The other Teah wakes back up, and immediately checks on any previous petitioners that seemed like they might need followup - the mage and priest and elder sister who encountered Kindness; the dragon council member who had a conversation with a flying notepaper; assorted ex-shrens and rescued dragon babies with their fluttery little companions. Oh, and what about that vampire thing? Maybe he has time to take another look at the problem now - anybody praying about it?
The mage had found herself a spring and is having a drink. The priest is regrouping with the survivors of the lion-devil attack. The sisters are solemnly receiving explanations of what things are like in Esmaar. The dragon has located a dragon who is a wizard, and the wizard is peering intently at the notepaper. The ex-shrens are working on dissolving their institutions without leaving anybody completely uncared for; they're distributing a lot of children back to their parents. The vampire hearer he encountered earlier would still like it very much if her family didn't think she was out of her mind.
...And designs a choice.
To be offered to all vampires currently over the age by which the hearing has either come in or it hasn't, and to younger vampires and future vampires each when it comes in or doesn't: this is what you are (hearer or not), and this is what you could be (not or hearer). Specifically for the ones who are getting it now, he adds in the knowledge that every vampire of relevant age is being offered this same choice, with its attendant information about the validity of the magic.
That should shake a few things up.
And as an extra present for the vampire who started it all - a little winged circle of paper, with For you written in vampire on the front and the name Teah in Draconic on the back. It is currently flat on her desk, but is capable of flying around or pretending inanimacy at her request.
Prayer granted.
He looks at the human sleeping in the room. He wouldn't have picked the kid out of a crowd, before now - not that he would've gotten the chance, he supposes, unless it was a crowd of sleeping people. But—
"Mmf?" says the boy, finally waking up to the sound of the knock. "Huh? Summony kid, that you?"
"I can't understand a damn word you're saying," he says. Still in English. "Uh, come in, I guess? You probably can't understand a word I'm saying either."
"Hi. You're not summony girl," he says.
He takes the paper and pencil, and goes to sit on the edge of the bed where his blanket will be in its natural habitat if it falls away from his shoulders, and puts the paper on the desk and writes: What?
In English.
That was weird. That was extremely weird.
Into bed he re-flops. But he's not as sleepy now. Confusion is not renowned for its sedative properties.
"Why would I know why you were here? Why are you here? I am the most confused I have ever been in my life," he says.
"I did? I'm pretty sure I didn't," he says. "What's it say?"
"...That's... weird on so many levels I'm not sure I can count them," he says. "I don't speak vampire. I definitely can't read or write vampire. I've never prayed for a little paper with wings in my life. And it has my name on it. Well, the name I picked ten minutes ago when somebody asked me for one. Still my name, sort of."