The Ideal Vampire [Closed to original_sin]

[TheYoungAzreal]

[Basic, obvious background information for the lurker found here: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=36912615#post36912615 ]

Clara didn't consider herself to be a terribly soft woman, blonde-haired petiteness aside. She had worked on the force for many years, broken many fresh vampires to the work and many young agents, too. It was possible to continue to feel human because she believed in the cause, in the neccessity of it. There were so many people in the world who deserved to be safe, and so many threats against them.

But she would at admit that Rafael had been a bit special for her, vampire though he was. He was passionate, expressive, a challenge, and she found she had enjoyed getting to know him in the past three years.

It was easy to tell what he was thinking by the set of his lips and an indistinct feeling in the center of her chest. Different though they were, their bond was deep and old enough for her to know at a glance that he was as afraid as he was angry; afraid or despairing, or some combination-- the first was as often as not tight and hard in his chest, while the second, when she had felt it, ranged from wild hysteria to deep suspicion, and it made it difficult to tell them apart. Whatever it was, it didn't suit him at all. The Rafael she knew was proud and vain and biting, and it pained her to see him like this, no matter how much she'd like to deny it.

"I'm being reassigned. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Go to hell," he snapped back, tone acidic and drawl thick, the rare vulgarity coming out very sincere. His vowels were drawled but his consonants had sharpened after years of mandatory speech lessons. He was understandable now. "See me oh so uninterested in the petty beauracratic excuses. They will stick me with some pathetic, power-mad novice only interested in humilitating dominance displays because I have proved ultimately too obediant to you."

"Rafael..." She wondered if he was really so self-centered that that seemed like the real reason for it to him, or if he was just grasping at straws. His former handler had manhandled him into something like neurosis, and the alternating attitudes of defiance and fear had sometimes made it hard for her to see how far she had to go to convince him to listen.

The ideal vampire, in her training regime, was secure in their submission and obeyed because they understood the benefits. It was difficult to motivate Rafael, even once she'd learned how much he loved music, art of any kind. He'd tried his best to keep it from her, no matter how great his enthusiasm; perhaps because of it, really. He thought she would try to take what glimpses of it he got from him.

In reality, she wished she could have indulged him more often, even if it was difficult to do so with their strange hours and constant traveling. (Indulged him in any tangible way, she'd reflect when she thought of it later. So many of the things she'd wanted to do for him had been canceled by missions, by orders from above.) It was possible that someone else would have been able to do it better, of course, she knew and cared nothing about art...

"Clara," he mocked, the rejoinder sing-song as he realized she was not going to continue speaking. She fleetingly wondered if she heard affection. "Your fair-weather reports have sealed my fate."

She found herself simply staring at after he said it; maybe they had. She couldn't imagine what the home office could be thinking, giving the Rafael she knew to someone fresh from school. Still, it would be true from her reports that she had done very little to motivate him, even once they had gotten to the point where they talked frequently. He rarely fought with her seriously; and while he was no where near tamed, while she had never written that... Maybe someone had presumed.

Either the new agent was going to die a painful death, or they were surely going to damage him more than should be acceptable for work in the process of trying to bend him to their will. She regretted it. Rafael would suffer either way, and even if he killed the new agent she thought she wouldn't blame him. It was like murder to put a rookie with an old vampire unless they were a through loyalist, and Rafael despised everything they stood for with all his considerable passion.

She had thought she had made it very clear, even years ago-- best person to hand him off to would be the type of veteran agent that enjoyed longer, more complicated missions, the type that were slow paced but dangerous, or a particularly high-powered officer that needed a vampire as a specialist advisor as much as a bodyguard. Someone he might open up to, the type of pseudo-cultured man or woman that be able to goad him into ranting about the Florentine state or Louis XIV's theft of Italian opera composers and actually follow.

Once you earned his respect, Rafael was reliable, predictable, and relatively trustworthy. He had made few serious escape attempts over the years, and he'd tried to kill her exactly twice, which for a vampire of his age and temperament reflected quite well on both of them. He was sharp-tongued and intelligent, and she'd reflected many times that he would be wasted on most people in the field, that perhaps he was wasted on her. She appreciated that he spoke as often as he did, but she didn't particularly care to follow most of the content.

His real strengths came from his ability to make others agreeable to his suggestions, his knowledge of old magic, etiquette and history-- and how often would that come up on the type of search and retrival missions most fresh agents were assigned? He was suited for detective work or even political manuvering, and it was stupid not to consider his potential. Of course, the rather rare (vampiric) affinity with fire was a tempting reason to leave him just where he was, she was sure...

"I'm as angry as you are," she said finally, meeting his eyes. "You're right, it's a waste. You've behaved very well--" she say him bristle at the word choice but say nothing-- "And you're paying for it. But the agent will be here very soon, and there are some things we--"

A knock at the door of the meeting room. She glanced to him, and he nodded curtly. They were out of time. She could only look at him for a moment longer and wish him all the best.

--

The vampire was a bit less than average height seen objectively, yet the effect was of a taller man. He was elegant in the way that only someone who has been slender for a very long time could be, every movement smooth and balanced. The dark, closely tailored clothes suited him, tight in all the visually appealing places and worn with the air of someone who had come to care much more about effect than comfort. His hair and eyes were dark, and although the first was rather long and curled, his gaze was quick and sharp.

He was clearly inhuman when seen under the florescent lights. If they discomforted him, he didn't let on for a moment. He did not move forward, nor come around the conference table, but simply stood by his current handler, expression piercing and wary. Who was this, who would remove him from what had become--dare he admit it--a comfortable enough arrangement, this other agent who thought he was so capable?

Florescent lights... He set his expression, ready to meet whoever this young upstart was.

"Come in," Clara called, and Rafael watched her rise from her seat, slight but proud. He wondered what she would have said to him, had they had the time.

 

[original_sin]

The man entered the room, closing the door silently behind him. Without waiting to see if his presence was favourable to those already within, he took his place at the table unhurriedly, the slight gesture of his hands indicating that formality was not necessary for him. His raven hair was somewhat unkempt, though they might have presented a wild appeal to some, as were the amber eyes that gazed calmly from behind his rebellious locks. Whilst his voice might have been considered seductive, the coldness of his tone was not.

“Good evening Agent Clara. Master Rafael. I trust that this night finds you both well,” he grimaced at the file in his hand which set upon the table before amending, “or at least as well as circumstances allow it to be.”

The short sleeved white shirt he wore was baggy, almost robe like, though the jeans were tighter, not altogether concealing the lace-up boots. There was somewhat of a lack of maturity that one might have expected in an agent – his face unlined and fresh – but his gaze had something of an intensity that was unnerving meet, almost as if he looked through the subject of his scrutiny rather than at.

“I’m certain that both of you know who I am and why am here, but do allow me to personally introduce myself. I am Vincent Constance, and I will be taking over your role as Master Rafael’s handler.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael remained standing, one hand finding itself on the back of Clara's chair without his permission-- though even once consciously aware of its actions, he deigned to move it. There was something a bit off about this man, something about the juxapositions of apparent age, comfortable clothes, the rich timbre of his voice (an attribute he had always had difficulty denying the attractiveness of), and mussed hair against the chill of... The chill of something he could not quite place, no matter how many years he had experienced.

For once he found himself close to taking comfort in the fact that he was not expected to say anything, and did nothing more than nod tersely at his greeting. Though the other man's gesture might have been interpreted as an invitation to take his seat against, he found himself happy enough to keep his height advantage for the moment being.

Clara could feel all that and more through the bond. Funny, really. Politeness was all it took to set him on guard? "Good evening, Agent Constance, I think you'll find your good manners very appreciated here." That was to say, she certainly appreciated them; if she could shut Rafael up with a look, he was a lot more likely to put him in line it was much less likely he'd ruin him. She had expected him to be completely intolerable from the moment he realized she wouldn't be around to dispense discipline after all this was over-- then, there was always the possiblity that he just hadn't realized it yet.

"I trust you've received the report I sent you? If there are no urgent questions, we may as well finish this up."

He was a decent fire mage, but untrained and completely disinterested in improving, she'd written. Proud, sharp-tongued, talkative when comfortable, a perfectionist. Easily provoked, but generally reasonable. Nervous and difficult when threatened, and punishments in which there is any uncertainity about length or conditions ought not be considered except as a last resort. His first handler had nearly ruined him that way, she had noted in more delicate language, and getting him to trust the force's intentions was still an on-going project... Among other things, which she hardly remembered. There had been little time avaliable for her to pull anything together. She couldn't remember, just then, if she's mentioned any of his hobbies or preferences in her summary, and it made Clara feel a little awkward to realize it.

And more awkward to realize she was feeling awkward about it. Yes, there had been a special place in her heart for Rafael, and there was still, but this was force business. If she didn't trust the integrity of that then she didn't trust anything.

"Anything else you can memo me about in the future, I'd imagine, I'll get back to you promptly."

 

[original_sin]

“I doubt it will be necessary,” he replied brusquely, almost over her words. Almost. “That is not to say that your report has not been informative, quite the contrary in fact.”

Formerly a true lone wolf, any thought of partners ruffled his feathers somewhat. He turned his attention to vampire standing behind her. Perhaps less a partner and more of a pet, though the idea brought only marginal comfort – that Rafael had tried to kill his handler... was it twice?... did not sit well with Vincent, however tame she claimed he had become. So that was why he had come today. To make sure such incidents were forever in the past.

“As can be expected, Master Rafael will be working with me in close proximity at all time. My accommodation will be his accommodation. My interests are his interests. There will be no other way to this.”

There was little chance that Rafael would have any chance to display any signs of rebellion again, it was, after all, the reason why he was there. The vampire was not as intimidating as some, but then few who dwelt amongst humanity looked so, but as always it would be foolish to underestimate such a creature on account of such a naïve observation.

“Agent Clara. If I may, I would speak to you. Alone.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"...My interests are his interests. There will be no other way to this.”

Rafael listened to the other man in silence. Patience, he soothed his pride, patience. Clara, Clara he had become hesitant to kill. This man seemed eager to make it easy for him, in his own strange way-- everything else he could have accepted, and perhaps that showed on his face, a brief lift of his eyebrows, an ever so slightly curve of his lips in displeasure and something akin to disappointment.

Your causes I am willing to take up, Vincent. You will not find me so difficult as that-- that I am willing to compromise, so far as you treat me decently, I was never the sort to be too ambitious. But it is the modern nuance of interest that I will not tolerate; I shall not dress like you, or pretend to be interested in your... Hobbies.

“Agent Clara. If I may, I would speak to you. Alone.”

Clara gestured tersely her approval and tapped the vampire's shoulder impatiently to distract him from his thoughts-- and even within a week of knowing him it had been obvious to her when he'd stopped listening. Go. He can't hear you yet, or even get the slightest sense of what you're thinking.

Nor will he ever, if he is so stubborn as that.

Keep an open mind, Rafael.

Farewell, Mistress.

Her mouth opened ever so slightly, and there was a little handful of seconds spent staring after him as he quietly exited. He would wait in the library, Agent Vincent would have to determine where, but she trusted him enough for that.

She knew Rafael. She knew him intimately, after all this time. And that combination of thoughts, all those little hints only pointed to--

"Let me cut in for a moment. I won't disparage my abilities as a handler--they're what kept me alive in the first year with him and what's given the agency the idea that giving him over to a rookie is anything but manslaughter. But he's indicated that for you, for whatever personal reasons--" She just wasn't going to try to explain his sexual preferences-- "He's interested in listening to you from the start."

Or maybe it had nothing to do with sex appeal. Rafael could be human-like, yes, in his passions and interests, but hundreds of years of court life changed vampires as much as the turning itself; maybe this brusque, cold, and unflinchingly polite young man was their idea of good leadership material. Again, something that was better left for more removed people to analyse.

"I'd suggest you'd keep that in mind for your training plans." Which she very much hoped he had. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"

 

[original_sin]

“Training is it?” he pondered this for a moment. “As things are, Master Rafael's training period had come to an end. Rafael will be entering a new kind of world... so to speak. Once all the loose ends are tied up on this side of the ocean, we will be heading back to the continent, and so, unless your duties carry you there, it may be some time before you will see Rafael again.”

“The Methuselah will now begin examination to see his degree of commitment to the organisation. I'll find whatever little buttons need to be pushed and see how much he wishes to bare his fangs at the human race. I'd like to hope such a fine specimen won't put all your hard work to waste. However, what will be unfortunate is if sentiment were to get in the way, so I'm hoping to have a professional understanding with you.”

Clara was still looking at the chair, now empty, when Vincent placed his hands on her shoulders in gentle fashion. “I would not like there to be any rash actions despite what Rafael will go through, and if it does come down to my having to put down Master Rafael... I should not like to have phantoms of it coming back to disturb me in the future.”

When Clara had turned, he was already opening the door. “Goobye Agent, and a pleasant evening to you.”

The door closed silently.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Clara looked craned her head around-- and by then, he was gone.

And good riddiance, really, she thought, brushing off her shoulders. None of that had-- none of that had made any sense, not good sense in the least. Of course she was a professional-- again, she didn't waste much time second guessing her superior officers. She had been a base brat and it had stuck. If not for this it would've been the army life for her.

On the other hand. Methuselah? It sounded like some kind of biblical thing. The continent? Europe? Phantoms?

And the talk of 'putting down' any vampire of Rafael's age was just absurd. He was absurd. She didn't think they'd taken in even a half dozen they'd taken in in all the years she'd worked here, there just weren't many vampires of that age to be found in the States.

Sentiment. Phantoms. Whatever. Let Rafael be the one getting run circles around for once. She had already given him her warning, and he would listen or he wouldn't-- and making him feel backed into the corner from the start, when she thought of it, was certain to make him more nasty rather than less. She'd likewise have told Vincent that if she'd gotten the chance.

Clara took a few moments to clear her mind before she took the bond down. The sooner she could get started on her next charge the better.

Rafael had wandered into the non-magical section of the library. The other patrons had a certain perpensity not to stare which he appreciated. There was music here, drama there, foreign language just ahead--

Ah. Yes. It hurt very little, compared to the binding. And he felt the full depth and sensitivity of his talents flow back into him like heat into skin long numb. Skin and something deeper, core heat he had lost after turning, a fascinating tingle starting at the very stop of his head and running like live, dancing electricity down his spine and the backs of his legs. Like a lover's touch, and very welcome.

He stood between the stacks for a short moment, out of sight, out of mind and breathed in slowly the dust, the magic, the scent of blood in the air. Yes-- yes, without Clara filtering it, the temptation had just increased tenfold. There was a young man out in the main hallway who smelled of rosin and polished wood...

Rafael did not go after him, though he wanted to. If he had learned anything from the damned humans holding him, it was patience.

 

[original_sin]

Well, the opening moves are done and now to deal task at hand.

For a moment, he stood still outside in the empty hall. Rafael. One vampire in the building, two somewhere within a hundred paces of the building... and a third just entering the outskirts of town. Rafael was most likely the one in the floor above. It took some time before he would become used to Rafael's personal aura, which brought a grin of irony to his current circumstance – the only vampires whose auras he came to know personally were those that evaded him for some time.

Before leaving, he made one last examination of the the file Clara had presented and when he was done, it crumbled to dust in his hand. There might be some cause to consult her in the future, but that would not be any time soon. Striding forth, he found the library wherein awaited his charge. It would most likely be an interesting experience to say the least.

Entering, the library assistant looked up with annoyance before breaking a smile, but Vincent was so accustomed to such smiles he gave one back as reflex rather than genuine pleasure. “Leave.”

With something of an idiot's grin, the girl stood up and left. The remaining people also left as though following her cue. Rafael. Two corners away. Minor state of excitement. Subsiding.

“Good evening, Master Rafael. How are you finding your new-found free...?” he stoped apologetically. “Well, greater degree of freedom.”

He sat down in a chair in full view of the vampire, slowly and deliberately. The slender build and dark curls of the other's hair rendered him somewhat feminine in Vincent's eyes. A wonderfully soft and deceptive exterior to hide what lay beneath.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

His aura was markedly calm for a vampire's (though still shot through with the distinctive suggestion of rust, blood, and age) warm like Mediterranean seas, deceptively mild but full of the sort small, sutble ripples that might have hid lower currents. He felt another's magic brush across it and waited, watched all the other patrons depart. Ah-- mind mover, his thoughts offered. Empath.

Rafael stood close to the stacks as the other man approach, something which did nothing for his height. Towering high and heavy, above him, they lent him nothing but positively academic normalcy. Nothing about would not have looked out of place as a lecturer, or a researcher, or, at his apparent age, even a sophisticated graduate student, except perhaps for the faint, regretful smile which curled around his soft lips.


"It is well enough. Novel, perhaps is the word?" He remembered it being easier, but did not feel comfortable confiding it. Whether the man in front of him had tendencies of sarcasm or sincerity was still an unknown factor, and he not in the mood to be teased.

There was a brief pause as he examined the other man. White was an odd color for the hunters, though it did not seem like he wore it self-righteously-- just that it was practical, suiting, like the rest of what he wore. His gaze was collected, calm, and he detached no hint of nerves, not even as young as he was. He was, thinking of it, in fewer words-- perhaps worthy of being known. The wariness had not yet faded, but that he was not now so chilled.

"I would just as soon go home, if you are agreeable-- if I can say your home is my home now. I do not wish to argue with you, but if we are to, or even if we are to speak long, and do magic-- perhaps it is better not to disturb this place. Other more peaceful men than us study."

And talk, or argue, they must, if the other man was going to attempt to bind him again. It would be impossible for him not to fight it without this agent first obtaining some sort of consent, impossible for him to consent without any knowledge of what Vincent planned to do.

 

[original_sin]

“You wish for privacy Master Rafael? Here will do just as well as any other place,” replied Vincent, though there was markedly less joviality than before. Though he did not come across as being unfriendly, his tone was markedly colder than before. With great deliberation he closed his eyes. Then he opened to gaze full on Rafael.

There was a rush of wind, the disruption of the senses that comes from sudden vertigo and Rafael found himself suspended in the ultimate void, without roof or floor or wall. Vincent was still before him, though he was no longer seated, but likewise in suspension and at least appeared a great deal more comfortable than his guest.

“Perhaps this will do more for privacy? Surely it can get no more absolute.”

There might have been the faintest touch of a smile on his lips, but it was hard to tell. “Agent Clara informed me that you are, at the very least, interested in hearing me out. That is well.”

“First of all will be the issue of your bond – that will take priority over all other things.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael's lips thinned-- his magical core flared in preparation to protect himself, and seeing such intervention unnecessary, with a irritated flick of his fingers summoned (or more likely illusioned, or made briefly of air) a simply but elegantly carved chair. The same annoyed, unmediated gesture doubtlessly would've ended up with a fair humans dead or suffering some interesting modifications-- at the very least without their intended object-- but rules bent for vampires just as surely as they for the fae, or any other magical creature.*

"You have no sense of public courtesy, Vincent. Even vampires rarely take over institutions of public learning just have a conversation." He clicked his tongue without any true irritation, or rather any betrayal of such emotion. It was impossible not to be annoyed when all he'd done was ask they retire. Why should he not be curious about the other man's home?

The chair, while on closer inspection of his lack of historically feasible curves made it likely an object of his imagination, was still proportioned like chairs of his human era, relatively low and thin, requiring him to fold his knees to the side or cross them, and for the sake of comfort he choose the first. Leaning back ever so slightly in his chair, his hands folded in his lap, gave the a slightly unnerving impression of great comfort-- and yes, a certain softness also-- but also the unworried, unhurried patience of a great predator waiting for his prey to finish thrashing about. That his brief brush with the other man's aura was why he had wanted to sit he did not show.*

There was simply... Nothing to defend himself against. There was nothing there. Oh, he was sure that he would burn, anything would burn, in his experience, but... Well. You did not live long without a sense of caution, and you did not enjoy it nearly as much without a huge curiosity. "But I am listening yes, *she spoke truly, and it is private, yes, I have no room to complain. Tell me what you want, here in your domain, perhaps it is only appropriate you open the discussion."

 

[original_sin]

Vincent nodded. “As I have stated, the first thing that will come between us will be the question of your bond. One way or another, there will be a bond between us – it is required for the tasks ahead of us. And so what is left is the details on which we shall come to agreement on. State to me the terms you had formerly had with Agent Clara.”

The process of bonding was new to Vincent, though he knew the theory of it. All those of his department were adept at working alone and he was no exception – their skills were honed to such heights they excelled at the tasks assigned to them, though they ultimately became poor for tasks that required them to integrate with society at large. It was only the special circumstances of Vincent's field of specialisation that had allowed him to be the exception, though he did not find it much of an honour.

Ultimately, he had no intention to curtail Rafael's ability to use magic, quite the opposite, he wished to see the full extent of a vampires' ability, for those he hunted never got the chance to use their abilities to their full extent – an assassin by ability, surprise, sneak attacks, decoys, distractions, death by any and every means was his ability – he was possibly the only one who was capable of getting close enough to supernatural beings to fight them in hand-to-hand, a rare quality indeed in this day of guns and spells.

Brushing a lock of hair away from his face to maintain eye contact to the other, he crossed his hands beneath his chin to await the other's response. His calm and easiness was not feigned. In this place, none had power to hurt him, but any other here could die a thousand deaths by his will alone.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael turned his eyes away from him-- not dismissively, not disrespectfully, but without fear-- to draw an idle shape in the air before him, oddly symmetrical, flickering with the dim, cool light of witchfire-- dispelled it with a sharp, dismissive twist of his wrist and cast again, appearing fully formed, rotating itself from standing to flat. It fleshed itself out into swirling runes spelling out elements, cardinal directions, seasons, moods before settling into the blank contours of a blank theory circle. He was not fool enough to think that he would make such a mistake twice, a mistake he might not have even made as a human. There was image, there was-- there was the logic of magic, but there was no... No power. None of his runes truly resonated against his core as they ought, not even the few out of that mess that was part of his usenames, or the the single one that had been part of his true one.

He pursued his lips and continued without comment. There was no point in being rude, if indeed there ever was. More fool him that he had not already known that this strange place was some part or parcel of Vincent; in hindsight this blank place reeked of him, in his scentless aseptic way. White everywhere. He spoke as he drew, quietly, calmly focused on he symbols, lines, arcs that would represent the connections of a complex rite, that would represent words affecting magic. A bond was the words, was the agreement-- but better to show it here the final effect, rather than leave that up to the imagination what each side believed they had been agreeing to, which belief eventually won out in clash of cores.

"This the second binding, so clearly as I may show it without entangling myself in it. I agreed to offer Agent Clara no violence so long as she did not harm me, my cooperation so willingly as she meant me well." He laughed, self-mocking. "And, more fool me, I did not realize that she thought everything in my best interests-- I will not blame you if you laugh."

He extended his middle finger slightly out from the others to indicate a line of spells. "Here, those which effect me only-- not to serve myself, access to only as much magic available as was sufficient. To obey her as I obeyed my Sire, to fight until my magic might collapse around me to protect the lives of her and hers from death." As he drew the last few lines, the two dozen or so runes shifted, the scores of lines and connectors fell together, and the flat surface folded in like a flower returning to the bud, meeting seamlessly at the tips. "Simple, no? But for that magical clause and it's--" His lips curled. "Liberality. I would not be wholly content with the same sort of bond between us. Too much rests on emotion... Or did in her case. I could never tell that I felt and what I was made to feel."

 

[original_sin]

Vincent nodded, both in understanding and in agreement of the last part, and considered what agreements were to kept or discarded. The Clara woman had taken some steps to ensure her safety, though he required no such assurance from Rafael.

“I require no such assurances for my life Master Rafael. If you think you can find an opportunity to kill me, you are quite welcome to try. Your cooperation is necessary, but I cannot guarantee that I will mean you well – our work requires success, not comfort – I shall, however, never order you to certain death or disability if it is any consolation. Likewise I don't mind you serving your own purposes, so long as they do not conflict with any task that we are assigned and that you know about... and as to protecting me and mine... you needn't worry about my life and as I have no one close to me, you being the closest I know of, you are required to protect only your own life. You understand this, yes? You are to survive at any cost. You are of no use to the organisation, to me, if you suffer the Final Death.”

At the end of the day, he would rather have Rafael submit, or learn to, of his own will.

Closing his eyes, Vincent renewed his concentration. A slight wavering of this space had caught his attention, though no one else would sense or notice it. Personally, he did not like to use it to conduct such casual conversations, though it had its advantages, as it carried the risk of revealing something which he was loathe to allow others to see. Bringing his attention back to the vampire, he spoke: “What say you Master Rafael?”

The time for this conversation was drawing to a close. It was of no risk to this space to reveal it, indeed it was in hiding it that was requiring so much of his effort, but it was his core and it was only to those whom he wished despair that he willing showed it to. “Once this is concluded, I shall show you to your new home.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

He was quiet a moment, watching the other man closely, the amusement being invited to try killing him quickly fading. It was a fair agreement, certainly. Very fair. And the way he closed his eyes piqued the curiosity of both his inner scholar and inner predator, some weakness briefly visible--

Focus, he reprimanded himself. Focus.

It is alright, he found with some incredulity his (demon, he sometimes thought of it, the part of him which his humans self had been completely without) instincts reassuring him, he is not likely to taste good.

Rafael might have been giving Vincent a somewhat stranger look than his suggestion strictly deserved. (True, it was very agreeable to him in all parts, more leeway than he himself would've allowed anyone who was to live with him, be they human, vampire or metaphysical mouse.) What sort of ridiculous idea had that been! He certainly looked healthy enough, there was nothing outwardly disgusting about him...

"That-- that is quite a bit more generous than is normal for even courts and their vampires. I accept without reservation."

He breathed, for what little good it did him. Vincent seemed to him the type to have had experience with wounded or dying vampires if he had any at all, and if so, that useless reflex ought to be familiar to him. Rafael was not weak, he had lived long enough to be sure of that; but to have one's core changed in any way was extremely unpleasant. He struck down his core defenses to free up more power until he could feel his own power stirring the air around him, the heat of it, the constant shifting. "Quickly, if you would, I cannot hold this for long."

 

[original_sin]

There was no sign on his face, but he smiled inwardly, a smile no man would have liked to see, but it was done. He did not instantly comply with Rafael's request, but for the few heartbeats he did not he took the opportunity to study the vampire without his defences in this place. In the most subtle of undercurrents was not beneath notice here. Feigning contemplation at Rafael's acceptance, he complied.

“As you wish.”

Immersing himself into the other's being for a moment, he made and took the necessary connections to create the bond, as well as his own fixtures. Whilst he was able to prevent their emotional bonds from merging with one another, there was little he could do to prevent them from actually experiencing each others emotions when they were strong enough, though at the very least they would experience them distinctively rather than being unable to distinguish it from their own.

“It is done.”

Despite the almost mercenary contract that they had made, there was a certain intimateness in doing so, at allowing another to touch their being and bind them to oneself. Vincent took only a brief moment to make sure that everything was in place. It was time to return.

Rafael found himself seated were he had been in the library with a sudden dizzying abruptness. Vincent was standing before him, watching him closely, and behind him the people were just starting to file back into the library. “As we have nothing left to do here, it was time we made an egress. As promised I shall show you to your new home Master Raphael. Follow.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

The upper levels were exactly as one would expect: there was structure there, the structure born of the many years required to learn to summon, to represent magical interactions in runes and symbols, a little zephyr of cool academic power. Underneath was rawer, hotter, less tame, something molten whose surface frothed as if from under wind, with depths of material rising and sinking according to it's heat, viscous and heavy as melted glass. There was nothing in the lower levels that waxed and waned with his mood, none of his wary openness, of the discomfort he felt at letting someone he has no reason to trust manipulate him. Rather it went on mixing according to its heat, unconcerned and without comment. Buried there was, was Vincent looking closely, the remnants of what might have once been a strong bond, unbroken but long inactive.*

They appeared in the library; Rafael forced himself to sit straight and look forward. He was briefly disoriented-- where? How? Why was there so little pain?-- and only brought back by the sound of the other man's voice.*He thought Vincent might had spoken before, but he had not heard it.

"...made an egress. As promised I shall show you to your new home Master Raphael. Follow.”

He rose and did as he was asked. *It was uncomfortable, perhaps it would always be that, but it was not-- suffocating. It felt as if he had knelt and let the other man drink from him. Nothing he would have allowed of his own accord, no matter that he had agreed to it here. He did not shiver as they went out, no matter the course of his thoughts.*

"What is the routine of your household?" There was much it would be better he knew, and much within himself that would be better the less he brooded in it. A few hundred years and Rafael found you rather knew yourself. He was not yet comfortable walking in silence with this man.*

 

[original_sin]

“Routine?” The word seemed to cause Vincent some amusement. “I have only recently been given private accommodation by our 'benefactors', so I suppose that all I'll ask is that you remain out of my room unless I consent it. Not overly hard is it, not unless there is good reason for you to be there or you can make a good reason therewith.”

The car drive along was filled with all the small formalities of social conversation. As much as he was to reveal; Vincent was the youngest of his family of seven, though had had no contact with them since he was five when he was made part of the organisation who had paid for all his tuition, living expenses and 'special' training. Twenty six now, it was the first time he had been given a free-form assignment in populated areas. Likewise Rafael was left with a strong impression that despite the polite and jovial manner in which he conducted himself, he was possessed of subtle streaks of narcissism and selfishness.

When they had disembarked and entered their residence, they were overlooking the city on the top-most floors of the tallest apartment complex in the city. The living room was enormous and tiered into two levels.

“Rather modern and exposed for my taste, but there's no complaining that they spared on expenses,” commented Vincent as he stood at the wall of glass the comprised the windows overlooking the city. “The chandeliers are a nice touch though.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"Very well," he consented easily, trying very hard to hide his pleasure at the idea of Vincent having his own room in the first place. He had shared a bed with Clara all the years he'd served her without ever coming to enjoy it.*

Rafael revealed himself to be cordial, even charming, once the pressure of negotiating the bond had been lifted. Likely he said little about himself unless he was asked, but he would not have been hesitant in the least to touch on his human years (he had been born in Florence, the seventh child of a wealthy trader), or say why he had come to America (politics; after holding magical Vienna throughout the first two World Wars, he had had enough). Otherwise he listened with a flattering and apparently sincere attention. Vincent's faults, he felt, were not unusual for witches or vampires alike, and he seemed not at all concerned.*

Rafael looked at the window curiously, approaching cautiously and staring out of it. He had once been pushed from such a height and wasn't likely to ever forget it. "I am indifferent to the chandeliers, though likewise the defensive position worries me. But the view-- you'll find many vampires enjoy views such as this. We remember what it was like to live in the tallest structures for--" Leagues? Miles? "Kilometers around."

A knock at the door startled him out of his appreciation for the skyline. That would be his things, he hoped, his trunk ferried across the sky by a magically proficient currier. They would likely want his signature and a bit of blood, the same as they had when they'd taken it. *"Shall I?"

 

[original_sin]

Looking at the door to the vampire, he shrugged. “As you will.”

Finding a room to call his own, he gave a long sigh for he was tired of all the formalities and fixtures that had been done. Testing the bond, he could at least feel Rafael. Removing the twin pistols and the long knife he carried, he set them on a nearby side table. The protection sigils that he had set on them were still intact and he did not remove them. Stripping his shirt off, revealed a body largely untouched save for one long tearing scar across his back, testament to the one being who had ever managed to touch him.

He had forgotten to examine Rafael's method of feeding, and when he had last done so, but it was not truly important at present. Vincent himself didn't have many personal effects, rather he would have to get his own at a later time. Actually what he wanted at present was a fight – to test what the vampire could do so that he'd have a general idea of what he could do when the time came – that lithe body had to be good for something after all as did the mind that went with it. There was a certain joy and intimacy at plumbing the thoughts of another.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

It was a young woman who brought it, a young woman with a pretty smile, smooth mocha skin, and strong, slender little body. When had young women started to become postal workers? It didn't seem terribly appropriate to him, asking them to trapeze about, alone, to stranger's houses...

Rafael forced himself to refocus, irritatedly shaking off a mental brush from his current master (a title he gave without much respect, but there was no point in denying the reality of it). Had the bond deepened to that extent? Nevermind; really he was lucky he'd been distracted. He shouldn't be hungry, had not been hungry nearly as often since he'd came to work with them, but the temptation was simply--

The trunk was taken inside. He choose the room across from Vincent's, passing his door with a brief, appreciative glance to his bare back. The scar saved him from looking hopelessly young without his shirt--

Appreciative. Focus, he berated himself yet again. Had he always been so distractable? But power, power-- there was really no better apphrodisiac. He laid the swords across the bed, a thin, beautiful court sword and a thicker, more obvious weapon, but did not bother to unpack.

His own door slid closed to a crack as he himself changed, changed to fashionably tight jeans and a cream shirt, that, though long sleeved, seemed little thicker than tissue paper, some silk-cotton blend which clung comfortably to a smooth chest. There was muscle there, in his shoulders and arms, a strength that would've went almost unseen in his suit, a thin coiling of power (that word again) that would've best matched the eppee on his bed.

The suit was to be folded loosely, set in a corner. It would need dry-cleaning, although something about Vincent's seemingly mercurial nature made him doubt they would make it there was often as regularly as he'd like.

 

[original_sin]

Vincent did not bother to replace his shirt as he left his room as he did not see the need – there were no women present and so the need for politeness was absent. From a nearby cabinet, he produced a bottle of cognac and poured a glass, holding it up to the city lights to admire the quality of the liquor. He drank it only very slowly, allowing the warm sensation to crawl down his body. Sighing, he set the half-empty glass on the glass table and lounged back in the expansive black leather couch that overlooked the city. It seemed to have been a long time since he could rest, and usually not in such luxury.

A faint grin tugged at his lips. How long had it been since he had felt a woman's body beside his own to warm him. Perhaps a little too long if I can't remember it off the top of my head. He thought briefly of Clara, which if a little too brusque, did not completely dispel her from that brief aberrant fantasy. There was also that courier girl with her exotic mocha skin and pretty smile... Vincent frowned at that. That had come from Rafael, through the link, though he had not been conscious of it at the time. Allowing his head to fall back, he pondered many things, such as if he could still get to the girl before she left, such as the possible future that now featured Rafael.

Turning his head towards Rafael's room he could see partially through the crack in the door not wholly closed, his interest only so slight. The lights in the room seemed to dim and a chill passed through the air. Vincent stood up. A normal human would not have noticed it. He walked to the window and looked into the city – something powerful had come into his domain – his heartbeat rose markedly, and for one mad moment he almost felt like loosing his own power in one blinding beacon atop the tower as if to answer a challenge. But he choked his urge, though the excitement remain and left him feeling hollow, as of desire unfulfilled.

He held up a hand, as though he would grasp the moon in it and slowly closed his fist. In time he chided himself, there is time enough... for everything.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael padded up behind him, the moon bright on his skin. The hand which he ever so slowly and deliberately set on Vincent's right shoulder could have passed for human but for it's chill. The bare skin had called to him, much as the power had called to the man standing beside him, and he thought, having been bound, standing next to the type of person who could be half-dressed in a strange house and quite confident-- Propriety can shoot itself, as Americans say; if I cannot touch that courrier shall certainly touch him.

He was not ignorant to the train of the other man's thoughts. It had closely mirrored his, and it seemed not coincidental. Binder or not, Rafael had had years more of experience with that sort of connection... But not enough that Vincent's excitement did not effect him, so much as he was already interested in the man before him. "New York is beautiful, is it not?" he asked, his voice low and richly enticing, as if ready to weave a story. "The moon, the buildings silloutetted and lit with lights, the call of something unknown far off-- there are many types of people here, many new and unknown things. I will be sorry if we leave it."

 

[original_sin]

Vincent gave a frown that the other had interrupted his thoughts, but scent he had picked up was now gone. Frustration. It was a mildly errant thought, the main body evaporating, leaving but the residue behind. The hand was chilly, or at least chilled in the manner that comes from when one expects the heat of life only to find it absent. He wondered what the other would have been like when life still coursed through his body? Could he still remember it and what it felt like? Rafael was slender, if toned, as were most vampires who became that way upon contracting their condition. With his clothes, it combined to create an almost effeminate suggestion, almost enough to fool the straight man, enough to titillate one undecided.

“Since when did you become a poet, Master Rafael?” Turning at last to look upon the other, taking in his appearance, he an involuntary urge to tear off the flimsy shirt of the other, to his view a travesty of garment, offering little protection any element and more a statement of fashion. The urges he felt was not so much attraction as it was raw sexual want paired with frustration over being unable to come to grips with his foe. Of this, he was uncertain as to whether he meant the one who stood before him or the one that had eluded him.

Brushing aside Rafael's hand, Vincent seated himself on the couch again, lying back to look at the ceiling, then the vampire before him. His excitement had faded, or rather the apprehension of frustration – his heart did not race, but rather throbbed deeply, the sort of feeling he felt before pouncing upon his target, his prey. Propping his hand beneath his chin, he gave Rafael an odd slant-headed look, almost like a hound puzzled, or a bird-of-prey studying. His eyes looked behind the man, past the window to the city.

“I suppose you are right on that account though,” he returned at last, making himself comfortable. “You once said you lived in the high places of the word, castles and such I suppose. Tell me, was there anything of interest to do in those secluded heights, save admiring the view. I understand life was quite decadent for those of wealth and power, such as you yourself may have wielded.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael smiled, a delicate, cultured expression that never the less came off as a bit feral for its mirth. Enough bled across the bond for him to understand what Vincent desired, predatory though it was: he stood in front of the window and stripped off his shirt, his arms reaching above him to do it, lean, pale muscular body briefly flexed in the light of the moon. The shirt he tossed across the opposite edge of the couch and smiled again.

"Power-- power is in a smile and a glance, a carefully worded promise, the ability to make something irresistible. It is no surprise to me that so many of our masters are women; they learn that art from childhood, while most boys are bumbling through childhood fantasies of war." He was quiet for a moment, during his back to look out on the city. The line of his spine was sharply defined; he must have been thin as a human as well. "But do not talk to me about power and luxury, please Vincent, else I shall never shut up and you will find that quite bothersome. I will say that I miss the music and the art more than most of the courtiers-- but not poetry in particular. Too much of it, while beautiful, strikes me as insincere."

He was quiet for a moment, and Vincent could feel him exploring the bond, reaching out, years of experience navigating such structures making his touch light, even polite. "I might cautiously admit that I am beginning to like you. You ask me what there was of interest there-- interesting people, I suppose, is the ultimate answer. There is no art among simpletons, boring and caught up only in themselves; likewise there is no enjoyment in maneuvering oneself around the mechanisms of fools."