Butterflies and Vampires

CHAPTER 8

I leaned outside the window, looking at the muddy fields, bare trees, and empty scenery, when I heard a knock.

"Come in."

Uriel came in and sat down at the chair across from me. "Are you fine with this ensemble and hairstyle, or do you prefer me to draw you in a different gown or hairstyle? The background will also be your room, is that fine?"

"I don't mind, do what you want." I draped an arm over the arm of the divan. "Am I not attractive no matter what angle you see me from?"

He rolled his eyes in a way I had never seen before. "To put it plainly, women are the same to me."

"So is it men you desire?"

"All I desire is a specific vampire's death."

He took out his charcoal and began to sketch on the sketchbook, only occasionally peering up. His hair glistened with each movement, and his lips were a pale pink.

"Even if you won't give me a compliment, I shall grace you with you. You're handsome, Uriel, despite that disagreeable mouth of yours. You must have a fiancé or sweetheart, haven't you?"

"Girls don't like me, I'm infamous for drawing nudes."

I stifled a laugh even though he looked unaffected.

"From who, prostitutes?"

"Whoever lets me. I've drawn male and female."

"I saw your art," I said. "From the encyclopedia."

He looked up but he was still looking at my body and sketching out the general shape on his sketchbook. I wished he'd hurry and focus on my face—that was my best feature.

He didn't reply.

"And I read the story of the amaryllis."

"What did you think of it?" His voice was monotonous, then the scratching of the charcoal against the paper filled the room.

"I thought it was terrible." I looked away. "Poor Amaryllis, dying just to be beautiful for a man."

"Aren't you the same?"

"You're wrong. I'm born beautiful. I didn't have to hurt myself." I leaned my chin against my hand. "But you know, when I imagined the story of Amaryllis, I imagined her love to be someone like you."

His hand stopped, and he looked up. "Alteo?"

"Yes. I imagined him to be like you." I smiled. "A man who doesn't see beauty even when it's right in front of him, and causes a woman to suffer."

"Hm." He brought his head down. "I find beauty burdensome. It strokes your ego, and changes you into an ugly person."

"Let me tell you a riddle," I began. "There was a pretty girl in love with a pretty boy. They grew up to be a pretty woman and pretty man. They married in a pretty church, and lived in a pretty cottage. The woman gave birth on a winter day, to two pretty girls. They had big pretty eyes and long pretty hair, but one winter day they flew away."

Uriel put down his pencil and leaned back on his chair.

"They flew to the sky, and they flew to the moon. To this day, no one knows why. Now, why do you think the pretty girls flew away?"

I looked at him carefully. He looked outside at the window.

"Isn't it easy? They want to be free."

"What does freedom have to do with it?"

"You don't understand it yet, Margery." It was the first time he called me by my name so casually, without honorifics, and yet I didn't like it. It sounded like he was looking down at me, as always. Like I wasn't seeing something he was, and I hated it.