Sol tapped his fingers against the table, studying Elias for a moment. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned forward, resting an elbow on the armrest. "Alright, I've got questions."
Elias smirked. "I expected as much."
Sol tilted his head. "First off—coffins. You sleeping in one or nah?"
Elias exhaled, clearly amused. "Only when I want to make an impression."
Sol snapped his fingers. "Damn. That would've been hilarious."
Elias chuckled. "Disappointed?"
"A little," Sol admitted. "What about turning into a bat?"
Elias gave him a dry look. "Why would I turn into something so small and fragile?"
Sol shrugged. "I dunno, stealth?"
Elias chuckled. "I have better ways of being unseen."
Sol narrowed his eyes. "So you can turn into something else?"
Elias took a slow sip of his drink. "Perhaps."
Sol groaned, leaning back. "Ugh, you're so cryptic. Just answer the question!"
Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up as another thought struck him. "Wait, do you have wings like in the movies?"
Elias actually laughed at that, the deep sound echoing through the room. "Something like that."
Sol sat up excitedly, leaning forward. "Wait, seriously? Can I see?"
Elias smirked, tilting his head in amusement. "And why would I indulge your curiosity so freely?"
Sol huffed. "Oh, come on. You can't just casually drop the possibility of wings and expect me not to want proof."
Elias sighed dramatically. "I suppose I do have an image to uphold."
Without another word, the air around them shifted. The candlelight flickered, shadows deepening unnaturally in the corners of the room. A low rumble, almost imperceptible, echoed from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The tension in the atmosphere thickened, the still air charged with something ancient and electric.
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Elias stood, his posture effortlessly regal. The room darkened further, as if the light itself recoiled from what was about to unfold. A gust of wind—not from any visible source—swept through, sending loose papers fluttering to the floor.
And then it happened.
With an almost inaudible whisper of shifting fabric, two massive wings unfurled from Elias' back—wings that were not feathery like an angel's, nor entirely leathery like a beast's, but something in between. They were impossibly dark, as though woven from pure shadow, absorbing the dim light rather than reflecting it. Their size alone was enough to command awe, stretching wide enough to nearly brush the towering walls of the chamber.
Outside, as if nature itself reacted to the unveiling, a sudden crack of thunder roared in the distance, followed by the faint flicker of lightning illuminating the gothic windows.
Sol sat frozen, staring wide-eyed. "Holy shit."
Elias smirked, wings slowly settling behind him, their presence both imposing and strangely elegant. "Satisfied?"
Sol exhaled, still taking in the spectacle. "I—yeah. Damn. You really went full dramatic mode, huh?"
Then, as if finally catching up with what just happened, he narrowed his eyes. "Wait a damn minute—how the hell did you summon a storm just by flexing your wings?"
Elias let out a low chuckle, rolling his shoulders slightly as if the wings were nothing more than an afterthought. "It wasn't intentional, I assure you. The elements tend to react to certain... displays."
Sol scoffed, pointing a finger at him. "So what, the sky just vibes with your theatrics? That's some next-level main character nonsense."
Elias smirked. "Perhaps it simply recognizes a presence worthy of reverence."
Sol snorted. "Or maybe you just like being dramatic so much that even the weather got tired of your antics."
Elias gave him a knowing look. "And yet, you can't say it wasn't effective."
Sol leaned back, shaking his head. "Alright, you win this round, old man. But if lightning strikes the next time you sneeze, I'm out."
Elias chuckled, the deep resonance of his laugh blending with the lingering echo of the storm outside. "You asked for a demonstration. It would be rude to disappoint."
Sol rolled his eyes but kept going. "Alright, next. Blood. Do you drink it out of fancy goblets or go full monster mode?"
Elias tilted his glass, watching the dark red liquid swirl inside. "What do you think?"
Sol squinted. "That better be wine."
Elias took a slow, deliberate sip. "Let's pretend it is."
Sol groaned again. "You're the worst."
Elias chuckled. "You're the one asking the questions."
Sol huffed. "Fine. What happens if you don't drink blood? Do you just wither up like an old prune?"
Elias chuckled, but there was something distant in his gaze. "I get irritable. Then I get weaker. Then… well, let's not find out."
Sol eyed him carefully. "Sounds inconvenient."
"You have no idea."
Sol clicked his tongue. "Alright, let's talk weaknesses. Sunlight—do you explode, melt, or just get a really bad sunburn?"
Elias smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I would, actually."
Elias leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth as silk. "Maybe one day you'll see for yourself."
Sol frowned. "That was ominous as hell."
Elias simply smiled.
Sol, deciding not to push that particular mystery further, moved on. "How old are you exactly? Be honest."
Elias let out a quiet, almost tired chuckle, his expression shifting—just for a second—into something distant. "I lost count after a couple millennia."
Sol blinked. "Wait, seriously? You don't even know?"
Elias rolled his glass between his fingers, watching the liquid swirl. "When time stops being a constraint, the years become irrelevant. You measure your existence by the moments that matter, not the ones that pass."
Sol gave him a skeptical look. "That sounds like a fancy way of saying 'I got lazy and stopped counting.'"
Elias chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps. But tell me, if you lived long enough that history itself blurred, would you still bother with the specifics?"
Sol considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Nah, I'd probably just start making up numbers to mess with people." He smirked. "Imagine telling someone you're seventy-five thousand years old just to see their face."
Elias laughed, a genuine, amused sound. "And that is precisely why you are entertaining company."
Sol exhaled, waving a hand. "Fine, fine. Let's get to the good part. Have you ever turned someone into a vampire?"
Elias' smirk faded slightly. "Not in a very long time."
Sol leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Alright, so what's the deal with that? How does it even work? Do you just bite someone and boom, they're a vampire? Or is there some dark ritual with candles and chanting?"
Elias chuckled, shaking his head. "If it were that simple, the world would be overrun with my kind. No, turning someone requires more than just a bite."
Sol raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."
Elias leaned back, swirling his drink absentmindedly. "It's a delicate process—one that requires intention, control, and above all… sacrifice. A vampire must choose carefully. Not everyone can survive the transformation."
Sol narrowed his eyes. "Survive?"
Elias met his gaze, something almost unreadable in his expression. "Becoming one of us is not a guarantee. The body resists change. Some… break apart in the process. Others lose themselves before the transition is complete."
Sol frowned. "That sounds messed up."
Elias smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Immortality isn't free, Sol. It comes at a cost."
Sol sat back, tapping his fingers on the table. "You ever turn someone?"
Elias went silent for a moment before replying, "Not in a very long time. And those I did… well, not all of them remained."
Sol picked up on the shift in tone but didn't pry—at least, not yet. Instead, he changed tactics. "Okay, serious question. Can you eat normal food, or is everything just 'aged blood' and 'mystery red drinks'?"
Elias chuckled. "I can eat. I just don't need to."
Sol narrowed his eyes. "That means yes, but you probably haven't touched a cheeseburger in centuries."
Elias chuckled again. "Let's just say mortal food lost its novelty a long time ago."
Sol tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Huh. So vampires do normal things or nah? Or is your entire existence just brooding in dark rooms?"
Elias gestured around him. "Do I seem like someone who lacks entertainment?"
Sol snorted. "I dunno, this place is one tragic organ song away from being a gothic horror story."
Elias smirked. "And yet you still walked in."
"Yeah, and now I'm reconsidering." Sol leaned back with a sigh. "Alright, last one—how do vampires even… y'know."
Elias raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific."
Sol gestured vaguely. "Do vampires… date? Fall in love? Or is immortality just one long, lonely eternity?"
Elias went quiet for a moment, then leaned back, exhaling. "Immortality changes things. You learn to appreciate moments rather than permanence. Mortals grow, change, fade. Most of my kind don't bother. Some try, and it rarely ends well."
Sol frowned. "That's… kind of sad."
Elias gave him a small, knowing smile. "It is what it is."
Sol studied him for a moment, then clicked his tongue. "Alright, I take it back. You're not just an old vampire. You're a lonely, old vampire."
Elias laughed, shaking his head. "And you, Sol, are the most entertaining conversation I've had in years."
Sol smirked. "Glad I could spice up your endless existence."
Elias let out a quiet chuckle, but there was something in his gaze—an ancient sort of weariness that flickered just beneath his usual amusement.
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he spoke again. "Tell me, Sol—why so much curiosity about my kind?"
Sol blinked. "What?"
Elias smiled faintly. "You ask a lot of questions. Most people would've stopped at the theatrics. Yet, you keep digging. Why is that?"
Sol rolled his eyes. "Maybe I just like knowing things. Ever think of that?"
Elias chuckled. "I think there's more to it than that. Curiosity is one thing, but you? You're prying like someone searching for something specific."
Sol scoffed. "And you're just full of yourself. Maybe I just wanted to know if all the legends were exaggerated."
Elias hummed in amusement. "Perhaps. But tell me, do you ever think about what it would mean to live beyond a single lifetime?"
Sol huffed. "I barely plan a week ahead, old man. You think I've sat around daydreaming about immortality?"
Elias smirked. "No. But I do think you wonder what it would be like to be unshackled. No expectations. No limits. No end in sight."
Sol frowned slightly but didn't answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled and leaned back. "You sure do like analyzing people."
Elias raised his glass slightly. "It passes the time."
Then, after a brief pause, he pushed further. "So, are you going to answer?"
Sol frowned, his fingers tapping against the table. "Answer what exactly?"
Elias tilted his head slightly, studying him with those ever-perceptive eyes. "With immortality. What do you think of it?"
Sol blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. He had been throwing out jokes and banter all night, but this—this was different. He exhaled, leaning back into his chair. "I mean... what's there to think? It's a long time to be around. Doesn't sound all that fun if you ask me."
Elias smirked. "A common response. And yet, there's a difference between rejecting something because it doesn't interest you… and rejecting it because you're afraid of it."
Sol narrowed his eyes. "You really do love twisting words, huh?"
Elias simply shrugged. "It's what I do."
Sol exhaled, staring at the candlelight flickering against the grand gothic walls. "Depends. It interests me."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That's a far cry from your earlier dismissal."
Sol stretched his arms, his fingers interlocking behind his head. "I mean, the longer I live, the more I can learn. The universe is massive—there's no way I'd be able to see it all, know it all, in just one lifetime. There's too much out there, too many mysteries, too many things that are just out of reach."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with something beyond curiosity. "If I had centuries, millennia even, I could unravel things no one else has time to. Study the forgotten, piece together the lost, understand things that are impossible for someone with an expiration date. That's the part that interests me. The idea that time wouldn't be a limitation."
Elias tilted his glass slightly, the crimson liquid catching the light. "And yet, I sense hesitation."
Sol huffed. "Because, like everything, there's a downside, right? You've all but admitted that. You get centuries of experiences, sure, but you also get centuries of watching people leave. Whether they want to or not. Sounds exhausting."
Elias smiled, but there was something tired beneath it. "It is."
Sol tapped the table. "Then again, I guess it depends on how you go about it. If you let yourself get attached, yeah, maybe it sucks. But if you just—y'know, float through things, not tying yourself down? Maybe it's not so bad."
Elias chuckled. "That's an amusing perspective. An eternal drifter, untouched by time or connection. But tell me, do you really think you're the type to remain unattached?"
Sol hesitated for a fraction of a second before scoffing. "Who knows? I don't plan that far ahead, remember?"
Elias smirked knowingly. "A convenient excuse. But even now, I can see it—you're not someone who moves through life unaffected. You care more than you let on."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before swirling the liquid in his glass. "You know, Sol... if immortality interests you that much, you could always have it."
Sol blinked, his expression shifting from casual intrigue to genuine surprise. "Wait, what?"
Elias chuckled softly, setting his glass down. "I could turn you, if you wanted. Give you the time you crave. Let you see everything this universe has to offer without the limits of mortality." He tilted his head slightly, studying Sol's reaction. "The choice is yours."
Sol stared at him, processing the words. He opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling through his nose. "Okay, hold up. That's not something you just offer in the middle of a casual chat."
Elias smirked. "And yet, here we are."