More common than Fen realized, was people discovering his secret without him intentionally disclosing it himself. For most, it was his scent, though typically only other vampires could pick this up, a couple of others, it was the odd color of his hair that tipped them off, hence why he wore his hood more frequently. And of course there was the number of times his own body language betrayed him, his lack of penchant for lying on full display. But even through all of these incidents, never once did it occur to him that the very color of his eyes could be another tell of this decreasingly hidden truth of his.
There was, it seemed, even a solution for that, as this man briefly demonstrated. Fen might have been even more amazed by the feat if he weren't too busy wondering where the blood staining his teeth came from. The boy definitely had an idea though imagining how they came to be that way certainly did not make him feel any more comfortable with the current situation, pressing his back even harder against the tombstone he was leaning against, a part of him hoping to perhaps meld into it. Fen wanted to explain to him that he wasn't capable of performing magic, but the ever present lump in his throat blocked the way of his words.
Fenriz naturally was uncertain of any loss in sheen his eyes had suffered, although he was more than aware of the hunger he felt and fatigue it brought. The strangers estimation since the last time he had fed, however, wasn't quite accurate. Yes, it had been a while, but he had gone longer without. So why was he so drained? Fen had no idea, but drained was an apt word, as recently it had felt like the energy was being rapidly drained from his body. His warning about losing control echoed in his young mind, briefly stirring up memories of the first time. Though, even as painful as these memories were, it was hard to stay distracted from the present predicament. The stranger ordered for his name, and the vampire responded immediately
"F-Fenriz, sir". Only once had he taken to calling someone sir, rather than mister. He had been informed that person, being a knight, had earned that designation. Somehow, despite not having been informed of this man holding such an honor, his instinct apparently felt it was warranted "A lot of people call me Fen, but you don't… have to…" he trailed off.
When Xerxez first told him that he wasn't here to hurt him, he was skeptical, to put it mildly. Between the gruff tone, thrown around swears, blood-caked teeth, and equally crimson eyes staring down the poor boy, he had little reason to believe that his life wasn't in danger of being cut short. But the way he insisted that Fenriz need not be afraid, was at least enough to convince him to stand upright, relieving the gravestone of his weight.
"They're not my friends…" he insisted meekly, clearly having no response to Xerxez's vampire comment. At least there was no point in hiding it, any longer. Almost as if to show this, he lowered his hood, messy white hair once more on display. The idea of hunting with this man was… unsettling, regardless of how sincere he sounded, as it only conjured more images of how his maw had become so blood-soaked. But more striking was his comment on his family. The mention of his family not coming to help stung, more so than Xerxez realized. His mouth opened, but the words meant to explain his parental situation were silenced by more visitors from beneath their feet.
What was he aware of? He was aware of his desire to be nearly anywhere else, at the moment. Aware that he was becoming increasingly exhausted. And aware that he had little hope of fleeing from this situation. None of these things, he imagined, was the answer Xerxez was looking for. So what was?
"Umm… we're surrounded?" he responded lamely. A quick spin of his head revealed this suspicion to be true. But he knew, that this likely still wasn't enough to pass whatever test Xerxez had presented him with. He took a breath, a meager attempt to calm his nerves, and began to study the situation as best as he could.
"There's about… twelve of them… and they're very slow" Fenriz, even in the moment, was actually a little proud of the latter discovery. Whether or not Xerxez would find a simple observation about their speed impressive, was a different story. As the undead began to close the circle around them, Fenriz drew a dagger, a weapon he carried more for show than anything. He faced himself the opposite direction of his situational ally, although remaining close to the man. At this point, he had to trust that Xerxez genuinely did not mean him, as he knew for sure the zombies did not share the same sentiment. It quickly became clear that his new "friend" had no intentions of making the first move, most likely another test of his abilities. But his abilities, at least as far as he was aware, were very minuscule.
Once they had managed to become a bit too close for his comfort, he tossed his dagger at one. This had about as much effect as the last time he had tried, the blade becoming lodged in the skull of his target, though otherwise not seeming to cause it much distress. Feeling devoid of options, he took small steps backwards, until he had physically bumped into Xerxez, and could move no further back. Unlike the incident with the ghouls however, something far more remarkable than another stranger coming to his rescue occurred. A shadow, from where moonlight met tombstone, began to extent, slithered its way to the miniature vampire, quickly enveloping him in its dark presence. It harmlessly carried the boy beneath the undead's feet, before it released him outside of their circular trap, and returned to its original resting place behind the stone.
"What… happened?" he mumbled to himself. If asked now, what he was aware of, three things would come to mind. He was no longer trapped in the undead circle with Xerxez. He, somehow, felt even more drained than before. And finally, that the ground in his near vicinity once again began to hemorrhage, as more of the unholy nightmares began to claw their way out of their resting place.