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"I have to say, Countess," Enrico Maxwell said, his voice smooth and measured, "Of all the creatures I have encountered, you happen to be the most fascinating, and the most ravishing."
Shahrazad Al-Rahman kept her eyes focused on the Iscariot leader, bristling from his scrutiny. "I could say the same about most Terrans – what my people call humans." She replied, her eyes looking out towards the darkened window. "Fascinating, as you put it."
"As well you should," Maxwell smirked, putting his gloved hands behind his back. "So, you are what they call a Methuselah, are you not?"
Shahrazad's eyes narrowed, refusing to meet his gaze. She was the Countess of Tigris, and she was what Iscariot called a vampire, just like the legendary No-Life King she had heard so much about. She carried a title, a lineage, and a legacy upon her shoulders. Yet she managed to yearn for the life of a Terran.
"That's correct."
"I thought as much," Maxwell begun, a contemplative smile gracing his features. "I have had my fair share of encounters with your kind." He then placed a hand on Shahrazad's shoulder, stepping closer to her. "In a way, it is how I can keep my friends close and my enemies closer."
Shahrazad resisted the urge to strike at him. She instead put her hand on his and gently lifted it off her shoulder. "Maxwell," she began, turning towards him, now meeting his gaze. "Tell me, if you only want to keep your enemies closer, what do you call loyalty?"
"Respect, my dear," Maxwell replied, soft and scheming, "And devotion to the one true Lord."
"Then you do not know the true meaning of loyalty. But you will learn of friendly fire, soon enough." Shahrazad replied, both her voice and her eyes cold and unyielding.