Roleplay City
Infusco => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => Galvin Academy => Topic started by: Saiketsu on July 29, 2019, 08:36:14 AM
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Reserved
There were seven very bright students in the Fledging an Empire class and Damien was astounded to see that most of them were in their first few hundred years. One student, an ambitious young man with two sires, was only fifty-seven. Still another student was somewhere over four hundred years old with a sire who had passed nearly three years ago and left behind an enormous amount of wealth for her. Most of the students had no sustainable money and had come to the class to learn how to get more beyond thieving. Two of them held temporary jobs within the human population, others had dwindling funds they had saved over their human lives, or relied upon friends, donors, anyone who would help. A couple of them had faced homelessness. One had gone to ground in the 1960's and come back recently to a digitalized world. Every last one of them had at least one fledgling.
Damien had prepared the night's lecture well in advance and, as everyone expected, he had gone above and beyond with his information. He had printed up copies of his own bank statements - the smaller ones, with the account numbers whited out, of course - to give examples of routine deposits into foreign accounts that accumulated wealth. There were documents from his Wall Street broker - a page or two - for each student to peruse. Tonight, however, was the discussion of sustainable deposits and expenditures. They would be doing actual calculations of how expensive it was to have and keep one fledgling and themselves safe and well maintained - costs of purchased blood by week, fines for punishments of broken laws (as back-ups of course), light-blocking technologies, Academy costs, etc.
After the initial greetings that he made to the class - their intimate numbers allowing for a brief reconnection with all of their personal lives and with his during the first few minutes of class - he launched right into the discussion of fledge expenses, thankful that none of them had brought up the recent article in the paper announcing his newest pet project - running as Campaign Manager for Jake McCloud. He preferred to keep his students, his family, his business separate from his politics. There was no need to mix them, after all. He was well aware that the information would reach everyone's ears soon enough and that the announcement would create some issues with some of his staff, his colleagues, and his family, but he was ready for the eventuality of it all.
Damien lead the class with a quiet sort of command, neat handwriting on a whiteboard that he couldn't quite reach the top of. Students would simply speak if there was something they needed to say or needed clarification on, once again the intimacy of the group creating an opportunity for everyone to respect and bond with each other - including with Damien himself. If the side conversation had ever gotten so much that they couldn't focus, Damien would wait, allowing his age to subtly leak into the room with a sense of command, a small smile and a guiding statement as attention returned to the front. "Shall we continue?"
About a quarter of the way into the lecture, he heard the door in the back of the classroom switch open and watched as a familiar face entered the room. Damien didn't miss a beat with his lecture, estimating that a new fledgling would cost roughly $1,350 per day on only bagged blood, proving that consensual feeding was the easiest, most cost effective way to save money immediately. He made eye contact with the other above the wandering eyes of the students, who craned to get a good look at who had walked in unannounced to their classroom, but continued on with their lesson, raising the walls of his mental defenses as he did so as the stranger got settled. "Any questions so far?"
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The suited 'eventuality' that had entered the room and taken an unobtrusive seat at the back gave a minute shake of his head to the final question. He felt it was partly directed at him. He didn't belong in the room, after all, and his presence could have been due to needing answers about something. As far as the curious students in the room were concerned, he could've been just another administrator checking in on the lesson's progress or counting the class attendees. They did that from time to time and, because the Academy was so new, people visiting the class because they were auditing it to see if they liked it was nothing new.
Some of that was partially true, but the information shared within this class would do him no good. He knew all of the course content from experience and had figured out the rest on his own. Admittedly, through luck occasionally, but it had served him well enough. The real reason he was here was not administrative; it was curiosity. He wanted to know about this lecturer, Damien Evans. He wanted to see him in action, get a feel for his character, watch him teach and learn a little more about him. Was he dangerous? Just how rich and intelligent was he? Was the threat he posed ongoing or would it be limited to the confines of the upcoming election? What did he know about Jake McCloud that could have possibly made Damien agree to manage his campaign??
Actually, there were questions. Lots of them. But none of them important enough to interrupt the lecture. He watched and listened, hands linked upon his crossed knee and a polite smile gracing his lips if Damien looked at him. He was otherwise still and attentive, keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being.
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Damien appreciated the vague shake of his head and decided against announcing the presence in the back of the room. He turned his attention back to the students and went on as if nothing had happened, though he definitely felt more watched than usual.
As they determined their sums and took their notes, Damien moved into goal setting with money in mind - everything had a price and it was the sire's job in the early years to determine what to pay based on their desired effects. Some sires liked to travel often - as Lucretia did - moving from town to town or country to country in search of culture, community, sustainability. Others - like himself - preferred to set up in a city and establish a home presence. Each of these options had a price to pay. Travelling may have been more expensive up front monetarily - plane tickets, hotels, supplies to stay safe - but the money also covered the anonymity of a vampire life, essentially trading currency for safety in movement. The other option opened the door to risk of exposure and destruction. Worse, Damien said, it allowed your enemies - should his students have any - the opportunity to track one's whereabouts. The silence in the room prompted no further explanation from the professor, who remained poised with an unreadable expression.
Two hours passed easily as Damien spoke, his students asking questions about their own lived experiences (as was encouraged), and how each unique problem created a unique dynamic between themselves, their money, and their fledglings. By the end of the class, they had just begun to discuss investments into the stock market. He gave them the a simple assignment of looking into what options certain companies offered for stock purchasing, and what banks owned the largest amount of money in Switzerland, the Cayman Islands, and Panama. At five of the hour, Damien dismissed the class, knowing that Marcus, the youngest vampire in class, would be interested in asking him something 'quickly' - which of course took several minutes. He quelled the youngling's curious mind as best he could before reminding him that all of the answers would come over time, either in class or through experience. There was a weekend to enjoy, after all.
When the classroom was almost empty, Damien turned his attention back to the 'administrator' with a polite smile. "I didn't foresee you of all people needing an immortal economics class." He approached the younger vampire with an extended hand for shaking. "What can I do for you, Mr. Galvin?"
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Kerr stood as Damien approached and shook his hand firmly, smiling at the older vampire. He would never be compelled to his knees before an ancient again, thanks to Charon's intervention but Kerr could still feel Damien's age pressing against him; it was like walking into a gust of wind strong enough to push him a few steps back, intangible if he aimed his body like a knife to cut through it but powerful enough to sway him if he opened his arms and leant in. He had no intention of doing that.
"Please, Monsieur Evans, call me Kerr," he invited, releasing Damien's hand and sliding both of his into the pockets of his black trousers. He'd dressed simply, pairing the pants with shiny black shoes and a black belt, with a long-sleeved teal business shirt tailored to fit his muscular torso. The top few buttons were undone at his throat, hopefully presenting him as stylishly casual. Non-threatening.
"And no, I don't need an economics class but I was curious about you and it felt like a good place to start. You have an admirable rapport with your students. You and I have gravitated in similar circles for so long yet we've never crossed trajectories. I thought it was time to rectify that - if you have a little time to spare, that is? If not, well," Kerr shrugged, acting as if he hadn't deliberately come to make Damien's acquaintance and couldn't care less if he got to converse with him or not.
Entirely the opposite was true, of course.
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"Yes, of course," Damien nodded with an amused expression. "I'd be honored, but please, call me Damien. Evans is simply the name I keep on record for the comfort of humans. It helps to cement my stories together and provides me with fewer lies to keep track of." He unbuttoned his jacket, a shade of maroon so deep it could almost pass for black if not for the onyx-colored cotton button up with a short button-down collar, and sat at the edge of the desk at the front of the room. He allowed one leg to dangle off the desk while bracing himself on the ground with the other, his hands clasped neatly on his thigh.
"Yours tends to be a very difficult trajectory to cross, especially these past few years." He said it with a polite smile, meaning no offense to the other. "Here one day, gone the next, assumed dead, before suddenly reappearing again. You must have given your family quite the fright." He thought of young Ben in that moment, and remembered the feeling of losing his own sire and the self-destructive tendencies which accompanied it - a fleeting memory. "They must be ecstatic that you've returned."
Damien eyed the other curiously and said nothing more. There had never been a clear explanation of how Kerr Galvin returned from the dead - whether he had gone missing, vacationing after his role as the Luminary, or simply disappearing from the face of the earth. Rumors abound, of course - the ex-Luminary doesn't just go missing and no one says anything. He was most certainly interested in the explanation behind the disappearance, but etiquette reminded him not to let such things pass from his lips. It was, after all, none of Damien's business.
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Kerr had always found the truth to be the most effective foil to lies that could get confused but he didn't say so as he followed Damien to his desk. He felt large and boorish compared to the smaller man, his austere bone structure lending Damien an air of regality and unwarranted fragility when compared to Kerr's own bulkier frame.
After a glance around, he grabbed one of the students' chairs and placed it in front of Damien. When he sat, he was below the other's eyeline but that felt appropriate, given Damien's vampiric superiority and Kerr's intrusion on his space. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them thoughtfully along his thighs as he listened to Damien's fishing commentary, a smile growing as hints continued to drop. His disappearance into another dimension had been broadcast openly; Damien seemed to want to know more.
"A fair point," he chuckled as he conceded the difficulty of crossing paths with him. "My two fledgelings are happy, yes. None of us expected me to go away on Oligarchy business and return to find out I'd been mourned because blood bonds don't penetrate inter-dimensionally! It's... taken a while for reality to reassert itself, I must admit. The world moved on without me. This place happened," he murmured, gesturing to the walls of the Academy around them, "again, to my horror."
Kerr's grin was broad as he shared the embarrassment he'd felt at attending the opening of his own 'memorial' facility. No-one had understood it; the concept defied logical explanation and imaginative reasoning. "And, of course, Ben developed a taste for politics. Where was that ambition when I was Luminary?" he chuckled, dropping his own hints about one of the topics he was here to discuss; the election.
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He listened to Kerr's tale, remembering only vaguely that Ben Samson had made a comment about it at the opening of the Academy. Back then, his thoughts were too distracted with Rachel and with Samson's announcement of his campaign against Jake. Now, as he received the story from Kerr himself, Damien found himself enrapt in the details too strange to be fiction and without much to say.
Such things as inter-dimensional travel and dealings were too far beyond his scope of comprehension. Of course there were other dimensions, spaces where the demons and the angels and other creatures thrived - he was aware of that, if nothing else - but the more he thought about entering such a world, the more unsettled he felt. Upon thinking about the differences in time's structure between dimensions, a chill ran through him, gripping the back of his neck. He tried not to let it show, a simple readjustment of his shoulders instead.
Confirmed by Kerr, Damien accepted this story as truth, honored to have it related to him in so casual a setting. He had never been given pretense that Kerr or Ben were anything but honest men (though he had no personal dealings with them as of yet), and while the knowledge of the occurrences may be a hard pill to swallow, Kerr's recant of the reality of it was not. As Kerr reminded them about the memorialization of the Academy in which they both sat, Damien smiled.
But as the conversation shifted to Ben Samson, however, Damien felt Kerr's angle arrive, surprised it had come up so quickly. He had been expecting quite a bit more dance between them. Damien's smile didn't dissipate but neither did it touch his eyes. "Yes, it seems as if you've inspired such a strong sense of responsibility in both of your fledges. You should be proud." His comment was even and without hint that he knew where Kerr was trying to head. "It seems they've certainly taken a page from your book."
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Kerr scoffed, settling back into his chair and deciding to share a little more about himself with Damien. Perhaps there'd be some quid pro quo.
"Responsibility... possibly. But I never had any political ambitions whatsoever, that hasn't come from me," he chuckled. "They may have seen me forced into political roles but they never saw me desire them."
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Damien shrugged casually. "Perhaps his ambition didn't come from you, but perhaps your duties to this city have inspired something in him to follow that same path you trotted. Perhaps it is a way to allow him to feel closer to your legacy. We are all guilty living in our sire's memory from time to time."
It hardly seemed necessary to explain who Damien was referring to. They both knew they were sidestepping the issue at hand, weighing their perceived opinion of the other against what was right in front of them. Damien bore no ill will towards either Kerr or his fledge, despite them being in political opposition for the next three months. Of course, he didn't think either of them should rule the city - he had said as much back when the Oligarchy thrived, Kerr's age being one of his biggest disadvantages - but that wasn't the topic here. Here, it was Jake against Ben, both of whom were too young to govern a major district full of immortals, let alone an entire city. Damien of course kept that thought to himself, envisioning the bigger picture.
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Kerr tilted his head and gazed admiringly at Damien, struck by his poignant words. We're all guilty of living in our sire's memory - shadow? - from time to time. Fuck, he hoped not but there was a certain level of poetic miasma within him that told Kerr he was. Both of his sires. A predator/monster cycle he feared succumbing to and did his very best to avoid. In doing so, he was giving that thing the acknowledgement it didn't deserve, the power over him he needed to deny for the sake of his dignity, humanity and sanity.
"It's the last thing I want for Ichabod and Ben but here we are anyway," he admitted, shrugging resignedly. He folded an arm across his body so that his other elbow could rest upon it and he could support his chin in his hand, squinting assessingly at Damien. "I know Ben's young but he has a generous heart, an intuitive ability to improve a situation and an intellectual understanding of what's required to make equitable decisions. But I'm in love with him, I've known him intimately for over a decade and I'm biased. What's your excuse for believing in Jake?"
The question wasn't asked with malice but with genuine curiosity, his posture reflecting the same emotion. He had personal experience with Jake in a position of power and it wasn't bad. He was certainly more of a fan of Jake's than Ben would ever be. He wanted to know what Damien saw in him, though.
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So they had arrived at the question at last. Damien drew a needless breath in and looked away from Kerr, his grey eyes circling the room in thought. He had expected the question to chase him ever since Jake had offered him the role two weeks ago, but hearing it for the first time from a stranger's tongue was something he could never fully prepare for. He had practiced telling Pierre, telling Rachel, telling Phineas, Andre, Michael, and Greg. Each time the reciting of the reason and the keeping of his private thoughts had gotten easier. But Kerr was not of his bloodline and wasn't on his payroll; he was the partner of his employer's adversary. This was much different than just some random reporter. His gaze fell back onto Kerr.
"Well it's most certainly not because I am in love with him." A hint of a crooked smile lingered on his face. He chose his words calmly, carefully. "When you were the Luminary of this city, you kept Jake McCloud on as the Oligarch for vampires. You believed in his abilities, no? I might ask you the same question." He was hoping to just skim the surface of the topic, to provide Kerr with an answer that was just satisfactory enough to satiate that curiosity and relent in his quest for answers. The real reasons Damien had for choosing to help the incumbent District Leader, of course, were ones that he had not even shared with Jake.
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Kerr chuckled appreciatively at Damien's first comment, finding the smile that accompanied it rather endearing. He wasn't handsome in a way that appealed to Kerr but his demeanour, humour and charisma enhanced his attractiveness.
"You might," Kerr agreed, nodding as he conceded that Damien could, indeed turn the question back on him. "But that would be an ineffective method of dodging the question because I'd just ask you again, and only answer once you have."
He smiled as another breath of amusement flowed out of him, his shoulders lifting once - minutely - with the mirth twinkling clearly in his brown eyes. He was quite willing to speak to his opinions on Jake but he'd asked Damien first. Deflecting wouldn't do at all.
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The corner of Damien's mouth lifted, but his eyes mirrored none of the mirth that Kerr displayed, his expression otherwise steady. In any other context, he would have found the comment funny, playful even, something he could expect from his son. As it was, a great debate raged inside of him. He looked at Kerr for a long, uncomfortable moment, his thoughts still masked, but his age now written deeply in his young features. Wordlessly Damien slipped off the desk and crossed at a human's pace to the door of the classroom, clicking it shut and locking it only after he had stood casually out in the hallway for a few brief seconds.
Kerr Galvin had been the city's Luminary for years, an Oligarch beforehand. While Damien had lived in the city, he had never seen eye-to-eye with city policy nor with those who enforced it. For much of his time in the city, he relied solely upon himself and his own for protection, employment, and connection. More so than any other, this was the reason that his path had never crossed with Galvin's: lack of trying. He had always enjoyed living under the political radar, but as Aquillia Industries had grown into an international conglomerate, his anonymity was compromised. Still, Damien tried to remain out of the political field as much as he could, choosing instead to launch headfirst into biomedical research, even when the opportunity to seize a District arose at the fall of the Oligarchy.
As it was, Damien had no reason to distrust Kerr beyond his own general suspicion of anyone outside of his lineage. After Nikolai's betrayal and consequential fall out, he had determined that trusting outsiders was risky - and he was already taking a risk with Jake and Lisa-Joe.
"I am a very private man, Mr. Galvin," he reminded Kerr formally, not fully convinced that he was ready to share his personal business with yet another person. He folded his arms over his chest as he crossed back towards the desk where the younger vampire sat. Damien dragged the roller chair from behind the desk and placed it in front of Kerr, putting himself at eye level with the ex-Luminary. The elder sat and lifted his right heel over his left knee, his right leg square to the ceiling and his position rather large. Damien lay his arm on the desk almost casually, resting his other arm over his ankle.
He licked his lips and spoke before he thought too much about the words. "I need to know that what I am about to tell you will remain between you and I." Damien's gaze was piercing, as serious as he could manage with the choke of fear building in the back of his throat. And then, realizing his error, he corrected himself. "And Ben, of course. But never anyone else, and never aloud. Not even with Ichabod."
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Kerr's amusement faded as he watched Damien's sober perimeter check. A sense of unease festered in his gut, possibly due to the dignified anxiety being broadcast by his elder. Precautions were sensible if the information he was about to receive was sensitive, though he hardly expected someone he barely knew to unburden his soul within this short a time knowing one another. His interest was certainly piqued, as his gaze followed Damien's return and subsequent positioning before him.
"I'm used to the transparency and scrutiny that public office enforces. I've been accused of being too open," Kerr answered wryly. 'Oversharing' was the term Ben exasperatedly used but Kerr was philosophical about it all. Having more information was helpful, in his opinion. People could judge him as they saw fit, he only ever revealed what he was comfortable with.
"But I can promise you my absolute discretion," he agreed with a firm nod, appreciating Damien's concession that whatever he was about to learn he could share with Ben. It was most likely a matter of convenience. Though he may never voice the incoming information, it could be in his thoughts, which Ben had the proximity and ability to read at any time. He'd be the only one to find out incidentally, however, and Kerr was resolved to that.
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Damien sighed through his nose and closed his eyes, throwing a blanket of quiet over the unease of his thoughts. It was only once the frantic restlessness had settled down in the back of his psyche that the elder vampire opened his eyes and regarded his companion with a renewed composure. He shuffled his thoughts like a deck of cards, laying out the ones he needed most and translating them into English, or sensations that the other may understand, organized, one after the other until the made some semblance of logic. Kerr would see none of this, of course, fed only what Damien wanted him to see when he chose.
Damien brushed against Kerr's mind as politely as he could manage, suppressing much of his own barriers in order to attempt to establish a connection. He could have effortlessly thrown a line into the younger's mind and begun the tale, but decided against it. In his experience having the option to refuse the invitation created for better, truer relationships, ones based on an equal footing. Rather than a mental intrusion, it would feel like a hand extended for a shake, a softly ringing telephone. If he so chose, Kerr could ignore it, defend himself against feeling anything at all, leaving Damien to do nothing but recoil the tether, though it would only prove that Kerr Galvin was not the man to put his trust into. And at least then Damien would have his answer.
If Kerr accepted his mental invitation for connection, his voice would appear in the younger's mind as surprisingly unaccented American English, with a lower pitch and greater maturity than his actual, audible voice. If Kerr refused, Damien would still pose his statement outloud.
"I ask you this next question because you were once the pinnacle of justice in this city. I ask you this because such notions of justice are still important to some of us.
"What would you do if you faced an unknown creature who threatened death and worse upon you and your fledges?" Damien meant the question as only semi-rhetorical, though he sought no advice. He would let slip the memory of Pierre's scorched and melted flesh, Rachel's expression of palpable terror, and Laurent's evil grin slip through their established connection.
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Kerr welcomed the mental connection. Having been sired with a mix of ancient and newling blood, he'd developed his mental skills quicker than most - mostly because he was bombarded by his own fledgelings and sire, who had natural proclivities to equal his imbued strengths. He'd learnt early how to block, attack and compartmentalise his thoughts and to sort all the mental triggers that came at him from his family (generally in multitudes and in inappropriate ways, times and places because he was such a fun target to taunt) in the same manner .
Four hundred years on, he'd perfected a safe, externalised environment in which to communicate mentally. His mind met Damien's in a place of purity, where thoughts were less words and more like impulses of intent, flavoured with emotions and imagery transferred faster than a human heart could beat. It was outside of his mind and Damien's, suspended somewhere in between in a netherworld akin to a room cloaked in velvet curtains, with ornate chairs and their meticulously constructed mental selves seated comfortably for the exchange - representatives that held only that which their owners deemed appropriate for trade, protecting their truer selves, thoughts and souls deeper in their actual minds.
Anything, to protect them, he answered simply, confused about where this was leading but interested nevertheless. Every emotion he felt he allowed to travel to Damien.
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"As would I."
He paused in indecision of which point to bring up next, knowing that he walked a very fine line between explaining himself and betraying Jake. "When Jake McCloud asked me to run his campaign against Ben for Central, I hesitated. In the past I have purposely tried to remain out of politics for the sake of my lineage and my... partner." He could have said 'girlfriend', but the word felt very foolish to him, immature. Rachel had lived with him now for the better part of five years and they knew each other more closely than they could explain to the other, knowing the ins and outs of each others behavior as strangers, friends, and now as lovers. "I am of a different political practice than those present in this city. As you may be aware, I don't believe that anyone so young should be governing a city of immortals who range from a few days to a few thousand years. But I am a minority in that." Damien flashed a smirk at the other. "That includes Jake and Ben as well as yourself."
"Jake has his own reasons for asking for my assistance, the details of which I cannot tell you. But after consideration of my own situation, I agreed... under certain terms."
Damien inhaled slowly. "My partner is being... hunted by some kind of demon whom we know little about." He watched Kerr steadily for his reaction, once again treading carefully through what he needed Kerr to understand without giving away too much about Rachel's situation, Jake's trust, or his own personal interests. "She had been abducted and... tortured... until she escaped and found me. Over the past five or so years I have taken a number of drastic measures to ensure the safety of my people. Because of this, the demon has not surfaced since he tried to destroy my fledge, Pierre."
As he spoke the elder passed along images and knowledge through their bond, like putting pictures down on a table between them for the younger to peruse. Rachel's frantic escape and finding her in that alley. Nikolai's betrayal. The house on Alcott Road with its panic room, closed circuit television at the entrances and edges of the property. Rachel's daytime restrictions. At the mention of Pierre, Damien slipped Kerr the memory of seeing his last remaining fledge laying on a table, covered in blood that refused to penetrate burned flesh muddled with melted rubber and flaking, ashened skin that turned to dust as they tried to bandage him. It was not a silent memory, and Damien never tried to make it one, Pierre's agonized groans and hisses echoing as a reminder to Damien why he did what he did. He did, however, hold down the memory of his panic and anger, understanding that it was not the point of showing this particular memory.
"Upon discussing payment with Jake about becoming his manager, I erroneously thought that he would provide me with the resources of Central to help track down and kill this demon. Jake refused my request."
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Kerr's eyebrows lifted and he bled surprise into their mental connection as Damien said he didn't believe 'young' supernaturals - like him?! - shouldn't be in charge of the city's politics. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to be aware of such an opinion without having a conversation with Damien before tonight. Was it because it was only logical to assume all near-ancients were elitists? Did that mean Damien thought he'd done a poor job as Luminary? He wasn't game to ask.
He watched the slideshow of images with a growing sense of unease, disturbed by the terror, the misery, the violence on display. All that because of one demon? Their faces weren't overly familiar to Kerr but the beings he was observing came to him with attached emotion that told Kerr how important they were to Damien. The precautionary measures inside the stately home became a horrifying movie memory of a vampire in inexplicable pain. His wound wouldn't heal? The fact that Damien's nearest and dearest were permanently scarred by this single demon proved he was inconceivably dangerous.
And then Damien dropped his bombshell. He'd agreed to front Jake's campaign on the understanding that Jake would help him with this devastating intrusion... and Jake had refused? Kerr's mouth fell open and his eyes widened at Damien. He was serious but Kerr couldn't believe it. Apart from the fact Jake was a businessman first and foremost, he never turned down an excuse for a fight.
Why did he back out? Did he give you a reason? I mean, apart from the fact he agreed to it - which I assume he did - isn't he your district leader? Doesn't this situation present a direct threat in his district?
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He felt Kerr's surprise but didn't attend to it, the topic to be addressed at a later time. At the younger's questions, Damien shook his head.
"Jake hasn't backed out, but rather explained to me that he can't simply use the city resources and manpower of Central to go on a personal demon hunt. Especially not with an election so close, not after the West." He gave Kerr a knowing look."He has assured me that he is doing all he can legally and professionally to help find him.
"I live in the East District. From what I can tell, based on what my own private investigators have found, there is no 'Laurent' or 'Adam Craiton' registered in the city. So he either doesn't reside within the city or has another name we are not aware of. Both are likely true, considering the type of things he does." Damien didn't elaborate.
"The only reason anything has changed in the past few years is because..." he hesitated again, shifting his position and breaking eye contact with the other. It was not a comfortable thing to discuss with anyone after almost four hundred years of being alone. His instinct had always been to not let anyone know - not even Rachel. Falling for the woman he had promised to protect from an evil fate. Nightly he fought with thoughts that he was no better than a gaoler, keeping her locked in a house during the day because at least then he could physically protect her from the demon that hunted her. And now they were more than Ward and Warden; they were consensual lovers, slowly stemming the bleeding of festering wounds that neither of them realized they had.
But Rachel was human, denied the right of living a human life. Damien had the means to provide her safety, housing, stability, everything she could ever need. And that had always been the plan: to kill Laurent and set Rachel free back where she came from with enough stability to sustain her for a lifetime - away from the city that almost killed her.
Now things were different. He hadn't found Laurent like he said he would and years had passed. Rachel aged. Pierre suffered. And all the while Damien struggled with keeping his word to them both.
"Rachel has recently started going out during the day with a bodyguard, exposing herself to the possibility that Laurent could find her again." He looked back at Kerr. "I can't deny her the need to leave the house, but neither can I do anything should she be taken or killed in broad daylight.
"By running as his campaign manager, I have put myself in a place of visibility that appears vulnerable with the hope of luring Laurent out into the open, expediting the process. He will think I am distracted, getting comfortable. It is what he is waiting for."
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Kerr was both impressed and appalled that Jake was suddenly so upstanding that he wouldn't push the limits in order to help out his campaign manager. As far as Kerr believed, if using his district's resources to help numerous citizens' lives improve wasn't justified, he didn't know what they were for. Posturing? A representation of safety that couldn't actually be counted on in a time of need? Surely he'd go to a bit of extra effort if any one of his constituents requested it - let alone his campaign manager?
Then he learnt that Damien didn't live in Jake's district. He lived in Charon's. That made this all the more exasperating. If Jake wasn't going to be any help, why not go to one of the oldest vampires in the world, who was obligated to help Damien out, as his DL? Laurent or Adam Craiton may not be in the city at the moment but that didn't mean he shouldn't apprise Charon of his situation; Kerr knew he'd help. His network resources and strength of force far outweighed Jake's, anyway.
Kerr longed to know exactly why things had changed in recent years but was left unfulfilled... though the way in which Damien spoke of Rachel and his sheer terror at imagining her demise gave him the answer he sought, essentially. A near-ancient in love with a mortal girl? With an intensity that reeked of despair over her fragility, it seemed. Kerr's sentimentality was tweaked and his heart warmed. Love gave strength and weakness in equal measure, because of the joy of it and the potential for desperation at its loss. He admired Damien's admission of vulnerability and appreciated his sharing of this tale. He communicated the depth of his appreciation as a powerful vibration coloured with all of these emotions.
And there it was at last; the answer to Kerr's other question. Why not abandon Jake after he found out he'd be getting nothing in return for his work? Because campaigning for Jake did give Damien something. He wasn't sure it was an adequate consolation but that really wasn't his business and Damien was a big boy (and certainly old enough to decide for himself what benefitted him and what didn't).
The things we do for love, indeed, Kerr murmured, his physical smile bittersweet to match the sentiment he expressed. He was sympathetic to Damien's plight and he reflected admiration at him as well. I understand your anxiety. They will insist on living their lives - our lovers - without the slightest regard for how they carry our hearts with them. His smile was indulgent but it faded as his mind returned to Damien's situation with Jake.
You should alert Charon to your plight. I'm confident he'd be more assistance than Jake, anyway. Do you resent Jake and being his campaign manager now? Do you feel he deceived you? he asked curiously, wondering at what point in their arrangement Damien realised his wishes for assistance wouldn't be met.
-
At the mention of love, Damien instinctually recoiled, feeling suddenly too vulnerable and exposed. Kerr would most likely feel a bashful withdrawal for only the briefest of moments, almost imperceivable as Damien tucked the feeling down deep somewhere far away from him and re-established himself as secure and calm in the conversation.
Love had never been and would never be part of the equation between Rachel and himself; it couldn't be. Rachel had been denied too much in her life to also be denied the rites of passage of being a human woman: living on her own, lack of supervision, having a career, a husband, children... He had no right to ask for anything that would take any of that away from her. Damien would never be so selfish, despite his growing fondness and protectiveness of her. And yet...
He had begun to spend many of his days embracing her in their bed, talking about things that would make her laugh, enjoying the feel of his lips in the corner of her eye more than anything he could remember. She brought out of him a tenderness and a warmth that he had forgotten he could experience. He had the habit of laughing again, looking on his cell phone at strange fish found at the bottom of the sea, naked with her curled on his chest. He took her to the beach and found her clamshells ringed with purple and teased her with stinking crab husks. During the day, he would lay on her chest, cuddling one breast and listening to the beating of her heart as she stroked his hair. Damien would often lose himself in the feeling, remembering (imagining) what it was like to have a pulsing heart as he drifted to sleep.
There was no vibrancy of life with him; beyond what money could buy he had so little to offer her, his own life lacking in the complexity that made life worth living.
Damien chose not to acknowledge the comment about love anymore than he already had (and completely unsure of how to!). He chewed on Kerr's response for a brief moment instead. The comment about Jake, however, confused him considerably, his furrowed brow reflecting this. "Jake has done no wrong by me. I had gambled on his rashness and his impulsive desire for blood to give me what I wanted: the access to potentially confidential city documents and city personnel to hunt and kill a demon in an act of vigilante justice." He passed images of the conversation he and Jake had that night through their tether to color in the details of what Damien had missed, especially the staredown that had taken place between them, antagonized by Damien himself. The elder had presented the Central District Leader with a direct challenge, despite knowing that hunting demons now has political implications at the time, and Jake McCloud had taken the higher road.
"In a gesture of maturity and growth, he denied my request on fair, political grounds: he would not justify a manhunt as I described. Instead, he asked for the information to pass around to the other District Leaders and the City Ward, with his own personal team doing the bulk of the investigating separate from the city's resources and funding. More than this, he will not tell me. He has assured me, however, that he is doing this regardless of my status in his campaign. My agreeance to be his campaign manager has everything to do with my personal decisions rather than his repayment of my skills. Of the two candidates, Jake has more political experience and a history of command to back it. Besides, while Ben has cultural and intellectual capital and sway with the development of this academy and the Lovebite app, it seems that the position for his campaign manager was already filled." Damien gave Kerr another crooked smirk, allowing a touch of humor to coat the sentiment. His agreement with Jake had also just come as a sudden opportunity that Damien recognized may be a means to an end.
"Charon, on the other hand, strikes me as quite... laissez faire... about such matters. That is simply my perception, though. i haven't had enough dealings with him to know better. Even if weren't true, however, what would I then owe him in return? I'm sure he's no more interested in money than I am, and I am not particularly fond of the idea of owing favors to immortals thrice my age. I am accustomed to relying upon myself and mine, not the resources and wisdoms of others. Why would Charon waste resources upon a personal issue for a human? As far as we can tell Laurent hasn't come after anyone else in the city - there have been no more human trafficking situations reported in or around the city to the mortal police force since the early 2000's. Besides I also have no solid evidence that Laurent still lingers near the city."
-
Kerr watched the images of Jake's interaction with Damien curiously, fascinated by the power play between the two. The fact that Jake displayed the cooler head in the situation was, frankly, astonishing to Kerr. It would've been a standpoint he expected from Damien, though he had to admit that didn't know him outside the impression he was getting from this conversation. Even so, this was Jake they were talking about. 'Mature', 'fair' and 'high road' were definitely not terms generally used in company with his name.
Damien didn't acknowledge the fact that he could've represented no-one in this battle for Central, Kerr noticed. Yes, Jake was more politically-tested and Ben's status depended largely on his civil and cultural influence but neither of those were convincing arguments as to why Damien should even pick a side - especially when he didn't even reside in the district in question. He also didn't particularly believe in either of them, as he'd previously stated - they were both too young for Damien's tastes. It was very odd.
Still, Kerr had to smile at the notion he might've worked for Ben except Kerr was already in the role. A gentle lie but it filled Kerr with warmth that he would bother. It wasn't as if he knew exactly what he was doing as a Campaign Manager but he'd been at it earlier than Damien. He'd organised interviews for Ben in the supernatural publications, taken out advertising in those same outlets and plastered the streets with Ben's face and subtle slogan - 'Strength In Unity'.
Out in the mainstream world, they couldn't talk about the election or be too obvious, so Kerr had done the greatest amount of campaigning at the Academy and in the Luminary, by ordering paper cups with Ben's face and 'A vote for Ben Samson is a vote for the future of Central District!' on them. When Brannigan's gave out free blood every night, it was in cups that offered a positive connection to Ben, so that everyone would vote for him. As the election drew nearer, posters and infographics about how and where to vote would appear in all of the supernatural establishments he'd got to agree to it, a community event would take place in a city square (kind of like a fair with carnival games, sugary foods, sample bags and cups of animal blood - all of it free because people loved getting free stuff) and a public appearance at a supernatural rally would happen. He hadn't thought of anything else - yet - but there was still time.
Alright. I get it; you still want Jake to win, even though he won't run off half-cocked with you. You admire him. But I think you've misjudged Charon. He's not laissez-faire, he's truly neutral - but that's not to say he doesn't have passionate opinions and a desire for a good story. I've always got the impression that anything different and new is exciting for him, given how long he's been around. You might owe him a favour afterwards but you're also a resident in his district. I predict he'd be intrigued enough to help but I could be wrong. There's only one way to find out... ? he hinted, grinning at Damien and turning his head slightly sideways in a coy gesture of encouragement.
-
Admire is a strong word, Damien thought privately, but made no attempt to change Kerr's mind on the subject of Jake. Before being asked to run Jake's campaign, he had no real preferences as to who held office, knowing how young both candidates were. Quite frankly, he thought both of them needed at least another four or five hundred years under their belts before even considering themselves experienced enough to run part of a city, but as Jake's campaign manager, he kept this thought to himself as well. With his recent socializing with Jake, Damien found himself a bit fond of Jake personally.
Damien had determined that the Black Prince routine of Jake's was all just an act of a young man who had clawed his way up from the bottom, where such ruthless, unpredictable behavior was necessary. He recognized it from his own time as a fledgling in Lucretia's lineage, isolated from any true sense of community. It had no place now in this city, where laws prevented infighting and immortals co-existed together daily. It was one of Jake's biggest faults, but certainly not an unfixable one. It was due to lack of experience and an active history of warmongering and it had to stop. And while Damien didn't feel as though it were his responsibility to set Jake right, he did see the merit in it, regardless of who owned Central at the end of this little dance.
Truth be told, there had been a time where Damien had considered a position in the government of the city, but he hadn't had his affairs in any kind of order then, and the longer he stayed in the city, the farther his path was set against such ventures. He was well aware that the same kind of attention that would draw Laurent out into the open could have been easily achieved by running himself as a contender for the office of Central District Leader. Damien even believed he stood a good chance at succeeding, too. But then with all of the other pet projects he had taken on - the construction of the medical building, the running of Aquillia Industries, lineage matters, not to mention Rachel's new adventures into the daytime without him - he was positive that caring for the constituents of Central was not going to be something he would be able to do properly. So he had accepted the next best opportunity - a hand in shaping a better leader while creating alliances with city powers.
At Kerr's mention of Charon, Damien allowed some of his discomfort to bleed into their connection, none of which was directed at Kerr himself. The way the younger vampire had phrased why Charon would be interested in helping him had rubbed him wrong.
"I've always got the impression that anything different and new is exciting for him."
He wasn't particularly comfortable with accepting help from someone who was fascinated by Rachel's story, the details of her life and nightmare still tender and private. Damien was the only other person who had any inkling of the horrors that she faced outside of the situation and he was loathe to share them - willingly or not. Being as old as he was, Damien naturally assumed that the ancient could slip right past Damien's own defenses without knowing it and retrieve any details he wanted. As if he were providing an excellent source of entertainment to the ancient.
He wasn't looking to intrigue the ancient with a tale of woe; he was looking for resources and support in his endeavors. He hated to think that Charon or anyone in the city would do such things, but he had seen how power, strength, and age made vampires lose their humanity. How many minds had he himself scanned in order to get the information he wanted? How many humans had he killed because they had crossed his path, their blood not touching his lips? Respect for life became a very interesting thing the older he became.
"It's an option," he admitted reluctantly, his face not reflecting the same optimism. "My interest is in gathering as many resources as possible. When I heard that Chtahzus'aak had returned to the West, I considered asking for his opinion on the matter. But now, well. I doubt he would even see me, let alone give me any information that would help me find one of his." Damien shrugged and looked off into the rest of the classroom, reaching out with mental tendrils around the room to ensure that they were still alone in this wing of the facility.
-
Kerr admired the fact that Damien even considered going to a powerful demon like Chtahzus'aak in order to ask about hunting another demon he wanted to kill. It was kind of crazy but definitely ballsy. He would neither encourage nor discourage though, for he'd said enough in promoting Charon as an advocate and he could tell the elder wasn't convinced. Best to back off on that topic.
Really, he'd got what he'd come for - to get a measure of the man and find out why he believed in Jake - so he knew he should probably take his leave. He was enjoying conversing with him, however. His impression overall was that Damien was fair, justice-oriented and devoted to his family. Not unlike himself. Sensing Damien scanning to be sure they weren't being monitored made him aware of how paranoid the vampire was, due to the seriousness of the situation. It roused his sympathy.
An accomplished businessman such as yourself has many resources at his disposal but if I can be of any assistance - perhaps by searching the Oligarchy records for you - I'm happy to help. I have no affiliations or appearances I need to uphold. Hopefully, Jake will have success with his resources so that you may find peace and put this nightmare behind you. Not being able to heal your lover's pain is the worst feeling and greatest helplessness, I know, he empathised, imagining Rachel's wounds must be equivalent to Ben's brutalisations by Themba and Lazarus, all of which he'd had to watch and coach Ben through without being able to do anything directly. It had broken his heart twice.
-
Kerr's sympathy for the situation was appreciated and Damien let him know with both a mental echo in their connection and a sad smile. He wasn't familiar with discussing the feelings of his own helplessness; it was something he tended to ignore until the worry took him in the small hours of the morning when Rachel had fallen asleep beside him and he was alone with the panicked thoughts. Hopelessness and grief had driven him mad in the past and the familiar taste of it lingered bitterly in the back of his mind, the reminder of how useless he had been to stop destruction before when Lucretia and their collective family were alive. Now, for Rachel's sake, his moments of despair were kept from airing, locked away from her in order to create room for his confidence. Laurent would be found and killed, no matter what.
Laurent, as far as Rachel had told him and he had found out for himself, was only one demon. Damien had a small empire of immortal kin who supported one another and had access to copious resources. Damien knew he had the upper hand and that was why the demon failed to surface after all this time.
He kept his despair locked tightly away from their conversation and offered Kerr a humble thanks of both his understanding and support. As the younger offered his help, Damien paused, working out how best to seek such a thing from the man who was in direct political opposition to him. While politics could be dirty work, Damien saw no advantage in damaging Kerr's relation with his partner.
"I have many resources, but I know so little about the specific sub-species that demons can take. What would give me the biggest advantage is finding out what kind of demon Laurent is so that we can exploit his weaknesses. But with all the research and money spent, I am unable to narrow down his exact species - hell, even 'demon' is an educated guess at best. We suspect that he is a fire, smoke, or shadow demon, but he has the ability to shape-shift as well. I personally suspect that he is some kind of crossbreed of a fire and smoke demon, but none of the research that we have found supports all of his abilities. It's maddening!
"As your time as Oligarch and Luminary, have you ever come across any such creature who can produce bodily flames in human skin, can shift his form, and can manipulate his own element to ensnare and capture a person?" Tamed hope trickled through him into their connection while fatigue edged into his physical features, a resigned disappointment settling over him. He didn't believe that Kerr would know the answer he sought and was too jaded to have his hopes rise too high, though ultimately that optimistic part of him wondered.
-
The description of producing flames in human skin immediately brought Jenna to mind, the beautiful fire demon Kerr had once loved (but not enough to choose her over Ben). Oddly, it was the second time in a few nights she'd come to mind. She'd been able to make flames dance across her exquisite body at will, but the rest of it... well, he didn't quite understand the rest of it, truthfully. He couldn't hazard a guess until he knew more.
What do you mean by 'shift his form'? Change from human to demon or something else? And what about 'manipulate his own element'? What element? I mean, if he had an element that was witnessed being manipulated, surely that would indicate his exact nature? Kerr proposed, frowning as he sought clarification.
-
Damien smirked and hung his head, Kerr's questions proving that Damien was on a wild goose hunt.
"We have witnessed him change from a human into something resembling shadows - which made us think at first that he was, in fact a Shadow demon. But then the shadows he produces are a solid thing, capable of inflicting injury and harm. Pierre and Rachel had both experienced being sliced and grasped by them. So then I thought it was some advanced kind of shadow demon. But then he was capable of burning a vampire while in human form, transforming part of his body to be engulfed in flames, according to Pierre. He told us that Laurent was in his human skin when he burst into flames and struck Pierre, having shifted back. Rachel has also told us that he was constantly smoking cigarettes, and that he would just disappear and reappear at will.
"So now I have this demon who has an unknown abilities and unknown weaknesses. Though who knows? It might not even be a demon." He hoped that something he had said had triggered Kerr into remembering anything that Damien had overlooked in his hunt. Kerr's access to resources should have been wider reaching than his. If anyone had an idea, it would probably be the man who was in charge of the immortal city, right?
-
Kerr gnawed on his tongue stud as he listened to Damien's explanation, compartmentalising the information he was given and assimilating it with his current knowledge banks. When he was done, he sat forward in his chair, knees splayed and elbows resting on his thighs, his hands fretting at one another in the space between. His expression was earnest, as was his mental voice.
Okay. I agree you've got a shadow demon on your hands. They can absolutely use shadows as a weapon - usually they create them in the form of an animal and they can move independently of the demon, leaping through shadows to attack. Shadow demons can teleport using shadows, too. That would explain the injuries and the blinking in and out of existence.
The anomaly is that fire thing... but the fact that the flames appeared when he was in his human form is significant. It's possible he has two sets of powers, though there's never been a documented case of demon splicing. I'd rule out that theory and assume he's got an artefact of some sort. He wouldn't be able to activate that in demon form, which would explain why it's only been seen when he's human. Did they happen to note any particular jewellery or weapon he was wielding at the time?
-
Damien nodded, Kerr's confirmation of his suspicions gratifying, despite others also saying as much. The experiences of Kerr Galvin had a different weight than those facts found by his private investigators and other fledglings due to his time in the supernatural government. For the first time in several years, he began to feel as if he were on the verge of new knowledge about Laurent.
Damien shook his head, searching his memory for any item of note. "None, besides the shadows. But again, this is what I am told. My fledge cannot communicate in this manner for some reason and Rachel has never mentioned such things. But I suppose that doesn't mean that an item hadn't been present those times." His expression turned thoughtful as he tried to piece together what could possibly make sense.
-
Kerr nodded to acknowledge Damien's thoughts but he felt rather inept, overall. The limit of their hypothesising had been reached for both of them. There needed to be another move made by the demon for things to change and more information to be gathered, yet he was sure Damien didn't actually want that, either, because it would mean more danger for his beloved. It was purgatory and he admired his elder's fortitude in persevering through it, doing everything within his power to escape a situation most would despair and surrender in.
Your fledge can't communicate in what manner? he queried, frowning again as he tried to decipher that comment. His fledge couldn't speak about what he'd witnessed of the demon? Perhaps he'd been bound somehow, just as Kerr himself once had been (but he was free now, thanks to Charon's intervention). The thought of recommending Charon for another facet of Damien's life had the corner of his mouth twitching ruefully. He'd become quite the fanboy of the ancient recently, despite the political friction between he and Ben.
-
"My son, Pierre, is unable to receive or send telepathic messages. It has been this way his entire immortal life and we have no idea why." Damien shrugged, usually content with the fact that he couldn't be read. In the case of rehabilitating Odessa, it had actually saved him and Damien both. "My sire believed him to be a thin-blood because he was my first successful fledge, yet lacked the clear skills of our bloodline." Mental seduction and dominance, telepathic communications, accelerated speed. Pierre lacked them all, though he had always been almost as strong as Damien was, even as a fledgling. He offered Kerr none of these passing thoughts, save for the memory of Pierre asking what Charon had declared at his most recent gathering the night that Sabrina was named District Leader.
"He alone has knowledge of what Laurent fights like, what actually transpired between them, and what was done. Everything that we know has been translated verbally from Pierre or from skimming Rachel's thoughts on Laurent."
-
Quel horreur, Kerr breathed. It wasn't sarcasm. It truly was a horrifying thought to have a fledgeling that he couldn't be completely open with, Kerr was abashed by yet another difficult facet of Damien's life. And they couldn't figure out why he was limited? How frustrating!
The image of Pierre being told of Charon's mental announcement stirred Kerr's memory of seeing him at the party. He'd held a cursory appreciation for the man's physical appearance rather than having a memorable interaction with him. He was hot, but Kerr had been somewhat distracted that night.
I think you have the shittiest luck of anyone I've ever met, Kerr told Damien bluntly, waves of sympathy washing over his companion with the sentiment. And if you tell me you think it's just the price of living a long life, I may feel the need to end mine sooner rather than get to that, because I thought I had it bad with Ben but you, sir, have been dealt multiple shitty hands and I admire your tenacity at working to overcome them!
-
Damien chuckled, Kerr's bluntness overwhelming his typically cold exterior pushing forth a wide grin, teeth and all. He rarely saw Pierre's impenetrable mind as an issue; they had always had their own ways of communicating and had become so good at understanding what the other was thinking or predicting their behavior that it hardly seemed necessary anymore. In fact as the years went on, he was glad that he had been able to provide his fledge with the ability to shield himself, even if it meant that Damien could only reach out to him through their blood bond in the most dire of circumstances. Lucretia had thought nothing of delving into his own deep thoughts - his hatred of her, the dark desires of his heart that he neither understood nor processed, his vengefulness, his bitterness, his spite. She had made it a game with him at the beginning, repeating his thoughts back to him aloud. When he first decided he would create another, he promised to never do such things.
"It's not as terrible as you may think," Damien thought graciously. "We speak many of the same languages, many of them old enough for the younger ones to have forgotten. If we wish to communicate around others, we simply switch our languages around. And I still have our blood bond, though his has always been different than my others were." He supplied Kerr his imagining of the bond he shared with Pierre. The younger vampire had always felt like a small fish on the end of a long line - difficult to find unless he searched for it (which of course Damien was more used to doing). Their emotions were not easily transmitted through their blood either, intensity of emotion being the most salient of factors in whether Damien could feel him. Or pain. "It is what we have always had. He and I know no different way to be. I have had other fledges, none of whom had these same differences. He has fledglings now who cannot connect to him, but can communicate with me as easily and freely as you and I are now."
-
Kerr shook his head in wonder, soaking up all that Damien offered him and communicating fascination in return. That feeling - of Pierre being so far away that he couldn't be felt without determined seeking - was akin to hopelessness for Kerr. How did Damien endure that and then sit there telling him it wasn't as terrible as he may think? Because they could switch languages?? They couldn't feel each other without effort, they couldn't communicate without forethought, they couldn't share on a fundamental level.
He sat back in his chair, deliberately repressing an urge to get up and hug Damien out of sheer respect for what he'd endured. That would be weird... but his admiration was strong. It was a damn shame no-one could be of more assistance to him.
That's unique, alright. You might as well be mortals. Your situation just makes me more grateful that my own two sirings went so well. I mean, I co-sired Ben with another, now-absent vampire - mainly because I was an idiot. It's one of the greatest regrets of my life - but even our diluted bond has less issues than yours with Pierre. How old is he? he enquired, predicting that the pair had been together a long time for Damien to be so cavalier about their communication challenges.
-
Damien still didn't understand Kerr's sympathy and found it a bit odd that, despite him telling Kerr that nothing was wrong with Pierre's abilities, the younger vampire insisted that there was something dysfunctional about the relationship and therefore made Damien's patience commendable. The comment roused a touch of old defensiveness he hadn't felt since just after meeting Odessa in Paris, the ancient continually making passing comments about Pierre being silent, aptly renamed, or somehow inferior to her Nadia. And it reminded him of Lucretia and her disdain for Pierre, but Damien kept this all to himself, hopping to a different subject that Kerr himself had brought up.
"He is almost seven hundred now," the elder answered politely. "But you say that Ben has two sires?" He had heard of such things, but never knew anyone who had performed it. He was fascinated by that and allowed Kerr to know it. Damien had always felt a sort of fierce protectiveness over his fledges, even against Lucretia, and he couldn't imagine a situation in which he willingly sired a fledge with another vampire - well, besides out of necessity of imminent death or something equally as unexpected. "If it's not too bold to ask, how did that occur?" He assumed it was a planned event, of course, and he figured he understood the actual process of it well enough - each take blood, each give blood - but what confused him was more how it worked to have one fledge shared between two sires.
-
Kerr simply looked at Damien for a moment, feeling jealous of the other's ignorance. His entire being was a matter of twos, apart from Ichabod. He was the only difference in Kerr's life, though he didn't treasure him above Ben, they were just differently connected to him.
After his moment passed, Kerr shared his memory of the night he'd made Ben, allowing the elder a glimpse of his awkwardness and nerves as he followed Ben into an anonymous house by the beach, discussed the logistics and then climbed onto a bed to sire Ben with a complete stranger. All because Ben had wanted them both. Arles had drunk from Ben first, then Kerr had drunk before Arles had given his blood and then Kerr had finished Ben off by feeding him. There'd been an unusual feedback loop of shared thoughts and emotions that had ensnared all three of them initially and then they'd travelled to Risk to find sustenance.
The first person Ben had ever drunk from had been Kerr's now-fledgeling, Ichabod. Funny, how his cyclical little life worked, really.
That's the basics of how it went down. Arles first, me second. He's an odd soul and hasn't stayed in Ben's life. Unfortunately, I can't go back and change that night, though I would, if possible. I'd give anything to be Ben's only sire. But he's like me, so I guess it was kind of appropriate. I had two sires as well, and also co-sired my sire's mothers with him. My first fledgelings were unique in so many ways, though, he smiled. Kerr didn't share his other experiences with Damien without invitation. Rather, he dangled the offer of sharing them, if he wished, ready to show the elder the horror of his own siring, his murder of his sire, his torturous siring of the twins... if he wanted to see it, Kerr would show him.
-
Damien watched the memory of Ben's siring and felt that tension in his chest at the discomfort of it. The entire situation felt to him awkward indeed and he doubted that he, himself would have been able to go through with such a situation. He watched the movie reel of Kerr's memory pass before him with fascination, never having witnessed the private moments of a fledge from another bloodline coming into being. Two sires was such a strange circumstance to him, especially that this Arles was in no way connected to Kerr to begin with. Very bizarre indeed. He watched a young, human Ben Samson with a feeling akin to love take the blood from another and then from Kerr's own veins.
A wretched feeling, to have a stranger share that intimate feeling within the body of changing another and becoming one. He couldn't help but imagine how disconcerting it would have been to have another vampire he knew sire a fledge with him. The thought made him frown deeply.
But then Kerr's explanation of his own life was even worse, and now Damien was the one leaking sympathy for Kerr into the connection. Had they not had the connection, Damien probably wouldn't have been able to make sense of Kerr's words. Kerr had sired his sire's mother? Cautiously, and only because the other offered it willingly, Damien extended a mental invitation, watching the younger vampire closely with a curious expression. What he saw would take him a while to accept and fully understand.
-
Kerr took Damien's consciousness - the small part that the Frenchman had offered and used to connect - and pulled it in nice and close to himself as he dug far back in his memories to share the experience of his siring. Held as close as a second skin, Damien experienced with Kerr the horror of being ambushed by a tiny, doll-like child with hungry fangs and wild eyes. His life ebbed out of him as a hideous vampire with bat-like features took over the violent drinking of his life force and then a small wrist was drawn on until it offered no more of his own blood back (a paltry amount, really). It was replaced by a dry, skeletal appendage from which he imbibed not just blood but power.
As his body began to convulse with the agony of a brutal, terrifying, assault of a death, he took Damien with him away from that moment. He was shown flashes of Kerr feeding from sheep, feeling fear and revulsion when refusing to feed from humans, gut-wrenching terror as he watched Angus' hideous face at his mother's throat. Damien swung the axe with Kerr as he separated Angus from his head, trying unsuccessfully to stop his sire killing his mother. There were more flashes of travelling with Sawyl, feeding from animals, tenderly protecting the pretty child vampire from curious stares, ripping him off the open throat of a dying farmer.
The image of two women - slightly older, female-doll versions of his first sire - appeared before them next, their skulls joined together near the tops of their heads (somewhere inside their tumble of ringleted curls) but their bodies weirdly ambulatory. The sensation of hunger pervaded the image and Damien would know Kerr and Sawyl had deliberately starving themselves for this moment. The sire and fledge could work together, each nuzzled a throat, each found a vein, each could feed a mouth but Sawyl's body was small and his capacity for blood was, too. He drank and recycled the blood as fast as he could but he let as much as he drank.
Towards the end, Kerr had to take the greater responsibility for ushering the twins out of their first life and into their second. As they had once been born, they died in a pool of blood, convulsing and contorting as their bodies ceased their prior functions and surrendered to unlife. Almost the minute after they died and re-opened their eyes, tentative feelers were pressed into Kerr's mind, the sensation like wires inserted into soft tissue, strangely electric and severely uncomfortable. They remained gifted at mental communication and Kerr shared a few scenes of the twins feeding or pressing at his brain, controlling his actions to force him to feed on humans when he didn't want to. Fighting them had been futile, in the early days.
Kerr ended the sharing and peeled himself off Damien's consciousness, in such a manner that he could step back and look at the man with a crooked smile both physically and mentally. I've done a lot of things in twos. I've never really thought of it that way, until tonight. As far as Ben and Ichabod are concerned, your restrictions with communicating with Pierre would be most unwelcome. Had that happened with Meinwen and Dei, however, I'd have welcomed it! But, alas, I was never so lucky with my first family. A wry sense of amusement travelled with the thought and then he simply withdrew, allowing Damien a chance to process the inundation that was his origin story.
-
He felt himself bind with Kerr, a familiar but radically uncomfortable feeling, and watched the younger's life and death replay in high definition before him. The terror of the attack, the pain of death, the death of his mother, the child...
The child gave him chills.
The mothers made him flinch, and Damien almost lost the connection. He had known of conjoined twins before, seen them advertised on flyers of old and plastered on eye-catching ads at the bottom of websites. They had always been beyond his understanding. Their presence was almost too much for him, the suddenness of being faced with these two strange women so unexpectedly. He fledged them with Kerr, the mental connections anchor and grow. As he passed through Kerr's history with the strangelings, Damien could remember that old, familiar pressure on his own mind from another to act against his will, something he had grown unaccustomed to in his long years without Lucretia.
It took him a long time to realize that Kerr was talking to him and that he was his own entity again, the image of Kerr becoming solid in front of his physical eyes. Astounded by the ride he had gone on, he found his fingers gripping the arms of the chair in which he sat and forced them to release.
"I have no words," Damien breathed quietly aloud, his breath drawn and separate in his own ears to confirm that he was still within his own skin. "What a strange journey you have been on."
Like Kerr had done, Damien extended his hand to the Irishman and embraced him mentally in the history of Pierre's creation.
He contemplated starting with the memories of his own siring, like a chiral reaction to Kerr's own telling, but decided against showing him anything but the beauty that was Lucretia Aquillia. He jumped away from her once the full sensation of her power, authority, and regality had been felt. Damien kept his own siring private, the domination and rape of his body, mind, and eventually spirit too personal for him to offer any but the closest friends.
Instead he showed Kerr the sequence of events which led to Pierre - Lucretia's complete command of the small army of vampires just outside of Constantinople, a much younger Damien fleeing and heading as far west as he could ride by night, hiding in mountains during the day. His aim had been to return to Toulouse and see what he could find of his relatives. But there had been no family there, his siblings moved on and eventually dead in acts of war, or by natural selection.
He jumped several years, the city of Calais looming. Stalking, alone for the first time in more than 250 years, Damien came upon first Phillippe, who died in his arms gasping for air through a destroyed throat, then Clement, who's heart couldn't handle the change. When he had set his focus on the blacksmith, a healthy specimen of a human with charm to rival any of Lucretia's fledges, Lucretia appeared at his side. Damien watched and Lucretia coached.
Teeth in Pierre's neck, Lucretia's hand on his shoulder. Arm-in-arm with his bride and sire, hopeful and expectant, they watched Pierre die together, awakening with a dragging breath. Instinctually, he placed himself against the young one, whose large arms grappled around Damien's neck in a desperate attempt to understand his new life, teeth aching for blood. Despite criticisms of his method, Lucretia allowed him their space together as the young one adjusted.
His first fledge, those eyes a luminous blue looking at him. It was the only kind of offspring his body could create now.
There was an angry discussion between himself and his sire; Lucretia had thought to take the new one out and leave him in the sun, to detach his head from his shoulders once she became aware of the muteness. Thin Blood, she had hissed at him. Abomination. Damien fought his sire, refusing to submit to her will and standing between them as she tried to end his life, stopping only once he had threatened to make more fledges on his own away from her. At last, she backed away from them, accepting the mute one.
Damien pulled himself back out of the memory, placing himself back in his own seat across from Kerr. "When her entire lineage was burned by hunters in Hesse, 1649, Pierre and I were the only ones strong enough to escape. It was the one and only time that I have been able to penetrate his mind and speak to him. I suspect it is only because I am his sire, and we were both about to die."
-
Kerr smiled when told he'd been on a strange journey. It was true and yet it hadn't seemed quite as bizarre when it was all he knew; absence and hindsight distorted his backward view exorbitantly, and it was validating that Damien acknowledged it in his own polite way. Kerr had felt his stumbles, his shock at what he'd seen and it made him appreciate even more that his elder hung on for the entirety of the revelations.
When it was his turn to watch, Kerr was eager, following Damien as closely as he was able. There was... a hovering feeling, like a held breath and then the scent of war afforded by an army of vampires came to him. It was thrilling in its ferocity, leaving Kerr spellbound to be touching a history far older than his own, to know and see beings likely gone, to live a life he didn't understand.
The two deaths - of fledges never realised, stillborn in their making - were brutal and heartbreaking, leaving Kerr with a sensation of crippling fear in his chest. The third caused him to go still with hope, the devastation of imperfection thwarted by the overwhelming presence of a beastly woman
sire
she's his
sire
trying to destroy Damien's pride and love. Kerr felt it now, the love and appreciation for one so hard-won. He understood partially why there was gratitude and confusion when Kerr was horrified that he was less; how insulting he'd been, how callous. He felt shame wash through him as he recalled his own hurtful offences. Instead of rejoicing that Pierre existed, he'd essentially scorned him, judged he and Damien, without considering how much more there could be.
Kerr nodded as the feelings lessened and the warm, deep voice of Damien filled his mind once more, expelling him from the Frenchman's addictive rawness and the muted brutality that was his past, settling him in the present. It all seemed so... tame, by comparison, their modern lives built around trivial power plays and the mind bending possibilities of potential lost love. The fragility and complexity of emotions was a weighted curse and a soul-mending blessing and it seemed, in that moment, that they were all that was worth fighting for now.
I'm so sorry that I judged you and your childe so harshly. Forgive my ignorance; I see now why you revere him, how precious he is to you. It was ignorant of me to focus on only part of the man and your relationship, when there is obviously so much more between you. Kerr lowered his eyes and his head, silently inviting a reprimand for insensitivity. He'd insulted Damien far more than Ben might have, surely?
-
His apology brought a toothy grin to Damien's face. It had been a very long time since he was truly offended by such things. "Kerr Galvin, you are not the first person to have made such passing assumptions about my relationship with my son, and you will certainly not be the last. All is forgiven, I assure you."
"I see Pierre's silence as a great gift. He is rare among vampire kind, as he can neither hear nor speak psychically. He wasn't fond of Lucretia, who constantly used mental domination to control her legion - including myself. Upon his waking, I was devastated at first, of course. But as time went on, it became evident how lucky he was - he never had to worry about Lucretia's will in the same way as the rest of us. For the first few months," Damien chuckled, remembering the humour and frustration of his sire and fledge, "they couldn't even communicate. They needed me to translate." He offered Kerr the image of an angry Lucretia storming away from them with her hair streaming behind her, a beautiful long-haired, week-old Pierre withholding his laughter behind pinched lips as he hoisted a tent. As the image faded with both Damien and Pierre sharing their first laugh together at Lucretia's expense, Damien continued. "We have always been able to communicate, just not in the ways that others expect. It is amazing the things that we become accustomed to in this strange life." He thought specifically of Kerr's history and hid nothing of his thoughts, reflecting on the twins, the savagery of Sawyl, the uncomfortable feeling of sharing a fledge.
-
Kerr smiled and inclined his head when told he was forgiven, relief settling his shoulders. He enjoyed the glimpse into Damien's past, intrigued by the unique experience of being torn between a sire and a fledgeling, forced to mediate for the two. In his own family, he should've been in the middle - having been the dominant sire of the twins and directly descended from Sawyl - but he'd generally felt like he was on the outer most of the time. Neither he nor Damien had had optimal familial situations and he enjoyed that common connection.
He found the image of the blazing icon that was Lucretia fascinating, wondering about her and her purported 'legion'. What did that even mean? Did it have anything to do with the biological vampirism he and Ben had been pondering last night? Muffling that thought as quickly as it rose, Kerr focussed on Damien's final comment, sending him a wave of wholehearted agreement along with his response.
Indeed it is, he echoed, thinking of a mute fledge, a domineering siress and the hovering misery of a demon still cloaked in shadows, threatening the happiness eked out against the odds. He didn't mask his thinking, either. It was amusing how they were both appalled by their counterpart's circumstances to a greater degree than their own, though Kerr could understand Damien's horror regarding Sawyl, Meinwen and Dei. They'd been quite the freak show, even in vampiric circles of strangeness.
After a moment of satisfied appreciation, Kerr recalled the image of Damien's sire, pressing it at the Frenchman with a silent-but-obvious query about her. What had been her fate? Had she perished with her lineage in 1649 or was she still around to torment Damien? Would he sire Rachel, his mortal love and would his sire object to that as well?
-
Kerr's nudge towards Lucretia didn't surprise him, but Damien had hoped nonetheless to avoid much of the history altogether. Wishful thinking, he supposed wistfully. Still thinking about her with another person present was less intimidating now that he shared much of his life with Rachel.
To Kerr Damien would offer the memories of the feeling of her kiss on his cheek, and then the sight of her robes catching fire as she was chained to a pyre for her fledglings to watch. He even offered Kerr a taste of the pain of their blood bond finally severing before pulling away from the past entirely.
"She died in 1649," Damien stated aloud, retracting his own connection to Kerr at last. He stood up, putting unconscious distance between himself and Kerr and he began to gather his things on the desk. "She had been my lover and essentially my wife for all of my years as an immortal. Hunters found us in Hesse. Of thirty-one fledges, Pierre and I were the only ones to escape." He looked up at Kerr and gave him an almost apologetic smile.
-
"That's terrible. I'm sorry for your loss," Kerr murmured, experiencing a sensation much like someone surfacing from the cold, dark depths of the ocean into the sunlight above as Damien peeled himself away from their connection. He was surprisingly forlorn in the loss of it, having enjoyed the intensity of their bond greatly. "I've never had any experience with hunters, which I'm immensely thankful for. Even more, now that I've seen the horror of your experience. What a devastating way to lose a sire." His sire had died in fire but he hadn't had to stand there and observe it happen, as Damien had.
Watching Damien gather his things afforded Kerr the realisation that their time together was ending. The man had a home to go to and he'd been very generous with his time as it was. Kerr stood and made sure the chair he'd been sitting in was appropriately placed for the next class of students before he approached Damien humbly.
"Thank you so much for indulging my curiosity tonight. I want you to know how much I appreciate the magnitude of your openness," he said, holding out his hand to be shaken, intending to grasp Damien's hand in both of his and kiss each of his cheeks. It was a European-style of address more than an American one but felt appropriate after the vibrancy of their conversation. "When next we meet, let us speak of happier things - such as your company, I'd love to know more about that, too," he smiled. Both he and Ben were keen to know about 'biological vampirism' but he sensed that he'd outstayed his welcome. He didn't want to push so hard he became an unwelcome presence.
-
"Thank you," he murmured with a nod of his head, looking back down at the collected items as he sorted them methodically into specific pockets and folds of his briefcase. He kept his hands busy and built back the walls he needed to properly keep his awakening grief inside. He didn't close himself off completely, but returned the mask of politeness and professionalism, though the friendliness which lingered was significantly more genuine than it had been before their conversation. "And to you as well," Damien passed back, thinking of Sawyl, Meinwen, and Dei, and all of his own lost ones as well. "Regardless of how imperfect they are, they are still our sires and our fledges. It is never easy to lose them, whether we like them or not."
As the topic changed to the wrapping up of the conversation, Damien watched the former Luminary approach him with a hand out. "Well, I was honored to have such a responsive and receptive audience." Damien turned to give him a shake, expecting the typical, formal American farewell. He slipped his hand into Kerr's, admiring the physical age and coolness of the skin passingly. When Kerr leaned in, he immediately fell into the rhythm of the younger's action and leaned his cheek first to one side of the younger's face, then the other. It had been several years since he had performed such a farewell; the Americans always seemed to look down on such so-called effeminate behaviors as touching during business. After sharing mental tethers and experiences of death, both their own and of others, the meaning and acceptance of the gesture came natural to him. It felt odd only from his lack of recent practice, like being out of place. Nonetheless he was pleased to accept and offer the trust of proximity to Kerr Galvin.
"I wouldn't exactly call that particular subject 'happy'," Damien chuckled, newly tempered by the closeness of his companion. He always forgot how being alone with his thoughts turned him cold. Rachel, with her wonderful ability to keep him out of his own melancholy thoughts with little more than a smile, briefly crossed his mind and he realized that he missed her terribly. Usually he would have been home by now, settling safely down in their bed together.
It then occurred to him that perhaps she was wondering what was taking him so long to come home. Guilt took him briefly and Damien pulled his hand away from the younger vampire. "Though certainly more pleasant than the topics discussed tonight, without a doubt." He grinned at the Irishman and nabbed his phone from his pocket, thumbing a quick text to his lover -
Safe. Chatting with Kerr Galvin.
- before slipping it back into his pocket. "Forgive me. Rachel was undoubtedly wondering where I am, all things considered." He gave Kerr a knowing look, wary eyebrows and all. "I'd be happy to tell you more whenever you'd like. I'd offer you a business card, but I assume that you already have one. Or at least know where to find me two days of the week."
-
Damien's message about losing sires and fledgelings - despite liking them - resonated within Kerr yet again. It was amazing how aligned his and Damien's outlooks were and their similarities buoyed him. Perhaps it was as simple as Kerr interacting with someone of a greater age for once. He'd felt a similar connection to Vincent, after all. Maybe spending most of his time with younger vampires was good for keeping him in touch with the modern world around him but they didn't feed his sense of a shared world view or fill his 'relatable companions' bucket like older beings did. It got him thinking.
Guilt flared as Damien texted his partner to let her know where he was. Of course she'd be worried! Kerr wondered if Ben would be... but found it difficult to imagine he was.
"How inconsiderate of me!" he apologised, aghast that they'd wiled away so much time when Damien's vulnerable love was at home waiting for him. "Tell her I'm sorry - but thankful - that you sacrificed your time together for my sake. In fact, Ben and I would enjoy it very much if you and Rachel joined us for dinner one night soon - you're at our house weekly, perhaps she could accompany you after you finish one of your Luminary lectures? Nothing too formal, just come upstairs and hang out for a while, no election talk - naturally," Kerr laughed, "but Ben's examined your business model and I know he'd love to know more about your company. It would be great for him to learn from an expert that actively participates in his business' development, now that he's at the helm of Lovebite."
Kerr was an advisor in the business, sure, but he didn't have the experience Damien did. Plus, it would give them the chance they were looking for to find out more about Aquilla Industries.
The whole time Kerr spoke, he and Damien had been walking, leaving the lecture room and making their way to the staff carpark as soon as Damien had his things ready. They weren't moving sedately, either. Kerr hadn't realised just how long they'd dallied until they reached the open air and the scent of the approaching dawn hit his senses. They had over an hour to get home, of course, but if they didn't move towards it with purpose, they could be caught in a truly vulnerable position themselves.
-
Damien waved off his 'inconsideration' and gave Kerr a warm smile, perhaps his most genuine of the night. "I'd be delighted, actually." He felt touched by the offer, honored even that his employer and the former Luminary were so interested in him or his work. While he was well aware that most of the immortal-specific buildings and houses in the city were built with Aquillia windows, he assumed that most people expected him to be extremely far removed from the actual manufacturing and distribution of the windows like many CEOs were. When he went out of his house, he never expected anyone to know him by face or reputation. He enjoyed that. Aquillia Industries, after all, was only the parent company of the manufacturing companies, not the manufacturer itself. It touched upon his pride to talk business with immortals who understood and accepted his youthful appearance as meaning nothing about his experiences with the world - especially immortals who were so entrenched in the politics of the city.
Upon reflection of the course of the night, Damien realized that Kerr had proven him wrong about a few things. When he had first laid eyes on the figure in the back of his classroom, he had anticipated meddling, pointed questions, even accusations and a firing. His suspicion, it seemed, was misplaced. Instead he received a receptive and intelligent man who's empathy and curtesy was something to behold. Guilt needled at him for the assumptions he had made regarding Kerr's ability to run the Oligarchy, for the preconceived notions that Kerr was simply some kind of guard dog for Ben's campaign. Damien's own suspicion of resentment had built unnecessarily protective walls around himself, assuming the worst about someone he had only known by title.
"I'd of course have to check to see whether Rachel is interested in being surrounded by more business-talk," he jested. "But perhaps, with all things considered, we should see how Ben feels about having his political opponent's campaign manager over for dinner." The humor never left his face and Damien felt more relaxed than he had been all night. "After all, I don't imagine he's thrilled with my decision and I would hate to put him in a more awkward position." He gave a small shrug of his shoulders.
-
Kerr laughed Damien's concern off, pleased that he was so receptive to his dinner invitation. The Frenchman's smile seemed genuine and he became even more attractive to Kerr because of it - mainly because he was such an astute and lovely man that Kerr couldn't resist being drawn to him.
Of course, Ben hadn't been impressed that Damien sided with Jake but Kerr was confident the information he'd be bringing home tonight would appease his attitude. He ensured his response addressed their gathering for a meal rather than the fact that an Academy employee had essentially jumped ship, though.
"Pfft," he said in accompaniment to his laugh, "Ben will be fine with it, I assure you! I'm going out to dinner with Jake tomorrow night and he's fine with that so I know you and yours will be welcome at our place any time. He respects you greatly and, as I said, wants to pick your business brain." Kerr winked and grinned, finding himself in excellent humour after his wonderful evening with Damien.
"You know, I just want to say that I really had no goal in coming here tonight other than to get to know you and I'm so glad I did! I'll completely understand if Rachel's not interested in signing up for boring business talk but I hope to meet her sometime soon also - let me know what she thinks!" Kerr encouraged, his car coming into view. It looked forlorn in the mostly-empty carpark.
-
Damien started in astonishment at Kerr's announcement of dinner with Jake. Surely, he assumed, a rivalry so bitter between Jake and Ben had put up some walls between parties. Apparently not. "Oh?" It wasn't the first time that Jake had planned things without his knowing - he was not Jake's keeper, after all. But he did find it quite fascinating that the Ventrue hadn't mentioned a planned meeting between himself and the ex-Luminary and manager of the opposition's campaign. Damien figured it was something to be digested and studied at a later time, before he saw Jake next.
His track had taken him a few feet away from Kerr on his own journey to his own car parked a half-dozen or so spaces beyond what must have been Kerr's (his own pace taking him closer to one car parked alone). They were of a distance which spoke of parting, but still close enough to share words easily, though with the intention of wrapping up. It was the darkest part of the night now, though the birds had taken it upon themselves to beginning their daily racket. Dawn was approaching and Damien wondered in passing if Kerr was capable of fighting the oppressive weight of the sun at his age.
"I am glad we were able to speak as well. Our conversation has been very... enlightening for me." He smiled again. With a jesting, formal tone he said, "I will run this proposal by the human in question and get you an answer post-haste. Until then, have a good evening, Mr. Galvin." With a lasting smirk and a twinkle in his eye, Damien turned and walked towards his own car, finding his keys in his pocket and chirping the doors unlocked.
-
"You too, Mister Evans!" he responded jovially.
The sound of Kerr's appreciative laughter echoed around the parking lot as he nodded and waved at Damien then turned towards his own car, heading home in a far more satisfied mood than he'd arrived some hours beforehand.