Nebti stirred, as she usually did, only shortly after the last rays of sunlight were blocked by the distant horizon. She didn’t open eyes, but out of deeply ingrained habit her sense stretched out to carefully search the familiar surroundings of the sleeping caverns. The small, silly task only took a few seconds to complete, but they always seemed to stretch out like hours. Her first new breath filled her lungs and her slow heartbeat sped up a little before Nebti pushed herself up and took a look around her.
Her black, almond shaped eyes scanned over the room briefly before she got to her feet. She walked slowly across the darkened room, purposefully making the smallest of sounds as she walked; the unnatural silence of her movements always unnerved her a little. Nebti paused in front of the small chest she left in the coven for the days she would rest here and she found she wasn’t sure what she felt like wearing for the night. There were plenty of cotton dress pants and cashmere sweaters to put on, a few silk shirts, a couple pairs of jeans… but she longed for the Egyptian cotton back at her small estate just outside the city limits.
With a soft sigh of purely feminine vanity, she pulled out the delicate clothing: soft, black cotton slacks, a deep purple, button-up silk shirt, and the usual feminine trappings and under things. Before dressing, Nebti followed practiced and honored movements, coating her skin in dark yellow, Arabian oils. Today, sandalwood struck her fancy and she took care to rub in a nice thin coat of it from her ankles to her wrists, and then to her neck.
The small slippers she usually wore were tucked under her arm as she made her way out of her cavern of choice and up into the common room. The other Amman, at least, all that she knew, could not see themselves in mirrors and were comfortable not having any around. Nebti, on the other hand, always found it a little annoying. Seti had always had a reflection as well, and Nebti was glad she had retained hers as well. Otherwise, putting on her beloved kohl would have been much more taxing over the years. As she once was, she would have laden a thick black line over her lids. But, as the centuries had passed, the thick black lines had steadily thinned. In these times she mimicked the modern women and - using a tiny mirror from inside her small, black purse - put only the thinnest of lines around her slanted eyes before dusting her eyelids with a light gold powder that blended into her gold tented skin.
The gold-olive tone was lighter than normal, she had not fed in three days. Yet, even lightened, she thought she looked more alive than the lighter skinned vampires. Usually, by three days, they looked as if the sun had never touched their lily white hides. An effect that seemed to always take Nebti five or six days to achieve. Still, she mused, it’s about time I went for a drink.
Nebti closed her purse and stepped into the small slippers before making her way lightly up the stone stairs and out of the memorial that covered the entrance. Westminstral was quiet and almost completely vacant by now. The air was crisp with frost and Nebti’s breath fogged and floated away like smoke, and yet she barely seemed to notice. Her skin had long since lost its warmth, but at least that meant she wouldn’t start shivering until after she’d found a drink.
On the edge of Westminstral park, Nebti hailed a cab to take her to the Tequila. It’s more cultured air usually made it easier for her to fit in amongst the eclectic mix of people that would be there. As usual, it was packed. A local band was playing and apparently they had quite the following. Her eyes found several other immortals mixing among the unwary mortals and several pairs of keen eyes noted her as well. It was a silent acknowledgement of like pairs, but usually little more than that. Still, Nebti couldn’t help the regal air she took when she came anywhere near one of her peers.
