A vampire might reasonably be considered an exotic creature, yet there are times when I feel quite mundane. Certainly when I went into the tavern this afternoon, I felt very much the dull one. Of course, when you are up against Rachel, with her decorated horns and tail, our ice-skate-footed friend, whose name I learned was Rangda, and what turned out to be a satyr called Muskwood, one can’t help to be the normal-looking one, even with the pointy teeth.
I don’t know quite what sort of conversation I had walked in upon, but it seemed to involve the satyr trying to persuade Rachel that she didn’t need clothes with some bullshit story, pardon my language, about plants feeling pain as they are ripped from the ground. OK, I know my dryad friend is capable of feeling pain and pleasure, but I’m not sure that principle extends down to things like flax and cotton. Admittedly, the process of making linen from flax does involve a certain amount of abuse, but cotton comes from a bit the plant is throwing away anyway. I don’t remember how hemp is made. Those were the only plant fabrics I could think of at the time. Everything else on my body comes from animals – wool, leather, silk. On the other hand, he is a satyr, so maybe he took any excuse to get a woman, even one with horns, naked.
Skater-girl made brief pleasantries and then flew off, again. I know twice does not make something a habit, but I am beginning to wonder. It’s not as if I have any desire to bite her. I don’t know if she is demonic, fae or other, and besides, those feet look dangerous.
Rachel, meanwhile, asked me to not pull her tail in future. I protested it was the easiest bit to grab and told her I would so promise if she would promise not to provoke my friends. This led to somewhat of a debate, with her claiming that all she was doing was trying to help and what was wrong with that? Aoibheann turned up and weighed into the argument on my side. I was beginning to wonder of Rachel was not aware of what she was doing, since she has only been a demon for a short while. I could feel some sympathy for that, having been a vampire for only a short time and still finding my way with my powers. However, as Aoibheann neatly put it, she still had to take responsibility. Rachel could not see the harm she was doing, even when I explained that while she had indeed offered to exact the revenge, putting herself at risk, it could still reflect harm on Gwyn for future encounters with the Raven. Aoibheann got fed up with trying to convince her and disappeared off, possibly to bang something against the wall in frustration, judging by the noises I was hearing. Rachel herself stormed off in a sulk, still proclaiming her innocence. I must have a word with Padishar, find out what it is she is feeding on, if that is what she is doing, and how to prevent it.
Mention of the Unseelie Raven caught the satyr’s attention, advising that it wasn’t a good idea to get on said creature’s bad side (not that I am sure he has a good side). I spoke of my own raven experiences, which he found odd, given my nature, and advised me about speaking too freely of my abilities. I discovered from that conversation that he was Seelie, so wasn’t going to tell anybody. He had far better things to do than spilling blood. I would have commented that I didn’t approve of spilling it either, regarding that as being a waste, but I figured that Aoibheann, who had come back in with grazed knuckles, might take it the wrong way. I helped her clean said knuckles with some vodka and a piece of clean rag – the one I used to wrap the older piece of unicorn crystal in and then, lacking anything else to do, left her to the tavern, the satyr by now having lost interest.
I am still wondering about the plants feeling pain comment. I must ask Aerodine next time I see her.