I leaned outside the window, looking at the muddy fields, bare trees, and empty scenery, when I heard a knock.

"Come in."

Uriel came in and sat down at the chair across from me. "Are you fine with this ensemble and hairstyle, or do you prefer me to draw you in a different gown or hairstyle? The background will also be your room, is that fine?"

"I don't mind, do what you want." I draped an arm over the arm of the divan. "Am I not attractive no matter what angle you see me from?"

He rolled his eyes in a way I had never seen before. "To put it plainly, women are the same to me."

"So is it men you desire?"

"All I desire is a specific vampire's death."

He took out his charcoal and began to sketch on the sketchbook, only occasionally peering up. His hair glistened with each movement, and his lips were a pale pink.

"Even if you won't give me a compliment, I shall grace you with you. You're handsome, Uriel, despite that disagreeable mouth of yours. You must have a fiancé or sweetheart, haven't you?"

"Girls don't like me, I'm infamous for drawing nudes."

I stifled a laugh even though he looked unaffected.

"From who, prostitutes?"

"Whoever lets me. I've drawn male and female."

"I saw your art," I said. "From the encyclopedia."

He looked up but he was still looking at my body and sketching out the general shape on his sketchbook. I wished he'd hurry and focus on my face—that was my best feature.

He didn't reply.

"And I read the story of the amaryllis."

"What did you think of it?" His voice was monotonous, then the scratching of the charcoal against the paper filled the room.

"I thought it was terrible." I looked away. "Poor Amaryllis, dying just to be beautiful for a man."

"Aren't you the same?"

"You're wrong. I'm born beautiful. I didn't have to hurt myself." I leaned my chin against my hand. "But you know, when I imagined the story of Amaryllis, I imagined her love to be someone like you."

His hand stopped, and he looked up. "Alteo?"

"Yes. I imagined him to be like you." I smiled. "A man who doesn't see beauty even when it's right in front of him, and causes a woman to suffer."

"Hm." He brought his head down. "I find beauty burdensome. It strokes your ego, and changes you into an ugly person."

"Let me tell you a riddle," I began. "There was a pretty girl in love with a pretty boy. They grew up to be a pretty woman and pretty man. They married in a pretty church, and lived in a pretty cottage. The woman gave birth on a winter day, to two pretty girls. They had big pretty eyes and long pretty hair, but one winter day they flew away."

Uriel put down his pencil and leaned back on his chair.

"They flew to the sky, and they flew to the moon. To this day, no one knows why. Now, why do you think the pretty girls flew away?"

I looked at him carefully. He looked outside at the window.

"Isn't it easy? They want to be free."

"What does freedom have to do with it?"

"You don't understand it yet, Margery." It was the first time he called me by my name so casually, without honorifics, and yet I didn't like it. It sounded like he was looking down at me, as always. Like I wasn't seeing something he was, and I hated it. 

"Tell me about the outside world, then. What am I missing out on?"

"More than you can imagine," he said. He flipped around in his sketchbook before standing up and passing it to me. "Here, look."

I looked at it. He had scribbled ink drawings of flowers, as well as children playing around with jump-rope and petting cats.

"You've never seen a rainbow, have you?"

"I haven't," I admitted. "On Jardin the sun doesn't usually shine after it rains. How ironic, as the name meant garden."

"Nor have you seen a sunshower, or played in the snow?"

"But I've touched snow from the tower window," I said. "They melt in your hand, and are very soft when they gather."

"What about icicles?" I shook my head. "And what about running barefoot on the grass? Sleeping under the sun? Grabbing ripe fruit off trees and biting into them, sweet juices trickling down your chin?"

"No, none of that."

I flipped through the pages. There were so many things. Strange animals I've never seen, trees surrounding a river, small houses on a hill, and food, too. Bread in funny shapes and lots of people at dining tables eating.

"That's during a festival," he said. "That's a whole pig's head. That's cake. That's pudding. Big, isn't it?"

I flipped to the next page. There were clothing, now. Men in hats and holding canes, women in gingham, stripes, and more. He even used color on some.

"There's color."

"I used watercolor. These are clothing in the capitals of Europe. It's where fashion begins.

"Oh." I traced over a red and brown dress, the woman in the drawing wearing a matching bonnet and holding a parasol. "It's very different from our clothing. We don't get much new clothing."

"You should see a dressmaker or tailor's store," he said. "There's yards and yards of fabric, ribbons, and sewing machines that make loud noise."

"Machines. I've never seen one before."

"Really?" I nodded. "Not even a train?"

"No."

"Look," he said, now bent over. He flipped a few more pages until I saw a page full of strange drawings.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Trains. And cars. A similar engine that transports people."

They were like a big bug, or something, some boxy and some round, with chimneys and other weird parts.

"They look like carriages."

"Yes, they work like them too, but without the horse and coachmen. They run on these wheels, but there's nothing pushing. A person sits here and drives by moving another wheel. Like steering a ship."

"How strange." I looked at it. "Why doesn't anyone in Jardin have one?"

"They are expensive, and rare. They require gasoline, and are usually only seen in the big cities where they have factories. Only the richest people have them."

"I want one."

"But then you'll need to know how to drive, how to operate it. You don't know any of these."

He leaned down, and his eyes softened. His hair was still in his face but his eyes shined through.

Somehow, what he said made me sad. I never thought I'd be sad.

I closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Uriel. He took it, but didn't sit back down.

He watched me for some sign of emotion, and so I finally sighed.

"I'll leave Jardin. I'll see all these things."

"Can you kill that creature, though? And have the other girls and the two older ones support you?"

"Good question, I had never thought of it before. I always thought I'd leave, not kill one of us."

"So you're saying it's not possible?"

"Nothings importable when it comes to me, you dimwit. I'm going to be the next matriarch after Agnes. I'll be ruling this clan for years to come. Out of my sisters, I'll live the longest, too, because of my blood. Humans die in their fifties, and they will probably live that long too, while I can last for nearly a century, like Agnes."

"Sounds like a burden."

"Yes, but my point, which you clearly missed, is that I will be supported regardless of what they want. Our blood is our hierarchy, and I'm Queen Butterfly."

"So they'll support you?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'm not saying they will."

"Then what was the use of that long monologue?"

I turned away in annoyance. What was the use of saying things I already knew? I was the leader, I will be the leader, and I will, even if they don't support me, leave this hell. With my sisters.

"Return to drawing. I'm tired of being in this pose."

Uriel sat back down and I turned back to him.

"So aren't you going to be bored in this little island with commoners and plebeians? You and your team will stay here until spring, that's a long time." 

"I won't. Not everyone has a chance to inspect the Butterfly Clan."

"Right. It's just another 'exotic' thing to add to your life and sketchbook." It must've shown on my face.

"Are you upset?" he asked. He had on a small, amused look. I wasn't amused.

"No. Why? Do I sound upset?" I looked down at my nails "Maybe I am. If only I had been born a human boy."

"I thought you were proud of your bloodline and beauty?" He was solemn. "Aren't you proud to your clan's poster girl?"

"What's the use of that? You'll forget me when we separate. I'll just be another memory."

I was only another part of his life. Would I feel different, if I was with him his whole life? If I saw those beautiful scenery and things with him, and was always by his side?

"When I do leave with my sisters, I'll visit you," I finally said. He smiled. I wasn't lying when I said that. I didn't like it when he laughed at me, so I batted my eyelashes as I continued. "I'm so thankful for you, Uriel."

He recoiled. The tables had turned.

"You're strange," he said. "I can't understand you. It's like you are always—always acting." He stared at me, but his eyes were looking past me. I shrugged.

"Why, you've guessed right. I am an actress. Vampires are all actresses. We don't let people see us being vulnerable."

"And you are vulnerable?"

"Who isn't?" I laughed. "Even Agnes is." He nodded.

"You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

Some time passed before it was time for luncheon, and we began to head down. As he packed his stuff, he smiled.

"You know, today you felt a bit more human—no, not human. I meant, you felt more like a person."

"What did I feel like before?" I asked.

"A vampire."

"Well, I still am. What's changed?"

"I don't know." He gave a small smile. "Truthfully, you didn't feel genuine."

Carrying his satchel of art materials, he headed out the room.

He was right: I wasn't genuine. If he did help me escape outside, I don't know what I would do with him. He would know our secret, our identity, and so did the other researchers. If they were going to sell out out, I would have no choice but to kill them.

Like I said, all vampires are actresses.