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 likeโ 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? Thatโ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
โThat 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.
[Right. He'll be finishing off his breakfast well before they rendezvous, as well— he hardly intends to make a meal of her. Even biting her for show is more nerve-wracking than it ought to be. He may be out of practice, but it's hardly as though he's forgotten. These things are second nature. Rather, it's how very keenly he remembers what the experience can be like that has him so on edge.
She's fidgeting. They're both rather apprehensive about this in their own way, he supposes. It's new territory— and there are things that have been left unsaid, carefully unremarked upon that may, perhaps, add another layer of complexity.]
Take your time, and as always, help yourself to anything you like. I'll be minding the shop in the meantime.
[Amelia nods. Not wanting to drag out the point anymore than she already has, the witch leaves to keep herself busy before her bedtime.]
๐นโจ
[It's easy to tell that her activity around his place is nothing less than meandering. She only finishes two chapters of her chosen novel. If Gale passed by her within the following hour, she's lying on her back on the floor, playing a farming simulation game on her phone. Even later, Amelia's draped half of herself over the sofa, watching a rather trashy reality show on the same phone (The Ultimatum: Baldur's Gate Edition), and muttering some dark commentary under her breath. After dinner, she has trouble choosing her dessert of fresh fruit or ice cream ("Do either of them make it taste sweeter or...? I really should have looked this up before hand," she mutters again).
Basically? The hours seem to drag until finally, Amelia makes use of his shower, dries her hair, and dresses in her long hoodie to get ready to sleep. Except not yet.
She doesn't call to remind him, not exactly. Instead her door is kept ajar and every other minute or so, she's peeking out of it to see if Gale is still there or if he's about to approach. It's not unlike an expectant child who's anticipating something and is being very jittery about it without having to say anything.]
[He does pass the open doorway more than once throughout the evening, though he makes a concentrated effort not to let his gaze wander or linger too long. There's a palpable tension in the atmosphere, anticipation strung tight, building upon a different sort of tension that has been present for some time now, the tension he has been making every effort not to dwell on if he can help it.
Far easier said than done, when he beds down before dawn and he can smell her on his pillow, feel that lingering warmth in his sheets. It's difficult not to pay mind to the pang of disappointment he feels whenever they part ways in the earliest hours of the morning, the eagerness he feels when dusk approaches once more.
If circumstances were different, perhaps he wouldn't be trying quite so hard to ignore it— but their situation is such that he fears any kind of consent would be dubious at best, and it puts him in mind of his own youth, of the promises he had found himself so enchanted by that he had allowed himself to be lured into a new life that had, in the end, turned out to be painfully lonely.
When the time comes, he locks the front door to the shop and hangs the sign letting any potential customers know he'll be back shortly— it's been a quiet night, all told, as is often the case with a specialty shop like his. That taken care of, he retreats to the back of the shop and takes the stairs up to the area he keeps as living quarters, pausing outside the open door and lightly rapping his knuckles against it before leaning through where it hangs ajar.]
[Of course he catches her just as she lays on her back, head hanging off the edge of the bed and headphones hugging the sides of her ears. His appearance at the doorway gives the witch a start. He'll hear her stumble off the bed and swear before finally opening the door wider with a wide smile.]
Well, well. Good evening.
[Amelia's gonna play this cool. Just slide a hand through her totally not mussed up hair.]
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sunfloras2024-05-18 10:26 pm
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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? Thatโ [She punctuates her next statement with a wave of her index finger.]
โThat 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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[She looks down at her feet and intertwines her fingers together to fidget.]
Just one.
[They needed to get it over with, hangups be damned.]
I'll be eating dinner first. [She says it as if trying to remind herself loudly rather than inform Gale.]
See you before I sleep then?
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[Right. He'll be finishing off his breakfast well before they rendezvous, as well— he hardly intends to make a meal of her. Even biting her for show is more nerve-wracking than it ought to be. He may be out of practice, but it's hardly as though he's forgotten. These things are second nature. Rather, it's how very keenly he remembers what the experience can be like that has him so on edge.
She's fidgeting. They're both rather apprehensive about this in their own way, he supposes. It's new territory— and there are things that have been left unsaid, carefully unremarked upon that may, perhaps, add another layer of complexity.]
Take your time, and as always, help yourself to anything you like. I'll be minding the shop in the meantime.
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[It's easy to tell that her activity around his place is nothing less than meandering. She only finishes two chapters of her chosen novel. If Gale passed by her within the following hour, she's lying on her back on the floor, playing a farming simulation game on her phone. Even later, Amelia's draped half of herself over the sofa, watching a rather trashy reality show on the same phone (The Ultimatum: Baldur's Gate Edition), and muttering some dark commentary under her breath. After dinner, she has trouble choosing her dessert of fresh fruit or ice cream ("Do either of them make it taste sweeter or...? I really should have looked this up before hand," she mutters again).
Basically? The hours seem to drag until finally, Amelia makes use of his shower, dries her hair, and dresses in her long hoodie to get ready to sleep. Except not yet.
She doesn't call to remind him, not exactly. Instead her door is kept ajar and every other minute or so, she's peeking out of it to see if Gale is still there or if he's about to approach. It's not unlike an expectant child who's anticipating something and is being very jittery about it without having to say anything.]
no subject
Far easier said than done, when he beds down before dawn and he can smell her on his pillow, feel that lingering warmth in his sheets. It's difficult not to pay mind to the pang of disappointment he feels whenever they part ways in the earliest hours of the morning, the eagerness he feels when dusk approaches once more.
If circumstances were different, perhaps he wouldn't be trying quite so hard to ignore it— but their situation is such that he fears any kind of consent would be dubious at best, and it puts him in mind of his own youth, of the promises he had found himself so enchanted by that he had allowed himself to be lured into a new life that had, in the end, turned out to be painfully lonely.
When the time comes, he locks the front door to the shop and hangs the sign letting any potential customers know he'll be back shortly— it's been a quiet night, all told, as is often the case with a specialty shop like his. That taken care of, he retreats to the back of the shop and takes the stairs up to the area he keeps as living quarters, pausing outside the open door and lightly rapping his knuckles against it before leaning through where it hangs ajar.]
Amelia?
no subject
Well, well. Good evening.
[Amelia's gonna play this cool. Just slide a hand through her totally not mussed up hair.]
Hope you didn't spoil your appetite.
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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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