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The cool night breeze hit his face in a friendly embrace. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he stared down at the locals frolicking through the busy streets. The jazzy music of saxophones signaled the city of New Orleans, and he had grown fond of the blues for all the years he had lived here with the clan.
Running a hand through his hair, he turned around. The servants were darting across the room; making his bed, adjusting the dark velvet drapes over the windows, or sweeping the floor.
"Lord Drago," A new servant whispered as she scurried up to him. He looked down at her small fidgety form. "I must attend to your curtains."
"Oh!" He cast one more longing look at the crescent moon and twinkling stars. He moved out of her way. "Forgive me. Close the window too if you wish. Do as you were instructed."
Giving her a kind smile, he glided over to an armchair. She seemed dazed for a moment's notice, but appeared to have shaken it off as she resumed her work.
When they bidded their leave, they heard one knock on the door before it swung open. Strolling into his room with numerous gifts and her usual arrogance, Marishka stepped in.
She gave the servants a nasty look as they quickly dispatched in her presence. Drago sighed, shaking his head as he said. "Mari, can't you at least have a fraction of kindness towards them? They do keep the place looking stunning."
With a sneer, she snapped. "That's not how I see them. It's their blood keeping me quenched..." She licked her lips. "Which reminds me. Have you had your daily share of the familiars?We don't keep them around for decoration!"
Drago smirked. Her eyes brightened up immediately. "Happy Birthday!" She squealed, running over and squeezing him in a hug.
He laughed, "Mari, it's nothing to celebrate. How many times must I tell you," His eyes flickered to the many gifts. "And the rest of the coven."
Marishka pouted. "Actually, those presents you keep eyeing are from Ashskhen, Elodia, Veles and me. The others are afraid of you, so they listened to your warnings."
"Good." He grinned as he nestled in his armchair. Fastening his cuffs, he said. "Maybe there'll only be one gift from one stubborn shopaholic after a millennium."
She rolled her eyes, holding out one of the gifts. "Puh-lease, Dragon. It's not everyday people turn 596 years old!"
With a sigh, he leisurely grabbed it. "I suppose you're right..."
As he began unwrapping it, Marishka leaned forward. "That one's from Ashskhen and Elodia. They pitched in together to get you this."
Drago pulled out a set of keys. "Time to ditch your motorboat at the dump! Your brand new Chrysler is waiting for you outside!"
"Wow. I don't think I could accept a car, Mar." He placed the keys back inside the box and held it out to her.
She crossed her arms. "I don't want to tell you where they said they'll shove it if you refuse to keep your birthday present."
"Well then I guess I'll keep it!"
After a couple more unraveling and snappy comments, Marishka gave everything an approving nod. "Drago d' Aquitaine, I believe you are quite a spoiled man."
