Post by Nathaniel de Boer on Dec 30, 2012 2:14:41 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: bottom;][classy=icon][/classy][classy=pnotes]i went with your image of the two of them sitting out, i hope that's okay. [/classy]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
He doesn't know the vampire who owns this bakery--the sign outside labels it Red Velvet--and they don't know him either, Nathaniel suspects. Few do, these days, outside of his family. A result of thousand of years of killing every vampire he came across that he hadn't personally turned, and the years after that gone to ground to avoid her.
Golden eyes, dark hair. Her hesitant smile.
He shakes his head and raises his fork, cutting a slice off the cake neatly to raise to his mouth. It doesn't taste quite like blood, but the clotted icing is good. He admires the finesse in this movement, the act of submerging in the world one thought one might leave behind forever, and re-emerging seamlessly as one of them. There are so few vampires now, fewer than there once were. He wonders if any of his fellows consider themselves helpless in the face of the encroaching storm of humanity.
He's found many of them lack perspective.
The bangle on his wrist catches the fluorescent light of the bakery softly. It's unnecessary this late at night (he'd wanted to avoid the crowds of tourists ever present in the daytime) but Nathaniel can't remember the last time he removed it.
Post by sophia rosenberg on Dec 30, 2012 4:17:50 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=border:10px solid #eee; margin:7px; margin-top:-1px;][style=opacity:0.8][/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=margin:10px; margin-top:-1px; background-color:#eee; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; color:#3d3d3d; font-size:10px; border-bottom:4px solid #3d3d3d; padding:4px;]The best thing about being colleagues with young vampires, Sophia thinks, is how easily they are repaid. With the older vampires, they would always demand unreasonable gifts of wine that is aged in the Gloaming or a Chinese dragon’s pearl. Goliath had the connections and otherworldly wealth to pay for such items, but that doesn’t apply to Sophia. A run from Midtown to Harlem isn’t exactly short for a cake, but it certainly beats travelling to a different realm or country to bargain with gold coins and glistening rubies.
The bakery bell jingles softly, and Sophia strolls in with a set of clothes that are only matched in season. She didn’t see the point in looking her best for a late night bakery run, so she threw on the first clean clothes that she could find. Vivienne would probably have been ashamed of her, but Sophia doesn’t plan to stand out. She feels as safe as she ever does in public when she walks up to the counter. Sophia slides the slip of paper with her order inscribed upon it and nearly flinches when the young man tells her the price. If the smells coming from the back are any indication, the ingredients probably don’t come terribly cheap. Faintly, Sophia wonders when their food had become more than just sustenance.
She leans against the counter as her order is processed, and a strawberry shortcake in the glass catches her eye. It’s too cold for ice cream anyway, she figures. The cashier exchanges her ten for the slice, and Sophia can only wonder when she will stop doing this to herself.
The cake foil feels cold against her colder hands.[/style][classy=frame]SAY HER NAME INTO THE DARK, ACTIVATE OUR NERVE ENDINGS[/classy]
[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:12px;]made by RIVER! - he got GANGNAM STYLE[/style]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
The bakery isn't very crowded. It's late to be going out for cake and pastries. Most other places would be long closed by now, but this place caters to a special clientele. When the woman steps to the counter to pay, it's empty enough that Nathaniel can smell her clearly, without even meaning too.
She smells like his line, like the hint of violence withheld and darkness promised. She smells, more specifically, like one particular member of his line, the white hot flare of justice that is so unfamiliar, still, to his senses. Ruthlessness is a line from point a to point b. Nathaniel can understand that. Justice was an iron weight he set down a long time ago, however.
He rises to his feet, and makes his way to the counter. If Bastien has turned someone and not seen fit to tell him, it is only right for him to introduce himself. As a grandfather should.
"My lady," he says. "I am quite sure we have not met, but nonetheless, you remind me of someone. Are you acquainted with Bastien?"
Post by sophia rosenberg on Jan 3, 2013 1:13:39 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=border:10px solid #eee; margin:7px; margin-top:-1px;][style=opacity:0.8][/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=margin:10px; margin-top:-1px; background-color:#eee; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; color:#3d3d3d; font-size:10px; border-bottom:4px solid #3d3d3d; padding:4px;]She hates lines. Sophia really does. The person behind him may have only formed a two-person line, but it's still the easiest way to show her back to a stranger. Sophia can only appreciate the fact that she will never have to wait in a line during broad daylight. Sometimes she forgets that the smaller night crowds could be a lot worse than the day ones. Still, there's nothing to do but to turn around.
The man is handsome and charming, but it is always the polite ones who are the most dangerous. Sophia has seen more than her fair share of centuries-old vampires, and this one also gives off the impression of a man who has played this game for far too long.
Sophia's shoulders tense for the briefest of moments at the mention of Bastien's name. Is the man an enemy or a colleague of her roommate? Judging from the smell of his sweet breath, Sophia feels safe to say that he isn't necessarily a colleague from Bastien's day job.
Not for the first time, she regrets not being as well connected as her colleague. It is safe to say that lady death does not even know half the vampires that make up the lower ranks. Perhaps she had not been as subtle as she had thought, but no insider would have careless enough to approach Death so casually. No, there is something else backing his confidence. Ignorance?
For now, Sophia decides that it is safer to stick with the facts, even if she decides not to divulge information. There is no hesitation in the man's question, so there is no need to deny anything. Confidence is its own form of rationalization.
Acquaintance can mean different things. Even conversation is a qualifier. Sophia nods curtly and starts to walk towards a table. It would take a few minutes for the pastry chefs to bake her a new cake. In the meantime, she still has a strawberry shortcake to take care of.[/style][classy=frame]SAY HER NAME INTO THE DARK, ACTIVATE OUR NERVE ENDINGS[/classy]
[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:12px;]made by RIVER! - he got GANGNAM STYLE[/style]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
As easily as if the woman had smiled broadly, introduced herself, and invited him over, Nathaniel followed her across the bakery and sat himself down in the chair across the table from her.
"He is in some ways, the most dutiful of my recent sons," Nathaniel said. "And I am proud of him in a way I have not been proud of those of my lineage in quite some time and yet, his reserve in not telling me about you is quite distressing. Is it because you are a failure, unable to adapt to our lifestyle? Regardless of whether he labors under the title of 'Justice' or not, I do not think Bastien would shy at eliminating a flawed specimen. At the very least he would understand that turning it over to me to handle would be equally acceptable. Or is it because you are, in fact, the opposite; a child so brilliant he is waiting for the right time to unveil you properly?"
Post by sophia rosenberg on Jan 4, 2013 3:07:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=border:10px solid #eee; margin:7px; margin-top:-1px;][style=opacity:0.8][/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=margin:10px; margin-top:-1px; background-color:#eee; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; color:#3d3d3d; font-size:10px; border-bottom:4px solid #3d3d3d; padding:4px;]Normality is key. Sophia removes the plastic wrapper from the fork that was provided to her and attempts to dig into her cake. The icing tastes far too dry on her tongue, and the strawberry is sickly sweet. She can't ever reclaim the same sense of taste that she had while she was fourteen and human. Sophia knows this.
Hope is the enemy. She is not sure if the man's next words reclaims it or destroys it.
Her fork pauses at the word "sons". Sophia is not particularly perturbed at the rest of the man's words. She has had experience with worse insults since childhood, and she only has to endure his company for however long it takes for her cake to bake. No, what really concerns her are the words "recent" and "lineage". Vampires under fifty weren't typically the ones who go about rambling about a lineage. No, most vampires under fifty were probably less concerned about heritage and more concerned about words such as "survival", or "allies", or "alone". Sophia is already numb by the time that the man utters "Justice". She can't help but wonder how much he knows, but interrogation has never been her specialty. Nor does she think that she should start. It is a old habit that she has not felt fit to break.
Sophia thinks that ignorance suits a man best. She waits several seconds after he utters the last word and gives a subtle shake of her head. The act of answering ought to delay the frustration that accompanies old age, but ambiguity ought to protect her for a few minutes more.[/style][classy=frame]SAY HER NAME INTO THE DARK, ACTIVATE OUR NERVE ENDINGS[/classy]
[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:12px;]made by RIVER! - he got GANGNAM STYLE[/style]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
Nathaniel glanced about the area just quick enough to verify that no one human was looking--although maybe it would be better if someone was, it had been half a day or so since he'd eaten--and extended his right hand to his previous table. Like an unfurling fern, his shadow extended and leapt across the distance, wrapping itself around his fork before pulling the utensil back to his hand.
He leaned across the table and dug in to the corner of Sophia's cake, chewing pensively.
"This is not a very good cake. You should have gotten the house specialty. It had a much more flavorful taste. I can get you a slice of that one, if you want." He swallowed, and then looked back at her. "A father should be stern with his children, it is true, but it is the task of a grandfather to indulge his grandchildren."
Post by sophia rosenberg on Jan 6, 2013 16:56:01 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=border:10px solid #eee; margin:7px; margin-top:-1px;][style=opacity:0.8][/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=margin:10px; margin-top:-1px; background-color:#eee; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; color:#3d3d3d; font-size:10px; border-bottom:4px solid #3d3d3d; padding:4px;]Now there is a game that Sophia is all too familiar with. Bow her head to her elders, and she will always recieve the last word. It's not so much a promise as much as it is how the system works. Keep your head low, and the master will falter in their own arrogance. Nothing had ever been gained in struggle. Not in her experience.
She hardly bats an eye at the man's retrieval of the fork, and for a second, Sophia wonders if it would have been better if she had. For profiling, of course.
(if you gaze into the abyss, then the abyss also gazes into you)
She wishes that Bastien was here. His social abilities are far superior to hers. Sophia cares less about the man's relation to him. She has no way of ascertaining the truth in that statement, and Justice is infamous enough to have plenty of acquaintances. Sophia doesn't even pay much mind to his cake thievery - her mind is elsewhere, trying to percieve the extent of his deception.
She shakes her head again at his offer to keep the pauses at bay. This isn't going anywhere. Sophia's paitience is nearly limitless, but she's not sure if the same goes for the vampire before her. Sophia isn't sure when he will give up. She makes the decision to break her silence.
"Who are you?" Her intonation is level, so the emphasis on 'you' is lost. For a moment, Sophia realizes how poor of a question that is in the first place. She doesn't want to know about the unimportant things such as lineage or tradition - she has never shown any curiosity in Bastien's origins. Sophia doesn't expect a straight answer about his coven or allegiance or aims, but there are often hidden nuggets of truth in a vampire's lies, verbally or otherwise.
His connection with Justice is far more important. She could possibly ask Bastien later, but she doesn't even have confirmation that he knows about his maker. He never spoke of such things, and she never bothered to ask.
At this point, she does not know if her silence is a strength or a weakness.[/style][classy=frame]SAY HER NAME INTO THE DARK, ACTIVATE OUR NERVE ENDINGS[/classy]
[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:12px;]made by RIVER! - he got GANGNAM STYLE[/style]
Post by Nathaniel de Boer on Jan 6, 2013 18:59:01 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: bottom;][classy=icon][/classy][classy=pnotes]i went with your image of the two of them sitting out, i hope that's okay. [/classy]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
Nathaniel looked at her steadily, expression unchanging. "I must apologize for my rudeness," he said. "Introducing myself properly quite slipped my mind. My name is Nathaniel."
He folded his hands on the table, toying slightly with his fork. Someone at another table got up and left, shuffling past the two of them. "You're quite different from Bastien. But maybe Bastien is quite different from most vampires. I haven't much experience in that regard."
Post by sophia rosenberg on Jan 7, 2013 3:42:07 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:100px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=border:10px solid #eee; margin:7px; margin-top:-1px;][style=opacity:0.8][/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width:350px; background-color:#dedede;][atrb=vAlign, top][style=margin:10px; margin-top:-1px; background-color:#eee; font-family:arial; text-align:justify; color:#3d3d3d; font-size:10px; border-bottom:4px solid #3d3d3d; padding:4px;]Sophia isn't young enough to be taken in by the other vampire's pleasantries. Amaryllis was also a delicate flower once, easily drawn into the smiles of young vampiric princes who claimed goodwill and honest intentions. She didn't even have the heart to scream when they had plucked her delicate petals, one by one, two by two. Sophia no longer makes her old mistake.
Nathaniel. Her eyes narrow slightly, but the action is barely perceptable when her gaze is directed downwards, hidden by a crown of blond hair. Even an alias is better than nothing. If not Justice, then maybe the Emperor will know something.
He speaks of Justice's name so casually, she notes. Sophia sees another opportunity, and she forces herself to take it. "How so?"
It's not much, but she should be able to truly gauge the man's familiarity with her colleague. Or even how accurate his sources are.[/style][classy=frame]SAY HER NAME INTO THE DARK, ACTIVATE OUR NERVE ENDINGS[/classy]
[style=font-family:ms gothic; font-size:12px;]made by RIVER! - he got GANGNAM STYLE[/style]
Post by Nathaniel de Boer on Jan 7, 2013 16:08:38 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: bottom;][classy=icon][/classy][classy=pnotes]i went with your image of the two of them sitting out, i hope that's okay. [/classy]
beneath it all you're golden and that's all I'm feeding on and though my head, my hands are growing colder, we move in circles now
there is no release
[atrb=style, vertical-align: top;]
"Well he talks more than you, obviously." Nathaniel smiles, apologetic. Over time, he has found the variety of expressions one can make intoxicating. This is among his favorites, for a number of reasons. "Perhaps he gets that from me. There is little I have left, aside from talking, to pass the time, and so I talk. But I know little of other vampires, like I said, aside from my family. Maybe he is the standard, and you are the outlier. But that seems counterproductive, the idea of a chatty predator."
HIDDEN in plain sight is a modern-day supernatural noir game set in New York City and sprawling the rest of America. Magic is real, and so are angels, ghosts, gods, vampires, and witches. It doesn't matter if you believe in them, because they're coming for you either way.
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CREDITS
( ORIGINAL SITE BY KATYA ) - Original site, templates, skin, ideas, and system all by Katya. Other ideas belong to their original owners
[/classy][classy=pnotes]i went with your image of the two of them sitting out, i hope that's okay. [/classy]
[/style][/style][style=text-align:left; margin:5px; font-family:georgia; text-transform:lowercase; line-height:20px; font-size:27px; color:#444; letter-spacing:-3px;]IF WE CAN STAY HERE LONG ENOUGH, WE CAN PLAY WITH BLOODY MARY[/style]
