"Where were you?" Elias immediately asked as he followed her outside. She looked straight ahead, with her hands clasped in front of her.
Despite the modern era, Dorothy still carried herself as if she were living in the days of the aristocracy. She was old-school and adhered strictly to the etiquette that had been instilled in her centuries ago. She could never forget the harsh punishments that were meted out for any misstep.
"I'm preparing for death," stated Dorothy.
Elias stopped in his tracks and looked at her in silence. Pure-bloods did not simply die of old age. They were either killed or they took their own lives. Normally, diseases and plagues would be their demise, because nothing else was powerful enough to defeat a pure-blood.
Elias noticed that his grandmother's skin was paler than usual, but she didn't seem to be ill.
"How old are you now?" pondered Elias. "At least a thousand years, isn't it?"
"It isn't polite to ask a lady her age," Dorothy chided.
