Landon was downtown, a crowded part of the city that he only visited when he wanted to go human-watching or buy something. He wore his usual outfit, a white button-up and brown pants, as well as a black satchel. He stood at the front door of a building with a sign that said, “Heart & Soul Crafts Center.” After a few strenuous Googling sessions on his kids' phones, he found an arts and crafts center that let artists work in a shared space and hosted workshops every week. As a vampire who somewhat understood that there was something fundamentally wrong with him, entering was a huge risk, but he really wanted to do it. This was his chance to get even more practice sewing and sculpting — there was even a kiln he could use! So he took a deep breath, remembered to retract his fangs, adjusted the satchel over his shoulder... and stepped in.
He found himself inside a large studio, filled with warm lighting and art supplies shelved on every wall. Everyone inside smelled human, and they all smiled and waved at him. Some were painting, some were knitting, and one watched a strange black box spin a half-formed skull out of neon orange yarn. There was someone sitting at a front desk, asking Landon how she could help him, but they ignored him and strode up to the black box. The human was hunched over slightly, eyes trained on the slowly growing skull, and Landon copied his position. “How'd you get the yarn to be so... sticky? Are you knitting a skull? Can I try?” Landon could tell that this box lacked all the supplies needed to knit something, but they couldn't think of an alternative explanation for what they were looking at.
The human raised his eyebrow but said, “That's not yarn, that's plastic. I'm using a 3D printer. It heats up the plastic so that it's kind of melted and sticky, then arranges it according to a design I gave it.”
Landon gasped at the description and stared even more intensely at the 3D printer. At a couple thousand years old (or more, or less; they could never remember), it was difficult for them to keep up with new technology. Had humans really invented something so cool right under their nose again? They desperately wanted to make a skull of their own, or maybe even a more delicious body part like the liver. Anything to watch the printer work, to feel the heat radiating from it...
“Hey, don't touch! Also, the receptionist's been trying to get your attention.”
Landon felt a hand swat his wrist. He'd been reaching towards the skull without thinking, attracted to the heat the printer produced. He stood up straight, turned around, and saw the receptionist waving him over. Landon suddenly remembered why he'd come here and strode up to her, resting his large hands on the desk. “I can sew here, right? And sculpt? I wanna sculpt clay.”
The receptionist seemed confused, but Landon wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because they'd initially ignored her. She opened her mouth to speak just as they decided to apologize: “Sorry for walking past you. I'm...” They tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't expose them, that was sympathetic enough for her not to question their identity. “I'm old and my brain's deteriorating, so it doesn't work properly anymore.”
“Oh. I'm... I'm so sorry.” The receptionist pushed up her glasses and awkwardly stared at some papers on her desk, which meant that Landon's plan was a success. Most humans loved sympathizing with old people. When the receptionist recovered, she said, “I tried to get your attention because visitors have to check in before they start creating. If you're having an unscheduled session, you won't have to pay, but if you're working with a tutor or joining a workshop, then you will. We have a calendar of all the upcoming workshops, if you're interested.” She gently pushed a colorful calendar across the desk towards Landon. It had lots of event names and times in boxes for nearly every day of the month, excluding holidays and Sundays. It was a Sunday now, so nothing was planned today, but the week was chock-full of fun-sounding events: A video poetry crash course, a lesson on different types of yarn, and most importantly, Sculpting 101. It was a two-day workshop, probably to account for the time it would take to fire the clay creations.
Landon pointed at the date with a claw. “I don't have a tutor. Tell me about Sculpting 101. I get to use a kiln, right? Right?”
The receptionist noticed how long and sharp Landon's claw was, and she blinked. Their nails were never really something they'd thought to hide, because humans generally found them less threatening than fangs. But those who'd encountered vampires sometimes knew, like they had a sense for when nails were too sharp to be a human's. Landon stared down at her, watching and waiting to see if she would comment on it. But she trucked on and answered their question. “The instructor will do most of the firing since kilns can be dangerous for beginners, but yes. After the workshop you should have a fired pot or sculpture; whichever you choose to make.”
Feeling even more excited, Landon took out their wallet and stuck a couple of twenties in the receptionist's face, grinning wildly. “Sign me up.”
The receptionist took only one bill, saying, “It's only twenty dollars. Could I get a name as well?”
“Landon Reed.”
She wrote his name down on a sheet of paper with a chart printed onto it in neat, loopy handwriting. “Thank you. Enjoy your time here, Landon. We close at four, so you should have plenty of time to explore and get those creative juices out!”
“Heh, yeah. I love juices.” Landon winked and returned to the studio. By now the receptionist had adapted to his unusual behavior, and she simply responded to his wink with a smile.
Now that Landon had signed up for a sculpting workshop, they decided to balance things out by sewing today. In the back left corner of the studio was an area perfect for sewing. There were rolls of fabric and sewing machines, fabric scissors and needle threaders, and plenty more. Someone was sitting at a machine, deep in concentration as the machine's needle pumped neat stitches into what looked like a blouse. Landon bounced on their toes and screeched at the sight. When was the last time they'd met someone who knew how to sew? Decades, maybe.
Their screech disrupted everyone in the studio, and the seamstress jumped in her seat and whipped her head up to look at him with wide eyes. She was an older white woman with a head of wavy, pale blonde hair, wrinkles and crow's feet framing her eyes. Her sewing machine kept going for a couple of more seconds before she remembered to turn it off, and she mumbled at the ruined stitch. “Could I ask you to keep it down, young man? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry. That was a stim,” Landon explained.
“A what?”
“I don't know,” they answered truthfully. Their son Maksim had said that they had multiple “stims,” including screeching when he was happy, because they had something called “autism.” Maksim said he knew because he also had autism, but Landon didn't really know what that was so they didn't care. The old woman didn't seem to know what stims were either, so they changed the subject. “My name is Landon. Who are you?”
“I'm Eleanor. Are you new here?” Just like the receptionist, Eleanor was confused, and she seemed grateful for the subject change.
“Yep. I've been sewing for a long time, but I want more practice. Tell me how to use that sewing machine.” Landon knew that sewing machines as a whole weren't new, but there were a lot of recent models with screens and pre-installed stitches and other things that they didn't understand yet. This shiny white machine was one of them.
“Oh. Well, I'm no tutor, but I suppose I could show you a thing or two. The transition from hand sewing to using machines can be confusing, can't it? Why don't you pull up a chair?” Eleanor scooted over some, and Landon plopped a plastic chair next to her and sat down. “I might as well start with showing you how to undo a stitch. I'm making this blouse for my daughter's birthday, so I want it to look perfect. Luckily, this machine comes with a seam ripper...” Eleanor launched into a tutorial of how to fix stitches, which turned into a lesson on how to use digital sewing machines in general, which turned into an explanation of why she was at Heart & Soul in the first place.
Landon didn't take their eyes off of her and the sewing machine and listened with open ears. The concept of fixing stitches wasn't new to them, but Eleanor made doing it with modern technology seem easy. It was refreshing, learning how something digital worked from someone else who also hadn't fully adjusted to the digital era. When Landon asked how the sewing machine's screen worked, Eleanor said she had no idea, she didn't care as long as she could keep creating, and both of them laughed at her answer. Eleanor was temporarily frightened by Landon's uneven, hyena-like laugh, but she got used to it. She told Landon that her lack of experience with modern technology was part of why she'd become a Heart & Soul regular. All of her friends were her age and her health was slowly declining, but she didn't want to be one of the old people who was left behind by the ever-evolving information age. To put it simply, she wanted to get out more.
In response to that, Landon said, “That makes sense. If I was super old I wouldn't want to be left behind either.”
“Stop it, you,” Eleanor demanded playfully. “I'm only fifty-nine! That's not 'super' yet.”
“You're right. You are pretty young, actually,” Landon corrected with a laugh. Eleanor didn't know the full reason Landon found his words funny, but she didn't need to to find them funny too. Their lively conversation overshadowed their perception of time, and before they knew it, it was 3:50 PM. Neither of them wanted to wrap up their conversation, but Eleanor had places to be and Landon wanted to feed (although he didn't tell her that). He took out his flip phone and asked for her phone number. That was rarely something they asked for, but they wanted to talk to Eleanor more. Maybe they'd even pay her a friendly visit. They had her scent down-pat now, sweet perfume mixed with sunflowers, so finding her home would be no problem.
Eleanor *hmm*-ed with interest at Landon's phone before giving him her number. “I rarely see people your age with flip phones. You've got quite the old soul, don't you?”
“Really old,” Landon said with a knowing smile. They helped her pack up the sewing machine, and the two of them left Heart & Soul just before the center closed. Landon hadn't even gotten around to sewing anything today, but they didn't care. They were definitely visiting again.