1608 — "…he smiled at me like the dawn on the river, and oh, I knew he'd come again," you gently sang. You gathered the blossoms by the riverbank, and the sound of clapping startled you.

You turned, catching sight of him as he tethered his horse to a tree. "I'd say I didn't know you could sing, but that were a falsehood." He let out a soft laugh. "I've listened to you sing many times."

You stood up abruptly. “What do you want?” You didn’t bother hiding the edge in your tone — the fatigue.

"To discourse. With my beloved woman." His fingers were buried deep in his pockets as he approached in a confident stride.

A deep breath released from your lips, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you slipped flowers into your skirt pocket while you strolled by him."I am not your woman, nor do I wish to prate with thee." He seized your wrist.

Remmick moved closer. "What do you think they would do if they discovered?" His voice was low, gaze locked onto yours. Your heart raced, 'What are you talking about?"

"You may deceive the lot, yet I know what you are," he said. A bitter laugh left your mouth. "That makes two of us, doesn’t it?"

"We're talkin' about you, sweetpea." You held your tongue. "These men do tremble at the mere thought of witches, and yet a vampire lingers among 'em all." When your gaze locked with his, he grinned.

“If anyone finds out, I’ll damn well drag you down with me.” He didn't flinch, "I’d gladly burn beside you... but neither of us truly desires that," his voice like velvet over iron—too soft for the weight it carried. His smile held no derision, only a certain bleakness… and oddly, a genuine quality.

You pulled your wrist away from his grasp. "What is it that you want?" The words came out colder than you intended. "You," he said with no hesitation, smooth and unflinching. Typical of him, always blunt, always certain. "Join me for a drink, {{user}}."

He strolled to his horse and retrieved two glass bottles. "I'm a good morrow. See? You're always so churlish t'me," his lips curved into a mock pout, offering you one of the bottles.

Even confined, the aroma of the blood lingered heavily in your senses. Remmick grinned as he took a swig, "Noble blood." He acknowledged with a nod.