Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Harlequin on September 25, 2012, 09:00:19 AM
-
It had been a month since she'd been sired, and Ami was starting to get restless.
Actually, restless was an understatement – she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin if she was cooped up in that apartment for one more minute. Sure, she was grateful to Cicero for getting them a place to live (among a whole host of other things she would be indebted to him for for the rest of her unnatural life) and for the short hunting outings he allowed – but there were only so many times she could rearrange the living room furniture before she lost her mind.
Truth be told, she'd already lost it a little. The first week, coming to terms with what she was, had been very rough for her. There had been a lot of silence and tension in the little apartment, but eventually she'd evened out. There were still moments when something would catch her off guard, and she'd feel the cold sickness in her throat, but it was happening less and less often as time went on.
The fact that her sire was constantly hovering over her didn't help. Literally every waking moment he was there – heck, the guy didn't even sleep. His bedroom seemed to be there solely for decoration. And watching reruns of Jersey Shore, she'd learned one night, hearing the familiar and grating voice of one Elizabeth "Snooki" Polizzi through the wall before he'd hastily shut off the television. That had been the first time she'd really laughed. She had given up on trying to sneak out after a number of unsuccessful attempts. He hadn't lectured her when he caught her – but the looks she'd earned had been enough to cow her.
So when he offered to take Ami out one night, she had nearly jumped out of her seat. Then he told her they were going to buy her clothes. Why? She didn't know. Her clothes were fine. He said she needed more of them. She resisted – despite her overpowering desire to get the fuck out of the house – agreeing only only on the condition that she be allowed to visit her friends. Surprisingly, Cicero had agreed, and – after quick feed off a rickshaw driver in an alleyway to slake her gnawing hunger (Cicero had since taught her to feed without killing – though she still found it uncommonly difficult) – they were out on the streets.
The smell of the teeming market hit Ami like a wall, catching her off guard. It was like someone had combined everything she'd found delicious a month ago (and now didn't think of at all, except in dreams) and shoved her face in it. She stood, blinking in the too-bright lantern light of the market for a moment while her sire got a few steps ahead. Wow, it was weird to be dead. Shoving her hands in her jeans pockets, she considered running off on him, just for a night. It would be nice to get out from under Cicero's thumb for a few hours, but he would only be angry once he found her (and he WOULD find her). And then who knew when she'd get out again. With a shake of her head, she picked up her feet and hurried to catch up.
-
Cicero liked the smells of the market. It reminded him of a very happy and peaceful time when living in China some few hundred years ago. He wasn't sure how long exactly, but it didn't matter. During a time before the Chinese wore Western clothing, that was for sure. He breathed it in deeply, inhaling the aromas of spices, fish, mortals and the constant smell of supernaturals. He'd done the right thing and approached Lan Bao when he'd come here, only without actively seeing her. He'd gone to her temple with Ami in tow, and mentally requested her permission to live in her area. Very few vampires were located here - he suspected it was an instinctual thing. All those years of living in China had taught him how to belong in Kuei Jin society, as well as among the mortals. He'd even taken the time to learn the written language, something he hadn't yet bothered to do with English. It was much easier just to make some mortal read it and then glean their thoughts. As a result, he had a number of books in Chinese print. He found their language the most visually appealing.
So he'd conversed with her, while Ami paced around the Temple, feeling unsettled. He could hear Ami nattering along his bloodline, but it was muted, like she was trying to clamp down on it. He stared off into the distance when he finally made a connection with the Kuei Jin leader, and after much negotiation, she permitted him to live in her area - and also supplied him with the apartment and address of where he would live with his fledgling. As soon as Ami was responsible for a death, they would be forced to leave. Cicero had agreed, and now owed the Kuei Jin people ten favours. None of them would be trivial requests, he knew.
He felt Ami's shock at entering the markets. It wasn't bad, he could feel, but rather an overwhelming sensation that rippled through him as well. He grinned at her as he turned around to look at her - only two steps between them. He also received the mild desire to ditch him and also the disappointment at knowing such a thing would be futile. When she caught up to him, he took her left hand, linking her fingers together with his right. It was the first time he'd tried anything intimate with her since siring her - they'd been caught up getting her to a stage where she could cope. He suspected it was his aged blood that was helping her along a great deal - he'd seen month old fledglings and knew they were supposed to be thirsting single-minded creatures. She was functioning like she had a couple of years under her belt. Her siring had been unusual, as well, obviously to her benefit.
After a minute she pulled her hand out of his hold, which had him looking at her curiously. She would feel his confusion, and his wanting to know why she didn't want to hold his hand.
-
The confusion was doubled when she glanced at him, seeing that questioning look as she stuffed her hand back in her pocket. Why would he want to hold her hand? She wasn't five.
Understanding, she shrugged one shoulder in response, and offered a fleeting half-smile to show him it wasn't a big deal. She had never been an overly affectionate person, and hand-holding had always seemed especially restrictive to her, like she was tethered to the other person. Even when she'd been in love with Archer, she had ended up curled in one corner of the bed instead of cuddled up next to him.
Instead, she bumped her sire playfully with her shoulder, like a first grader who didn't know how to tell a girl he liked her. A storefront cluttered with dark laces and plaids caught her eye, then, and she jerked her head toward it.
-
He wasn't going to have that kind of relationship with her, then - but he'd known it the night he'd met her. He hadn't really wanted any kind of relationship with her then, other than to watch her thoughts. Funny how things turned out. If someone had implied she would be his fledge, he would've snorted derisively. Her? he would've thought. There were others more suitable should he ever choose to anchor himself to someone that way.
Cicero followed her gaze to the storefront - one of the fixed locations (not that the night markets weren't a fixture in their own way - but most of them were stalls, not buildings). He headed in that direction, consenting to her desire to look through the product. Anything he bought here would be paid for with cash. There would be no cheating the locals, not if he wanted to please the Kuei Jin around the place. There was always a strong sense of community here. Locals could cheat other locals to their hearts content, but he'd come here for safety.
-
Truthfully, Ami didn't know what kind of relationship she wanted with her sire. Fate had thrown them together, and Cicero's decisions had kept them there – but she didn't dislike him. In fact, the more time she spent with him, the more comfort she drew from his presence. Had he known her mannerisms better, this would have been clear from the fact that she let him hold her hand at all.
Inside, the storefront was cramped but brightly lit and well-maintained. Clothing and accessories covered the walls, accessed via short paths cut by clothing-covered racks. Ami immediately gravitated toward a rack of T-shirts (which already compromised half her wardrobe) bypassing a mannequin dressed in a form-fitting but tasteful little red number and several racks of zippered skirts. There seemed to be an overabundance of hardware on many of the clothes this place offered, and Ami fit right in.
She selected clothes by looking at them, forgoing the curtained-off fitting rooms. For someone who cared as little as she appeared to, she was a very discerning shopper. She approached the counter with only a single new T-shirt and – after a moment's hesitation – a short, black skirt designed to hug the thighs. As an afterthought, she snagged several pairs of fishnet stockings from the wall.
Unless her sire said anything, she would pay for her own purchases with the cash she'd stuffed in her pocket and they'd be on their way.
-
Cicero had noticed the red dress as well, and gave it a lingering look of appraisal as Ami continued to shop. As she threw stockings onto the counter as an additional purchase, Cicero got her attention with a single word.
"This."
-
The word caused Ami to look around, confused. The only other people in the room was the female shop attendant and Cicero. Cicero. Was that what his voice sounded like, normally? She realized she'd only really heard it screamed into the wind, and then when she'd been in the midst of a vicious attack. THAT memory she pushed away quickly, frowning dubiously at the garment he was indicating.
She'd never really been shopping with anyone other than Morgaine before, and even the singer had given up at her bassist's strict refusal to even consider putting on something a normal person might wear on a date. She'd been on precisely one date in her life, and look how THAT turned out. It was attractive, she'd give him that, but:
"Never wear it," she told him. She hated spending money on things she wouldn't use.
-
He sent her his vision of what she would look like in it, and the vision was incredibly steamy. As well as the ideaology that she would look ravishing and hot, he also believed she would look confident and empowered. He admired strength and independence.
If Lazarus had chosen to drain Tucker (though he likely would've just fucked him instead), Cicero would've watched him die and been annoyed at Lazarus. Nothing like the feelings he'd felt when Lazarus took Ami. Tucker was a toy; cute and replaceable. Ami was... well, whatever she'd been then, she trumped now. She was his fledgling, and that made her important beyond anyone else in his life.
Certainly more important than Lazarus.
-
More than anything, she found herself surprised by the connotations of the image he sent to her. The sexiness she'd almost expected – she was female, after all, and knew very well how men looked at women. She was reminded of the aborted interludes they'd shared at the beach and the cliffs. The feelings associated were pleasant, but confused. She chose not to examine them now.
It was the rest of it that piqued her interest. The Femme Fatale picture he'd conjured. She mulled it over – turning the image of her body like an action figure in her mind.
"Give it here," she requested, holding a hand out. If he did, she would add it to the pile and pay without another word said. If he didn't, she'd grab it off the rack anyway, add it to the pile and pay without another word.
-
Cicero handed it over and as Ami paid for the dress, he was unable to stop the winning smirk from taking over his lips. It was a smirk that Lazarus had given him, learned through observation. It was likely for the best that the smirk had well and truly faded by the time Ami turned around and looked at him again.
Cicero and Ami travelled around the markets together, looking at items that interested them without further complication. He was a great deal warmer and affectionate in his thoughts and actions than he had been earlier - almost as though he were her boyfriend, rather than her sire. Still, even though he gestured to her or touched her arm for her attention, he didn't really make an attempt at holding her again.
-
The warmth she felt from him buoyed her in turn, and she was freer with her smiles. She noticed the difference in his demeanor, but put it down to the fact that this was their first real outing together. Plus, she liked being out. With him. He was not rebuked for his casual touches; she even dished out a few of her own, though never without a direct purpose.
She picked up a few more tops (two tank tops and a long-sleeved shirt) and pairs of black jeans. all of her typical going-out clothes had been left behind, so she also picked out a pair of tiny leopard-print shorts and a new leather vest. An offbrand cosmetics shop provided her with all the other essentials she'd left behind (she'd not had her face on for weeks), and an odds-and-ends stall gave her a package of spikes with which to embellish the new vest. The black spiked heels (http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/549610_428149710570984_349373294_n.jpg) she grabbed to go with the new dress were an indulgent afterthought.
Purchases in hand, she looked to her sire, "Home, then Risk?" she queried. A spark of nervous excitement flared in her at the thought of finally being able to see her friends again.
-
He nodded, pleased with their outing. It was good to get out without real purpose, as well. He wasn't usually the kind of person to lock himself away, but he also didn't have relationships beyond the trivial, so Ami was a very new experience for him.
You should practise talking to me this way, he told her. It will help you develop your skills
-
The only reason Ami hadn't been communicating with him mentally was because she hadn't really thought to try. There had been enough to see and do already that it had sort of escaped her. But the idea appealed to her very much – it was one of the things she'd liked best about Cicero when she'd been Human.
She nodded, a terse gesture, and cast her eyes about. The opposite end of the strip of shops and stalls gave way to a relatively normal residential area, but the entrance – where they were – was still bustling with activity. Not that that really mattered.
Walk and talk? She sent with it a hint of uncharacteristic hesitance – which she hadn't meant to send – but also her desire to keep moving – which she had.
-
He frowned at the staccato sound of the message and boggled at it. She'd been conversing mentally with him ever since she'd been made of his blood - had she not realised this?
Walk and think, I'll pick it up
He was amused, and didn't stop it from travelling down the line to her. He also tried to send his knowledge to her - of the way he'd communicated his entire existence. He'd never tried something like this (because he'd had no fledges), and it seemed apallingly easy. But why not? If his blood could advance her so much that she'd practically skipped the infancy stage, then why not educate her with the sharing of knowledge alone?
She would be able to advance at a tremendous rate, if so! He couldn't stop his excitement thrumming over to her at this thought even if he tried.
-
It worked – to a certain degree. Some of it she got wholesale, and understood immediately – but there was just as much that came in garbled and incomprehensible. She felt like she was a computer being forced to download a large file. But her brain, unfortunately, was not a computer. It had no way of deciphering what it was getting; it was like dumping a cake onto the sidewalk and expecting it to separate into the ingredients that had made it.
The overload of information short-circuited something somewhere, stopping her in her tracks as her mind was filled to brimming with memories that weren't hers; fragments and pieces that made no sense. Data corrupted upon input. Error. Error.
"Gnnngh," she said, grimacing. She recovered fairly quickly, though, and hastened the few steps he'd gained on her.
Next time, warning. Please.
That could work if I was prepared, I think
and in smaller chunks.
-
A vision of a cake came to him, dropping and exploding before the dust (flour?) cleared, and showing him sugar, eggs, flour, chocolate buttons, and a few other things that he couldn't recognise. Obviously this was not something he'd summoned, but her. He didn't quite get the why, but it was interesting all the same. He looked at her in puzzlement, but it went beyond that into the realm of amusement and bewilderment.
He hadn't even tried sending it to her properly, he'd just kind of tossed his understanding of how it worked her way, not expecting her to get it. He desperately wanted to talk to someone who'd sired a few fledglings of their own, so he could compare notes, but didn't trust anyone for that (nor did he know anyone). The Oligarchy would've been perfect for that, but they were gone now.
She would receive his feelings of apology mixed in with his happiness that she'd received it, and was already communicating much better. She was clear! He found he didn't have to touch her mind for her thoughts, like a parental guiding hand on the back of a child's head. Subtly he withdrew, watching her.
Agreed.
-
She gave him another half smile before pushing at her lip rings with her tongue.
I like this. It's fast. She snapped her fingers to illustrate, out of habit. When do I get to do flying?
It was kind of a joke, but it also kind of wasn't. She knew that that kind of power would probably only come with extreme age, but she wanted to do flying, dammit.
-
Cicero lifted a brow at her, receiving the half-hearted seriousness/playfulness of the question, and smiling indulgently.
Even if it takes you half as long to learn as it did me, it'll be five centuries.
He stopped and reached for her, holding her arm to stop her too, and because she was holding packages and bags in both hands, and him only in one, it was easy to then lift his hand off her arm and cup her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
I'll always take you flying
He moved into her space then, and thought about kissing her. She would know his intentions before he started acting on them. The relay worked both ways.
-
This time, she didn't tense when he grabbed her. Even without him broadcasting his intent up their bloodline, she had seen it coming. And even if she hadn't, she was goddamn ready for it. No one had touched her – really touched her – for a month.
Not that she'd really wanted to be touched; and she was grateful to Cicero for giving her that space.
Like always, she met him, chest to chest and tilted her head up to press her lips against his – now cold to cold. The fire was still there, singing through the blood they shared, but muted by an unconscious hesitance. She raised a hand, wanting to tangle her fingers tight in his hair –
and her shopping bags bumped against his knee, reminding her of where they were, and what still had to be done tonight.
But before it could go any further, she pulled away, cursing through grit teeth. "God. Dammit." Frustration bubbled up in her belly, electric and sharp down their bloodline. She looked at the ground, knuckles tight.
I need my head clear, she told him, and showed him a memory of her bandmates to let him know what she meant. If she didn't want to hurt them, she would need her thoughts to be as unmuddled as possible. And letting this go anywhere would be probably the most thought-muddling action she could reasonably take.
Then, by way of apology, she showed him a hint of the confusion she felt, swirling like butterflies and unmixed paint in her solar plexus I'm new at this. Feelings.
-
Cicero's hand slid off her face and held the back of her neck as they kissed, his thumb now stroking the sensitive place below the lobe of her ear. Their kiss was the same as it always had been; met with passion and no inhibition. There was mental hesitance that didn't translate into the physical, so he ignored it. He felt her shopping butt against him and then she was gone. He licked his lips, trying to reclaim the tingling as she spoke her frustration and then explained how she felt mentally.
The swarm of confusion mingled with his own emotions of desire, confusing him as to what he was confused about before he identified they were coming from her. He'd never received his style of communication back, and it was rather overwhelming. How could people confuse what he sent into their minds as a language? He understood Ami perfectly, but as emotion. It was rich and deep and explained a lot more than words ever could.
Then home, he sent to her, along with his understanding of how she felt and the patience and tolerance he felt for it.
-
Tearing her eyes off of the sidewalk, she looked up at her sire again and offered another fleeting smile. The emotions he sent her were met with a warm wave of gratitude. Ami generally wasn't grateful for things on principle – as a Human, she'd learned that nothing came without a price – but she wasn't Human any more, and she'd already paid the ultimate price. She was grateful that Cicero had been the one to collect.
Ami was perfectly content to pass the rest of the walk home in amicable silence – both mental an verbal – unless her sire had words for her.
-
He had none, but she would find he was a big sharer. Whenver something visual struck his fancy, or if he thought about something appealing, he would share this observation with Ami. He couldn't be considered 'chatty' due to the nature of the sharing itself, but if he'd been human and had to talk about everything he'd noticed, he likely would've found little pause for breath. Cicero's observations and point of view was very different from hers, considering he'd come from so many cultures and risen from the dust of ancient civilisations. Some insights likely would've left her with nothing but confusion or bewilderment, but he would already be moving onto the next thing. A lot of the time, the observations were about her and her future potential abilities. As they walked, Cicero hypothesised about all the different things she could expect to learn - and his theories about what she might already be advanced at.
When they arrived back at the apartment, he dug out the red dress and tossed it at her head with a grin.
-
Normally, Ami found such nattering nothing more than irritating – but now that it wan't spoken, she didn't mind so much. She let the swirl information he gave her swirl and shift about in her brain, some comprehended, but just as much not. After awhile, it took on a quality of background noise.
She was already heading toward her room when the garment came sailing toward her head, and she drooped her bags and snatched it out of the air in a reflexive twitch. She had always had good reflexes, but that motion went well beyond any ability she'd had before. She blinked down at the dress in her hands, the tipped her head in a slight nod. Neat.
But then she looked from the dress to her sire, lips pursed, eyes aslant. The Hunt would lose their shit if she showed up as not just a vampire, but a vampire dressed like Jessica Rabbit. But she was sure they'd find a way to deal. If she liked it, she'd wear it.We'll see. she sent him, finally. Unless he had anything else to throw at her, she would vanish into her room to dress.