“they’re British skeletons of course they’re dancing sarcastically. ”
The place was alive. But only technically.
Crowds of “people” flooded the dance floor and the air was full of the unique miasma of a dance club. Music, people shouting to be heard over the music, stale alcohol and even staler cigarette smoke.
This was Club 86. Where the undead went to live it up.
Maia was busy trying not to freak out. She was the only person… being… creature… in the room who did not have what Nedelcu referred to as ‘special circumstances’.
And this is what happened when a mortal asked her vampire girlfriend what it was like being undead.
A crumble of litches had the dance floor. How moving skeletons could move was a mystery Maia preferred not to think about. But they were moving, and something about what remained of their body language was… familiar.
“Are they… dancing sarcastically?” she asked over the steady bass thumping.
“They’re British skeletons,” said Nedelcu. “Of course they’re dancing sarcastically.”
“How can you even tell that they’re British.”
A level glare. “After a while… you get to know. Besides, they dance like they always lose at Eurovision.”
“OI!” said one of the skeletons.
“Sorry Tony!” Nedelcu called. “I know you won.”
“…how can he talk?”
“That’s one of the questions you don’t ask.”
“Why?”
“Because a Necromancer will tell you.”
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