Corallin
The fire of the inn crackles as I stop near the front. This inn is one of the smaller ones that my father bought out after killing the owner.
Elwis the Eel takes his innkeeping very seriously. After all, it’s quite a cutthroat business. At least… he makes it that way.
The first inn he ever owned was originally bought for my mother as their wedding present, but when father isn’t off running a criminal empire, he’s helping her run the business. And it’s his love language to make certain that mother’s inn is the most successful in the whole country.
If that means he has to murder his competition and feed their guests rat poison, then that’s just how it is. Then afterwardsfather can buy another inn and gift that to my mother as well. This inn is one of their more recent acquisitions and still has the old signage out front.
It’s romantic, in a bit of a twisted way. Leaves me wondering if I’ll ever find that kind of love. It’s a question that I’ve been dwelling on especially recently since Natasya and Bronwyn have both brought home suitors.
It’s hard because my sisters are both so much younger than me. Due to my lapses in memory, I don’t even know by how many years, but since elves age twice as slowly as humans, I know that I lived for at least thirty years to be the age I am now. And then there’s no knowing how long I was a vampire.
But the difference is that I’m trapped always at this age, and I had to watch as my sisters passed me and blossomed into full grown women while I’m trapped forever frozen at this state of my life.
My younger sisters are now older than me— in the equivalent of our ages by maturity.
They’re moving on with their lives, they’ve both found someone, and they seem so happy.
My father and mother are happy.
I wonder if I’ll ever find that happiness, but I can’t help but wonder who would fall for a vampiric Higher Elf sorceress. My hands are stained red with the blood of the assassination contracts I’ve fulfilled. Anyone I bring home will have to come to terms with my criminal family and they in turn would have to accept him.
It’s too much to ask of anyone to take me as I am.
I’m not even sure why I’m thinking about this. It’s been a long day, another soul has been sent to Skyhold, and tonight I’ll return to my father. I’m just stopping at this inn because I need a place to rest until the sun sets.
I’m about to tell the innkeeper whose daughter I am and demand a room where I can rest till evening, but then someone catches my eye.
It’s a man, a Highlander sitting at the table in the back of the room. I’m not sure what draws my attention to him. Perhaps it is the aura of mystery that he exudes of why he would be staying at the inn during the day instead of traveling on his way. We aren’t in any city; the weather is pleasant enough for a non-vampire. This is the type of inn that is just a stop in the journey, not somewhere you stay long term.
Or maybe it is his rugged exterior, with golden hair pulled back in a bun and a thick beard that covers half his face. Rippling muscles and an arm tattooed to resemble the sleeve of a shirt only with smaller pictures tell of a life of adventure.
Or maybe it’s the fact that despite how he looks, he is sitting at a desk hunched over an open book furiously scribbling into it, but I find myself striding toward him.
I pull out the chair across from him and slide into it. “Hello,” I say after a moment. “I’m Corallin,”
He looks up, clearly confused by my presence, but he still manages to muster up a polite smile and nod. “Lief,” he says and then he returns to scribbling.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning forward and resting my hand on my chin.
Lief looks up startled. I wonder if he thought I’d left after our little introduction. He’s clearly absorbed in that book that he is writing in. He glances down at it, and his cheeks grow slightly rosy.
I tilt my head. “Are you embarrassed?”
“No,” he says hastily followed by a muttered, “Maybe. I don’t see how this is any business of yours.”
“It might not be,” I say offering him a small smile so he will stop being so on edge. “But humor me, it isn’t as if your profession can be any worse than mine.”
After all, I kill people. Not even for a living, I kill because it runs in my family, and it’s expected of me.
Lief closes the book, placing the quill to the side. “I think I should go,” he says as he grabs the ink.
I’m not entirely sure what possesses me, but I reach across the table, resting my hand on his. “Don’t go. Please.”
Lief pauses, his eyes locked on my hand over his. I wonder if he notices how cold my touch is—a byproduct of being a vampire. I curl my fingers, pulling back.
Finally, he nods and sits back down. He sets down the ink quill and opens the book. “Fine, if you must know. I’m an author, but please don’t tell anyone.”
