"Bro, we slaying some evil today or what?"

I continue sipping my tea. Bitter nostalgia hits hot on my tongue, scalding it slightly. It's a good morning. Boring, but good.

"Come on bro, I'm tryna get my blade wet if ya know what I mean."

I ignore the sword, pondering how much trouble it would be to charter a ship and dump it in the ocean.

"You can't ignore me forever, bro. Let's run it, right now, bro. What about him, huh?"

The innkeeper, Jarem, passes my table. I smile warmly. He smiles back politely and nods, moving past my table to wipe down another where a rowdy band of adventurers had managed to leave things mostly in one piece.

"Bro wouldn't even know. He ain't looking. Come on, let me show you what I can do!"

"No," I whisper between sips.

"Bro, fuck you. Give me a chance bro, I'll show you. I'll show everyone."

Jarem, thankfully, could not hear the sword. Nor could anyone, save for those unfortunate enough to be bound to it.

I ignore the sword's plea.

"Ugh, we never do anything fun," It pouts.

"Maybe," I say quietly, "if you weren't insistent on taking the reigns, you'd be let out of your sheath more."

Jarem shoots me a bemused look and shakes his head.

"Oh please, that was one time. Plus, it was too bright out. I couldn't see. You got the arm reattached anyways, didn't you?"

I feel the mind of the sword withdraw. Sulking off to whatever place sentient swords go when they feel sad and introspective.

I sigh.

The sword is useful, I remind myself. It can turn the most formidable warrior into a flailing child, if they're stupid enough to draw the blade. And the blade wants to be drawn. You can feel it, deeply enticing. Entrancing even, despite the inane whinings.

The sword is useful.

And blessedly--at least for the moment--it's also quiet.

Ears hear before the eyes see. Nurses talk around me. It's a blur. All a blur. Nothing quite makes sense.

Metal taste in my mouth.

Oh. Morphine.

Guess I didn't die.

A nurse smiles and says good morning as I shift on the gurney. It's afternoon. She's a liar.

I fade out again.

Everything a blur.

They're removing the catheter. No complications. The doctor is telling me about options.

Hormones. Prosthetics.

All bullshit.

Can't have kids.

Sex? Ha.

What's even the point?

The doctor notices. He gets my attention, "This isn't the end. You are more than just a body part."

I don't believe him. How could I? I built my life, my self, around this "just a body part." Change ain't so easy.

I was dead. He was talking to a corpse.

A punchline.

How could I ever be anything more than a punchline?

More blur. The usual blur of a life ignored, repressed. But life, nonetheless.

I jab my leg, depress the syringe. It's a cold sharp rush as the T hits my muscle. My new routine.

It's not so bad.

Lost some friends who didn't get it. Made some new ones.

Still an asshole, but at least I've got a good reason for it now.

Better than the uncertainty of death? Don't know, honestly. But at least it's something.

I died that day, sure. But, shit, what came after wasn't all that bad. Different, sure. Familiar? Mostly.

Hard to go back to familiar when you've had your whole idea of self cut from you without ceremony.

Looking back--and this stays between us--I was an idiot. The doc was right. I'm more than just a body part. More than my ability to make kids. It's kinda fucked up I believed that lie for so long. Kinda fucked up that lie almost killed me dead.

Turns out, I'm stronger than all that bullshit. Stronger than the pity. Stronger than the jokes at my expense.

I'm still here, fuckers. Come at me.

Mentally managing thousands of complex relationships based on deceit sounds like an absolute fever dream

"Dang it."

Josh read the label on the unnaturally orange carton: Not a significant source of saturated fat, trans fat, cholesterol, dietary fiber, vitamin D, calcium, iron, and potassium.

"Really, Josh?" Amanda surveyed the scene from the second floor banister. Haphazardly strewn about the atrium were packing materials, large cardboard boxes, and a few wooden palettes. "Elana is gonna dust you when she wakes up."

Josh sighed, placing the carton onto an unopened box. "She was complaining about the Council's new feeding rules. I figured I'd surprise her. Give her something juicy to drink instead of the pills."

"Oh, don't worry, she'll be surprised all right."

"But for real, why call your product SunnyD if it doesn't have any vitamin D?"

"Josh, please just clean this up."

"Uhh," Josh looked around at the mess, as if seeing it for the first time, "How?"

"I don't know, bro. Call back the driver and enthrall him or something. I'm going back to my room, don't want to be here when Elana sees this."

"When I see what?" A cold, stern, accented voice inquires from behind Amanda, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Elana!" Amanda turns, "Hi! Wow! Your, uhh, your hair is looking amazing this evening!"

Elana touches her unremarkable auburn hair, which is put up in a simple bun. "I have done nothing with my hair, childe. Why do you say this? You know I cannot check to see if you lie."

Amanda slips past Elana, "Oh, what? Why would I lie about that? Trust me, it's great. Anyways, I left something in my coffin. I'll be right back."

Amanda hurried off and Elana shook her head, confused.

From the atrium below, Josh called out, "Hi Elana! Um, don't be mad!"

Elana walked to the banister, her footsteps gliding, impossibly quiet across the carpeted wood. "Joshua! What is this mess?"

"Ha," Josh put a hand behind his neck, not making eye contact, "Well, funny story."

"I do not laugh."

"Right, yeah. So, I figured. Since the Council said we aren't allowed to have blood anymore, except for special occasions--"

At mention of the council, Elana's eyes flared red. "They are foolish," she interrupts, "Your whole generation. You do not respect the old ways."

"Okay, but, I thought," Josh stumbled over his words, "I thought I could, ya know, getcha a substitute."

"Oh," Elana's tone shifted, from anger to grateful curiosity, "Show me."

She motioned for him to bring a carton.

Josh faked a smile, grabbed the carton he'd set down earlier, and walked up the stairs. The old wood of the estate creaked loudly beneath his feet.

"Here ya go," he handed her the carton, "All the vitamins and minerals you need, in an easy to bite container!"

Elana looked over the carton suspiciously. "Sunny Dee." She sounded out the words slowly, methodically.

Elana looked at Josh for confirmation. Josh smiled, and nodded. Elana shrugged, looked back at the carton, and extended her fangs. She bit into the carton, and drank the bright orange contents. In seconds, Elana had drained the carton dry.

"Sunny Dee," Elana said again, "This is good branding."

"Yep!" Josh lied.

"Put these in the walk-in," Elana commanded, "There is plenty room."

"Of course," Josh nodded his relieved assent, "Anything else?"

"Yes. Tell me, childe, why did Amanda leave?"

Panic bloomed pink on Josh's cheeks, "Right, umm. Yeah. You know her, she's just.. weird."

Elana bobbed her head, "You speak truth. I do not understand that one at all."

"Well, I'm gonna get to work here. You headed out?"

Elana walked down the stairs, "Council meeting is tonight. I am going to tell them what I think of new feeding policy." She smirked, her eyes burning ever so slightly red.

Josh gulped down his anxiety, "Welp, good luck!"

As the twin mahogany doors shut behind Elana, Amanda peeked out from her room further down the hallway

"Did she dust you?" Amanda asked.

"Not yet," Josh made a fist over his chest and shuddered.

"Cool lie, by the way."

"You heard all that?"

"Yup. So, like, one problem. What are you going to do when this garbage doesn't keep away the Hunger and she tries to kill us for real?"

"Well, you wanna help me supplement all these?"

"Absolutely not."

Josh sighed, "Okay, in that case, could you call back up the delivery driver?"

"Oooo," Amanda's face lit up, and she grinned, flashing her fangs, "Special occasion?"

"Yeah," Josh said, "special occasion."