Nighttime Markets

[Malkavian Riddler]

Multi-coloured tents flapped as gusting winds whooped their way up the markets, chilling shoppers who'd come along for a look at the more unusual wares sold at the nighttime markets. The clientele attracted could at times be more peculiar than those who manned the stalls--which was saying something.

At the less popular end, tucked away between a vivid green tent selling miniature cocktails (or 'potions', as the vendor promised) and a garish purple, blue and gold striped tent offering home-made disturbed looking crocheted key-rings, was an un-tented space possessing a single beat-up table. Behind the table stood a yellow-goggled man wearing grey jeans and a ratty fur coat, open to reveal his bare chest. Looking down, there was nothing on his feet.

'Fortune Teller' was scrawled in lazy capitals on a bit of cardboard stuck onto the edge of the table like sticky-tape.

The man was not a man, but a vampire named Digital. And his grin was broad and unsettling, though genuine in its desire to please.

[Black Philip]

The smells were so overpowering. The unassuming young preppy walking down the block looked as though he might gag. His eyes glistened with a certain moisture and had a bit of a glow. Despite his youthful face and neatly combed hair he was dressed rather shabbily. Torn jeans, and bare dirty feat lead up to a torn grey hoodie. He smelt like nature, beasts, and trees. There was something about his eyes that made them look almost red, as if he were a beast himself. He held a brown paper bag under one arm, and a dirty black backpack under the other.

He saw the booth that said "fortune teller," and looked at the man offering them. His face looked inquisitive and assessing before he shrugged saying, "why not?" He moved over to the booth and searched for eye contact. "Hey there," he greeted, tone a bit reserved. "Palm readings? Tarot? The bones?" 

[Malkavian Riddler]

"Coochie-coochie-coo, where are you?" Digital sang, then cackled at his own cleverness because nobody else would. "Everything zooms over people's heads, with a whoosh! and a swoosh!" He gestured wildly, his hands zooming between them from left to right and back again before he slapped his hands down onto the table and leaned over it so he could drop his voice into something more conspiratorial. "But you already know that about people, don't you? You, you're like that wrestler."

Now that they had the youth's current situation identified, they could move onto the future. Or maybe dart sideways. "You would've made a great doctor. Or fireman. Or Australian."

He gave the young creature before him a toothy grin, eyes ablaze behind his goggles, staring intently at him before the gaze dropped to the backpack. "What's in the bag?" he asked, perhaps a little too casually. Most of the voices whispered to leave the bag alone, it wasn't important. Another voice whispered for him to grab it and run. Run!

He looked from the bag back to the face. Back to the bag. Back to the face.

[Black Philip]

Flick was puzzled by his fellow bare-footer, but did his best to follow along. The Gangrel laughed nervously when Digital did; whether or not he got the joke was unclear. His face betrayed at least some confusion. Uneasy eyes darted hither and thither. He might've bolted outright if not for Digital asserting he looked like a wrestler. Flick was tall, and thin framed, so the idea that he could wrestle was laughable. He listened to the next part of the seer's assessment and finally responded.  The youth's dialect was soft and vaguely English, the sound of a man who'd been state side for years.

"Well, I did debate moving to Australia once," he admitted. "Don't think I'd be much a doctor though. Maybe a vet?"

Flick wondered if this "fortune teller" was really one at all, or just a poor raving mad man. It never occurred to him that those categorizations were not mutually exclusive. The goggled eyes were haunting, and yet  they drew the wolf in. When Digital asked him about the contents of his back pack he pulled it close, almost defensively. "My stuff of course," he said, tone suggesting everyone did the same. "I need a place to store my clothes. Do you not have a bag," he asked.

His face was wrapped up in perplexity. His eyes looked almost bloody they were so red, and his mouth formed a curious pout. The brown paper bag crinkled as he adjusted his posture. Flick sniffed the air in Digital's direction, seemingly searching for a scent.

[Malkavian Riddler]

The Malkavian was disappointed to have missed his chance to abscond with the bag. The move did recapture his focus and he nodded as he was told about how the bag contained stuff. He'd known that! He was very good at fortune telling. He would definitely make a lot of money, though he couldn't remember why he wanted it anymore.

"I had a flamethrower once. I didn't have a bag to put it in. Maybe that's why I lost it?" he guessed.

When the other vampire sniffed the air, Digital did the same, only much less discreetly.

"Deep fried prawn heads. Barbecue snake. And... I smell your future! Tomas! We're going to live together, you and I. You and me. Me and you?" Digital scratched his head at the grammatical issue. "Let me just pack up my things." With a fingernail, Digital started peeling back the sticky-tape that held his cardboard sign in place.

[Black Philip]

Flick sniffed more overtly as Digital spoke.  His eyes widened and he took a step back when Digital mentioned the flamethrower. Fear was on his boyish face, and for a second his eyes glowed as brightly as Rudolph's nose. He calmed however, and kept sniffing as the strange man spoke.

He listened as Digital described what he smelled, also getting those scents and many more. He was searching for only one smell though, Digital's, and when he found it he became less afraid. He looked around and leaned in, speaking softly.

"You're a vamp aren't you," he asked. "I sense your beast and you don't smell alive."

At the mention of his true name, the fear flooded back. "How... I..." He stumbled back a bit, but as he watched Digital take down his sign he saw the words again. "Fortune Teller." He'd heard tales of the moon clan, and their uncanny and cryptic insight. His best guess was his new friend was one of them.

"First off. Don't call me that. Call me Flick.," he said casually. " And you see, I don't really have a home. I sleep in the woods." He put the backpack down at his feet. It was now reasonably unguarded.   

[Malkavian Riddler]

Digital finished peeling the sign off the table and folded the cardboard as Flick spoke. He looked up sharply, though with amusement. "Beast? You've mistaken me for you! Unless..." Digital patted himself down, taking extra care to doubly check his crotch in case he'd snuck something in there without telling himself about it, and whilst he was crouched, he realised the bag was now ripe for the plucking.

Either he would live with Flick or Flick would live with him, the details didn't matter, but the bag did!

"Do wolves like to play chasey?" he asked from his vantage point doubled over and speaking from the edge of the table. It wasn't a very deep table, so it was easy enough to extend an arm beneath it and snick! He took off deeper into the markets, cackling all the way, so thrilled that he could almost hear the beating of a racing heart. Almost

[Black Philip]

"Actually we love to chase... Hey! Give that back!"

Flick made a lunge for the back pack, but his fingers tips just lost it to the absconder. He stood up and cracked a few bones, stretching out his body. It would seem Flick wasn't done hunting after all and what an exciting prey! Flick hadn't hunted a Kindred for years, and definitely not on two feet. Then there was the actual bag. Flick didn't have many material items he cared about. He mostly thought they were pointless. However inside the tattered bag was sentimental gold, and Flick wanted it back.

His eyes glowed now fully red. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from inside his hoodie and placed them over his search lights. Mortals would find someone wearing sunglasses at night odd, but far less odd than the eyes of a beast. He leaped over the table with ease, and began the hunt. He weaved and bobbed through stalls, animals, people, and literal shit on the ground. Mortals couldn't help but stare at the graceful homeless man, dancing through the streets and wearing Aviators. All the more odd is for every human he knocked over he said nothing, but for every pigeon, rat and dog inconvenienced they received a "terribly sorry. Can't be helped."

He listened for the chilling laughter and after following it for a while got sight of the strange bag thief. His bare feet and goggles gave him away. The hunter chased his prey through the tents of green, purple and blue. Chinatown was a strange place, but these two forces of nature were making it even stranger.   

[Malkavian Riddler]

Digital ducked and wove expertly through the crowd, darting left through some stalls and out into the other walkway, then zigged and zagged around the crowd. He left a trail of confused people behind him; some of them staring whilst others cried out or shouted at him - mostly in Mandarin, sometimes in English. He was leading Flick away from the depths of the markets and into the shallows, where the cluttered paths gave way to more serene concrete gardens, over which Digital leapt and generally avoided.

He flung himself into an alleyway, surprisingly tight for one person, and would be uncomfortably close for two, though not impossible. He closed his eyes and obfuscated, though not to get away from Flick - who he thought would easily smell him out - but because their game of tag was over and now they were playing hide and seek. It was somewhat unfair to play it with a sniffer dog, so dimming himself made them even. While he waited, he cuddled the bag, knowing it would be rude to look inside.

[Black Philip]

Flick was impressed by how agile his prey was being. The fortune teller had managed to use the scenery to his advantage too, something that had helped to slow down the pursuing dog. Flick lost sight of him around the concrete gardens. A pigeon had flown in his path and as he stopped to let it pass, Digital sneaked away.”Shite,” Flick cursed. "I hope you're happy," he said in fluent pigeon. The bird squawked back something about bread, before Flick had moved out of it's range.

He turned to his best asset and started sniffing for the back pack. Flick hadn’t memorized his new friends odor just yet, but he knew the bag’s smell perfectly. He moved along the path until he reached a tiny alleyway, barley big enough for two people. He'd almost passed it altogether, but at the last second the bag's smell clogged up his nostrils. His nose told him the back pack was right in front of him, and yet, he couldn’t see it. “The bag please,” he said like a disappointed nanny. His eyes searched for what the nose smelt.

[Malkavian Riddler]

First there was a giggle, then there was a transparent vampire and bag in front of him, until finally Digital came fully into view and handed over Flick's prize - being his own possession.

"I don't own a house but I know a place where we can both be happy. Lots of rooms to hide and seek, long corridors to play chasey, and the biggest backyard in the world. Full of trees! Nobody will be using it for months." He gave Flick a hopeful smile before it disappeared, fading into something a great deal unhappier. "I didn't just lose my flamethrower. I lost my people, too. They broke away one and then two at a time, like we were in a bag of crisps and someone was in the mood for something salty."

He nodded at Flick, hoping that the Gangrel would nod along with him.

[Black Philip]

Flick had never gotten used to that dimming discipline, Obf, Obref, Obeaf, oh whatever it was called! He was only a little startled when Digital came back into view. He waited a moment to retake the bag and when he did it was very slow. Did Digital have another prank in mind? Was the bag going to explode? He'd mentioned a flamethrower so nothing was off the table. However, it was just his back back, tattered, old and falling apart. He unzipped it as Digital spoke and pulled out a silver pocket watch. He wound it, and put it back in the bag. Seeing that his treasure was still inside, he forgave the initial theft. Flick thought Digital just wanted to have a good chase, and they most certainly had one. Flick made moves to carry the back pack on his shoulders. He took off the Aviators and put them back into his hoodie. Digital would get to glimpse Flick's true eyes, the eyes of the wolf, but they quickly returned to the boring mortal colors of his human form.

As the member of the moon clan spoke, Flick's heart grew heavy at this tale. He knew a lot about being lonely. Granted, in Flick's case his exile was self imposed but it was nice to meet another Kindred who didn't seem obsessed with the same trivial concerns of the high clans and the ignorant Caitiff. "I'm sorry they all left. I've been alone a long time too." He smiled reassuringly, showing Digital bright eyes and a row of white, mostly straight teeth. Flick's image seemed to alternate quickly between homeless drifter and well spoken son of a businessman.

The wolf thought quickly. Could be nice to hang up my hat for a while. Might even be nice to play chase with someone who can keep up with me.

Flick nodded along, and answered at the same time. "Alright. Show me where we're going. But just one thing, no flamethrowers near me or the bag. Deal?" He thought it was a fair condition.   

[Malkavian Riddler]

Digital watched the wolf with a wolfish grin, noticing the pretty change in eye-colour and absently wishing his own eyes were so nice. He didn't like how they looked and so he wore the goggles, sparing others the travesty of having to look at them as well.

Flick's agreement attracted an exclaim of delight, and Digital whooped. The condition was oddly specific, and he believed came with a great gravity, since Digital adored setting fires.

"I promise I will keep all flames away from you," he said, which wasn't quiet exaclty what Flick had asked for, but the pledge was one that would certainly keep the other vampire safer. "So no making out by the light of a bonfire." He shrugged, then inspiration struck. "Ooh, what about fireworks. Do they count?"

Those kinds of explosions had no flame.

[Black Philip]

"Well," Flick considered,  "As long as you don't aim them at me, I guess that's alright." He smiled, proud of the compromise. Flick looked over his new friend Digital. He was strange. There was no getting around that, but Flick often felt strange too. In a twenty-first century world, the man of nature and animals didn't quite fit in. Men and Kindred defiled nature. They killed the animals. Flick forgave most humans, for as Jacob Marley learned about his chains after death, humans don't know about their beasts until they're Kindred. As Flick looked over the goggled fortune teller with no shoes he saw someone that he could relate to.

"Wanna take me to our new hiding place," Flick said hopefully, his face a bit mischievous and elvish.

[Malkavian Riddler]

Mental note; no fireworks. When Flick agreed with that sexy smile, Digital cackled into the sky and beckoned for Flick to walk with him.

Continued in Academic Pursuits