Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Existentially Odd on December 02, 2012, 01:57:33 AM
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Owen led Vincent into the Dawn Brew Cafe and Bistro and paused, looking for a secluded table. There was a cosy horseshoe-shaped booth (that would seat four very skinny people, if it was lucky) at the back of the space that was unoccupied so he led his lover to that and slid in on the right side as he looked at it. He waited until Vincent was settled on his right before he spoke, his eyes shining with excitement and his hands clasped together nervously, resting on the edge of the table. He was leaning towards Vincent, eagerly awaiting his opinion.
They'd been apartment hunting for him. At Venture's opening night festivities three nights beforehand, the couple had decided they would start seeing each other again but that it might be useful for Owen to still make his way in the world and live on his own for a while. The fledgling had been very grateful for the encouragement and had set about exploring the places he'd named at the club - the Templar and the Capital - the very next night. He'd wandered through both of the simplest apartments each had to offer, liking both for different reasons but uncertain either of them fit him.
The Capital had twenty-four hour conveniences such as laundry and kitchens - handy if he had a donor over and they needed food, he'd never have to shop - and a few lower-floor choices, including a one bedroom apartment. The Templar only had two bedroom apartments that seemed a bit too large for one person, though he loved the idea of having an office in one. It was very expensive, though, so he'd been leaning in favour of the Capital but was still sorely tempted by the Templar. Unable to decide, he'd called Vincent once he'd got back to the Chambers. Curled in his bed in the dark, they'd chatted for hours, straying off the topic of the apartment occasionally before returning to it.
In the end, he'd asked for his sire's help and advice; given his experience with real estate, it only made sense. He promised to do some more research the next night and then they could meet up the night after for final decisions to be made. Last night, he'd explored the Xavier Lodge Apartments (and disliked them) before he stumbled upon Haven Crest. After a little deeper digging (inspired by the sensation of numerous supernaturals around him) he'd found out that this place was a neutral territory in the city, plus a kind of law enforcement for all of the districts. They were also looking for employees, he'd been told by the vampire at the circular help desk in the lobby and he'd been given the distinct impression that he would find employment here as well as a residence, if he interviewed for it.
Truthfully, the apartment here was less flashy than the other two buildings but the whole of Haven Crest would be like living in a mini-business mecca, all the conveniences were directly around him, including this cafe. It was also less expensive than the others, but Vincent knew that because each of their guides had named prices and pointed out the features of every site for Vincent's benefit, seeming to think he would be moving in because he asked all the questions and Owen had asked them one or two nights before, so didn't need to ask anything else.
"Which did you like the best?" he asked, unable to contain himself any longer, now that Vincent had inspected his top three choices. "This place is my first choice because I could get work here and be right here for it, but I could easily walk here every night from the other two, too so it doesn't really matter if you think one of the others would be best!" he babbled enthusiastically.
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Vincent had mostly considered the property Owen was going to buy as an investment property, rather than somewhere Owen would be living for an extended period of time. He didn't want to tell his fledgling this, in case Owen got the wrong impression. It was only practical to look to their future, especially now that it was looking quite rosy, and they were both planning that Owen would eventually come back. Why not, then, purchase a property that would not only be comfortable and convenient for Owen to live, but also give them a solid return once it was sold - or rent it out for ongoing income?
"They're all very nice, Owen," he said, not wanting to squash the other vampire's enthusiasm. A waitress came over to take their order and Vincent requested a short black. He adored the smell of coffee, and it wouldn't hurt to have it steaming away between them as they chatted. She moved away after writing their order when told that was all they would be having, and Vincent had the ability to continue uninterrupted. "What was I saying?" he asked, for he'd had a number of things on his mind and couldn't recall if he'd begun saying one of them. Owen repeated back Vincent's comment with an indulgent grin, and Vincent smiled back. "Yes, they are all nice, and all liveable. But then, many places are. It's interesting you're restricting your options to the city central - is that because you prefer the District Leader here?"
Vincent knew it was Jake McCloud, ex-Oligarch for Vampires. He supposed if Owen was going to live in a claimed district, it made sense for him to select one ruled by a member of his own species. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of Owen working for someone with ties to politics when the politics were still up in the air - but if they were effectively superntarual police like Vincent suspected, Owen had to be fairly safe there too. Unless they were a target for some miffed supernatural being or another. He suppressed his concerns, understanding that his paranoia was stemming from his anxiety that he and Owen might never get back together. He'd learned to be a worrier in the time Owen had spent away from him. It wasn't his usual self and it wasn't a personality facet he wanted to adopt, either.
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Owen blinked, his expression showing that he was obviously surprised by the question. He'd given no thought to the District Leader beyond knowing that the City Ward was run by someone different, as an independent district in essence. It certainly hadn't swayed his opinion on where he wanted to live. "Not at all," he giggled, sitting back to adjust his jumper because it was thick and had rolled weirdly around his middle when he sat forward. He'd only dressed in jeans, sneakers, a beige woollen jumper with an extra roll of knitting around the neck that allowed it to cover an inch or so up his throat and a black pea coat over it tonight to play a part. The weather was cold now and he needed to look like he was feeling it, when interacting with so many mortals.
"I just like the city, that's all. It never sleeps - that old adage is true - so I can always find someone to drink from or talk to, at any hour. I've done a lot of walking and thinking on these streets since you and I... since I left you, and it made me feel better. It feels vibrant here and everything that's interesting to visit is in walking distance; the museum, the art gallery, the theatres. It's a pain to drive in - that's another reason the Capital's so good, though, an underground car park! - and a nightmare to get out of to get to the suburbs to visit you, but once I'm there I don't need my car, I can walk and it's great. I have no opinion about the district leader - I'm not even sure who it is, to tell you the truth. I just like the city," he shrugged, his hands now clasped between his thighs and a beatific smile on his face as he gazed guilelessly at his sire from his position leaning back against the padded booth seat.
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Here was another topic that needed addressing, and Vincent dearly wished to address it immediately, but he took a moment to peruse Owen's words whilst watching him adjust his clothing. Vincent himself was dressed in layers (http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/gian-franco-pagini-shearling-coat-linea-naturale-cashmere-pants/3416804?origin=category&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=0)also, the most prominent item being his oak brown shearling coat over dark gray wool and cashmere pants ending with brown shoes. He'd started off nodding, but tilted his head in thought when Owen mentioned he was ignorant to who ran this part of the city. Granted, they'd had very little to do with the Oligarchy when it had been in power, but Vincent had told Owen all that had been done on his behalf - seeking permission for knowledge, permission for siring, the changes in leadership, and Owen himself had seen the disassembly of the Oligarchy quarters, from the inside.
"Where I live, my district is unclaimed. By default, it comes under the Ward, whose rules and laws runs much like the Oligarchy did, so there's no surprises for me there. You're wanting to set up in a location where government hasn't yet established itself but has veto power." He made no comment after this, and asked no questions. He wanted to know what Owen thought about this fact, as Vincent saw it.
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Owen gave Vincent's comment a moment's thought and decide he understood what was being alluded to. "So you think I'd be better off here, at Haven Crest, where the Ward is based and the politics are already stable and not likely to go into flux," he considered, the outside edges of his mouth tilted downward as he thought while he spoke, nodding his agreement with the facts offered to him.
"More good reasons for it to be my first choice," he grinned, believing Vincent had simply endorsed his choice with some extra valid points added to the mix. really, if he was also going to pursue work for the Ward, he'd probably better get his head around the politics a little better too, so he didn't end up offending anyone.
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Vincent's eyebrows rose a little as he understood Owen still had his blinkers on. That was a facet of his personality that Vincent had always been aware of, and tried to remove. He'd never done it forcibly, when Owen had been young and impressionable, because he understood sometimes it was just one's character. Owen had seen the world, after all. Vincent had surmised that this portion of his personality was attributed to his passionate side - that once he locked onto something, he felt so strongly about it that he couldn't take a step back and rationalise. Vincent wouldn't give up that passion for anything, so he'd have to accept both sides of what that passion did to him.
As Owen had smiled indulgently to him for losing his train of thought earlier, he returned that smile for Owen's tunnel vision, and reached over to brush the fingers of Owen's hand.
"True, they won't go into flux, but I worry about it being a target for those hostile about its presence. Remember when I asked if they had holding cells on the property? Perhaps you didn't notice how smoothly they responded with a whole lot of nothing, neither confirming here nor there." He shrugged, because he didn't have to tell Owen that he hadn't liked this fact, because his fledge would be able to easily interpret his expression as such.
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Owen frowned as he subconsciously separated the hands in his lap in order to pursue Vincent's hand with his right. It was an instinctive thing, to alter his position according to an action of Vincent's, so it was quite natural for him to lean his left elbow on the table to rest his jaw on that hand and toy with Vincent's with the other, sort of pinching the backs of Vincent's fingers with the backs of his own while he put some more thought into what was being said. He didn't speak immediately because he was mentally following through on the dangers Vincent imagined, but none of them seemed genuine.
"Even if they do have holding cells here, what do you expect will happen? Criminal supernaturals will escape and run rampant through the apartments? Someone will get so pissed off with the Ward's interference they'll try to blow the place up and turn all the vampires to ash in the daytime?" he scoffed but his amusement died as he saw the look in Vincent's eyes and thought about what he'd so flippantly said. Lorica had died much like that but he hadn't been thinking when he'd said it - not until it was too late and his expression became contrite. His eyelashes fluttered as he had the grace to lower his gaze to the table. "Sorry, I... I just think there'd be safety features in place and I wouldn't have anything to worry about. Where do you think will be safe, then?"
He didn't put a spin on favouring either of the other two buildings this time, allowing Vincent to pick the one he felt was the safest. Now that he thought about it, Vincent probably only thought he was going to be safe in his bed, beside him every day, where, if something happened, at least it would happen to both of them at the same time. It was a sweet notion and Owen certainly didn't push it forcibly out of the back of his mind like he would've two weeks ago.
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Vincent sighed as he spoke. "I don't want you to live in fear," he said, shaking his head, keeping his hand where it could be caressed. "Nor be paranoid. Nowhere is truly safe, we are all vulnerable in some way. I'm sure there are many more measures to keep you safe at Haven Crest as anywhere else, and to be honest, the other buildings would have much the same. You would be renting here though, yes? At least in the other buildings you would own your apartment, and it would be an asset for you in the future. I also recommend you don't live where you work, if you choose to work here. There would be no sense of relief or getting away from your work once it's done, and I don't want that kind of lifestyle for you. Does that sound fair?"
Reminding Vincent inadvertantly of Lorica's death had done Owen a favour. Independence only truly came when out of the sphere of influence of the person you were dependent on. As much as Vincent wanted to keep Owen close, it was in his interest long term to let him find his feet. At the very least, it would help Owen continue to grow, and Vincent would never actively and knowingly attempt to stop him from developing and moving forward in his life. If that ever happened, it would be in Owen's interests to leave.
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"That sounds more than fair," Owen smiled, grasping Vincent's hand with his atop it in order to lean over and kiss his cheek gratefully. "Thank you for your advice, I appreciate it," he breathed as he pulled back, acknowledging disappointment within himself because the case had been well made against living in the place he was considering finding work, yet it had been his first choice. He would just have to visit the enchanting grounds during work breaks and focus on the other two.
"I think... the Capital will be the most convenient, then, especially since it has a place for my car - though I'm sure you wouldn't mind it being stored in your garage, I need a way to get to you for training, so that wouldn't do at all!" he laughed softly, his expression demure as he gazed at Vincent's eyes and did his best not to think about what had happened the last time he'd turned up for training. "Perhaps you could visit me once I've got furniture," he declared suddenly, thinking he'd do a much better job of concentrating on what he needed to concentrate on if he wasn't surrounded by memories of his relationship. The new apartment would be a new start.
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Vincent smiled through Owen's mostly one-sided conversation until he suggested Vincent see the place once Owen had it set up.
"Perhaps?" he questioned, as though the word was an offense to Owen's vocabulary. "Of course I'll come and visit." Now that he was talking about visiting, and Owen had mentioned training, this was the best segue he could have about mentioning Ben. He turned his head to look at his hands on the table for a moment, but pulled back and sat up when his coffee was delivered. He thanked the waitress and picked up the spoon provided in order to stir the coffee a little, enticing a great deal of odour to float up from the dark liquid. When he looked back at Owen, he saw that his suddenly serious expression hadn't gone unnoticed and Owen was giving him a peculiar and expectant look as he waited for Vincent to continue.
"I met a young vampire while we were... not communicating. Very young, not much older than you. I came across him while he was going to ground in Pisky," Vincent frowned as he remembered the sight of the dirty young man with eyes that belied his great sadness and great fear. Vincent hadn't known which had horrified him more. "I discovered he'd recently lost his sire, and managed to talk him out of the hole he'd dug himself." He looked at Owen, now, because this next part would include him. "I offered to train him, and gave him my number. I half expected him not to call, but he did. He'll be turning up tomorrow night at eight. I wonder if you wanted to train with him, or if you would prefer to keep your time with me separate to that."
He didn't offer any reasons for or against either option, wanting Owen to truly make up his own mind. Just in case he changed his mind later, he wouldn't be able to argue later. Vincent also wanted to keep things open and honest, so letting Owen make the choice with all the facts given him was also proving he had no secrets.
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Owen frowned mildly as he listened to the story, imagining some lost vampire fledgling digging a hole to bury himself in, in the park. There was nothing in the story Owen could relate to - nor wanted to, since he didn't wish to contemplate the loss of his own sire - but he did see an immediate advantage to training with another person. He could be a buffer between he and Vincent, to keep their minds on business rather than... other things.
He gave a shrug and smiled. "Sure, why not? What's his name?"
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"Ben," Vincent supplied, surprised that Owen would want to share his training time with another and limit their ability to chat openly. Parhaps Owen had an ulterior motive, but he wasn't pulling the face he normally did when suspicious of others motives. Maybe he was thinking about the social aspect - getting to know someone who was a young vampire like himself. Maybe he was considering the fact that another's presence would help their focus. Vincent was a little disappointed that they would be limited to keeping things to business, but Owen could always hang around a little after Ben left - there was always that time they could have to themselves, to talk. "It will be interesting for you to see what he's like when he's training, because he's impressively adept with mental communication and ability, but the more physical aspects need work. It might present mutual benchmarks of what to expect from each other?"
He grinned, wondering if Owen would hate or love the idea of friendly competition.
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Owen responded to the scent of competition instinctively, the challenge of it glinting in his eyes without any conscious thought. "You've trained with him already?" he queried curiously, still thinking it odd that Vincent had accepted a stray fledgling without knowing anything beyond the fact that he was digging a hole because he'd lost his sire. What could have prompted him? "How'd he lose his sire - he is dead, right, that's what you meant?"
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"Yes," he replied after a moment, remembering how the dirty young man had looked when he'd made his declaration of such. Those words had burned into his memory.
My sire's dead. I loved him and he's dead and it's my fault
They'd resonated in his very core. Love. Death. Blame. No wonder the youngling was going to ground. He understood. In those words, he'd understood everything. And he'd pitied, and it had been like pitying himself.
"He blames himself for his sire's death, and they were lovers I suspect," he said quietly, the spoon bobbed in and out of his coffee, because it was something to look at and play with as he talked. It was easier than looking at Owen and thinking of losing him. "I was distinctly reminded of... of Lorica," he said, her name still difficult on his lips. "Ben hasn't spoken yet of how his sire died, I'm not even sure what his name was, though Ben said it once. It sounded like 'Care' but I wasn't going to ask him to repeat it." No, because the youth's wound was still fresh and Vincent had shown that even now - centuries later - a name could bring back fresh spoonfuls of pain. "Anyway, he's agreed to train with you, if you accept. He's not a... socially outward young man." Vincent pulled an apologetic face at Owen.
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Owen's expression became surprised and sat somewhere between mild offence and bemusement; he wasn't sure how he should feel about Vincent's words. What did they mean? "Not socially outward meaning... he won't talk to me? Won't look at me?" the fledgling guessed, imagining some nerdy looking recluse shying away in a corner or attempting to pull himself into the back of Vincent's couch the moment he walked into the house. For some reason this painfully shy (rather shrunken) stranger was wearing a knitted wool cap, large glasses and lots of scarves below his buck teeth, too, though none of that made sense for a supernaturally-gifted vampire, no matter how old he was. Still, the image lingered in Owen's brain.
"But he agreed to train with me?" Owen reiterated, his tone somewhat haughty due to the nature of the question. This socially awkward guy was so damaged, Vincent gave him veto power over whether Owen got to train with his sire or not? How rude! Another part of him also knew he was taking these thoughts a step too far, but Vincent had already roused his competitive spirit and it was only further excited by the notion that this Ben and he were somehow competing for Vincent's attention, too (which he knew, logically, they weren't, but his innate possessiveness wouldn't be convinced of this fact just yet, either).
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Vincent gave a little snort of laughter and looked over at Owen as though he'd said a very funny thing with his first two comments.
"I'm sure he'll behave quite normally around you," he said, but shook his head at the last question. "I didn't give him a choice. I told him that I would be training you again, and whatever you preferred was how the arrangement continued. I don't want him to appear as a secret, or anything to be secretive about. He's just... he reminds me of me, during a very bad time in my life. I... I think it's healing for me, to help him. Do you understand?" he asked, looking at Owen with concern, hoping that he would, because if he didn't, Vincent would be forced to let it go.
Owen would always come first.
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Owen stared at Vincent for a moment and then, without saying anything, he merely took the hand closest to him in both of his and slid closer so that he could lean his head on Vincent's shoulder. He understood and if it helped Vincent then it seemed to be a win/win situation, as far as Owen was concerned (no matter how awkward the other vampire seemed to be).