Vintix was staring again. The familiar was a recent acquisition but already Salvisius knew that it only stared when it wanted something. More and more he was regretting the decision to try to call a new familiar. He had needed a replacement, after the imp. The state mandated imp. He had quite enjoyed cutting that particular link to his homeland. This cat was proving to be a challenge.
‘What is it?’ he asked, setting down his quill and sliding his notebook over to a collection of shimmering vials and a crusty glob of ooze. He still had several pages to encode but he knew better than to ignore Vintix for too long; the notes would wait and the feline would not.
Vintix said nothing; its pupilless eyes fixed on the pale young man. It rarely spoke aloud and Salvisius wasn’t yet sure how to determine when it intended to. As the silence meeting the man’s question dragged on he sat back in his chair and let out a sigh.
‘Shall I guess, then? We’ll start with the most probable; you’re hungry. Again.’ Vintix did not respond; the luminous gaze was unwavering. Good, thought Salvisius; he was not in the mood for a walk in the woods. Too much mud from the perpetual Barovian rain.
‘No? Hm. Then you want an answer.’ He retrieved his hip flask, uncapped it and took a long sip. Alcohol would be necessary to get through this tedious speculation. He did not want to snap at the cat again; it didn’t like to be snapped at. Vintix was not a servant; it seemed to be barely an ally. The absurdity of a wizard waiting on his familiar nearly made him laugh aloud. He wondered, not for the first time, whether he had made a mistake in the binding. It was possible; he only barely understood how the process worked. He broke off that chain of thought; Vintix would be getting impatient. Salvisius returned his focus to the familiar. It had tilted its head. Warmer, then. It did want answer. Good.
‘You want to know why…’ Salvisius glanced about the cramped room searchingly; his focus eventually settling on his partially encoded notes. ‘..I am collecting reports on the vampires?’ There was a moment of stillness, then cat sat up straight and spoke: ‘Hunting vampires’. Its voice was low with the hint of a growl to it. Salvisius squinted. The first time it had spoken it had been to state dietary requirements. Since then it had spoken very little. These rare instances were, he supposed, part of a pattern. It seemed to like correcting mistakes during each previous utterance. Had he made a mistake in his speaking? Was he hunting vampires? Certainly, he had agreed to hunt a vampire. Two, technically. But did he want to end the threat or did he just want a profitable agreement and more first-hand data?
‘I am studying vampires’ he responded, his tone less certain than it was before. Vintix said nothing, its tail flicking agitatedly. Salvisius let a short breath out and retrieved his notebook; holding it open at a page he’d yet to encode for Vintix to study. Salvisius had no idea if it could read. ‘See?’ He said; ‘These are the reports others have made and the inferences I am making with them.’
In response, the cat shifted its gaze to an empty glass bottle on his desk. Ghastrian Vodka; Salvisius’ prescribed short term treatment for anxiety. He couldn’t recall whether this dose had been for him or for the vampire’s victim. The gnawing worry in his gut took advantage of his lapse in concentration and made for his higher faculties. Salvisius took a moment to force it back down to a numb, persistent throb. He would have order in his mind, if nowhere else.
Vintix was back to staring at him. Salvisius spoke begrudgingly: ‘I am hunting vampires’, he confessed. ‘I cannot tell you why.’ This seemed to satisfy Vintix; the plump familiar curled up on the desk and started to doze. Salvisius briefly considered trying to work out the why; somewhere in that tangled mess of emotion there was an answer he could call 'reasonable'. No. Better to contain it. He set his notebook down and returned to the practical work of encoding his notes. He could solve that tangle when it was safe to.