[Gale lets out a soft, thoughtful hum in response to their messenger's remark, not sounding wholly convinced, but knowing better than to say so aloud.
He knows what this is. Cazador means to demand proof, to see how they behave in public before important members of vampire society— to see whether or not they're bluffing, or if he might still have his witch. Invitations and challenges may as well have been interchangeable among his kind.
The vampire looks to his guest, offering her a small nod of confirmation.]
Indeed, the upper echelons of vampire society. It's been some time since I've found myself invited to such a gathering— we've garnered ourselves quite a bit of attention, indeed.
[Cazador's messenger smiles thinly.]
"You would be most honored guests, on this occasion. For Mystra's Chosen to enter into such a pact is worthy of such attention. Your power and potential are well-remembered by our master, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep."
[The former wizard feels the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth at the mention of Mystra's name, his former title— yes, he had a feeling that would come up sooner rather than later, as well. For him to bond with a witch was a bold move, politically. It gave him the potential to appear a threat, to some.]
[There it is, Mystra's name again. In the time following their pleasant discussion about their situation, Amelia refreshed her memory about the esteemed vampire lady. Her magic prowess was admired and respected among witches, but she remembers other stories too, ones with a less generous view. Mainly, the ones regarding how Mystra chose her lovers, which in itself isn't uncommon for such a long-lived being. It's the aftermath of such affairs that leave the other party in a lesser state, becoming someone forgotten and pitiful and just another member added to the forces of the night while Mystra found a new jewel.
It made her understand Gale Dekarios just a little more.]
Wherever Gale of Waterdeep goes, I shall follow.
[She figures that a subservient response is best for this situation. Personally, Amelia feels too dated for a club scene (look, it's just a vibes thing, she feels grandma), but any indignant refusal on her end would give Cazador's man too much ammunition.
Speaking of, he nods, pleased.]
"Good. I shall let my master know that you will be in attendance. Thank you for your time and have a blessed evening."
[He turns to leave, but before he takes a step out the door, the vampire pauses to leave one last remark without turning to face them.]
"... The air here. It smells quite clean."
[And then he leaves without another word. Amelia's shoulders remain tense until he's completely out of sight.]
[Only once the other vampire has let the door close behind him and Gale has heard their footfalls move away from the shop does he let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping forward as he gives up his posturing. He casts Amelia a worried glance, shaking his head.]
I'm afraid not. Rumors still work in our favor, and we're keeping up appearances, but I guarantee this invitation is meant to call our bluff in public— or, if he can't, no doubt he has something else up his sleeve.
[He scrunches his nose for a brief moment, the messenger's departure having left him rankled. That the other vampire had remarked on the scent in the air, or lack thereof, was perhaps a bit classless, but something that would need to be addressed.]
Would that vampire senses respected privacy more than they do, but I suppose we cannot help what we see, hear or smell— or don't.
Mm. Understandable, coming from the undead who want to indulge in order to feel a semblance of being alive.
[Amelia rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck as she replies casually to Gale.]
Give me a few years, and I might have one. I don't like coercing the earth too much, lest it backfires on me.
And to be frank, as distasteful as I'm finding Baldur's Gate vampires, deliberately causing allergies is probably too close to committing a biological warcrime.
[That earns a slight chuckle from him, easing some of the tension in the room.]
Admittedly, it would likely get you into more trouble than you already are— or we, I should say.
[They are, after all, a team now.]
It would better suit us to be clever. We do have an advantage that not every vampire has access to. I'm far from the only wizard to have been turned, and vampires have a rather varied skillset among them, but you and I both have magic on our side— and if I may be so bold as to say so, even in undeath I remain more skilled than many who follow the same path in life.
I can be clever. And at this point I trust you to be the same.
[Amelia crosses her arm in contemplation.]
But should we be casting any magic in this club? What kind of defenses, if any would Cazador have? I suspect he has his measures against witches. If not, then that would be several centuries wasted.
Magic would likely best be employed here, though there are some protective wards we might enable before we attend. I have a few ideas regarding alchemy, as well, but...
[He sighs heavily, glancing towards the door the other vampire had left through only moments before.]
I think this particular outing is going to test our acting skills. More than that, we may need to consider some... practical measures. That messenger won't be the only one looking for bite marks.
[Which brings them to a conversation that's been some time in coming.]
[For his part, Gale looks hesitant about venturing further— the subject is a delicate one.]
The good news is that no other vampire ought to be able to tell if you've been granted marks— that, they have to take our word for, and it's early enough in our 'arrangement' that no one should expect any grand displays of power. They mean to appraise us— Cazador wishes to see that our bond is genuine, and others will wish to know if this partnership makes us a threat.
[Makes him a threat, specifically, but given that he has no political aspirations, only the most paranoid vampires would likely be deeply concerned.]
Performance will be the name of the game. They will want to see— behavior that implies possession.
[While he doesn't seem particularly happy about that, the next part does give him pause, and there's a heavy moment of silence before his gaze meets hers, earnest.]
I'll need to bite you. At least enough to leave a mark before we go, but I wouldn't put it past Cazador to 'encourage' us to make a display of it in person. I don't— [He pauses another moment, furrowing his brow before admitting:] I don't typically drink from... people.
[Her face is... Neutral. Hard to read. A hand moves to her face as she starts to get lost in deep thought.
They've been given a wide berth from their enemies and from each other and she thinks she has taken it for granted. Amelia had flippantly said that she was fine with growing their bond, but in a way, it was with the assumption that aside from surface attraction, they'd probably be just friends.
Vampirism doesn't really give her that wiggle room that she's so accustomed to as a witch. She has power and bared her metaphorical fangs. Gale has his underground "celebrity" and her being by his side had a significance she hadn't felt until now.
He gazes at her now, not with hunger, but with that earnestness that shows the remnant of a human life, something he's held onto for centuries.
And against her better judgement, it chips away at her avoidance of touch.
After an unsettling amount of silence, Amelia finally speaks up.]
[The question gives him pause, but only for a moment, and only because he spends that moment trying to intuit where she may be headed with this. After the space of a single heartbeat, he nods and steps forward, his brow still slightly furrowed as he holds his hand out to her, palm-up.]
Of course.
[She has put an unimaginable amount of trust in him. Whatever she has in mind, he trusts her, as well.]
[Amelia takes his offered hand in her's and she stares intently at the lines of the palms. One can almost mistake it for her trying to do palm-reading, but it is what it looks likeβ just looking.
More importantly, her thumb moves to his wrist, pressing against it curiously.]
... Huh. There really is no pulse.
[Her vampiric neighbors back in Blackgale were friendly, but never close. The only person with whom she ever shared her touch with, both casual and intimate was Adam. To hold Gale's hand, someone whom she's friendly with, but still not close enough, is a foreign sensation.
Dead versus alive.
But he stands before her, while Adam is long gone.]
[He watches her with curious interest, and indeed initially mistakes her intention and guesses what's to come might be magical in nature— but instead, she simply looks, the light brush of her thumb against his pulse point curious in its own right.
He's no stranger to casual touch, but it's been a long while since he had been touched by someone alive— his choice not to feed from humans was not one made out of moral standing, but because the act of feeding itself felt too intimate to him to share so freely. Human blood that had been donated, supplemented with that of animals, suited his needs just fine, but as a result, he'd not had the opportunity to touch someone whose heart still beat in years.
Amelia's touch is light and strangely warm, a foreign feeling so long after his own heart had stop beating.]
I'm afraid not. It left me long ago.
[Hers, however— he can hear it from where he stands, clear as day.]
[As a pair, they are a considerable threat. His and her magic, her ruthlessness against the undead and his experience and higher status opened up many possibilities. They could stand a chance against other vampire lords, take hold of Baldur's Gate, and change the fabric of how mortals and vampires interacted. Maybe for the better.
But she didn't want anything grand. She never did. Amelia Steinbeck had been happily married and lived a humble life in her small town.
That life couldn't exist anymore now that Adam left her for a well-deserved rest and she's left with her choices that lead her to the multiple crossroads with Gale.
So now, she just wants to make sure.]
Gale? What are you existing for?
[She covers his hands in both of hers and giving it a squeeze.]
Greatness? Power? A quiet life where you're unseen?
I'm still figuring things out for myself, but I'm very certain about several of them.
[It's a fascinating question, one no one else has asked him for as long as he could remember— truly, he did not know the last time he had examined himself in such a way, and for a moment, the furrow of his brow deepens, thoughtful as he gives her question its due consideration.]
In my youth, I was determined that I was destined for greatness.
[He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle as his lips twitch to one side in a knowing smile; times have changed, but he remembers full well who he once was.]
Not just eager for power, though surely that must have been part of it. I wanted to be the greatest wizard this world had ever seen, to learn everything I possibly could to master magic itself, rather than to merely serve it. Magic was my very heart and soul, and remains so even now, though time changes us all.
[He shakes his head a bit, dismissing the mental image his own words had conjured of his younger self.]
I want nothing so grand, now— but the fact remains that our world is expansive beyond our wildest imaginings, full of mysteries yet to be discovered. I wish to see and learn as much as this world of ours has to offer, even if I must do so by moonlight alone. I want to uncover the secrets of those who came before us, of things greater than myself.
[His answer was confident and more solid than she had expected.]
Mm. When you put it like that, it sounds like some hope remains. I'm glad you haven't given up.
[She sets his hand down and puts her hands on her hips.]
If we're going to be in this together, I'd rather be bitten by someone I find agreeable. And your zest for discovery and continuing curiosity? Thatβ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
βThat I can follow along with for the time being. If we're going to perform, we need to be in alignment, yes? I can't afford to be picky about being nibbled on, but at least I'll feel more comfortable about it, knowing who you are.
[There was a time when he had considered giving up, when all he'd known had been turned upside down, the very woman he had changed for denouncing him and leaving him painfully adrift as she replaced him with someone new, not more promising, but certainly more subservient. His ambitions had been too great for her, a threat, and that had meant more to her than well more than a century of devotion.
Here and now, having had the time and space to gain perspective, he knew that his path forward would be whatever he made it— he did not need to let the next century and however many after be controlled by the person who had drawn him into this world.
The wag of Amelia's finger brings him to absolute attention, and he cannot help but smile softly at just how matter-of-fact she is about such things.]
You truly have taken so much of this in stride. It's very admirable of you. Even knowing who and what my kind are, not everyone would be so practical.
[He huffs softly, putting his own hands against his hips to inadvertently mirror her, giving a sharp nod of agreement.]
I meant it when I said I would let no harm come to you. I promise that any 'nibbling' will be painless.
[It tended to be quite the opposite, in fact, which was part of why he abstained from feeding from live humans most nights, with a few exceptions.]
[It's become much clearer to her what a mess this is becoming. She needs to be able to take it in stride to keep her mind settled. To lose composure is to be at a disadvantage; such a principle is applicable to everyone, but witches value composure especially so.
But in terms of tact...]
Well?
[Amelia puts her hands on her hips.]
Are we going to schedule a biting or would putting that on a digital calendar be too suspect? Writing it down would be more incriminating, but at least we can burn those.
[For a moment, he's utterly blindsided by her approach— not the subject at hand, particularly, but he's still not entirely used to just how direct the witch can be at times.
That, and he honestly can't tell whether or not she's joking.
He raises a fist to cover his mouth as he clears his throat, schooling his expression to appear decidedly less startled than he actually was.]
I don't know that... scheduling will be necessary.
[There's a quizzical loft to one of his brows. Would she really...?
He supposes it doesn't matter.]
Given our situation, the sooner that step is taken, the better, but I defer to your comfort.
Normally, when things bite me, I get out the fly swatter or the bug lamp.
[gurl]
So I'm having a hard time visualizing... Well.
[Amelia turns her back to him and her hands move to rub both sides of her neck as if assessing prime feeding spots and then she looks at one of her wrists.]
Does it have to be on the neck? I feel like it's easier to draw blood from the wrists.
[He does offer a wry smile quirked to one side in response to that little quip, but the topic at hand is somber enough that it fades— all things considered, he supposes she has every right to be particular in this instance.
He clears his throat softly.]
No, it doesn't have to be at the neck, though it has its... advantages.
[Some practical, others not.]
As far as access is concerned, it could be done anywhere.
His initial thought is 'that seems terribly soon,' but he forces that small spike of anxiety aside, not wanting to entertain it any longer than absolutely necessary. Time wasn't something they had an abundance of at this moment, and though Amelia's approach to all of this was really quite practical, it wouldn't serve either of them for him to try and dissuade her.
It was an inevitability. The best he could do was try to prepare her for what it would actually be like— but the wrist does seem a safer offering than most. Less... intimate.]
I think, for now, one will do.
[His response is quiet, carefully measured.]
I appreciate that you trust me enough to allow it. I realize that cannot be easy.
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sunfloras2024-05-18 10:26 pm
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He knows what this is. Cazador means to demand proof, to see how they behave in public before important members of vampire society— to see whether or not they're bluffing, or if he might still have his witch. Invitations and challenges may as well have been interchangeable among his kind.
The vampire looks to his guest, offering her a small nod of confirmation.]
Indeed, the upper echelons of vampire society. It's been some time since I've found myself invited to such a gathering— we've garnered ourselves quite a bit of attention, indeed.
[Cazador's messenger smiles thinly.]
"You would be most honored guests, on this occasion. For Mystra's Chosen to enter into such a pact is worthy of such attention. Your power and potential are well-remembered by our master, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep."
[The former wizard feels the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth at the mention of Mystra's name, his former title— yes, he had a feeling that would come up sooner rather than later, as well. For him to bond with a witch was a bold move, politically. It gave him the potential to appear a threat, to some.]
Naturally, we will accept.
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It made her understand Gale Dekarios just a little more.]
Wherever Gale of Waterdeep goes, I shall follow.
[She figures that a subservient response is best for this situation. Personally, Amelia feels too dated for a club scene (look, it's just a vibes thing, she feels grandma), but any indignant refusal on her end would give Cazador's man too much ammunition.
Speaking of, he nods, pleased.]
"Good. I shall let my master know that you will be in attendance. Thank you for your time and have a blessed evening."
[He turns to leave, but before he takes a step out the door, the vampire pauses to leave one last remark without turning to face them.]
"... The air here. It smells quite clean."
[And then he leaves without another word. Amelia's shoulders remain tense until he's completely out of sight.]
We're not in the clear at all, are we?
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I'm afraid not. Rumors still work in our favor, and we're keeping up appearances, but I guarantee this invitation is meant to call our bluff in public— or, if he can't, no doubt he has something else up his sleeve.
[He scrunches his nose for a brief moment, the messenger's departure having left him rankled. That the other vampire had remarked on the scent in the air, or lack thereof, was perhaps a bit classless, but something that would need to be addressed.]
Would that vampire senses respected privacy more than they do, but I suppose we cannot help what we see, hear or smell— or don't.
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Do some vampires expect blatant bleeding and fornication from each other? Perverts.
[yeah...]
I'm going to have to develop a plant to muddle their senses at the rate we're going.
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[If she thinks she detects an exhausted note of withering defeat in his voice, she would be absolutely correct.]
Many are creatures of vice and decadence, and expect such displays from others, especially when it comes to...
[He pauses a moment, clearing his throat.]
Marking territory, so to speak.
[Right. Plants.]
Would that be possible in such short order? A muddling plant?
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[Amelia rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck as she replies casually to Gale.]
Give me a few years, and I might have one. I don't like coercing the earth too much, lest it backfires on me.
And to be frank, as distasteful as I'm finding Baldur's Gate vampires, deliberately causing allergies is probably too close to committing a biological warcrime.
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Admittedly, it would likely get you into more trouble than you already are— or we, I should say.
[They are, after all, a team now.]
It would better suit us to be clever. We do have an advantage that not every vampire has access to. I'm far from the only wizard to have been turned, and vampires have a rather varied skillset among them, but you and I both have magic on our side— and if I may be so bold as to say so, even in undeath I remain more skilled than many who follow the same path in life.
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[Amelia crosses her arm in contemplation.]
But should we be casting any magic in this club? What kind of defenses, if any would Cazador have? I suspect he has his measures against witches. If not, then that would be several centuries wasted.
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[He sighs heavily, glancing towards the door the other vampire had left through only moments before.]
I think this particular outing is going to test our acting skills. More than that, we may need to consider some... practical measures. That messenger won't be the only one looking for bite marks.
[Which brings them to a conversation that's been some time in coming.]
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[She repeats him and puffs up her cheeks before letting out another breath.]
Alright Gale. What do the perverts expect to see?
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The good news is that no other vampire ought to be able to tell if you've been granted marks— that, they have to take our word for, and it's early enough in our 'arrangement' that no one should expect any grand displays of power. They mean to appraise us— Cazador wishes to see that our bond is genuine, and others will wish to know if this partnership makes us a threat.
[Makes him a threat, specifically, but given that he has no political aspirations, only the most paranoid vampires would likely be deeply concerned.]
Performance will be the name of the game. They will want to see— behavior that implies possession.
[While he doesn't seem particularly happy about that, the next part does give him pause, and there's a heavy moment of silence before his gaze meets hers, earnest.]
I'll need to bite you. At least enough to leave a mark before we go, but I wouldn't put it past Cazador to 'encourage' us to make a display of it in person. I don't— [He pauses another moment, furrowing his brow before admitting:] I don't typically drink from... people.
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[Her face is... Neutral. Hard to read. A hand moves to her face as she starts to get lost in deep thought.
They've been given a wide berth from their enemies and from each other and she thinks she has taken it for granted. Amelia had flippantly said that she was fine with growing their bond, but in a way, it was with the assumption that aside from surface attraction, they'd probably be just friends.
Vampirism doesn't really give her that wiggle room that she's so accustomed to as a witch. She has power and bared her metaphorical fangs. Gale has his underground "celebrity" and her being by his side had a significance she hadn't felt until now.
He gazes at her now, not with hunger, but with that earnestness that shows the remnant of a human life, something he's held onto for centuries.
And against her better judgement, it chips away at her avoidance of touch.
After an unsettling amount of silence, Amelia finally speaks up.]
Would you kindly give me your hand?
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Of course.
[She has put an unimaginable amount of trust in him. Whatever she has in mind, he trusts her, as well.]
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More importantly, her thumb moves to his wrist, pressing against it curiously.]
... Huh. There really is no pulse.
[Her vampiric neighbors back in Blackgale were friendly, but never close. The only person with whom she ever shared her touch with, both casual and intimate was Adam. To hold Gale's hand, someone whom she's friendly with, but still not close enough, is a foreign sensation.
Dead versus alive.
But he stands before her, while Adam is long gone.]
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He's no stranger to casual touch, but it's been a long while since he had been touched by someone alive— his choice not to feed from humans was not one made out of moral standing, but because the act of feeding itself felt too intimate to him to share so freely. Human blood that had been donated, supplemented with that of animals, suited his needs just fine, but as a result, he'd not had the opportunity to touch someone whose heart still beat in years.
Amelia's touch is light and strangely warm, a foreign feeling so long after his own heart had stop beating.]
I'm afraid not. It left me long ago.
[Hers, however— he can hear it from where he stands, clear as day.]
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[As a pair, they are a considerable threat. His and her magic, her ruthlessness against the undead and his experience and higher status opened up many possibilities. They could stand a chance against other vampire lords, take hold of Baldur's Gate, and change the fabric of how mortals and vampires interacted. Maybe for the better.
But she didn't want anything grand. She never did. Amelia Steinbeck had been happily married and lived a humble life in her small town.
That life couldn't exist anymore now that Adam left her for a well-deserved rest and she's left with her choices that lead her to the multiple crossroads with Gale.
So now, she just wants to make sure.]
Gale? What are you existing for?
[She covers his hands in both of hers and giving it a squeeze.]
Greatness? Power? A quiet life where you're unseen?
I'm still figuring things out for myself, but I'm very certain about several of them.
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In my youth, I was determined that I was destined for greatness.
[He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle as his lips twitch to one side in a knowing smile; times have changed, but he remembers full well who he once was.]
Not just eager for power, though surely that must have been part of it. I wanted to be the greatest wizard this world had ever seen, to learn everything I possibly could to master magic itself, rather than to merely serve it. Magic was my very heart and soul, and remains so even now, though time changes us all.
[He shakes his head a bit, dismissing the mental image his own words had conjured of his younger self.]
I want nothing so grand, now— but the fact remains that our world is expansive beyond our wildest imaginings, full of mysteries yet to be discovered. I wish to see and learn as much as this world of ours has to offer, even if I must do so by moonlight alone. I want to uncover the secrets of those who came before us, of things greater than myself.
[Once a scholar, always a scholar.]
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Mm. When you put it like that, it sounds like some hope remains. I'm glad you haven't given up.
[She sets his hand down and puts her hands on her hips.]
If we're going to be in this together, I'd rather be bitten by someone I find agreeable. And your zest for discovery and continuing curiosity? Thatβ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
βThat I can follow along with for the time being. If we're going to perform, we need to be in alignment, yes? I can't afford to be picky about being nibbled on, but at least I'll feel more comfortable about it, knowing who you are.
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Here and now, having had the time and space to gain perspective, he knew that his path forward would be whatever he made it— he did not need to let the next century and however many after be controlled by the person who had drawn him into this world.
The wag of Amelia's finger brings him to absolute attention, and he cannot help but smile softly at just how matter-of-fact she is about such things.]
You truly have taken so much of this in stride. It's very admirable of you. Even knowing who and what my kind are, not everyone would be so practical.
[He huffs softly, putting his own hands against his hips to inadvertently mirror her, giving a sharp nod of agreement.]
I meant it when I said I would let no harm come to you. I promise that any 'nibbling' will be painless.
[It tended to be quite the opposite, in fact, which was part of why he abstained from feeding from live humans most nights, with a few exceptions.]
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I can't afford not to be.
[It's become much clearer to her what a mess this is becoming. She needs to be able to take it in stride to keep her mind settled. To lose composure is to be at a disadvantage; such a principle is applicable to everyone, but witches value composure especially so.
But in terms of tact...]
Well?
[Amelia puts her hands on her hips.]
Are we going to schedule a biting or would putting that on a digital calendar be too suspect? Writing it down would be more incriminating, but at least we can burn those.
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That, and he honestly can't tell whether or not she's joking.
He raises a fist to cover his mouth as he clears his throat, schooling his expression to appear decidedly less startled than he actually was.]
I don't know that... scheduling will be necessary.
[There's a quizzical loft to one of his brows. Would she really...?
He supposes it doesn't matter.]
Given our situation, the sooner that step is taken, the better, but I defer to your comfort.
[As ever.]
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[gurl]
So I'm having a hard time visualizing... Well.
[Amelia turns her back to him and her hands move to rub both sides of her neck as if assessing prime feeding spots and then she looks at one of her wrists.]
Does it have to be on the neck? I feel like it's easier to draw blood from the wrists.
[now she's just being fussy]
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[He does offer a wry smile quirked to one side in response to that little quip, but the topic at hand is somber enough that it fades— all things considered, he supposes she has every right to be particular in this instance.
He clears his throat softly.]
No, it doesn't have to be at the neck, though it has its... advantages.
[Some practical, others not.]
As far as access is concerned, it could be done anywhere.
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[Her voice has softened and she turns to look at him with an enigmatic expression in her eyes.]
Before I go to sleep. Just one bite on the wrist. Two if you think it'll be more convincing.
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His initial thought is 'that seems terribly soon,' but he forces that small spike of anxiety aside, not wanting to entertain it any longer than absolutely necessary. Time wasn't something they had an abundance of at this moment, and though Amelia's approach to all of this was really quite practical, it wouldn't serve either of them for him to try and dissuade her.
It was an inevitability. The best he could do was try to prepare her for what it would actually be like— but the wrist does seem a safer offering than most. Less... intimate.]
I think, for now, one will do.
[His response is quiet, carefully measured.]
I appreciate that you trust me enough to allow it. I realize that cannot be easy.
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kicks life and brain in the butt
joins you in the kicking!
we're that jojo kicking meme now
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