Honor Among Men

Skye grinned triumphantly as he complimented her work. It was the first time in a while she took a break from recreating other people’s work to make something of her own. She had been nervous for Jacques to see it, but then again she always was. She always felt like his opinion mattered the most. “I was just playing around,” she tried to down play it, but she worked hard. “I haven’t done anything of my own in a while…wait…move the Picasso to the basement. The Picasso? To put up my painting?” 

"I’m scared to see what you’d do if you actually tried.” Jacques chides in response, examining with her work with finality. In his many centuries, Jacques collected fine pieces from famous painters. Yet none ever trumped those with significance. Although she came to him later in life, Skye was practically a daughter to him. Surely that trumped a passe, Spanish rendering of Picasso. Without missing a beat, he steps towards the mantle of the fireplace. His fingers pull off the Picasso, immediately swapping it with hers. “Looks wonderful.”

"It’s beautiful,” Jacques encourages, blue eyes glazing over her latest work. He gently holds the canvas in his hands, admiring the intricacy of the strokes. “I like how the light and dark tones juxtapose each other.” In all the years Skye has been in his care, Jacques always encouraged her artistic endeavors. Even now, as a full grown woman, he finds himself leaning on the same fatherly instincts. There was something frightening about her mortality, something Jacques knew all too well. They stood at the center of his home, with the elder vampire glancing around. “Over the fireplace? We can move the Picasso to the basement.”

“Damn, sometimes I forget you’ve lived so much life. I’d love to hear more about your life and the people you’ve met that I’ll only ever read about in books. That is if you have the time to entertain me a little.” Skye would absolutely love to hear those tales about the people he’s met in his lifetime. “So we’re looking at threats all around covens, packs, the whole gang. I can definitely do it. I might have to take some time to recover, but it’s definitely doable. You know anything you ask me to do I’d do. You and your clan kind of give me a little bit more purpose and I feel less alone coming to this city.” 

"Anytime you want. I have few people in my life who want to hear my old man stories.” Jacques kids, yet the sentiment remained. People either feared his immortality, or simply cared of his actions in the present. “Everyone. Yes. Most fear our kind. Better they have a place to protect themselves, in case all hell breaks loose.” The Nightshade Clan was far older and traditional, yet they were privy to the same risks. He smiles fondly at Skye. “I’ll be in your debt. Perhaps you can have the Rembrandt?” Jacques suggests sincerely. “You’re one of us. If, in the future, you decide you’d like to change side -- I’d turn you myself.” His words were not threatening, but gracious. Very few people had the option, least of all him.

Catalina had stepped out of the bar in order to take a smoke. Moving down the alleyway, she sat down on one of the steps and sighed as she peered down at her phone. For a moment, she let her guard fell until the hair at the back of her neck stood. Lifting her hues, she noted a figure in the shadow. “Jesus, you should have cleared your throat or something.” She murmured with a narrow of her gaze, her form shifting to eye the individual. She didn’t trust any supernatural as far as she could throw them and she imagined that was the same for them. After all, she was a human in a town that no longer belonged to her kind. Not that she’d leave until she finished what she came here for. 

Shadowfalls provided the clan leader much-needed solace. In his strolls, he sees behind the veil of beauty and etiquette its inhabitants puts up. Even from a mile away, the distinct scent of cigarette and human blood claims him. What thoughtless human lingered around these parts so late in the evening? Just as quickly, he quietly appears across from her. “My apologies,” Jacques responds cordially, although little concern truly existed. His disgust towards the human race was evident, even if he needed them to survive. “What’s a lovely young woman doingout here at this hour?”

She slides over, her drink sloshing a bit as she goes. Jude was nothing if not entirely oblivious to nearly all of her surroundings. It wasn’t with intent to be rude, however. Jacques was good company at the party. From what she could remember anyway. A nice, calm break in her otherwise whirlwind of an evening. 

When he acknowledges her tarot cards Jude only laughs and shakes her head. “These?” She waves them once before dropping them into a pocket on her purse. “These are bullshit. I bought them at a gas station.” She straightens a little, almost proud to admit her ruse. “But, ya know. Humans believe pretty much anything.”

The elder vampires watches in amusement as her beverage topples out of her drink. From her energy to her wide-eyed wonder, Jacques can’t help but see the resemblance to his daughter. Even after centuries, the memory of her spirit remains ingrained in Jacques. “So is this what you are doing with your infinite talent?” His tone manages to contain his judgement, instead speaking kindly to the young witch. “Magic tricks to swindle humans out of their cash?” Leaning against the counter, he can’t resist adding; “Because if that’s the case, feel free to coerce that gentleman in the back. His blood smells delicious from here.”

There was no shortage of lovers Yvette flitted between to warm her bed at night – paying client or otherwise – and yet, the young fae had never felt more alone. It had been days since she had heard from Jacques, not a word since the evening of the party. And with each passing moment she didn’t hear from the Parisian, the blonde grew worried and…hurt. Yvette was done waiting. She refused to sit still and be ignored by him any longer, and whether the vampire liked it or not, he was going to see her tonight. 

Yvette knew the path to Chateau Dubois like the back of her hand. She didn’t bother with manners, boldly marching herself straight inside. Her search for Jacques didn’t last long as he called out to her from his study, likely sensing her long before she stepped foot inside his home. The soft click of her heels sounded as she stepped inside of the study, and her viridian green eyes immediately landed on the Frenchman at his desk. 

“Well, you would know all about being impolite, wouldn’t you?” Yvette couldn’t stop the retort from tumbling past her petal-soft lips as she crossed her arms over her chest to stare indignantly down the bridge of her button nose at Jacques. “First, you invite me to accompany you to the Manor Party,” the blonde started, her taupe brows furrowing together. “Then I don’t hear so much as a whisper from you afterward.” She had tried to tell herself that he had been the one to break the simplicity of their arrangement, but the dynamic they shared had changed long before the elder of the Nightshade clan had invited her out that night. 

Her viridian gaze softened, suddenly overcome with a vulnerability she wasn’t used to. Yvette tugged the fur coat draped over her dainty shoulders tighter around her small frame, and she could feel the delicate, iridescent wings on her back fluttered fretfully from underneath the garment. “Was I wrong to assume you had a good time at the party? Or was I wrong to assume you had had a good time with me?”

By virtue of being an immortal, Jacques’ sense of time and propriety was different than most. The clan leader certainly adapted to the times, but maintained the rigors of his earlier years. He believed in propriety, honor, and civility. Even in the most ruthless of actions, he followed a code of conduct. Right or wrong, it gave him a structure to operate within. Yet his cold shoulder towards the French faerie was intentional in its harshness. Jacques hadn’t set out to hurt or dishonor her, but his intention of creating space led that to be so.

“It’s only been a few days.” Jacques retorts, immediately regretting the suddenness of his response. Surely he’d know that his words would do nothing to soothe Yvette. But wasn’t that the truth? Propriety aside, he wasn’t obligated to reach out to her. Their arrangement was clear, with lines drawn in the sand. But as his softens his jaw and finally looks up from his desk, even he can’t deny it - lines had been crossed.

“I had a wonderful time with you.” Jacques attempts to reason, spotting the vulnerable expression on her typically bright face. Far more gruesome sights turned a pit in his stomach, yet the obvious guilt on Yvette’s face did him in. He pulls his chair back, coming to his feet. “I simply needed some time to myself to process things.”

“I definitely hope it is. Van Gogh is one of my favorites. So trying to master that one will be very kick ass. But the Rembrandt is next on my list. I still find it cool as fuck that you just have a Rembrandt in your kitchen.” She would practically die and come back to life having an authentic and real Van Gogh in her home. She picked up the list that he slid over to her, nodding as she read over the potions that he would need. “I can definitely whip them up tonight and have them ready tomorrow.” She put the list in her purse, her full attention turning back to him. “Sure, what’s up?” She didn’t know what the other matter could possibly be, but her mind was racing to guess at the moment. 

"Perks of having known the prick during his lifetime. He smelled foul, but my God was he a talent.” Jacques reminisced with a nostalgic smile. He long stopped debating what life would be like as a mortal being. Instead, he’s come to find the beauty in having lived through history. “Thank you. Now more than ever, we need to ensure the safety of our clan.” While she did not share their immortality, Jacques has welcomed her services to the fold. The world was changing, and so their clan had to as well. “As it stands, vampirism is seen as the most impure of the species in Shadowfalls.” Jacques comments with a roll of his eyes, as if ungodly witches or vicious werewolves were any better. “I want to ensure my kind’s safety, should the other covens or packs get any wise ideas. I’m thinking of putting a protection spell on the marketplace.”

closed | @jacqdubois​ The night was still early, the darkened bar filling up with a mixture of species. A small place on the north side of the city. Recently opened and neutral ground where humans tended to flock. Typically a place of easy pickings for a vampire but for Jude it proved to be just as profitable. Humans were incredibly gullible it turns out. Show them one little magic trick and they’d believe anything else you did. Well. Usually.  “Hey!” Jude snaps as a man angrily walks off, knocking a beer bottle off the bar top. “Not my fault if you don’t like what the cards say! No refunds means no refunds!” She huffs back into her seat and scans around the bar looking for another target. Instead she sees a slightly familiar face among the crowd. Jude perks up and quickly slides over to him, a grin on her face. “Howdy, Jack.” She nods her head to him. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

He never frequented what most vampires called ‘the hunting ground’ if he could help it. Certainly, easy pickings roamed in the form of drunk young adults. But there was an ample supply of shoppers at the Dubois marketplace to satiate the clan leader. Never the less, nights like these were important. It allowed him to keep an eye on the loathsome humans, whilst simultaneously gathering intelligence. They may appear as fun-loving humans, but Jacques had little doubt that they appeared. He spots the familiar witch, a cordial (if not bemused) smile on his face. “Jude.” He nods in acknowledgement, glancing at the stack of cards. “Hasn’t your Supreme warned you about magic tricks in public?” Jacques kids, a subtle reference to her less-than-outrageous performance.

Maybe I'm a man and maybe I'm a lonely man Who's in the middle of something That he doesn't really understand

Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only woman Who could ever help me Baby won't you help me understand

“I don’t mean vampires in general,” Cal said, taking the glass with a thankful nod. He chuckled a little at the comment about their species anyway. “I’m thinking…on a more personal level. Someone who might want to personally see you fall. I heard some…interesting things at the party.” 

His jaw clenches, catching the true motives of the Alpha’s visit. Jacques takes a sip of his drink, taking a long pause. “Word gets around fast, doesn’t it?” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Roman’s a petulant child. I doubt his grudge will result in anything other than a temper tantrum.”

Skye made her way in wearing a smile in greeting. “I just came by to check in before I go get lost in trying my had at one of Van Gogh’s self portraits. I can lose track of not just hours but days once I really get going.” But she also wanted to make sure she didn’t get too lost in her side project. She valued and appreciated the partnership of sorts she had with Jacques and his clan. Sure it was no coven, but it made her feel like she was a part of something in some way. 

In his lifetimes, witches were invaluable in providing clan’s an extra layer of protection. Luckily, Skye had come into Shadowfalls’ mix at the nick of time. “I’m sure it’ll be your best yet. Although you really should take my suggestion and re-imagine the Rembrandt I have in my kitchen.” Jacques replies cordially, a humored nod as he wipes away the red stain at the corner of his lips. “I’ve put together a list of concoctions in short supply.” Jacques makes his way behind his desk, pushing it in Skye’s direction. “But I have another matter to discuss with you.”

“Whiskey,” Cal said automatically. At this point in his life, he didn’t screw with vodka unless it was the only option. “Do you know of anyone in this city who wants to take you down, Jacques? I mean, truly, wants to take you down.” 

Pouring two glasses of whiskey, he places one in front of Cal before taking a seat. The question lingers in the air, prompting a mirthful chuckle from the vampire. “Depends. Do I count the historical disdain between our two species?” Jacques can’t help but comment on the peculiarity of the situation. His expression turning serious, he nods in concession. “It’s no secret that the humans fear my kind in particular. We are the predator to their prey.”

“Is it really, Mr. Dubois?” Cal nodded with some level of respect (although admittedly it was just a show) before he sat down. He knew that coming directly to the clan leader was a risk…but he was willing to take it. “I came to talk about some…rumors I heard at the party this week. And ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

"By definition, yes.” He nods, reaching for a nearby handkerchief and dabbing his lips of the remaining blood. It wasn’t very often a member of a wolf pack, let alone its alpha, entered vampire territory. “Intriguing,” Jacques muses with a humored chuckle, never the less walking to the bar. “Alright.” Turning to him, he gestures down. “Vodka or whiskey?”

The peace and quiet of his home study was a welcome sanctuary for the Nightshade clan elder. Although a more decadent office was located at the upper floors of the Dubois marketplace, it did not provide the solace he desired. His pen moves precisely on paper, catching up his correspondence outside of Shaodwfalls. But his mind remains preoccupied on the evening of the Manor Party. He was no stranger to the complexity and intensity of emotion. It was a vicious cycle he endured for centuries with his ex-wife, Vanessa. But for all of Jacques calculations, he never anticipated it to extend to his lover.

His arrangement with Yvette was simple and direct. Money changed hands, clothes fell to the floor, and his days continued unchanged. But a few simple jibes from Roman rattled the Frenchman. Was it because his pseudo-son took yet another piece of him? Or was it a growing affection for the faerie that warmed his bed? The only logical approach was to distance himself from the issue all together. But just as he’s about to turn back to his desk, he catches her scent immediately. “Has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to enter someone’s home uninvited?” Jacques speaks up, already sensing her presence from the hallway leading to his study.