on immutability and an unvarying environment. They value culture - art, music, everything that makes a society what they are - but they abhor change. They are the elite of vampire society, both noble and proud. They believe that as immortals they have superior vision and understanding than their shorter lived 'mortal' counterparts."

She ticked off her middle finger, folding it into her fist. "The second clan understands the need for our kind to evolve and change as we move into the future, and uses this point of view to its fullest. They also believe in living in harmony with humans, in hopes of strengthening both species."

Folding her last finger down, Connie explained her own 'home' clan. "My own clan is the last. Much newer than the other two, we are the... brat pack, the red-headed step children, the teenagers so to speak of the vampire clan world. My creator was part of this clan, albeit one removed for some decades, but he was a part of their vision... To help mold and guide humans while advancing vampire-kind. Sometimes such handholding isn't pretty... A la pirates on the Caribbean, but newer opportunities like investing in world-altering technologies, medicines, and so forth while trying to earn the respect of the other clans without looking like a 'hey look what we did, Gramps' child is what gives most of my compatriots their drive."

"As you can see," Connie said, readying herself for her lover's next question, "different means to the same ends."

"Wow, so things are not much different than from normal human politics? Traditionalists, Progressives and Independants all with the same overall goal but with different aproaches. Interesting. So what does a clan do for you exactly? Provide protection? Um, food?"

Nyra hoped her comments and questions were not bothering Connie. During the descriptions she had end up crossing her legs in front of her and leaning forward slightly. This seemed like an easier conversation until she had to bring up 'food'. Bah! Why did she start thinking about that. A strange thought popped into her head and she eyed the vampire on the couch with her.

"Have you ever bitten me? Or would I have noticed it? Or do you not eat people?"