Interview with a Nuit (Rayage)

[Wrenmae]

Winter 56 He lit the candle, paused, ensuring the little flame lived beyond the first moment. It danced along the wick, dazzling, perplexed, doing only as it knew in these first moments of life. He withdrew, and lit another, and then another. The room was brushed with the paint of decay, sagging and stained walls, the scuttling of eight legged denizens streaming from the light. Overall it was discreet, an abandoned home once populated by the living...now it was wasn't even the home of the dead...well, not yet anyways. Taking one of his books from the backpack laid in the corner, Wrenmae laid it on the stout table in the center of the room. Two chairs, opposite each other, and the candles were the only other features. This place had been looted long ago. It was just as well anyways, less chance of an uninvited interruption when all of value was already gone. Sighing, the storyteller opened the book and flipped through the pages, reserving twenty pages for the course of this first interview. He then retrieved the quill and ink, placing them beside the book and checking the slant of the sunlight through a broken window. He would be here any moment. Rayage had been met a few days before, a haphazard circumstance that had led to this interview, here, now. The nuit had volunteered to reflect on his existence at the guidance of the storyteller's questions, and Wrenmae had been elated to take him on the offer. The undead was a conundrum to the young human, such a long stretch of years Rayage had lived...err...well, existed for. Certainly he had forgotten more winters than Wrenmae had been alive. Taking the pen, Wrenmae titled the first page "Interview with a Nuit, Rayage's Story", then underlined it. He set the quill down again and lanced his fingers, surprised when he looked up to see Rayage already entering. He was quiet, unnaturally so...but then and again, Wrenmae might be as well with the absence of breath. He extended a hand to the seat across from him and smiled, picking up the quill again. "Thank you for coming, Rayage, I'll try not to take too much of your time." His face was hard to look at sometimes, something decidedly different about it unnerved him. Even so, he was polite...and interest pushed him on more than this unsettling aura ever could deter him. "I'd like to begin with the basics...asking your name, when you were born, your first memory, and what a nuit is...it'll give some context for the questions I'll ask later." He paused, quill quivering over the blank page, "Let me know if my queries ever go too far, or if you would rather not answer something." Wrenmae offered a hesitant smile, "This is your story to tell, so I think it should be you who decides where to abridge it."