Joseph nodded as he was addressed, and stared towards his master to let him know that he was listening carefully. But he merely nodded in response, as he did not see a need to respond verbally, nor was he entirely sure that he could. It was obvious that, for tonight at least, Lord Alexi did not want him to stand there, patiently waiting to fill his drink. Understanding the sentiment as a dismissal, he set down the two pitchers on their tray on the table, and bowed once more before leaving the room.
It was still four hours to midnight, and already Joseph dreaded the prospect of meeting the vampire rebel. The memories that this whole thing dredged up plagued him. Unwilling to sit still, he worked on some of his other chores for the time being, assisting with the work of cleaning up the kitchen, and dusting some of the lesser-used rooms in the house. There were times that he wished that Master Alexi had fewer slaves, just so that he could be more busy. Sometimes his sentence seemed almost luxurious, and right now he wanted anything he could do to keep his mind away from the impending encounter with his past.
After he had done all of the work he could justify as needing doing in the least bit, the head servant washed his hands and spent the final hour practicing the cello. He had begun playing the piano around the age of 200 or so, and the cello around the age of 250. Not that it mattered, but he was actually quite skilled. Slavery and servitude aside, there were definite advantages to the long lifespan of vampires, the ability to learn and practice many skills ranking high among them.
At exactly midnight, Joseph stood from his instrument and went to a closet to grab some cleaning supplies. He had resolved not to speak to the rebel leader more than was absolutely necessary, no matter how the prisoner tried to rile him. He was still far too afraid of .... well he was not sure what exactly, perhaps of seeing such suffering.
~*~*~
Erik focused on breathing deeply to keep his mind from racing with bloodlust and anxiety, but he finally had managed to calm himself to the point that his symptoms were almost … almost at a manageable level. He decided to let the human's conundrum out of his mind for a while, and to simply read one of the books that was within his reach. Stretching nearly as far out as the binding chains would let him, he grabbed a book called Dark and Light Elves: History and Culture, that was at least fifty years old. Though not illegal, books or other media that painted magicals as anything besides mindless slaves were generally frowned upon, and he was more than a little surprised to find something like this in this house of all places. But nonetheless, he began to read, if for no other reason than to distract himself from his increasing levels of anxiety.
It was still four hours to midnight, and already Joseph dreaded the prospect of meeting the vampire rebel. The memories that this whole thing dredged up plagued him. Unwilling to sit still, he worked on some of his other chores for the time being, assisting with the work of cleaning up the kitchen, and dusting some of the lesser-used rooms in the house. There were times that he wished that Master Alexi had fewer slaves, just so that he could be more busy. Sometimes his sentence seemed almost luxurious, and right now he wanted anything he could do to keep his mind away from the impending encounter with his past.
After he had done all of the work he could justify as needing doing in the least bit, the head servant washed his hands and spent the final hour practicing the cello. He had begun playing the piano around the age of 200 or so, and the cello around the age of 250. Not that it mattered, but he was actually quite skilled. Slavery and servitude aside, there were definite advantages to the long lifespan of vampires, the ability to learn and practice many skills ranking high among them.
At exactly midnight, Joseph stood from his instrument and went to a closet to grab some cleaning supplies. He had resolved not to speak to the rebel leader more than was absolutely necessary, no matter how the prisoner tried to rile him. He was still far too afraid of .... well he was not sure what exactly, perhaps of seeing such suffering.
~*~*~
Erik focused on breathing deeply to keep his mind from racing with bloodlust and anxiety, but he finally had managed to calm himself to the point that his symptoms were almost … almost at a manageable level. He decided to let the human's conundrum out of his mind for a while, and to simply read one of the books that was within his reach. Stretching nearly as far out as the binding chains would let him, he grabbed a book called Dark and Light Elves: History and Culture, that was at least fifty years old. Though not illegal, books or other media that painted magicals as anything besides mindless slaves were generally frowned upon, and he was more than a little surprised to find something like this in this house of all places. But nonetheless, he began to read, if for no other reason than to distract himself from his increasing levels of anxiety.