A Purpose

Sorrow sat with his hands cupped against the warm white mug of tea, the small trails of smoke prickling at his lips, while his hazy jade irises wandered listlessly across the apartment while he waited for an answer.
Char had already gone through a whole slew of possible solutions to our problem, while Sorrow had deflected, restructured, then returned those suggestions with equally as much finesse and scrutiny as she had put into them.
As for the problem, it was already swirling across my mind like that warm stream of smoke.
While Sorrow hadn't come here to execute me like just another monster, he had come for a reason that wasn't simply worry over my sudden exit at lunch.
Somehow, that girl dozing off with bubbles inflating from her nose across from us had been picked up by the Higher Cards of the organisation, which brought with it a whole landslide of complications.
Well, I say somehow, but really, after that incident with that woman almost having her blood drained from her body entirely, it was less surprising to hear this than it should have been.
"Perhaps we simply hide out somewhere deeper into the city, then, although it is far riskier and simpler, but it seems that often Occam's razor isn't so ludicrous as people make it out to be" lauded Char, whose almond curls were resting neatly on her exposed shoulders, that pale skin glowing beneath the fading sunbeams. 
At least, she had decided to wear something more presentable to serious discussions, but she continued stealing glances, though doing her best to make it seem natural, at the large mirror by the doorway.
At that distance, could you really even see anything reflected back?
What was up with that obsession anyway?
Mirrors only reflect about ninety-eight percent of light, so was it something like her innate stubbornness refusing settle without the other two percent, always glaring into that reflection hoping to see that smidgen of light appear?
It's stupidly unrealistic, maybe dramatic, but it's not like it doesn't match her personality.
Rather, everybody has flaws, and to balance out her astounding intelligence and beauty, I suppose a preoccupation with mirrors isn't the worst weight to place on the other end of the fulcrum arm.
"No, no, I don't disagree with you, but deeper into the city... there's things there that aren't common knowledge, so it checks out that you wouldn't have that information, but take my word for it, there's no simplicity or safety in there."
From their perspective, I probably looked like I was ready to feint and smash my head against the marble countertop. Either that or my distaste was strewn all over my face as plain as their furrowed contemplation.
"Aren't we forgetting the dainty little extraneous variable over there? If we want to solidify any of this, it's going to have to pass through the filter that is her own motivations, right? She's not just going to go along with whatever we say, but more than that, who's to say she doesn't have her own places to go?"
Char looked over at me while I spoke, and began to chew at her pale scarlet lips before cocking her head to the side, and peering at that girl sprawled over the couch beside her, one arm dangling to the floor, while her mouth hung open, those canines protruding into the air.
Sorrow was busy licking at his tea, which was still puffing out fumes, while he stared fixedly at the waning sunlight from between the deep Prussian curtains.
"That's of course true, and everything we decide will inevitably crumble into useless rubble should this brat wake with a capriciousness that's unmanageable, however, that does not completely nullify any choices we make. Nevertheless, or to add on to that, how exactly did this monster of a girl come into being? You've told us the rough edges of the story, but how exactly was this little beast thrust into our responsibility?"
With all those different variations of derivatives being thrown around, it made me wonder how that 'little brat' felt about all this.
She was definitely stubborn enough to get into a fuss about Char's words.
Are all vampires so vain and alike?
Whatever the case, I drawled over that story once again, this time including useless little bits of information that were floating back to me the more I remembered it.
But it might just be my mind creating new aspects of that memory to cement as fact.
Witness statements are so uneasy on the truth that it's a miracle they haven't been thrown out altogether, so my reproducing that moment of her birth was probably also filled with a bunch of holes.
It also reminded me to remind Char that it was her lacklustre supervision that had caused most of this in the first place.
For somebody so intelligent she was surprisingly irresponsible.
Rather, it felt like she was so sure of her ability to salvage any kind of situation that might arise, that she didn't feel the need to prevent them anyway.
Like a miracle bandage so effective that finding the cure isn't even worth spending time on.
Meanwhile, it seemed like all that talking over her head had finally woken this supposed brat from her beauty sleep, like the conversation's heaviness had finally weighed down on her and jolted her senses.
By the end of my repeat of our first meeting, she was rubbing her knuckles against her eyes, and probably wondering who the serious-looking guy sitting across from her, a tea cupped in his hands despite the heat still heavy in the atmosphere, was.
Not giving her a moment to reorient herself, though, Char was already gripping her smooth long hair between her willowy fingers, pressing down on her head like she was trying to twist it off from her neck, and peering deep into her sleep-numbed eyes.
"What is it you want to do, you little monster woman?"
Surprisingly, like it was a consistent goal of hers, always held in her heart, something she had been clutching tight in her sleep, she answered without even a stutter or slurring her words from sleepiness.
"I need to go to between the mountains, towards the shore. I need to find my family".