Moon Lit Wishes

Humming in thought at Artairs words, arms at his side against the table, phone in hand, wondering. "You have no hint or memory of what you could possibly be? Were you human once or.. simply spawned into existence?" They probably didn't know. "I'm sorry.. not knowing what you are, and no one to really ask.. you must have questions of your own. I apologize for asking perhaps too many questions as well." In some part, he understood not knowing. To become something new, but not sure what. Information on vampires were abundant at the very least, granted given the nature of surviving off living blood he could assume that's what he was, but to have no information or inkling. Vlad couldn't help but feel bad for Artair.

Puzzled by the response given, he stared with a slight tilt of his head. "So.. having a proper meal isn't important as long as there are other matters you feel are more essential to address?" Felt he was being odd about this and probably came off as very strange to the man. Then again this ones thought process didn't make much sense to him either.

Surprise takes up his features when he's suddenly offered money, his brows raising somewhat. Sterling looks between Vlad's face and the cash he he's offering, brows furrowing some then.

Waving his hand at their dismissal of the offer he insisted.

"Please accept it, my fault you lost your food, and opted for something less. You need to keep up your strength and consider the money an apology for me running into you, alright? Let that be the reason. Coffee is well and good but, its not enough when you need to eat. Look I feel bad, please just accept this and get yourself something on the way."

If Sterling were to decline again there wasn't much else he could do but let it be. Still he hoped the man would take the money for food.

If they intended to respond to them traveling, it doesn't come with their lingering question. Artair's nail pauses the ministration, and the room is far too silent in the absence. They'd guessed he knew, but hearing it asked is still a... complicated medley of feelings.

They idly move their hair back over their shoulder, listening to the rest of the Curator's curiosities. "...Hah, I get that a lot. You're right, I think. On multiple counts." Their finger grazed their throat with a pair of taps, and found the crate again. "I guess it's fair you can tell, given how you feel. But ah. I think you could say this particular item is going somewhere where it won't be gracing human history again, to answer your other question. An attempt at a safety measure for it, I think? Of a sort."

He was saddened that the helmet was probably going to be stashed away somewhere, no longer seen by the public view or as a piece of history. Safety measure was probably the safest option but he didn't know these people either. "That's sad to hear.. It's still a part of history.." Didn't belong to his musuem anymore, the person who bought the helmet probably understood the magic better than he did. He noticed the tap to the other's throat, unsure what that meant.

At the question though he shrugged. "I suppose.. the simplest term would be, vampire. Not weird to ask, though judging by the manner of your question, you are picking up on more." He didn't want to delve into it, the guilt that came with those who were damned.

"Of course." They nod politely once they're in the break-room, and find themselves a chair. They set the board in front of them, untuck the pen, and set to work, mildly aware of that curiosity and concern easing with distance. He... definitely knew they were weird, at least. They'd figure out what they wanted to say or do about that later, if at all.

It should be a slow process, but they almost know what the pages say before they read them, how fast their eyes flit over them. There's an almost ravenous enjoyment for the fine print, and Artair consumes every detail like it might sustain them, attention rapt. Occasionally, they scribble on a page, a illegible signature right on the line.

Artair hardly notices the curator's return, until the box makes the table shift under a new weight. They're a page or two from the end, and their voice comes out a little softer, absent when their focus drifts back to the page. "Ah-- yes. It seems so. I'm just about done signing everything. And I have the cash right here. Everything should be in there, if you want to count it."

They offer him the envelope they'd tucked back in their pocket, before bracing to sign again. The last page is another summary like first, so they lean back, glancing over it but without the same concentration. Instead, their gaze bounces between those last few numbers and tables, and the curator himself, and his long dark hair and red eyes. They swear they can feel themselves being watched, like something is lurking inside them, a beast in a forest of raven strands.

"Looks alright, just finish the papers and you're good to go. Those poor trees.." His curiousity didn't abide entirely but seeing Artair sign papers, something so mundane, what everyone had to do with out a fuss despite the vast energy coming from them, this person was just living their life. What they were though was the mystery, what was emitting from them? He still had that itch to say something, to ask, but it might have been rude. Best leave it be.

Vlad presented himself as he was human as best he could. Eyes were a vibrant blue, blue as they used to be but his hair and length, predatory teeth no remanence of human, pale skin, the claw like nails, he couldn't change. Part of the curse of what he became, a reminder amongst other things. Staring at Artair as he leaned against the table, waiting though occasionally looking down at his phone as the workers of the musuem sent messages in their group chat.

Gaze lifting from his phone back on the other, was he being weird? Did he often stare at others who purchased something from his musuem? Not really and now he felt bad as his eyes returned to his phone, focused on the few talking about some guest gawking and being immature about a painting with nudity.

Upon Artair clearing their throat did Vlad's look up to face them again. "Finished?" Checking the papers quickly once finished. "Alright you are good to go." A small pause at the question. "Yeah I'm from here and I've been here for quite a while though I do travel a lot within the nation and most of the world really." Did he talk too much? Was this a good time to bring it up? "Are you..."

It was surprising too that they were free to wander. Still, they weren't going to complain about a quick and free peek around a place with such documented history. In they wander with their hands laced behind their back, the envelope gripped in a glove.

It doesn't take long for the curator to find them, though they feel the sense of him antecedent to his physical presence. Before he even enters the wing of the exhibit they have wandered to, Artair knows something is coming. Their gaze is fixated on a suit of armor in front of them, but their attention is wholly on his periphery approach.

He feels familiar. Like a brushing touch that bears the bone-deep chill of vampirism, but different altogether somehow. They are stepping into the shadow of some looming power, ancient and leviathan and built with souls that tangle together into a weave with a complex intricacy they cannot parse.

But many such things exist. Their intentions don't feel malicious at least, and they have met their fair share of beings just trying to live a quiet, ordinary life among humans. It wasn't their place to out someone for existing, for being notably powerful or different. Especially not somewhere where it had the potential to put that very person in danger. No, it wasn't their business.

Handing over the papers held together by a clipboard towards Artair, trying to maintain his composure. Knowing full well whoever stood before him wasn't entirely human, and they seemed rather polite. Anyone with that kind of power would let it go to their heads, do what they wanted with out a care for those around them. This though, something was different and Vlad was eager to ask, bring up what they were, what they contained. Wasn't his business but his curiousity was taking over. Could Artair tell he wasn't entirely human too? Were they oblivious or simply playing it off just as he was?

"Follow me, I have the item in the back actually. It's already packaged and ready to go, you just need to sign those papers and we can proceed with the payment transaction and that's that. Simple enough." With a wave he motioned for Artair to follow. Wondering now if the buyer bought the relic because it was radiating some sort of magic. If Artair wasn't human, what did that mean for Opal? Walking through a door, inside being the break room, another door ahead of them where most of the museums relics and works weren't displayed yet or needed restoring and clean up.

"If you can wait here please, look over the papers, there should be a pen under the clip of the clip board. I'll be right back with the helmet in the mean time." With that he stepped through the second doors, still very much curious, still wondering what this person was and if they had an inkling of what he was. Should he be worried if they did?

Returning shortly with the ventilated crate he set the box gently down on the table.

This was honestly one of the easiest excursions Opal had sent them on.

She reached out when it suited her for odds and ends like this, when she had a few different jobs to juggle. She was often paid well, and she was more than happy to use that income her patron afforded her to outsource a few of the more "boring" procurals. Most of the artifacts they had to collect were dangerous, the jobs even more so. They were just... less perilous than the job she wanted to do.

This one, though? This sounded like a walk in the park. A small trip over to Washington wasn't a huge ask when they'd driven longer for their own cases, and they loved a good trip on a quiet stretch of road. They also didn't mind carrying a parcel of money for the exchange, nor the heaps of paperwork that'd need signing. Artair could easily envision Opal slumped in a rolling chair in their mind's eye, lamenting with a groan that she was reading legalese instead of hitting something with her bat.

But that's why they're here now instead, and she'd said she owed them a big one.

Artair rolls to a stop in the parking lot. The place is practically empty this late at night, excluding a few cars they can only assume belong to staff. They tuck their things into the saddlebags, grab the envelope of documents and cash for the purchase, and head towards the front entrance.

"Welcome in, you must be here to collect the ancient helmet." The woman spoke before facing the young man who was already contacting Vlad with a wave and nod at the confirmation.

"Our manager and curator will be with you soon to process and exchange everything, in the mean time why don't you go on inside. We are still open so don't mind the guests, but do enjoy yourself and look around while you wait." Once the workers guided their buyer towards the exhibit, the two returned to their casual conversation.

Vlad was in the back, preparing the artifact though more sad to send it away. An ancient helmet, radiated magic but he didn't dabble in such things, didn't care too much to delve into what it was, what it contained. All he saw was a piece of history, remanence of ancient peoples long past. Carefully placing the item in a ventilated crate, cushioned, safe. Why did he get attached to such things, closing the crate before the call from the front desk started ringing, quick to answer and confirm the buyer has arrived.

Grabbing the papers for the artifact and what was needed to sign, flipping through as he walked to make sure everything was correct, everything was set and ready to go when an odd sensation hit. Something was here and it wasn't like anything he's come across before. Continuing down the hall, stopping as his gaze focused on where it came from. Amongst the few people roaming about was the source as Vlad stared, processing and trying to get an idea of what they were. Something new to him, strong. Staring for what felt like a little too long before finally approaching the other, smiling, be casual, be professional. Don't make this awkward.

"I'm a detective." He answers Vlad, brushing his gloved hands off before tucking them into his coat pockets. "There is always something to be done and at the moment, I have several cases requiring my immediate attention." He tells the man bluntly but honestly. There was always a level of guilt that came with putting a stop to everything to find nourishment for himself while a dangerous criminal was at large ruining someone's life as they spoke.

"So forgive me if I am a bit nervous." He adds, his tone just as flat as before. Regardless, they were already here and there was no sense in wasting both of their funds hurrying out of here. He eyes Vlad's face curiously, not seeming to care if he was caught staring or not.

Reaching for his wallet he handed over some cash. "Get yourself something to eat when you get the chance okay? Doesn't have to be now but soon or along the way, something quick like a bakery. Grab and go so you don't lose time. What good is a detective with several cases if he's low on energy?"

Sterling's flat tone didn't bother him, the staring led him to stare right back with a chipper smile. If anything Vlad was intrigued by this man, a detective eager to get back to work. Most didn't care much for their job now a days. This was different, granted it didn't seem like he took much care of himself in the process, but that was at face value. He didn't know him, could be wrong.

At the tone of the other's voice lowering, along with the narrowing of his gaze and question, Vlad tilted his head. "Huh? That gentleman..?" Faces towards the customer who was upset earlier as he was leaving before smiling back at Sterling. "What do you mean?" Feign innocence.