Wanzi moved with the languid grace of a sleepwalker, his actions a testament to the toll that teaching and life had taken on him.
He settled into a chair, a cup in his hand containing a dark liquid that seemed to rouse him from his drowsiness. His normally darkened eyes flickered with a glimmer of alertness as he took a sip, a faint sigh escaping his lips.
Lola, her earlier agitation now subdued, bowed before Wanzi, her demeanor marked by respect and contrition. "I'm sorry, Master. I tried to stop him. I promise it won't happen again," she offered with genuine remorse.
Meanwhile, Alfred remained near the entrance, his presence somewhat comical as he stood with a clueless expression on his face, slowly taking another bite from the piece of jerky he held. The room seemed to swirl with an odd mixture of tension and relaxation.
Wanzi's sarcasm laced his next words as he addressed Alfred. "So, who do I need to thank for this rather unexpected intrusion?"
Alfred's grin persisted, unabated by the hint of sarcasm. "Talos said I could learn from you how to use my angel blood power," he explained, his eagerness palpable.
A wry smile tugged at Wanzi's lips. "I could've guessed it was Talos. That man will be the death of me one day," he mused with a hint of exasperation. "He used to be my master, you know," he added, his tone tinged with nostalgia.
Alfred leaned against a nearby surface, still engrossed in his jerky. "Well, he's sort of my master now, I think. Although he's more the type to ditch me," he remarked nonchalantly.
Wanzi chuckled softly, his amusement evident. He sat up a bit straighter, ready to share his insights. "So, what you experienced is called a blessing. These blessings are often triggered under duress, especially during combat situations. They can range from extraordinarily powerful to somewhat mundane when pitted against vampires."
Wanzi shifted his position, sitting up with a renewed spark of interest. A sharp whistle accompanied his actions, extinguishing a candle on the far side of the room.
"I'm quite skilled at whistling," he remarked dryly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Though, unfortunately, it's not particularly effective against vampires." after a somber silence "So Alfred I heard what you did, probably you focused unconsiusly to generate power in your hand to stop the attack."
Wanzi stoof up and walked back to his bed like an old man "Try to focus your inner power, concentrate it in your fingers or a specific area. It's a skill that requires practice and control. Keep practicing until you become proficient."
As Wanzi made his way toward the door, Alfred's voice carried his lingering questions. "Is that all there is to it? I thought headsmen had a more systematic way of training."
Wanzi's response was tinged with a sense of pragmatism. "Each power is unique, Alfred. There's no one-size-fits-all method. The key is practice and repetition, honing your abilities until you're useful enough to risk your life against vampires in service of our religion," he explained, his tone holding a touch of resignation.
"If you excuse me, I have an important thing to do tonight" With that, Wanzi disappeared from view, closing his chamber door with a decisive thud.
Left alone in the room with his thoughts, Alfred's expression shifted into one of contemplation. He sank into a chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he absorbed the insights he'd just received.
Lola's agitation radiated through the room as she paced back and forth, her words stumbling over each other in a flurry of anxiety. "Oh, my master wasn't pleased. I need to— I need to—" Her distress seemed to manifest physically as she unconsciously reached for the carrot that Alfred had given her earlier.
As Lola's pacing continued, Alfred extended his hand and focused his thoughts. His brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to summon his blessing, the tension in his face intensifying.
Yet, his efforts yielded an unexpected result—an almost inaudible, quiet fart. The outcome wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but Lola appeared oblivious to it.
Unaware of Alfred's unconventional endeavor, Lola suddenly realized she was chewing on the carrot and hastily discarded it. She sank into a nearby chair, her feet twitching with pent-up energy. Her fingers delved into her clothing, retrieving a piece of chocolate.
In an instant, Alfred's senses were captivated by the aroma, his attention laser-focused on the piece of chocolate in Lola's hand. Reacting with almost instinctual haste, he bounded toward her, his demeanor akin to a moth drawn to a flame.
"Can I get some?" Alfred's request was accompanied by a wave of enthusiasm, his words almost tripping over each other in his eagerness.
Caught in a brief contemplation, Lola eventually relented, breaking the small piece of chocolate into two equal portions. The shared indulgence brought forth a rush of pleasure, the exquisite flavor evoking sensations that verged on the sublime. With eyes closed in reverie, Alfred and Lola savored the moment, their senses intertwined with the rich, velvety chocolate.
In the midst of their enjoyment, Lola's voice broke the silence, her words imbued with a sense of reflection. "The small things in life that are worth living for," Lola mused, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and wistfulness.
Her eyes shifted, catching the sight of the nodding Alfred who seemed to be completely absorbed in the moment, though a smudge of chocolate on his scar at his lips seemed to hint at his ongoing indulgence.
"You have some choco—" Lola began, raising her hand to point at her own face, using a subtle gesture to signal Alfred about the chocolate on his scar.
Alfred made a slightly futile attempt to clean it off, inadvertently smudging it even more. His actions were met with a good-natured chuckle from Lola, who watched the spectacle unfold with amusement.
Curiosity piqued, Lola couldn't help but inquire, her tone gentle yet inquisitive, "How did you get the—?" Her question trailed off as Alfred continued to clean his fingers off by absentmindedly placing them into his mouth.
"The scar?" Alfred interrupted, offering an explanation with a sense of casual nonchalance. "I fought a vampire." His words were paired with the unmistakable sound of fingers being cleaned.
Lola's reaction was unfiltered, her face lighting up with a mix of astonishment and intrigue. "Oh, that makes it even cooler," she declared, her eyes inadvertently revealing a blush that crept across her cheeks.
Alfred, ever earnest, cast a genuine look at Lola, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yours too," he remarked, prompting Lola's initial surprise."I bet everyone is scared of you because of it."
Though Alfred's intentions were sincere—to convey that scars could be seen as symbols of strength—his words inadvertently stirred a deeply buried insecurity within Lola.
Her initial reaction was to turn away, concealing her burnt scar beneath her hand, as if shielding herself from the world's judgment.
Yet, when she turned back to face Alfred, the genuine warmth in his smile and the lingering traces of chocolate on his lips were enough to dispel her momentary discomfort.
Caught between her emotions and the unexpected connection she felt with him, she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't anticipated.
Stepping closer, Lola reached out and used her finger to gently wipe away the remaining chocolate from Alfred's scar. Their physical proximity seemed to intensify the charged atmosphere between them, their eyes locking in a moment of profound connection that transcended words.
For a suspended breath, their gazes held, their unspoken emotions swirling like a tempestuous sea. Lola's eyelids fluttered shut, her heart pounding as she leaned in, her lips poised for a kiss that seemed inevitable.
Yet, fate had other plans, as Alfred, oblivious to the unspoken invitation, abruptly stood up. "Well, it's time for me to practice. Thanks for the chocolate, Polly."
A hint of exasperation laced Lola's tone as she corrected him, "Lola."
Alfred turned back, his expression uncomprehending but sincere. "Okay," he agreed.