Hi, it's me again! Kat Saxon, bad bitch who makes bad decisions. I just got a fucking crucifix burned into my chest, and it's two more nights on the train before I get home where I can see my doctor.

Right now, I'm just trying to relax, ignore the pain, and enjoy your company.

You, on the other hand, want to ask questions.

 

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Interlude I: "Anatomy Lesson"

 

Yeah, sure, I'll answer some questions. Got nothing else to do than read this fucking awful travel book. And I think the train's going to be pulling us for a while.

"Nobles are immortal."

Immortality is relative. We're born more or less like commoners, and age like them up to around 40 to 50 years.

After that, we barely age at all, sometimes for centuries. Then it catches up to us all at once and we start withering in a matter of years or even months. When we get old enough... we just collapse. Coma.

There are ways to treat that, but they all involve long term care for the comatose person. Centuries of it, sometimes.

That's what triggers inheritance. The eldest child of the same gender as the parent gets the estate.

"Nobles feed on the blood of commoners by biting their necks with piercing fangs and sucking the liquid life from them."

Kinda true, kinda not. Most of us drink blood for the same reason commoners eat food.

How we get it varies a bit by lineage. My family use the sharp points of our forked tongues to lightly lacerate an artery, then drink from it through the same little needles. That's why you only get the two little marks instead of some horrible open gash.

It's not exactly a sexual experience, either. It's really nice to do it when making out, but that's because a bit of pain is fun. We don't, like, drug you with our spit or anything.

The lovely icy numbness when I...? That's just morphine lip gloss. Okay, I guess that's drugging, but it's the nice kind, right?

Okay, yes, I buy it in bulk. But I definitely always ask first.

The 'fangs' are for hurting people. No, hurting people. Tearing them apart before they do the same to us. With training, we can swallow a bunch of that blood. Usually doesn't taste that good, but tasting good is not the point of murdering.

Ripping blood right out of people's bodies when we're doing violence? Again, doesn't taste good. And you have to do some really unpleasant mouth and throat stuff to gulp it. I've never been able to quite get it right.

"Nobles veins flow with the tithe of blood they consume."

This one again? We digest the fucking stuff, just like you do. That's why we have throats and stomachs and other parts we don't like being stabbed in.

The medical term for it is 'ichor.'' Thatt's derived from High Church, just like the word 'tithe' for taking blood from serfs and red workers.

Blood tears? Yeah, those are real, but they're a form of hemorrage. It means something's pushing us way too far and our bodies are breaking down.

If you ever see one of us crying blood, ask if we need a hug. Then if we need a surgeon.

"Nobles are invincible foes who can heal from any wound."

Not exactly. You're probably thinking about my rapid recovery from my hands being stopped and burned. It's not actually recovery, though.

Ichor is thicker than commoner blood. The good side is that it hardens quickly in response to wounds. When blood vessels are broken, our thickening blood fills the gaps not only in the broken vessels, but in bones and tendons and stuff.

See all the bruising? That's hardened blood. Pretty hot, right?

The shitty side is that our hearts have to work a lot harder than peasants. We are very capable of hurting ourselves in an adrenaline rush. Heart attacks are a pretty common form of death for soldiers.

Broken bones also suck. The coagulated replacements don't last very long. I'm going to have to go see a surgeon to put things back into place.

It hurts like a bastard, too.

"Nobles fear and hide from the rays of the Sun."

Do I even wanna know where you got that? It's basically backwards.

The Sun is the bringer of peace and relief. It's the only time we can really rest. Sunlight upon a casket of home soil is about the most wonderful thing in the whole world.

Gets complicated up north where I'm headed, though. We've got a few months of summer where we can sleep whenever the hell we want... but then there's the permanent insomnia of winter. You do not want to deal with my Mom in the middle of winter.

"Nobles become more powerful as they age."

We've got a lot of time to practice, certainly. My ex has been getting better at violent aggression for about a hundred years now.

The new miracles... that's a little complicated.

"Beneath every Noble's skin, there is a terrible monster."

This one's pretty cool. We more or less have flesh beneath flesh. As we get mature and (are supposed to) affirm our commitments to Church and Saints, the inner layers of our bodies transfigure. It's different for everyone, but cut us deep enough and we become something divine and terrible to behold.

"Nobles may be slain by wood or silver."

...this question makes me uncomfortable. But you're cool, right?

A stake of dogwood or cypress, the woods of the Damned Cross, hurt us bad. If a spear of one of them pierces our hearts, we pass out real damn fast.

Silver, the metal of Judas, burns our flesh. Worse, if it gets into our bloodstreams, it's poisonous. Quicksilver's even worse. Fortunately, it's also difficult to weaponize and pretty damn expensive.

Oh, there are ways to hurt me cheaper. Might show you, babe.

"Nobles are repelled by the sign of the Cross."

'Cross' is an exaggeration. Despite the fairy tale, windmills don't scare us or even piss us off. And two crossed pieces of wood intended to comemorate the murder are offensive but don't affect us.

The issue is crucifixes. Crosses made with sculptures of the Savior being hung and nailed up.

The symbol of Pilate's murder of the Savior is goddamn unpleasant to face. If it touches us, it burns. And, yeah, it pushes us away. Not like a physical shove. More like being so reminded of a personal tragedy that we can't bear to do more than weep and gnash our teeth.

They're also physically hard to carry. The Savior had trouble carrying his, too.

"A lot of things burn, huh?"

Yeah, a couple of things fucking burn. Actual fire doesn't, though, so fair trade, yeah?

But if you're thinking all shit is "weakness", hon, I'd like to point out that commoners can't survive being stabbed with anything through the heart, and quicksilver kills you fucking fast.

"Nobles can be killed by crucifixion."

...

...are you sure you're not a murderer? Like you don't have a secret room full of pretty girls' severed dicks or something?

...okay, yes. Hang us on a cross for three days, we die. You think you could survive that?

Sorry about the dick comment. You're just asking a lot of morbid questions instead of putting your hand on my thigh.

"Nobles do not drink wine."

Thank God you're back to teasing. We drink red or white at basically every formal occasion. Some of us get very wild on it.

Strong drinks can give us a bit of a mockery of daytime sleep. That's what I was hoping for out of this bottle I just stole from... the guy a few cars up from us.

But the fucking stuff is just fermented grape juice.

"Nobles are hot and I've got one I want to make out with."

That's a lot fucking better, thanks. Come here, babe...