Little Of Loure II

9 - Lincoln's Talent

Isaac sat extremely still on the sofa, avoiding eye contact with the prince that stood tall in front of him with his arms crossed.

Abby held on tightly to Dylan who stood silently by the corner, also looking at Isaac with furrowed brows.

'Nice lamp you got there.'

'Quite.'

'Okay.' Isaac quickly said and moved his head down again, twiddling his thumb together.

'Listen, I don't know how much you know but I will only say this once.' Lincoln said and walked forward.

'You are going to keep this to yourself. If you're going to go blabber on about us to-'

'I won't! Trust me, I don't even have friends to talk about this to. Seriously, I don't have a family either so no one will know!' Isaac quickly said with eyes wide and breath short.

'What do you mean?' Dylan asked, holding Abby close to him.

'I'm a loner! So you can trust me, I swear! Don't kill me.' Isaac begged. 'I just wanted to come here to properly introduce myself!'

Lincoln's brows furrowed. Was Isaac really a loner? Was that why he came all the way here to give Abby chocolates and him the cigarettes.

'We're not going to kill you.' Lincoln said.

'Oh thank god!'

'What do you want from us? Why would you hike up the hill just to give us free stuff?' Lincoln asked.

'Well...I don't know. I just figured maybe you guys would like to hang out or something.' Isaac said and averted his gaze to the floor.

'He just wants friends, daddy, don't be mean.' Abby said softly from behind Dylan, who turned and caressed her head.

'Yeah, and I swear I didn't even know you guys are elites I just wanted to come here and help you get settled into the neighborhood.' he said shrugging his shoulders. 'The people here do not take well to strangers.' Isaac chuckled sheepishly.

Lincoln noticed that Isaac seemed to be a very awkward man. He sat in a strange way and his tone of voice was rapid and slurred. It was clear that this man wasn't the average stranger and has some sort of unknown behavioral problems. It could be the reason he was a loner.

'We don't need friends.' Lincoln simply said.

Isaac looked up and frowned before sighing and averting his gaze back to the floor.

'Okay, I'm sorry.' he softly replied.

'I want to be his friend.'

'Abby...' Lincoln said warningly. Abby was softhearted and although Lincoln felt sorry for this man and his failing social life, it wasn't what they needed right now.

'Lincoln, I'm sure he means no harm.' Dylan piped in which made Lincoln physically annoyed.

'We don't know that.' he said with a sour expression.

'We could use some help, however.' Lincoln said which made the other three perk up.

'Anything! I'll help you guys with whatever you need.' Isaac said with a bright smile excitedly.

Dylan chuckled to himself at the sight of this man. He seemed to be so positive for someone who doesn't have any friends or family, per his own words.

'You can bring us stuff from the village so we don't have to go out.'

'I'll do that! No problem! What do you need? I have everything in my store!'

'Calm down.' Lincoln said with annoyance laced in his voice.

'For now, just go home. It's getting late.' the prince was far too tired to handle this man and just like Dylan had said, he doesn't seem to be of any harm.

But he was still cautious.

'Okay...'

__________________________________________________________________

'That was strange..' Dylan said once Lincoln closed the front door as they said goodbye to Isaac.

Lincoln sighed out and walked into the kitchen. Abby had gone upstairs to play with the new toys that were sent over by Emanuel that morning, which left the two vampires downstairs alone.

'He is strange.'

'Yeah....he is pretty weird. But he doesn't seem to have any bad intentions.'

'Don't be so trusting. We don't know this man.' Lincoln said and reached into the fridge to grab the bottle of blood.

Dylan sighed and sat on the stool by the bar silently. His eyes slowly moved along the counter until he spotted a few pieces of paper bunched up on top of each other by the side.

'What's this?' Dylan said and reached his arm over to grab the papers.

Lincoln turned around to look before continuing to drink his blood, not finding the need to answer a really obvious question.

'Did you do these?' Dylan asked, flipping through the pages in his hands.

They were drawings. Each piece had lines and smudges across the white canvas that created beautiful pictures. One was a sketch of a scenery that looked to have a lake and a house.

Another was a drawing of a girl with curly hair and beautiful big eyes. She smiled brightly and had cute curved lines on her cheeks signifying dimples. Upon further inspection, Dylan noticed that it was Abby.

The other drawings were just random stuff like fruit baskets, buildings, a frog, and flowers.

'Lincoln, these are beautiful.' Dylan commented, unable to get his eyes off the papers. He could tell by the messy lines that these were most likely sketched and not actually fully thought out pieces but they were still breathtaking. Especially the one of Abby. Lincoln was able to capture her features in such a realistic way, all with a simple pen.

Lincoln chose not to answer and leaned his back on the stove, enjoying his drink in silence. Normally he'd entertain people's endless compliments about his drawings, especially coming from his lover.

But he just had not been in a good mood recently and could care less about putting on a friendly demeanor for that.

'Do you draw these by memory? Or did you have Abby pose?' Dylan asked, wanting to learn more about Lincoln's hobby that is well known amongst the elites. He had never been a part of the talks that go around so he only knew of the prince's work through hearsay.

But seeing these sketches really made Dylan realize just how talented Lincoln really is with his skills. Anyone can make a thought-out painting look decent but to make a sketch look good only comes with practice and experience.

'Abby's been agitated these days, she'd never sat still enough to be a model.' Lincoln said, throwing his glass in the sink and washing it after finishing his drink.

'How long does a sketch take you normally?'

'Five minutes. Maybe less.'

'Really? That's amazing. I've always admired people with natural-born talent like that.' Dylan said and set the papers aside, still scanning them from the corner of his eyes.

'Don't you have a talent? Healing people?' Lincoln said, crossing his arms across his chest.

'Well, I wasn't born with healing abilities. I learned that from school and from the people around me. I think skills like drawing or singing required some sort of natural-born gift on top of practice.' Dylan explained.

Lincoln looked at Dylan with furrowed brows. He'd never really thought his skill was something he was born with. It's true he'd loved art since he was a child but he did put in a lot of practice to master his technique and make his art what it is today.

'I disagree. I think anyone can do anything with practice. People confuse talent with determination. As long as you've determined you can have talent in anything.' Lincoln said in which Dylan just smiled.

'And I think healing is your talent.' Lincoln added, which made Dylan furrow his brows.

'People think killing is hard. Try healing something. Once something is broken, it almost takes magic to get it back to what it was.'

'I guess you're right.' Dylan said and softly let out a breath.

'Still, I can't believe you drew all these just by memory.' Dylan reached for the paper again, trying to divert the conversation away from him and back to the prince.

'Well, I only draw things I'm very familiar with. I don't want to get something wrong if I'm not so sure. I'm a perfectionist.' Lincoln said with a shrug.

'I almost can't believe it.' Dylan said in awe.

Lincoln stared at Dylan for a few more moments before a smirk appeared on his lips. Slowly he bounced off the stove and reached over to grab a paper from the end of the table and a pen by the fridge.

'What are you doing?' Dylan asked with a curious smile.

'You said you don't believe me?' Lincoln asked before turning his back to Dylan and placing the paper on the counter that was next to the stove.

Dylan sat in silence as he soon heard the sound of pen scribbling. The sounds that came from the movements were fast and short.

The kitchen was silent with only the sound of Lincoln's hands moving along the white paper.

'Lincoln, what are you doing?' Dylan asked after a few minutes, attempting to get off the stool to go to see what Lincoln is doing.

'Sit.' Lincoln ordered which Dylan obeyed reluctantly.

'I'm sorry, I believe you okay. You don't have to prove me wrong.' Dylan laughed as Lincoln ignored him and continued his actions.

'Why can't you show me what you're drawing? I want to see you draw.'

'Because I have to do it by memory.' Lincoln said and finally turned around, holding the paper behind him and giving a small smile to the boy in front of him.

'Are you ready?' Lincoln asked as his smile grew.

'Yeah, show me. Come on.' Dylan said, his smile matching Lincoln's.

Lincoln took a deep breath before taking the paper out of his back and placing it on the table in front of both of them.

Dylan's lips went from a smile to wide opened. His eyes enlarged and he took in an audible gasp.

'What'd you think?' Lincoln asked, leaning forward to look at his creation.

'Lincoln...' Dylan said but couldn't find the words to finish his sentence as he stared at the face on the paper that matched his own.

Lincoln had drawn Dylan from memory.

'Now that I'm looking at it, maybe your hair is a little shorter on the back. And your nose isn't that small.' Lincoln said and reached his arm out with the pen to correct his mistakes when it was stopped by Dylan who grabbed his hands in a hurry.

'No, don't touch it!' Dylan said. Lincoln looked up shocked before dropping the pen on the table.

The drawing looked similar to the one of Abby except this looked slightly more rushed but considering the challenge Dylan understood. His portrait had on a big smile and Lincoln even added his signature glasses that framed his eyes. His hair was styled in a way he normally does, pushed back from his face, and neatly combed. It didn't look like how he looked currently since he had been indoors and didn't need to dress up how he normally did but Lincoln had chosen to draw the version of Dylan that he used to see every day when they were in the city.

'It's perfect. You got everything right. Don't change it.' Dylan said with wide eyes.

He could feel his emotions going all over the place and he didn't know how to react properly. His hand held Lincoln's tightly but his eyes couldn't leave the drawing.

'Why'd you draw me?' he asked after a few seconds of silence.

'Well I had to draw something from memory, you didn't believe I could do it.' Lincoln smiled smugly.

'No I mean...you could have drawn anyone...why me?' Dylan asked, his eyes finally meeting Lincoln's.

Lincoln stared back in shock. His bottom lips moved but no words came out. His hands were still in Dylan's and he didn't show any signs of moving away.

As they both stayed in silence, all they could hear was watched others rising heart rates.

'Well...you were here. I-it was the first thing I thought of...' Lincoln stuttered. He didn't know why he chose Dylan for the challenge. He could have drawn anyone.

Emanuel, Marcel, Princess, heck...he could have just drawn Abby again. But he chose to draw Dylan. And although deep down he knew the reason, he told himself it was because Dylan was the one in front of him at the moment.

'Well, I wasn't looking at you. I turned my back so I proved my poi-'

Dylan jumped forward and grabbed tugged Lincoln's hands forward before smashing his lips onto the prince's.