The young man hummed as he finished his preparations.
"Flowers..."
He looked at the new orchid hybrids that had taken a good three decades to cultivate and hummed in satisfaction.
"Check! Ring..."
He chuckled to himself while gently carassing a blood-red crystal with the tips of his pale fingers.
"Check. Witnesses..."
He glanced at the three trembling humans standing off to the side, their unrefined forms contrasting surreally with the room's tasteful interior. They were talented artists he had cultivated for this day; and they would record it for time immemorial... Well, not if he could help it.
"Hmm, the nagging feeling won't go away. I am sure I forgot something."
He pondered the situation for a while before shrugging it off. Three decades of preparation would need to suffice.
Taking a deep breath did little to calm his pounding heart. Then again, breathing was a rather superflous activity in general. And so, he left the mansion excitedly, a bright smile on his face; the three terrified humans followed behind him together with the now floating flowers. The sky was blue, nary a cloud in sight, but the sun would not concern one of his power.
He was in such a good mood that he arrived at their meeting place a few days early.
The park was as beautiful as on the day of its inception: a Roman fountain in the center and an intricate rose garden circumadjacent.
Of course, it was. He had personally ensured it would be. After their fateful meeting almost two centuries ago - it would be exactly two centuries in a few days, he had bought the property and created a foundation to care for it.
Since then, they met at this fountain once a decade.
He took a seat on one of the stone benches surrounding the Roman fountain and reminisced, dismissing the humans with a wave of his hand. They knew him well enough to return on the appointed date.
Four days passed in a blink; and that was only due to one daring fly taking his absent-mindedness as an invitation to explore the pure pools of bice that were his eyes.
A tingle of his power annihilated the insect as he focused his eyes and looked around:
The sun had barely greeted the sky, yet already it bombarded his barrier with its unpleasant rays. He estimated that it was about seven in the morning. His three witnesses had returned and were stiffly sitting on a bench to his right.
"She will be here soon..."
Rarely had being unable to see his reflection bothered him as much as today. Be that as it may...
"With my perfect face, even an undone button would likely escape her notice."
In that moment, he felt confident.
Yet when she appeared, his heart raced anew. Her golden-red locks framed the most beautiful face he had seen in a millenium; he rarely looked at his own portrait, after all.
It was a round face, but it had taken him three dates to notice that fact. For, his attention was immediately drawn to her enticing scent.
The delight he felt upon perceiving it surpassed even that of his second favorite scent, the scent of blood.
His radiant smile clashed with her quivering lips.
'Wait, quivering lips?' he wondered for the briefest of moments before dismissing that line of thought. He would not delay any longer. This was his moment!
Performing a sweeping bow, he floated the orchid hybrids toward her.
"I dedicate these flowers to you. They were fashioned in your image, and they are a sign of my recognition of your beauty."
He did not wait for a reply before continuing. The box containing the ring appeared before his bowed form, and he carefully opened it to reveal the crystal ring within.
"Sahyla'u Ta Veya, will you spend an eternity with me?" he asked, his voice trembling with excitement. He had done it! He had finally...
"I am sorry..."
'What!?'
He straightened to look at the red-haired elf's face. She looked pale... too pale for a warmblood.
"No, no, do not apologize. I know I am moving rather quickly. If this is too soon for you, please forget about it, I can wait..."
Had he been hasty? Were twenty dates too little after all?
"I... I love you..." she replied, and the non-sequitur confused him, until her limp form dropped to the ground.
"Hells?!" he gaped at her.
Had she fainted?
However, his keen eyes soon noticed a faint drop of blood clinging to her slightly blue lips...
"No! Not again!"
He grabbed his forehead in exasperation before moving to confirm his suspicion.
Touching her head and heart, the possibility turned certainty: Veya was dead.
A wave of frustration rolled off him, flattening his surroundings and turning the three unfortunate humans into paste, pounded into the now perfectly flat stone ground.
"No!" he growled again.
"So close! I came this close..!"
He tore a good few chunks of black hair off his scalp before reigning in his power.
Despite boiling with anger and frustration, he should not lose control like that. After all, this was not the first time.
"No, it's precisely because this is not the first time that I am infuriated," he reflected.
"Why did she suddenly die?"
And did it even matter? She was dead. Nothing would come of this anymore and in a millenia or two he would have all but forgotten her name.
He sighed. His anger disappeared as quickly as it had risen. Instead his mind turned to more practical concerns:
"Should I try another elf?"
Veya's scent flashed through his mind and he had to shake his head a few times to free himself of it.
"No, it is too soon."
His gaze fell on the blood-red spots on the ground that had once been his witnesses.
"Perhaps a fellow undead?"
He generally found his fellows too far beneath him to consider them as partners. Weakness was easier to accept in individuals of other races; they had their own qualities to make up for it. Then again...
It had been a few hundred millenia since he last attended any undead social events. Someone worthy might have joined; and if his own kind had any virtues, the foremost would be their hardiness.
"A vampire would never collapse so shamelessly in the middle of a proposal like that."
He nodded and reassured himself that this time would be different. This time she would be the one!
A course of action in mind, he turned and began walking back to his manor. One did not generally reach his age by moping about and dwelling on unpleasant things, after all.
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