Merry Christmas, SoFamiliarAGleam: As If They'd Be Anything Else
@sofamiliaragleam (or @hamelinbound and @ringletsandpearls -- I can’t seem to “at” your main) -- I know you’ve currently got more muse for a different account, but I came up with what I feel is the perfect follow-up to your birthday fic starring Claudia in the “Londerland Bloodlines” universe. Alice and Claudia have made it to The Last Round and are chatting with Smilin’ Jack, and the topic of clans happens to come up. . .hope you enjoy!
Claudia blinked up at Jack in a way that could only be described as "doll-like" (meaning that, if anyone did describe it, they'd probably have their head ripped off). "My – what?"
"You know – what kinda vampire you are!" Jack clarified. "Brujah? Gangrel? Tremere?"
"I've – never heard any of those words before in my unlife."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Didn't you live with your sire for, like, ages? Pal around with other vampires? How could you not know?"
"I'm not entirely sure the vampires who made and raised Claudia work exactly like we do, honestly," Alice admitted, leaning on the table. "I mean, there are a lot of similarities, but. . .clans just don't seem to be as important in Europe as they are over here?"
"Not among the ones in Paris, anyway," Claudia confirmed. "I mean, we had the theater group, but – they never referred to themselves as a clan."
"No, a clan ain't – well, I guess it is a group of vampires," Jack backpedaled, frowning. "But not like that – a group of vampires unlivin' and workin' together, that's what we call a 'coeterie.' Your clan is the blood flowing through you – the powers and curses you have."
"Huh!" Claudia leaned forward, interested. "Nobody ever told me about this. . .how many clans are there?"
"From what I've picked up, there's thirteen 'official' clans, and Caine knows how many smaller 'bloodlines,'" Alice informed her. "Most vampires tend to fall into the official thirteen, though. . .for example, I'm a Malkavian. I get extra insight into things, the ability to see auras, turn invisible, and inflict horrific hallucinations on people, in exchange for incurable mental illness." She sighed and leaned on her hand. "Fortunately for me, I was already used to that, but still."
"Brujah blood here," Jack said proudly, flexing a bicep. "We punch harder, run faster, and can hold the room when we need to. We make sure those assholes up in the ivory towers don't get too big for their britches. And if we have to smash open a few skulls to do it, weeeell. . ."
"And Skelter over there is a Gangrel," Alice added, jerking her head toward the Kindred's usual lurking spot. "Closer to all beasts, both inside and out. He can command spectral animals, grow a terrifying set of claws, and withstand most attacks better than any other Kindred – but apparently the animal stays with you if you lose control and frenzy, and they're a bit more prone to that than most clans."
Claudia frowned, nibbling her lower lip with her fangs. "None of those sound like me – even if I do have a temper," she admitted. "Can I just – not have a clan?"
"Eh – it happens, but not often," Jack told her, frowning. "Though it's been happening a lot oftener these days, which is kinda – getting people nervous." He held up two fingers and ticked them off as he spoke. "You got Thin-Bloods, which are so far removed from the good old 'Dark Father' that their blood's too weak to actually carry clan curses and powers. And then you got Caitiff – they're the sports, the ones where, for whatever reason, the curse don't take properly and they end up just – there." He waved a hand warningly. "Trust me, though, you don't want to declare yourself either of those. They're bottom o'the heap in vampire society – most of 'em end up killed by so-called 'proper' Kindred."
"Not that you need any reminders of how nasty vampires can be to each other," Alice said, shaking her head.
"Mmmm," Claudia grumbled. "So where does a clan come from?"
"Your sire, usually," Jack said. "What was he like?"
"Lestat? Total bastard," Claudia replied bluntly. "And a fop as well – him and Louis. They spent their nights lounging around in fancy clothes and having dramatic arguments about their status as damned creatures. Louis was always bemoaning his fate, while Lestat absolutely reveled in being as much of a jerk to as many people as he possibly could. Occasionally they'd go out to drink someone dry, or buy some shiny trinket for the house that we could all stare at while being moody." She glanced down at her outfit, which was rather frillier than was usual in The Last Round. "I – definitely got my fashion sense from them, if nothing else." She smirked up at them. "So, which of the clans is that annoying to be around?"
Jack laughed. "Oh, that's easy." He stuck out a hand, grinning. "Welcome to Los Angeles, Toreador."
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@ringletsandpearls Another one following in the vein (ha) of my previous two gift fics to you -- more “Vampire Alice and Claudia in Bloodlines“ fun! We all like that, right? This year’s fic brings us closer to the endgame of Bloodlines -- looks like Claudia hitched a ride when Jack came up to Griffith Park to get Alice after that whole mess with the werewolves. . .
----
"What happened?"
"Damned if I know!" Alice shot back as they bounced along the road out of Griffith Park in the back of Jack's car. "One minute, I'm up there, talking to Nines about how Ming Xiao confessed to impersonating him and that she and LaCroix are metaphorically in bed together, the next–" She flung her hands up above her head. "Fwoom! The whole bloody park is on fire! That's the third time since coming to this wretched city that I've ended up in the middle of some sort of firestorm! I'm getting rather sick of reliving that particular trauma!"
"Yeah, I bet," Jack said, taking a corner perhaps a bit harder than necessary. "Betcha anything a couple of LaCroix's lackeys were the ones to drop the match. I've heard you bitch enough about the kind of stuff he makes you do. Bastard up his ivory tower's been trying to kill you since the beginning."
"For what?" Claudia asked, looking between them.
"Living," Alice hissed. "I was an illegal Embrace, remember? Apparently it's traditional to kill the childe along with the sire in these cases, but Nines spoke up for me, and LaCroix backed down before they could put me to the literal sword."
"Yeah – you've been a sign of weakness for him ever since," Jack agreed. "And if there's one thing good old LaCroix hates, it's lookin' weak. Especially in front of the Anarchs."
Claudia groaned, sprawling dramatically over the backseat. "How I despise vampire politics! And here I thought I'd left the worst of it behind me in Paris. . ."
"I'm sorry, but vampires being covert assholes seems to be a thing all over," Alice grumbled, rubbing her face.
"Ha! Ain't that right." Jack glanced back at them in the rear view mirror. "But hey, if it makes ya feel better, the werewolves up there probably ripped 'em to pieces before they could get away."
". . .werewolves?" Claudia repeated squeakily.
"Yes – two at least," Alice confirmed. "They came after me and Nines – one of them tackled him right over a cliff." She grimaced in Jack's general direction. "I'm sorry. I don't know how close you were, but I know how important he was to the movement."
"Shit. . .dude knew the risks of hidin' out up there," Jack said, though Alice thought she detected a hint of genuine sadness in his voice. "But yeah, Damsel and the rest are gonna be pissed. . .how the hell did you manage to outrun the other one?"
". . .uh, I – I actually – sort of – crushed it. In the observatory."
There was a moment of silence. "You what?" Claudia finally asked, sitting back up.
"It was practically an accident – I was running around the main building, found my way up to the main telescope, and when I opened the dome to escape, I noticed how thick and sturdy the doors were. So I caught the monster's attention, did a couple of laps outside, then got it up onto the balcony and through the doors just in time for me to hit the button and close them on it." Alice smirked. "I may have even yelled, 'You're terminated, fucker!'"
"Holy shit!" Jack spun around in his seat, eyes wide. "How the fuck do you keep doing this kinda stuff?! First that gargoyle, then the whole fuckin' L.A. Sabbat, now this?! You know how hard it is to kill even a weak werewolf?"
"Eyes on the road!" Alice demanded, pointing through the windscreen where the guardrail was getting a bit too close for her liking. Jack turned around and yanked them back on track. "And trust me, I know! I don't attribute my survival to anything but incredible luck!" She glanced over her shoulder, at the sword strapped firmly to her back. "And the Tal'Mahe'Ra blade softening it up a bit!"
Claudia shook her head, gaping. "I don't – you are – I don't know what to make of you," she finally settled on. "Except to say that I'm glad you're my side!" Her voice softened. "And that I'm not going to lose another friend to Final Death."
Alice gave her a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "I don't have any intentions of heading into that darkness anytime soon."
Jack shook his head, rounding a curve. "Fuckin' hell. Crushed a goddamn werewolf in the middle of a goddamn forest fire." He looked at Alcie again in the mirror. "LaCroix ain't gonna know what hit him when you come for him."
"Oh, he will," Alice replied, fangs gritted. "I'm going to make sure of that."
Merry Christmas So Familiar A Gleam: Gingerbread Hovel
@sofamiliaragleam I bring you -- baking fic! What, I was talking about it all last week. Is anyone really surprised? :p At any rate, the holiday season and all the baking shows I’ve been watching lately lead me to the image of Victor and Alice attempting a gingerbread house. And it was cute enough to make me think it was right up your alley. :) Even if this fic starts off with them struggling a bit. . .enjoy!
Snap! "Oh, for--"
Without even looking up, Alice set down her knife and passed over the bag of royal icing. "Thank you," Victor replied in defeated tones. "I swear I'm not doing this on purpose."
"If you were, I'd expect more pride in a job well-done," Alice said, taking up her knife again and shearing a tiny bit more gingerbread off her corner. She ran her finger over the join, then -- satisfied the two pieces were level -- moved onto the next one. "That's all four walls you've broken, isn't it?"
"And what was going to be half of the roof before I picked it up," Victor grumbled, carefully gluing the wall back together. He leaned back and examined his handiwork. "Our poor little house is going to look like Frankenstein's monster rampaged through it before we're done."
"Maybe that's appropriate," Alice said, nudging him. "What with the creator being named Victor and all."
Victor didn't even crack a smile. "It's just -- you don't expect gingerbread to be so fragile! I-I feel as if I only have to breathe on it wrong and it snaps!"
"I noticed -- I'm starting to think it's a bit too dry," Alice admitted, looking at their remaining sheets. "Or else we baked it too thin. We should have double-checked the recipe with June."
"Or just let her build it entirely," Victor muttered, staring darkly at the icing bag. "She'd probably have everything up and decorated by now."
Alice put down her knife again in favor of squeezing Victor's arm. "Hey -- don't be like that. It's my first time too, you know. I'm as responsible for all of this mess as you are." She swept her hand over the floury, molasses-spattered, sweets-strewn table. "I didn't go into this expecting perfection. This is hard work. I know you're giving it your best." She pointed at his repaired wall. "And whatever goes wrong, we can fix it. Together. We're making this as a team. As long as we're still speaking to each other at the end, that's what matters."
Victor eyed her from the side, raising an eyebrow. "Just to clarify -- are we talking about the gingerbread house, or our marriage?"
Alice responded with her best impersonation of the Cheshire Cat's grin. Victor snorted. "All right -- I guess I shouldn't get so worked up about something that we're going to break apart and eat in the end anyway," he admitted, relaxing. "It would just simply be nice to actually get it up first."
"Well -- we have three walls standing," Alice reminded him, picking up the knife again to resume her leveling of the top. "Even if they all had to be mortared back together first, they are up." She grinned. "If you're willing to attempt a couple of extra levels, we can make it look like Radcliffe's. Throw a bunch of powdered sugar dust all over it, scatter some shattered bits of toffee around to suggest broken furniture, bake up some gingerbread men as squatters. . . ."
That got a full-on laugh. "I don't think it's that bad just yet." He picked up his repaired wall, pressing it against the open side of the house. "Let's finish this first floor and go from there."
"Oh! Those are...?" Aurora raised an eyebrow, then going on to give them an icy glare. If they were anything like what he had told her, she disliked them, for she couldn't imagine how anyone could treat their son with such neglect and discouragement. "No need to fret. I am merely his surrogate daughter. I don't even see how I could be his biological daughter anyways. I'm much older than I look, you know...."
Nell returns it. “Hmph. Surrogate daughter…what’s wrong, Victor, can’t you give me an actual grandchild?”
"Mother!" Victor is just going to facepalm forever during this visit, isn’t he? "Look, we met one day by accident, and she turned out to be a friend. She’s a very nice young lady."
Nell examines her critically. “Well, she does seem to have some breeding,” she says after a moment, with clear reluctance.
"Pretty name, too," William says, ever the amiable one. "I like it. Too bad you can’t use it for a blood relation for fear of confusion."
"We’ll manage," Victor says, shaking his head a little.
"Papa! Papa!" The young blonde opened the door to her surrogate father's forest home excitedly. "You'll never believe what I found in my garden! Fairies! Real o--" Aurora gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, slightly embarrassed and confused. Standing before her with Victor were two elderly strangers. Were they his parents? Probable, since the old man looked a bit like him, but she couldn't be sure. "Who...who are they?"
"Papa?!" Nell thunders, eyes wide. "Victor Fitzwilliam Van Dort, if you’ve had a grandchild without telling us—"
"It’s just a name!" Victor says quickly. "She lives with her aunts, and she asked if she could call me that…" Cue the rather embarrassed, strained smile Aurora’s way. "Excuse that, please. Mother, Father, this is Aurora. Aurora, this is my mother and father."
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Her grip around him tightened and she leaned up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I know, my darling...You are strong and capable enough. I trust you....But I still worry. And you know, should you ever need anything, I shall always be here for you". She smiled through her admittedly wracked nerves.
Victor smiles at her words, glad she believes in him. Sometimes it feels like not enough people do. “Thank you. And it’s all right, I understand. I worry all the time,” he says, chuckling weakly. “I should really be all right, though. I can handle myself.” He hopes, anyway.
Aurora gasped as she was suddenly lead somewhere farther away. "But if he's a monster, I don't want him to hurt you too! I'm more worried for you than I am for myself to be honest..." She bit her lip and frowned, turning to face Victor and wrapping her arms around him.
"I’ve dealt with him before — I know how to handle him," Victor reassures her. "And how to get away should the need arise. I’m much more worried what he might do to you should he get the chance." However, he’s not going to say no to the hug. After a confrontation with Bumby, he needs one.
"Who is that brutish, boorish man!?" Aurora exclaimed, looking both sad and horrified that someone should ever even dream of speaking to her surrogate father like that. "Don't listen to a word he says, Papa! I should like to give him a piece of my mind!" She was probably being too stubborn for her own good yet again, but she couldn't help it. When someone dear to her was threatened, she couldn't hold her tongue.
Gah! Excuse Victor’s sudden tense fear — he just doesn’t want Bumby anywhere near Aurora. “That is someone you should stay far, far away from,” he says, putting a hand on her shoulder to lead her away as he does. “He’s more than brute or a boor — he’s a monster, and I wouldn’t like him to turn his gaze on you.” He pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry — I’m far, far past the point of listening to him.”
