[One more reason he tries to feed on animal blood wherever he goes. Nothing tastes like human blood, but animals are far more palatable than the slop that passes for blood pills.]
Technically, it was a century and a half ago. I was born in 1846, and I "transitioned" when I was seventeen.
[He doesn't quite look seventeen, though - if anything, he's more 22 than 17. Not that he'll say so at the moment. His reincarnation is a harder pillow to swallow than his immortality.]
Good God, [ and if she chuckles now it's only because she can't imagine there's a single reaction left to her that passes muster as polite. ] You are old.
[ -- well, maybe she doesn't come close to polite. actually. ]
I'm considering a Lugosi joke, but I'm also a little worried Mister Jarvis might have already made one.
I imagine that must have stung a little. [ but she's got the measure of stefan, she thinks. he's unlikely to hold something like that against jarvis. or so she hopes. ] Mister Jarvis hasn't been here as long as I have, I suppose -- less opportunity to adjust to the otherworldly. Even back home, he's relatively buffered from the weirdest of what happens.
I figured as much. [Stefan shakes his head fondly.] It's more - I was trying to tell him the truth, and he just tells me that I can't possibly be a vampire because those don't exist.
[He can laugh now, because it's actually Pretty Funny, but he sure didn't appreciate it at the time.]
[ a soft hum. with internal force, she chooses to change the way she approaches her digestion of his 'secret' such as it was. ]
I know a little bit about the sting of others' incredulity. [ and there's a comfort in not needing to explain to him why that is -- not if he's lived through those same decades when she'd tried to carve out a career for herself. ] However markedly different the circumstances.
I'm sorry that you had to in the first place. [He certainly remembers - pieces of it, anyway, in the hazy reaches of Salvatore's memory. Alesci was far more acquainted with a different sort of discrimination.] And I can't exactly blame them, either.
Most vampires aren't super friendly. Feed first, talk later, maybe kill if they're bored - the legends exist for a reason.
Not that I can remember. [World's a big place. It's possible that he hasn't met them – or that if he has, the amnesia isn't making things easier.] We don't kill who we feed, so that might account for it.
A cold mercy, [ peggy offers her verdict. provided she understood the sentiment. ] Not to cast aspersions, but I'm not certain the thought sits well with me.
You, me, and most people from my world. [He can't blame her, and he's one of these nightmarish creatures.] Precautions aren't universal, either; what works for some worlds won't work for others.
Those silly films seem to proscribe -- what is it? Native soil? True faith? [ there's a touch of sarcasm in her voice. not that she's keen to make fun of belief, but she doesn't think of spirituality as a kind of panacea, capable of burning away the monsters of the world. ]
Or, if Stoker is to be believed, the inevitable march of progress and a typewriter that can print in triplicate.
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[One more reason he tries to feed on animal blood wherever he goes. Nothing tastes like human blood, but animals are far more palatable than the slop that passes for blood pills.]
Technically, it was a century and a half ago. I was born in 1846, and I "transitioned" when I was seventeen.
[He doesn't quite look seventeen, though - if anything, he's more 22 than 17. Not that he'll say so at the moment. His reincarnation is a harder pillow to swallow than his immortality.]
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[ -- well, maybe she doesn't come close to polite. actually. ]
I'm considering a Lugosi joke, but I'm also a little worried Mister Jarvis might have already made one.
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[At least he's aware! He'll lean back a little, comfortable in that knowledge.]
More like he called me a piece of fiction, but same idea.
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[ she tries. ]
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[He can laugh now, because it's actually Pretty Funny, but he sure didn't appreciate it at the time.]
I've gotta say, that was pretty anticlimactic.
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I take it the reactions you receive are usually more...heated?
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They're rejections, Peggy. Every last one of 'em. [ . . . ] Or they used to be, anyway.
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I know a little bit about the sting of others' incredulity. [ and there's a comfort in not needing to explain to him why that is -- not if he's lived through those same decades when she'd tried to carve out a career for herself. ] However markedly different the circumstances.
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Most vampires aren't super friendly. Feed first, talk later, maybe kill if they're bored - the legends exist for a reason.
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Or, if Stoker is to be believed, the inevitable march of progress and a typewriter that can print in triplicate.
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[Can't suspect Stefan of being a vampire if he's running that Interfaith Center, after all.]
Belief has significant power. Some vampires are more demon-like, so holy water actually works on them, but others like me? Not so much.
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[ would it be rude? could she expect a straight answer? ]
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[If not, Peggy is way less observant than he realized. Stefan's made no secret of how often - and how quickly - he runs from fire.]