Roleplay City
Infusco => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => Sticks & Stakes Pool Hall => Topic started by: Existentially Odd on June 06, 2011, 06:32:54 PM
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Samuel wasn\'t feeling like himself tonight. He\'d woken up restless, wanting nothing in particular - besides desiring a change. He was pleased with how things were progressing with his work life, his and Vomas\' project was underway, his team assembled and everything going according to plan but still he felt... empty.
Mainly, he thought it was because he wanted to go to Vomas, to share every little detail about every little decision he\'d made, to bathe in the man\'s presence and simply gaze at him while he approved of each of those insignificant moves, before asking insightful questions then dismissing him summarily. It got his lifeless heart going just to think about being in the man\'s presence, let alone having him speak to him - even if it was only perfunctory and business-oriented.
It was pathetic, really. He knew that was how it would go, but that didn\'t stop him wanting it; aching for recognition... and maybe something more. Gah, but that was the killer, he knew. His crush on his Oligarch had overtaken his rational persona and made him start dreaming about impossible connections, meaningful glances, touches... kisses. It didn\'t stop there, of course, but he was trying to convince himself that it should.
Hence, the restlessness. When he awoke as the sun\'s last rays drained from the city\'s skyline, it overtook him and made him change his mind about work tonight. His team could proceed unsupervised for a while, he needed a change of scene, something to distract him from the heat in his loins, the fire in his blood. Blood, yes. That was it, he needed to go out, into the city and explore it a little, taste someone new and perhaps do something bold - converse with them.
His mind made up, Samuel left his bed with a smile and hastily showered, putting on a little spice cologne afterwards and dressing to go out. Of course, not a fancy going out, just something casual, where he could talk to some people and not have to yell over loud music to be heard, or whisper in prim surroundings so as not to draw attention. He wore some loose dark blue jeans, tucked in a chocolate coloured button up shirt, pulled a light brown suede jacket on over it and some dark brown boots on his feet and left his suite in the Chambers looking for just such a place of opportunity.
When he happened to stroll past the pool hall sign, he grinned and backed up, heading inside with his fingers tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, liking the smell of the place immediately. He\'d been here a few times, but seemed to always forget its comforting familiarity until he returned, promising himself he wouldn\'t do it again (until he did).
Momentarily coming to a stop at the top of the stairs, Samuel then sidled in as he looked around for a bit, trying to gauge the place. It seemed that the manual labour crew had knocked off from work and were in residence, having a few beers and games before they headed home to their spouses. A few tables held some rowdy groups obviously intent on playing seriously - well, serious about playing each other and psyching their buddies out enough to score a winning pocket, anyway. There were a few barflies scattered about, some quieter couples playing on other tables and a few randoms.
One of the randoms caught his eye, a blonde guy with a friendly face and kind eyes, staring forlornly at the pool table beside the barstool on which he was perched, nursing a beer on the table he was leaning against. He was positioned in the corner, alone and with only one of the quieter couples - a man and a woman - nearby, each caught up in their own troubles. The blonde\'s main trouble seemed to be that the arm not curled around his beer was broken, rather ruining his chances of getting a game tonight.
Settling on invading the pretty-looking mortal\'s evening for a little while, Samuel smiled to himself and went to the counter to get a set of balls and a cue, hiring the table near the guy. With his treasures tucked under one arm and a cue in the other hand, the vampire then sauntered casually over to the appropriate table, a pleasant and open expression on his face.
As he went, he was focussing on his breathing so that nerves wouldn\'t get the better of him and steal his ability to talk when he tried it. He feared that the guy wouldn\'t be as kind as he looked, that he would find being approached odd, that he would give him one of those funny looks that told him to back away quickly before he responded kindly... but he just had to bite that down and think instead about the alternative to trying. Being cooped up in the Oligarchy, drooling mentally about Vomas\' mouth. Now, wouldn\'t this be better?
Casually, Samuel approached the table near the broken-armed mortal and rested his cue against the edge before he started unpacking his balls. Accidentally (not) as he did, his cue fell over in the direction of the mortal and as he straightened up, he made eye contact with the guy, looking pointedly at his arm as he did.
"Evening," he greeted congenially, his southern accent highlighted by the drawling manner in which he spoke. "Pretty sure there\'s a joke just begging to be told about a one-armed man in a pool hall, but dang if I c\'n be that unkind, right now," he grinned playfully, relieved that he\'d managed to spit all that out with charm and not one stammer.
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As had been his habit since he\'d discovered the place, he made it a point to stop in the pool hall to have a few beers because he\'d been in the neighborhood. Before his accident, he would\'ve shot some pool as well, but the best he could do with his arm all plastered up was to sit and watch others play. He wasn\'t the best, usually breaking even instead of coming out with any winnings, but it was something to do. Now, without something to do besides drinking, he stood a good chance of having too many too quickly, and then he\'d be making an embarrassing call to Orias to come and pick him up. But hell, that\'s what cell phones were good for.
He held the neck of his bottle loosely in his fingers until he lifted it to take a drink. Barely tasting the beer before it passed down his throat, he took two gulps before he lowered it marginally to look at the guy who\'d come to claim the pool table nearest him. Although he felt guilty for it, it was impossible not to let his eyes linger. He was a bit pale, though, and could probably do with some time outside.
Unless he was a vampire, but why would a vampire play pool? Wouldn\'t it be cheating? He didn\'t think it\'d be very fun to play a game if you knew you\'d win every time. Of course, winning money would be enjoyable in itself. Man, he could do with some winnings right about now.
He blinked when he was spoken to, unsure whether the voice was actually directed at him, but realizing he was the only \'one armed\' fellow around. Most everyone who\'d passed by had kept going when they saw his arm, more interested in finding someone to play against than in chatting up a cripple. Then again, it stood to reason that there was a possibility he was being confronted because he\'d been caught red-handed staring at the man. He was pathetically out of practice when it came to looking without being spied.
Gene bought himself some time before responding by placing the brown bottle onto a coaster situated in front of him and then leaning back to wipe his palm on the dark fabric of his jeans. His other hand remained on the table, the sleeves of his navy button-up shirt rolled up to allow room for the cast on that arm. After he finished, he spoke.
"Well, I appreciate you not telling it," he said with a smile, his words trickling from his mouth with all the speed of molasses from a jar. The guy had an accent like him. It wasn\'t identical - the way he pronounced certain words was off - but it was close enough that he could\'ve made it through the town Gene had grown up in without being accused of "not being from \'round these parts".
"If you don\'t mind my asking," he added, "where\'re you from?" Curiosity had made him skip right introducing himself and straight to interrogating a stranger.
His mother would be ashamed.
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Pleased that he\'d got a nibble from his cast line, Samuel walked his pool cue a little closer, both hands gripping the top end, the butt between his feet. The question made his grin broaden, for he also recognised a fellow southern accent and there was a surprising sense of warmth sneaking into him from that alone. They shared a connection already: score one to him.
"Charlotte. North Carolina," he answered, making the words sound like a personal motto gravely held to his heart, so solemnly said were they. He was proud of his heritage... mostly. He didn\'t meet many from \'round his way, though, so he didn\'t have much cause to think about it, beyond times when he was asked about his accent.
"Haven\'t lived there for a good long time, though," he added, seeming a bit brighter. "And you?" Again, he took another step towards the man, leaving only a foot of space between them, since he was fixing to shake his good hand sometime soon - and that\'s when he smelled it. Pungent and rich, emanating from the guy\'s cast, the smell of another vampire. It made Samuel look at the guy with even greater interest (if that was possible), for the scent of another was deeply embedded.
A gentle scan of the mortal\'s mind revealed thoughts of an Orias setting on the surface, amongst images of the vampire coming to pick him up if he drank too much. Damn. They lived together, then, likely eliminating this guy from all the fun he\'d had in mind... and as a potential donor, too. Samuel\'s disappointment was a sudden lump in his throat but the ease of the conversation so far kept him standing there. Until things got awkward anyway, he supposed.
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"I lived about three hours northwest of Charlotte in Tennessee," he said, excited by the fact that not only had he met someone from the South, but from the same region he was. Given how rare it was for the former to happen, encountering the latter was damned amazing.
"Was a nice place," he offered.
For a city.
Everything had moved too fast for him; the cars, the people and even the rate at which they altered the skyline with new skyscrapers. It\'d been too overwhelming and he\'d sworn he\'d never leave his farm again, but the thing about cities was that enough people lived in them that no one paid attention to what you were doing. At first the general aloofness of city folk had put him off, but he\'d quickly realized that their disinterest in anyone but themselves meant he could live anonymously.
"Been here two years and some change, now." He smiled and spun his drink around on its bottom, tilting it this way and that. "Can\'t say I want to go back, to be honest. How about you? Do you miss it?"
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"Uh... may I?" he enquired, gesturing at the tall stool opposite his companion, his body language asking permission to join the mortal. When he received an affirmative, he moved the seat so that he was sitting at the mortal\'s elbow more than across from him and he had a good view of the pool hall. He was looking only at his companion, of course, but a peripheral heads-up never hurt and he was grateful that they were in one corner of the room to afford him that, considering what he was about to say.
"I\'m Sam, by the way," he also offered as he got rid of his cue then sat, reaching out the correct hand to have Gene respond in kind, his dark blue eyes crinkling with a pleased smile when his hand was shaken and he learned the other man\'s name.
"And to tell you the truth, I haven\'t been anywhere near North Carolina in over a hundred and fifty-some years, so I can\'t say as I miss it all that much." He watched carefully as he dropped this little bombshell, his smile altering somewhat so that the tips of his fangs were briefly visible before he pressed his lips together once more and waited for Gene to connect the dots.
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Despite all the hints, Gene was a bit slow on the uptake. Several vertical lines took up residence between his eyebrows as he tried to work out why the man\'s statement had sounded off. "A hundred and-" His face brightened like a light bulb had been turned on somewhere behind his eyes. "Oh! Oh. Really?" The hand that held his drink became still and the bottle settled back onto the coaster.
One hundred and fifty years ago. Did that mean- "Hey, were you there for the Civil War?"
Like most Southerners, even if he didn\'t remember anything else from his education, he remembered the four year span in which the South had tried to split from the Union. Unsuccessfully.
Some of them were still kind of bitter about that part.
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"Naw, I was born in 1820," Samuel responded regretfully, folding his arms upon the table, hands rested lightly on his biceps as he smiled at Gene. "I was sired and in Europe before I was twenty-two. Didn\'t come back to the U.S. until 1999," he shrugged, then pulled a face. "Wasn\'t real sorry to have missed seeing that come about, truth be told. Woulda\' been heartbreaking."
Wanting to get off the topic of history - when he was far more interested in Gene in the present - Samuel steered the conversation back to more recent events, sensing that his mortal friend would be more interested in talking about his own experience for a little while. He asked him a couple of technical questions about which part of Tennessee he was from, found out he\'d grown up on a farm and could share a little of his own early life experiences about living rural (though not a lot, since his own family had been politicians, not farmers - it was enough that he could relate, though).
After about ten minutes of casual back and forth, he noticed that Gene was no longer drinking. "Say, c\'n I buy you another beer?" he asked smoothly, aware that it might break the spell of communal understanding they\'d been nurturing, but he wanted to test if his new friend was committed to staying or going.
Chatting about a home long since left and barely loved was nice and all, but it would only do if it was going to get him some of the companionship he was craving; he doubted things were going to work out for him on that front, though, and felt it would be easier to prod such things along earlier rather than later. He had a bad habit of ending up sorely disappointed where people came along and was wary of lingering too long if he wasn\'t going to be welcome to advance.
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He lifted the bottle and gave it an experimental shake. "Well, seeing as how this one is empty," he said laughingly, "I suppose you could."
Then he remembered that vampires couldn\'t process alcohol, so Sam would be buying him beer only to watch him drink it. Unfortunately, it was too late to object, because the other man had moved off to flag down the bartender and soon returned with a fresh beer, condensation already gathering on the glass in fat beads.
"Thanks, but it\'s not fair for you to buy when you can\'t drink too. Well... Not beer, anyway." The last he added with a sheepish smile, which he covered by plugging his mouth with the beer bottle.
Even though he\'d been with Orias since he\'d moved to the city, he still occasionally forgot the particularities of how vampires, being another species and all, didn\'t survive off the same stuff he did. There wasn\'t any mistaking most of them for mortals if you knew what to look for, but for vampires like Orias (and Sam, he thought), their warm natures made it so they were more human in his eyes than vampire.
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Sam gave Gene an enigmatic look after that comment, taking a moment to be sure he was properly on his seat again, then leaning forward on his elbows once more. Some hair fell into his eyes as he did and he ran his hand instinctively through it, leaving his head tilted afterward as he eyed Gene off with an intent, heavy-lidded stare.
"Is that an offer?" he asked huskily, his voice as intimate as his look and a small smile playing around his pouty mouth.
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His Adam\'s apple bobbed wildly as he forced his drink down before he spat it all over his companion. He managed, and spluttered instead of spewed. Why had Sam gone and looked at him like that, with his hair tumbling into his face and his tone promising he\'d do more than just drink his blood if given the chance? He hadn\'t meant anything by what he\'d said!
"No, I didn\'t mean- no. Sorry. I just meant that you can\'t have beer, but you can drink bl-" He trailed off, understanding then why Sam had responded the way he had. He\'d misinterpreted his statement because of how it\'d been phrased, surely. "I didn\'t mean mine," he finished weakly.
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"Pity," Samuel murmured regretfully, looking straight into Gene\'s hazel eyes with a smile that had turned lopsided. "I\'d like to taste you." He let the statement settle between them for a moment, gauging Gene\'s reaction before he slid back slightly, deliberately giving the mortal some room... physically. He had no such intentions, conversationally.
"The vampire I smell on you... he drink from you regularly?" Is he important to you, pretty one? Are you off limits to me? Those eyes... as intent as he was on sparing the mortal some breathing room, he couldn\'t stop watching those lovely orbs, feeling increasingly warmed by the reactions he was reading there.
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Very quickly, things went from being awkward to downright uncomfortable for Gene as he involuntarily pictured what a tasting would entail. Fucking hell. What was he doing? The other stuff hadn\'t been intentional, but the visions dancing their merry way through his head needed to knock it the fuck off.
He shifted in his seat, wanting desperately to leave before things got any worse, but he was pinned in place by Sam\'s gaze and a desire to make things like they were before, when they\'d been chatting amiably about life in the South and farms and other nice, safe topics. He could fix this. He\'d get them back on track.
"He does," Gene finally said, deciding on the path to pursue if he wanted to make it absolutely clear to the vampire that he wasn\'t interested in any funny business. "And he\'s the only one doing any tasting," he added firmly.
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Samuel smiled congenially. "I can respect that," he said honestly, letting his gaze drift slowly over Gene\'s features. He wasn\'t much of a beer drinker, but he had wondered what it would taste like coming from the very lovely mortal. "But I\'d like to say... I think he\'s a lucky man. Tasting you."
Resisting the urge to keep pushing the envelope, Samuel spoke the words with brevity and a shy smile that came off as he\'d hoped - wistful and sweet, not cheesy and desperate. He was far too reserved a person to ever reach either of the latter, thankfully. It\'d be pushing towards it though, if he didn\'t change the topic of conversation.
"So how\'d you end up finding out about... us, anyway?" He hoped it wouldn\'t become a \'How I met Orias\' story, and added another question before Gene even had time to answer his first, just to avoid that likelihood. "And how does it sit with you? I can\'t imagine it was easy news for a young southern boy to take?"
The Northern Carolina accent that had become so prominent since the two of them started speaking thickened even more on cheeky words. His curious smile was also somewhat teasing and his blue eyes danced as he thought of the young mortal, fresh from a farm, not only having to deal with the differences of city living, but of supernatural city living! He already admired his grit, just for taking it so well in stride that he\'d started living with one.
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His next decision was to ignore any commentary that wasn\'t kosher. If he didn\'t react, then it may as well not have even happened. When he shifted around uncomfortably or let his eyes dart away when they were pursued by the other man\'s dark blue ones, he gave something to respond to - something to chase. Like a rabbit, he\'d sit really still and hope the hawk didn\'t swoop down to gobble him up. Because, dear Lord, he had a strong feeling Sam might do exactly that if he even got a hint that he was interested in the prospect.
"How does it sit with me?" He shrugged. "Fine now." He\'d forgotten about his beer, so remedied the situation by taking a drink before expanding on his answer. "Was a bit weird at first to know you\'re real, but God and angels exist, why wouldn\'t you too?"
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Samuel\'s eyebrows lifted and he was momentarily lost for words, the image of God strolling about the city streets in amongst all the other supernatural riff-raff bemusing him beyond speech. The innocence of the statement just endeared Gene to him even more.
"Fair enough," was all he said, in comment, interested in the fact that the mortal was so blasé about vampires that he didn\'t even seem to... well, question things. He\'d just accepted and it was alright? Odd. Or perhaps his sugar daddy had some sort of protection on him that Samuel didn\'t understand the strength of; now that would be intriguing!
"I think it\'s awesome that you\'re so open and accepting. Most mortals - that know - they\'re wary as a fox in a farmyard when you first start talking with \'em, wondering if you\'re gonna\' be okay or not. They generally settle down after a while - once they realise, y\'know, that I\'m not gonna\' make \'em do things they\'re not comfortable with - but not you. You\'re just fine with it. You\'re one brave man," Samuel complimented Gene sincerely, sitting back out of the mortal\'s space a little more as his hands fell down between his knees and he eyed his companion with genuine reverence on his face.
He wanted to know if there was something more to it and it was his roundabout way of digging; relics, wards, protection spells... they were definitely high on his list of interests. If Samuel had partaken in one or more of them in order to be so calm about beasts that could Dominate him as easily as look at him, he wanted to know the details! It would really suck if Orias had done it to him without telling him, though... the thought had him scanning the mortal\'s mind again, lightly, until he got an answer one way or the other.
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"What happens, happens," he said in explanation. "And I think it happens for a reason."
His belief, Samuel would find as he peered into the recesses of his mind, came from years spent in church pews, hearing sermons that told of how God would never put anyone through anything they couldn\'t handle. He\'d test you, sure, but only enough that you would bend, not break. It gave Gene an inner strength he might not have otherwise.
"Like how when I first came to the city and I was lost, but I ran into Orias. I would\'ve been in a heap of trouble if I hadn\'t, but I did." He would never dare admit out loud that he thought God had put Orias in his path, but the sentiment was still there for Samuel to find if he looked.
And just behind that thought, waiting to spring forward to cripple his capacity to talk should it be triggered, was a compulsion that had been woven by expert hands. If Gene tried to speak of his knowledge of supernatural beings with someone who he wasn\'t absolutely sure shared his awareness, he would suddenly find himself at a loss for words. Quite literally.
"Just like if he hadn\'t been there when that one attacked me, I probably... Well. I probably wouldn\'t be here talking to you right now," he said, glancing at his cast.
He might\'ve looked at it another way: if he hadn\'t met Orias, then he wouldn\'t have been out that night and he wouldn\'t have been attacked by a vampire, so he wouldn\'t have required saving, but that would be a dreadfully pessimistic way of looking at things and totally unlike Gene.
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Samuel blinked at the cast, then looked back at Gene in confusion. "That was done by a vampire?" he demanded incredulously.
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"I think so?" he responded, unsure if he was giving the right response. Sam seemed to surprised by the fact, so maybe he was wrong. "I mean, I don\'t know anything else that would\'ve been trying to drain me at the same time."
He paused.
"There\'s not anything else that would\'ve done that, right?"
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Samuel was pulling a face, staring at the cast still and looking unconvinced. "Oh, there\'s plenty of things other than vampires that\'d do that," he argued heartily, not thinking he needed to reassure Gene in any way. "In fact, it seems like anything but a vampire would break an arm while trying to drain you - it hardly seems conducive to feeding," he explained, still pulling that disbelieving face as he tried to talk himself into believing that a vampire could be so gauche.
"There are different... types of vampire though... less, uh, refined ones, I guess you\'d say. Could\'ve been done by one of them... I s\'pose." Still, he looked dubious as he glanced from the cast up to Gene\'s face and back again. That delicious little weaving/mind block he\'d discovered in the other man\'s mind was momentarily forgotten in the face of these unusual circumstances - he would get back to that when the shock of fearing a rabid vampire was attacking mortals had worn off.
He broke his sudden silence by leaning forward onto the tall table once more, his right hand hovering in front of his mouth. "But listen," he said quietly, his voice husky as he punctuated his words by piercing the pad of his thumb with a fang, squeezing it with his other fingers so that a fat, thick droplet of blood gathered on the surface. It drifted towards Gene\'s face, hovering a foot or so away as Samuel finished speaking. "I c\'n fix that for you. Taste this, wash it down with your beer and your arm\'ll be good enough for us to play a game with."
The vampire\'s smile was encouraging and kind.
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What the hell? Why was everyone trying to get him to drink vampire blood? First it\'d been Orias, then Mario, and now Sam. He shrunk back from the offering, shaking his head. "No. No thank you. I might be doing it a bit slower than you would, but I am healing up." He lifted his casted arm and gave it a little wave. "Should only be another month before I get this off."
His uninjured hand had latched itself to the table as he leaned back, so he could retain his balance, and he would remain like that until Sam and his bloody finger backed the fuck up. "So ah... Right. I appreciate the offer. I really do. But no."
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Samuel felt a little silly that he\'d made the offer once it was refused so earnestly, realising that of course the mortal would have had such from his significant other. He pressed his thumb to his tongue, the hole that had been made already sealed up and the job of taking back what he\'d offered the only thing to be done.
"Why won\'t you take it?" he enquired, uncertain why the way Gene had leaned back away from him so dramatically had ruffled his feathers so... but it had. His tone was (unintentionally) almost as injured as the mortal was. "Don\'t like the taste...?"
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He felt a momentary surge of guilt for having hurt Sam\'s feelings, but even if he had been comfortable with the idea of having vampire blood with a chaser of beer, he definitely wouldn\'t have leaned leaned over to suck on the man\'s finger.
"What happens when a human drinks your blood?" he asked, thinking it the best way to approach his answer.
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Samuel frowned, giving it some serious thought before he answered. "Well, in small doses, it just heals - wouldn\'t do anything except go straight to where you\'re injured, like normal antibodies in your own blood. In large doses, it can affect your mind - like, large doses drunk frequently, it\'ll damage you... and I\'m talking, say, drinking two big gulps every day for a month, that\'ll mess you up," he lectured Gene, for he\'d seen it happen many years ago - weird, hybrid ghoulish demi-vampires created by a very odd vampire he\'d run into in Spain, once.
"Of course, there needs to be a complete exchange to sire you but... we\'re not talking about that," he assured Gene with a soft chuckle, looking at the pretty mortal with twinkling blue eyes. "It wouldn\'t hurt you, if you drank the blood... are you worried you\'d be turned?" He wondered if Gene and his partner had discussed such things; it wouldn\'t be the first time two such creatures had found one another and decided, in a rainbow burst of \'true love\' to make it last forever.
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Gene listened quietly, finishing off his beer as he did so. "It\'s not natural," he said, his voice subdued. "Even if it\'s not gonna hurt me, it would be making my body do something it wasn\'t meant to." As he said it, he realized how hypocritical it was. There were many other aspects of his life that others considered unnatural (the lesser of evils he\'d just finished drinking), yet he persisted anyway. Still, something about the idea of taking a substance that would alter the way his body functioned - increasing the rate at which he healed - bothered him.
"If I\'d known what it took to be one of y\'all, I would\'ve been scared of it for that reason, but it\'s just that I\'m not comfortable with it," he admitted.
He hadn\'t asked and Orias hadn\'t offered the information he\'d just obtained from Samuel. Gene couldn\'t picture himself as a vampire, always fearing the sun\'s wrath and living forever. The latter, in particular, troubled him. They were meant to live out their lives the best they could and then step aside for future generations to make of the world what they would. Sticking around... Well, that would just disrupt everything. Plus, he had a few faces he wanted to see again after he passed. If he became like Orias and Samuel, then he wasn\'t sure he\'d be allowed to.
"Don\'t you miss your family?" He wondered if Samuel thought immortality on Earth better than what could be found in Heaven, given that he\'d never be able to see them again. If, of course, he even believed in that - Gene didn\'t even know if he was a Christian, and felt like the biggest idiot ever for having said it after the fact.
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All lighteheartedness left Samuel at the question, his playful nature fading in the face of serious topics being discussed. He didn\'t even have to give the subject much thought, but felt that Gene was asking about more than just superficial \'miss-your-daddy\' type stuff; he wanted to know what being alive beyond his allotted time was like, and that was not something to be answered hastily.
"The easy answer is no," he told the mortal honestly, leaning towards him once more. Funny, but he never gave time to thinking about such things and it made him wonder... was he still trying to escape the domineering hold of his mortal nest, all these years on?
"I spent twenty years with them, and they weren\'t pleasant - not Hell, mind, but definitely no fun. My parents didn\'t understand me, I was not the shining light my brother was, I could barely get two words out without stammering and every time I tried to express my opinion, it was taken badly and I was dismissed as an imbecile. I had no abiding love for my parents, nor they for me - I had a nursemaid that I still miss, but my family? Never."
There was a great deal of confusion and hurt, thinking about these things, knowing he\'d come from a \'proud southern family\' didn\'t fill him with pride. That made him feel guilty, really, but couldn\'t be altered now. He smiled at Gene, and it was bittersweet.
"I was never a part of my family for very normal reasons, too. I wasn\'t interested in the ugly plantation daughters they shoved at me - though I have nothing against women - and I didn\'t run with the young bucks like my brother did. I wanted some of them, sure, but my family just saw me as strange all round. My sire accepted me like none of them ever did, and I fell for her quickly - too quickly, but I have a habit of doing that," he drawled coyly, and his head dipped to a degree that made it obvious he would have been blushing if he\'d fed recently.
"You\'re asking about that though, aren\'t you? About what it\'s like to let go of the mortal coil, of people that ground you, of ties that bind and relationships that seem more important than your own life?" he asked, not waiting for Gene to answer before he had a prompt of his own. "Well, then I ask you what it was like for you to leave your home and come to the city? It\'s a lesser degree of what I did. You move on - we all move on, in life - and there\'s just a difference of degrees, in my opinion. It\'s always about what you\'re going to keep with you and what you\'ll leave behind in every relationship, even undeath. I mean, I\'m only two hundred years into this life, but the opportunities it presents... well, it\'s more than just a simple death can give you - although you seem to have ideas that there might be better for you, in slowly degenerating until you break, and releasing an aged spirit into a beyond that you can\'t be sure of?"
He knew Gene was religious and he understood it - his own faith encompassed numerous Gods, including the Biblical version - but his ideology was also shaped by the wondrous experiences he\'d been afforded because he was a vampire, and he wasn\'t sure Gene was ready to hear that side of things without having his say first.
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"I am sure of it, though," he said with conviction. As a young boy, he\'d marched to the front of the church and asked that Jesus come into his heart, and he was baptized shortly after. He had been raised to believe that sin was inherent in every man and unless they asked for forgiveness (which Jesus had won for them by dying upon the cross all those years ago), they would burn in the fiery pits of hell.
Where he diverged from the countless sermons he\'d heard over the years was the part where he was damned because he couldn\'t bear to be with a woman. He\'d tried, because that was what he was supposed to want, but neither party had ever left satisfied.
What excited him, what felt right, was another man, and there was all sorts of talk in the Old Testament about how he should be stoned for it, condemned and cast aside, but when Jesus shared God\'s word, it was of understanding and forgiveness. After all, God had created them all as they were - how could he be condemned as God\'s own creation? It just didn\'t make sense. There were churches in the city that thought the same way, and he made a point of going to them.
"Isn\'t there something to be gained in living and dying? Of growing old? You won\'t experience it, but I will. I\'ll slowly... degenerate. I\'ll get wrinkled and I won\'t be able to walk without help, but I\'ll look back at my life and I\'ll know I lived it the best I could, and I\'ll hold it dear, because I only had one." He smiled crookedly, one cheek dimpling. "When I finally break, I\'ll look back and I\'ll be satisfied."
-
Despite the urge to mirror that lovely smile, Samuel couldn\'t stop frowning at Gene. He honestly didn\'t know where to start arguing with someone who claimed to covet things he only got once and celebrate the degree of brokenness with which he would surrender it - and arguing really wasn\'t the vampire\'s style, for he was very much a believer of living and letting live, but he felt it would be... well, a shame for Gene to be here and gone when he had the rare opportunity of knowing and being more.
"I\'m trying real hard not to be insulted here, Gene," Sam told him honestly, the troubled look still on his face in order to get the other\'s attention more swiftly, "but you ain\'t makin\' it easy. Firstly; it seems you\'re sayin\' that just because I will have more than one lifetime, I won\'t appreciate it - well, I say that\'s unkind and a limited point of view. The longer you live, the more you\'ll appreciate what you have and had - that\'s exactly why you think you\'ll be so damn satisfied on y\'all\'s deathbed. Not because you lived one life, but because of how you lived it! And why on earth would a man as beautiful as you look forward to wearing wrinkles and beat-down bones like a medal! You\'re gorgeous, you deserve to stay that way!"
The vampire paused momentarily, wondering if his companion would have something to say to that; he looked like he was taking Sam\'s challenging statements seriously but then, once he got that he was being complimented, he just looked bashful and a little questioning. Like he was embarrassed by being told he was good looking and didn\'t quite seem to believe it.
Sam shook his head and reached forward to gently brush the backs of the fingers of his left hand against the colour rising in the other\'s cheek before his hand dropped to Gene\'s thigh, fingertips resting lightly on it beneath the table. "This is beautiful, your soft skin, the blood colouring it and I know you think it\'s all God\'s doing, that it\'s His plan you should make the most of your one go-round on this planet - Hell, I\'m from the south, I know what it\'s like! - but if that\'s true then you must also accept that the supernatural is also part of His order as well. And you\'re amongst them. Smack-dab in the middle of it all, letting one hold you every night, touch you every day, kiss you any time he can - hopefully tell you how handsome you actually are - so how does that sit for His plan for you? You\'re resistant, because you\'re fresh out of your home and those claws dig deep, but they taint you. Don\'t they?"
Sam\'s deep blue eyes were insistent as they bored into Gene\'s hazel ones, demanding he be told the truth. Life in the south was never easy for anyone that didn\'t fit in - there was a clique mentality that pervaded the whole region, the need to classify people by what parts they were from overriding - and there was no way a gay man as easy with the undead as he was at changing his oil or riding a horse had fit in. The south coddled what it approved of, the homes were gathered around that which had been sanctified as \'good\' and \'proper\'... but they were sanctimonious and vindictive whenever something didn\'t fit within their strict moral, ethical and presentable guidelines.
Samuel never had and he was beginning to realise that the taint of which he spoke was a poison that had leaked deep into his soul so long ago he\'d forgotten the ichor was even there. Until he met Gene and saw facets of himself.
-
He shook his head mutely, not wanting to traverse the rocky path Samuel was attempting to lead him down. Coping mechanisms didn\'t work very well when you bypassed them to inspect the very things you\'d buried away. If he dug for them, he\'d uncover so much shit on the way that he\'d end up being the one buried. He dropped his eyes to stare at the table, his face filled with grim lines.
"I... I need another drink," he said, brushing aside Sam\'s hand so he could make his way to the bar. He stood there, his forearms on the edge of the counter and his head hung low until the bartender came over to ask what he wanted to drink. Whiskey. The bartender took one good long look at his expression and made it a double. On the house.
He\'d hoped that by the time he returned to the table he was sharing with Samuel he would\'ve figured out how to respond to the vampire, but after he got back into his seat and took a small sip of the liquid that burned a path down his throat, he was no more sure of his words than he\'d been when he\'d left. He remained silent for several minutes, and Samuel thankfully allowed him that.
"What do you want me to say? That I doubt where I\'ll end up when I die, that I fear getting old and dying? I don\'t." He knocked back the rest of his shot and winced. It\'d been a while since he\'d had anything other than beer. "Maybe you think it\'s stupid because who would want to get old and feeble when there\'s an alternative, but there\'s an end the route I\'m going. How can you keep going when there\'s no end in sight?"
-
Samuel looked at him in perplexion, his expression vaguely disapproving because it seemed that Gene still didn\'t understand everything there was to know about vampires - how was that possible, when he slept with one?
"Honey, immortal doesn\'t mean invincible," he said quietly. "An end is easy, the only difference is that you\'re more likely to decide on when it happens than you are when it happens naturally. As soon as you wanna\' get off the ride, you can. It\'s not hard to face the sun."
It made him uncomfortable to talk about it, for he loved his existence as it was and wasn\'t interested in ending it, but he was also aware of how fragile it was. To Gene, the \'super\' in supernatural was unconquerable; to a vampire, it was just another word.
He watched Gene for a moment, noting the effects the alcohol was having on him, finding the subtle transitions of colour and focus alluring despite himself. He still couldn\'t quite fathom why he was unrelentingly promoting the undead lifestyle to Gene... though he suspected that wasn\'t what he was doing at all. He was actually slaying old demons. And that was maybe why their conversation was as difficult for Gene to navigate as it was; because he was far too young to face his yet.
"You let it go, you know. Eventually. Everything that\'s held you back." He was still watching the mortal quietly, hinting at what was beneath their argument about undeath but wanting Gene to come to it and say it in his own time. Eternal life was not appealing because of all the superficial reasons he\'d listed... it was all about that revealing final comment, for the mortal; he couldn\'t contemplate a life where there wasn\'t going to be the natural relief of death to put a cap on all the turmoil he\'d likely experienced. At the mercy of the claws of the South.
-
Samuel saw the effect his drinking had on him before he felt it, but when he detected that familiar tingle and his entire body relaxing, he knew the combination of two beers and a couple shots of whiskey had had the desired result on him. He looked forlornly into the empty shot glass, wishing there was more, but the tiny amount of amber liquor still remaining wasn\'t enough to justify lifting his hand again.
"I thought I had," he said softly, and then blinked, surprised the words had made their way past his lips before he\'d even had a chance to register their presence. He took a deep breath that expanded his chest fully and then he let it out in an noisy sigh.
And then Gene started talking. At first, he spoke haltingly because he was touching on memories and feelings he\'d ignored for so many years, but as he went on, the story flowed with the ease of whiskey into a glass.
His father had been a big man, prone to fits of anger, but he\'d never been violent, not until Gene had developed a habit of talking back after he entered his teens. It\'d had its desired effect, because Gene had quickly been cured of any desire to disobey his dad, finding it easier to keep his mouth shut than to pick himself up off the ground.
Around that same time, he began to suspect what he knew to be true beyond a doubt now. He kept those suspicions to himself, though, knowing without it having to be said that no good could come of bringing attention to something that might not be more than a silly fantasy. He didn\'t go into detail about how he\'d figured out it was more than a fantasy, ducking his head and looking very self-conscious. The point was, he had admitted to himself that he was gay, but he was painfully aware what might happen if he admitted the same to his folks - especially his dad. There\'d been a lot of sneaking around, a lot of misery when he couldn\'t sneak around, and that\'d gone on for years. Then, abruptly, the story shifted.
"My dad died," he said. "And I was relieved. Everyone was crying at the funeral but me. They thought I was being strong for mom." He shook his head, smiling faintly. "They had no clue."
He laughed dryly then, remembering how they\'d responded when he\'d first brought up leaving the farm. "They thought I was being irresponsible, leaving mom like that after dad died, but do you know she actually encouraged me to go? Said if I didn\'t leave then, I\'d die there. She knew. That whole time, she knew."
It still floored him just thinking about it.
"Hey, you wanna hear more? I\'ll just go get another whiskey and then I can keep spilling my guts, if you\'re interested." He glanced past his right shoulder at Samuel, grinning unabashedly.
-
Samuel felt that he was doing Gene a service by listening, but he was strangely relieved by hearing the story as well. It was a lot like his life (except replace the violent, disapproving father with a negligent, disapproving one) and he understood. Perhaps that was why this process was so cathartic.
"Never mind, I\'ll get it for you," Samuel breathed a laugh and he was gone and back before Gene even registered an objection. He\'d asked the tender to fill the glass this time, because he\'d noticed how forlornly Gene had looked at it when he\'d finished the last lot and the cost was negligent to him.
When he set it down before his mortal companion and slid back into his stool, he smiled and set both elbows on the table, except he supported his jaw on his right hand. His head was slightly tilted, causing hair to fall in his eyes once more and him to sweep it out even as he spoke.
"Your elixir, sir. Please, continue your tale." His eyes were kind and encouraging.
Their discussion about Gene\'s family didn\'t have much farther to travel - Sam learned that he\'d had no siblings and realised just how significant the sacrifice the guy\'s mother had made was - and then, somehow, it became Samuel\'s turn.
If anybody had walked by, it might almost have sounded like a discussion on history, with Sam discussing the political rounds his father embarked on, the carriage rides he\'d had, the slaves he\'d loved. He set the scene historically first, then focussed on his own inferiority complex when comparing himself to his golden older brother, the man who could do no wrong, who could win votes for his father just by smiling, and seduce virtuous ingenues with just one kiss.
God, he\'d been sickening. Growing up in their home had been competitive from birth, it had seemed, and Samuel had always failed. Never good looking enough, never eloquent enough, never outgoing enough, his father ridiculed him as his only form of motivation and his mother criticised, telling him that if he just tried harder, he\'d do better at things. Failure had become his vice and his defense by the time he was ten and when they eventually just accepted that he would always be inept, things were marginally less stressful.
His discussion diverged from personal stories to describing the types of people he\'d spied on as he got older after that - for it felt as if they\'d flogged the \'family\' horse to death and back - and Gene was able to join in once more, contributing heartily to their combined Tales of the Hypocritical South. Speaking of clergymen who preached to their congregation of faith and abstinence on Sunday and then snuck into whorehouses Monday, housewives that presented the perfect home to their friends but took sly sips of sherry when they thought no-one was looking, married men with children who grew more than a little flustered when the farmboys came in from a long day\'s work, shirtless and sweating and suddenly met in barns after a few meaningful looks... all of it seemed hilarious to the pair, suddenly, yet only one of them was drunk.
When the proprietor began to look at them a little funny (after one particularly funny story had cause an outburst of laughter), Sam realised that time had swallowed them whole and that it might well be time to cash their chips in while they were ahead. So to speak.
"Hey," he said to Gene, his voice husky as he leaned in and down towards his companion, hoping the mortal would put his face nice and close to his so he wouldn\'t have to speak too loudly, "I think we might be outstaying our welcome here a little. You want to go somewhere else?" As he spoke, his gaze was suddenly focussed most intently on Gene\'s mouth, yet he was pretty sure he\'d got most of that out of his system, after connecting on a much deeper level with the guy.
Sadly not, though, for as he rested his chin on his folded forearms in order to gaze up at the mortal from glinting blue eyes, he was thinking the most ungentlemanly thoughts he\'d contemplated in a long while.
-
"Sounds good to me," he responded immediately. The alcohol in his system had temporarily rewired his brain so he didn\'t think about anything other than the way to extend their conversation and in turn, their fun. The best solution was to take their show on the road.
He pulled himself to his feet and stood there swaying until he reached out to steady himself with the back of the chair he\'d been sitting in. It was then he finally got a good look at the window he\'d been turned away from for a majority of the night. Orias had probably been been awake for hours now, and worried where he was since he hadn\'t called to let him know he would be running late.
"Except, I should probably be headin\' home." He laughed and pushed at Sam\'s shoulder with his hand. "You wouldn\'t know that, though, wouldja?"
-
Samuel chuckled, enjoying the comraderie of the shove as he moved to stand on the cast-less side of the unsteady mortal, placing a hand at the small of his back to help him stay in place better. There was no way he was going to let Gene drive home - and, upon questioning the mortal, he found that he did have his truck parked nearby ready to do just that.
"You can\'t drive in your condition," Samuel argued with a frown, liking the excessive warmth that seemed to be rolling off his rolling-drunk friend - so much so that his front was pressed, in places, to Gene\'s side as they stood there, boot to boot. When the mortal opened his mouth (Samuel anticipated that it was to object to being told he couldn\'t drive), he pressed a cool finger from his free hand to Gene\'s lips, quieting him momentarily.
"No. Really. You can\'t drive drunk, you\'ll get yourself killed." His chastising paused momentarily as he caught sight of his finger on Gene\'s mouth, feeling the warmth of the contact travel through him like a breeze pressing heat outward in a wave from a fire. It made him tingle with an awareness that he knew he shouldn\'t be having and he lifted his gaze slowly to meet Gene\'s as he said something he also shouldn\'t have.
"I\'ll give you two choices: one, I drive you home. In your truck so it\'s right there when you need it tomorrow. Or two... you take a drop of my blood so it\'ll sober you up enough for you to do it yourself. Which do you want?" There was a stillness in him, an anticipation that made him thrum as he waited for an answer, looking into melt-worthy hazel eyes, practically wrapped around the mortal as much as he could be while clothed.
-
His condition. Like he was pregnant! He\'d just had a few drinks, that was all. He\'d be fine to drive. Just as Samuel had predicted, he\'d been ready to protest, but then he\'d been effectively shushed by one pale digit and forced to listen to what the vampire had to say first. It was sweet, really, that Sam was looking out for him, but incredibly frustrating when he knew damned well and good he\'d driven home drunker than he was before. Granted, it\'d been in the middle of the country with only deer and trees to collide with if he misjudged a curve, and not a busy city. Maybe Sam had a point.
"I like living," he conceded after pushing Sam\'s hand away so he could talk. He leaned heavily into the vampire so he could shift his weight onto one foot and pull from his front left pocket the keys to his truck, then held them dangling between them. "Okay. So. My keys. They\'re to my truck." He frowned up at Sam. "But first you tell me why you keep bringing up this blood thing."
-
Samuel, feeling a little intoxicated himself just because he was standing so close to Gene and somewhat getting his way, felt very devilish all of a sudden. He grinned at the mortal, his tone lighthearted as he made a play he didn\'t expect would work but which he couldn\'t resist.
"Because I think it\'ll be a nice way to get closer to you and I can make it so you don\'t even notice what you\'re tasting," he murmured intimately and promptly bit the edge of his tongue, parting his lips just enough to roll the bleeding muscle against the inside of his mouth and show Gene what he meant. A bloody kiss was better than sucking his thumb, surely? He closed his mouth and smiled cheekily.
-
"That\'s not fair," he said, huffily. "Even though you\'re..." He rocked back onto the heels of his boots, shaking his head, and felt Samuel\'s arm shift to keep him steady. "...You\'re really good lookin\' and I like you, I\'m not like those assholes we were talkin\' about. I wouldn\'t do that to him."
His keys still remained between them and he shook the chain gently. "You can drive a truck, right?"
-
Samuel pouted briefly, nodding as he conceded Gene\'s point; he would fit in well with the hypocritical southerners if he pushed this - and damned if he would allow himself into that category after he and Gene had spent two hours disparaging them!
He took the keys and dropped the mortal a wink. "Honey, I\'ve driven them all," he joked, turning his inebriated friend and manoeuvring him so that they could walk via the table and scoop up his unused cue and unpacked balls and return them to the counter as they made their way out of the pool hall. Once on the street though, he had to let Gene take the lead.
"I hope you remember where you parked your truck... and how to get home," he joked, keeping his arm about Gene\'s waist as they walked, just in case he stumbled.
-
"Yeah, sure," he responded, pointing vaguely toward all the parked vehicles and then past them to the street, his arm shifting around like a weather vane. "It\'s over yonder somewhere."
His smile was big and sloppy, and he leaned heavily against Sam as they walked toward the only truck in the lot.
(Continued in Southern Comfort (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forums/showthread.php?t=6612))