Twelve
1210 Words
It was their first day “hiding away" at an island, and even though they were sleep-deprived and jet-lagged, one of them was anxious about the future, while another was not supposed to be out in the sunlight for too long, they still made the most out of it. After the short snacks at the Lagoon and finding a local integrated vamp called Jesse, they took a short ride to the other side of the island where they rode a yacht that took them farther out into the beach—at least until the waters got a little too bluer and below got a little bit deeper enough to explore.
Mary and Dorian took to the waters in their full gears, while Chiara and Clarissa happily took the roles of watching the bags and making sure the yacht would not go away—which basically meant they were able to lie around, drink iced tea, chat, and sleep in shifts. Once Mary and Dorian resurfaced, they brought with them some seafood that they took to a restaurant back in the island, where they had them cooked and grilled then they enjoyed for a late lunch.
It was around three in the afternoon when the oldies were finally beat—and by oldies, the ones pertained to are the men and women who had been alive for more than five decades—one was beaten by her mere human tiredness, one was from the lack of sleep due to jetlagged, while the other was exhausted from playing too much than he should under the sun. By the time lunch was done, only the youngest, sprites 24 year old was left standing—who took it to herself to set her seniors back to the path home.
“Oh my God, I wasn’t told I was going to be running a nursing home. I thought this was a vacation,” Mary said in jest as she securely tied her grandmother's seat belt to the UTV beside Chiara.
“Are you really not coming with us yet, Mary?” Chiara worriedly asked, taking over the controls.
“I can hitch a ride somewhere, don’t worry about me,” Mary winked at her confidently as she moved onto the next UTV where Dorian was still in his four-pieced attire, taking over the helm. “You sure you can drive this thing, Mr. D? Try not to fall off the road and get staked by a random piece of branch.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow at her while she innocently smiled and tightened his seat belt harder than needed.
“Are you sure it’s really alright to leave you here?” Chiara asked once more.
“The sun just peaked and my energy has barely cooled an ounce unlike you weaklings where one is becoming a crispy fried chip,” she poked at Dorian's forehead, but before she could walk away, he caught her wrist.
“Stay out of trouble, Mary,” Dorian warned her in such seriousness. “This is her turf.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed.
“And try to be home early!” Clarissa added.
With that, Chiara began to drive up the path with Clarissa beside her, and Dorian following them from behind. It took longer, and hotter, and more tiring than she remembered, so she kept keeping an eye out for Dorian in case he ever let the heat get to him—and at some points, his vehicle was clearly starting to swerve a bit too dangerously close to the corners than Chiara liked. Thankfully, they managed to reach the house just in time.
Chiara rushed inside the house and turned on the AC and tinted the windows, while Clarissa got out of the UTV and headed straight into the kitchen. When Chiara went out again, she found Dorian struggling to take his seat belt off, clearly a bit disoriented from the midday heat he consecutively had to be under for hours more than his kind should handle.
“Hey, hey, come on,” Chiara gently patted his cheek to make sure he wouldn’t fall asleep and become dead weight outside. Dorian grunted an, “I’m up,” as Chiara draped his arm above her neck and she wrapped an arm around his waist. It sounded way easier to do in theory than it was to actually do or even look at—but Chiara somehow managed to drag a half-awake, tall, undead creature of the night from the vehicle into the living room, until she could drop him off at the couch. They both landed in a thud, and Clarissa was quick to arrive to their aid with a towel and a small basket of water and ice.
“Oh dear, me,” she panted as she placed the bucket down and helped Chiara push Dorian off her. “My age has been catching up to me lately.”
“You’re not too bad, Clarissa,” Chiara smiled at her, then glared at the man next to her whose consciousness was beginning to wane due to his own stubbornness to go out and play in the sun.
“Thank you, Miss Chiara, here is a damp towel. This and some rest should do him the trick,” Clarissa said, wiping off a bead of sweat from her graying brow.
“Thanks, I'll handle him, Clarissa. Do you need any help going up? Want me to bring you something?”
“I’ll be alright, Miss,” the old lady stood up with a smile, placing the bucket closer to Chiara. “Please just take care of Master Dorian. He looks far too exhausted than he let on. More than a hundred of years and he still tries to show off more than he can take.” She looked disappointedly at the man thrice her age, as if he was just a kid she was tasked to take care of. To Chiara, she kindly said, “Please let me know should you need my help. I will just be in my room.”
“Thanks, Clarissa, I’m good,” Chiara tried to give her best reassuring smile as she wrung the cloth dry. “You go and rest and I’ll take care of this old bastard,” she said with a tut of her tongue.
“Alright, Miss, good luck,” Clarissa respectfully smiled at them as she tiredly pushed herself up and walked up the stairs with a, “dear me,” then went into her room.
With the two of them alone, Chiara let out a tired sigh as she looked at the barely conscious man still wrapped in more layers of clothing than a normal person should have been in that tropical climate.
“You okay?” Chiara softly asked as she gently placed the cold, damp towel on Dorian's forehead. The touch of it made one of his eyes weakly open, followed by the other as they blinked up to her in weakness and confusion.
“It's so hot outside,” he groaned like a child as he closed his eyes shut stubbornly, making Chiara lightly chuckle.
“I know, I know,” she nodded. “Let’s get you sorted out.”
- Writer
