It was a strange friendship, but they managed. She helped him manage the worst of the bloodlust, and he helped her gather plants under the full moon’s light. Not that the moon had any effect on a plant’s potency, but it was the look of the thing that mattered.
“How’s life treating you?” she asked one evening. “Or rather, how’s unlife?”
It had been some time since their last meeting. He considered the question, hands curled around a mug of tea. He didn’t particularly like tea, but he enjoyed its warmth. “Same as always,” he said eventually. “Nothing ever changes.”