even monsters can't protect themselves

   his brain momentarily stopped working, something about all her outfits made him speechless. you didn’t see people walking around like her in wolford, it did make him understand why mara believed she was a princess. “you look gorgeous valentina.” the words came out without so much as a thought to them and he offered a nervous smile right after. realizing not only it was very random but that he was extremely underdressed compared to her. “perfect, saving a man from a mothers shoe.” he joked, as he held a hand out to help her down the little porch. 

     when the jeep was within reaches he opened the door for her as well, white lilies sitting on the seat ready for her. he couldn’t have placed what she smelled like till he saw the flowers, although sal is far to of a shy man to admit that they made him think of her.

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          “Thank you,” she responded in kind, dusting off the top of the dress. There was little consideration in her about how quickly it would become dirty, which perhaps she should have but she’d never been to the theatre before, at least not as they were now, and was unaware of how children spilled brightly coloured drinks and teens threw buttered covered popcorn everywhere. “I don’t know what that means,” she said as he spoke of his mother’s shoes.

          Valentina stepped the rest of the way though when she saw he was opening the door for her, stunning lillies upon the seat. Valentina waited for a moment, for him to pick them up and when he did not she picked them up herself and climbed into the jeep. “They’re lovely,” she offered, bring them to her face to softly smell. They were stronger than her own scent obviously but Valentina lingered in them as she waited for him to join her in his vehicle.

@valentinawakens .

    “valentina,” sal greeted as he approached her home, their date something that made him on edge all day. he hadn’t been on a proper one in a long time, nor did he have any clue if what he had planned for the night would be fun for her. she left him in a conundrum often, how could someone be so soft but strong? sal wondered for a moment prior to today if getting mixed with a vampire would be bad for mara - what if she gets attached and they leave - that could be anyone though. valentina seemed different, sure alluring in a siren way but also everlasting like a promise.

    “i hope i’m on time the jeeps clock is always off by a few minutes.”

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           White fabric clung to Valentina’s form as she stepped out of her cabin, white heels matching it. She had bought the shoes but sewn the dress herself, the fabric thicker than what most women might have chosen but Len wasn’t thinking about showing off what Sal had already seen of her body, rather she wanted to look and feel beautiful in his presence, especially when he was so handsome. 

            There was a bit of shock to the woman that he had simply walked up to her home though, had not knocked or done the sort of chivalrous thing of bringing flowers but Len decided it was probably just a changing of the times, that to expectation a man might knock was probably a lot. “I’m not sure anyone is concerned with people being a few minutes late but I was not watching the clock so we can say you’re on time.”

Valentina’s explanation is a sensible one, grounded in the kind of harsh life-logic it’s difficult to accept or dismiss, but it still doesn’t quite sit well with Seth.  He’s never been very good at putting himself in other people’s shoes, and so it’s beyond his limited capacity for empathy to imagine how a parent who claims to love their children could choose to simply vanish rather than stay to raise them.  It was the price of immortality, he understands, but it’s one he wouldn’t have chosen to pay.  It’s a delicate topic, and normally the human is just the flavor of cantankerous who’d enjoy needling it, but this is different.  He lets it drop.

“Yeah, well, there’s all types in town I guess.  ‘Course you gotta’ be willin’ to put yourself out there and wade through the shit.”  Seth drawls, shrugging, “Or y’know, there’s always Tinder.”  It’s a terrible way to meet people, but then so is hanging around at a local bar.

There’s not much that renders Seth Jansen speechless these days, but it takes him a moment to find his voice.  “Small fuckin’ world…” He mutters after a beat, running a hand back through his scruffy, short-cropped hair.  “I mean, it checks out on paper.  I’m sure we could get one of them DNA tests done to confirm it,” Hell, the Historical Society would probably even foot the bill if they agreed to let themselves feature the quirky surprise ancestry revelation as part of the exhibition.  He’s struck by the sudden notion that there’s more than just coincidence at play, and he quickly banishes the thought.  “Would you be up for that?” 

Seth’s attention is on the paperwork, re-checking and triple-checking the lineage as he tries to digest it.  He doesn’t notice Len’s movement until he feels the cool touch of her fingertips on his face.  The human goes still; blue eyes flashing upward immediately.  His heart just skipped at least three beats, he thinks, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as it becomes clear the vampire doesn’t intend to eat him.  “You startled me,” Seth whispers, half an explanation, half an apology.  The latter are rare from the likes of him.  “No, you’re…You’re not a disappointment at all,” The human admits.  Sure am glad I didn’t sleep with you, though, he thinks to himself.  “Besides, you didn’t exactly hit the descendent lottery, yourself.  Unless my brother’s got some secret lovechild he ain’t told me about, I’m sorry to tell you your line ends with me and him.”  

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        Valentina chuckled when he said Tinder, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth at the way she laughed because it seemed to big an action for the small confines of the cabin. “I have a friend who uses that and it is not what I need, I’m not looking for a partner, I’d just like to know more people,” she insisted. “It seems nice though, that the phone can do all of that, even if it’s not what I’m after. Does seem a bit dangerous.”

          Valentina knew what DNA was, it had come about enough in the time she was awake that she knew what it was, even if how it was used was a bit foreign to her, which was why... “do I have any? Now that I’m dead?” It was a silly question but it was also a silly assumption to think vampires didn’t have souls because they’d died, there were certainly sillier things she could have asked. “I would though, I wouldn’t mind doing that.”

          Unlike Seth, Valentina is not overly concerned by the papers, her eyes focused in on his features, especially as he froze and made it so smooth a motion, fingers grazing over still jaw, barely noticing the affect her touch had on his heart beat because she was still in awe of how he looked, this strange scientific magic that could allow such a thing. It didn’t have to mean anything though, Beau had tracked down his silly descendants for generations and it was so frivolous, why would her own lineage matter? It could be a fun little way to get to know someone, why did it have to mean anything?

“Your router connects your devices, like your laptop or phone, to your modem.” Luka explained, not sure if Len really wanted to know. Lot of people that weren’t tech savvy didn’t really want to learn, they just wanted it setup. “The modem is where you get your internet from your provider.” He continued, looking back at Len for a moment before continuing plugging everything in. 

“Oh, this?” He asked, pulling his shirt down to display the artwork better. “That is Link.” He said, letting go of the bottom of his shirt. “He’s a character in a video game I play.” He further explained, thinking to himself that she was going to right him off as a lazy gamer now. “I only dress like this on my days off and when I plan to stay in and game. That’s what I was doing before you called.”

“Did the guy by chance set you up with an internet provider and give you a modem?” Luka asked, pausing what he was currently doing.

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          Valentina knew what her laptop was and what her phone were but not whatever the other thing was but it seemed like her expression was enough for Luka to go deeper on that and she let out a soft smile that he hadn’t simply let her pretend she was fine with whatever he said even if he wasn’t. “I think I set that up, at least I was told I’d provided enough information to the girl at the phone store that it should be, do you know how to check?” she asked him.

         The description not only the character on his shirt but the reason he was wearing it did make her feel a bit guilty. Valentina saw Luka as someone who worked hard, someone who put the time in that he deserved a break and so when he noted she’d interrupted it she could help but... “I’m sorry, if I had known I was taking time away from you like that I would have insisted you come by another day, it’s not that important.”

He had not intended to imply it was through a fault of her own that the chicken was now in this current predicament. More often than not it was a simple environmental factor or a stressor in their living situation as simple as it being too bright or too cramped with too many other chickens and other factors that were usually out of the control of the owner. It could even be that she was simply feeding the chicken too many treats outside of their normal diet and on occasion it was simply a genetic issue with the chicken itself or a rare occurrence that would likely not be repeated. Still, he hadn’t entirely noticed the slight narrowing of her eyes. He was more adept at noticing slight changes in an animal’s behavior and not so much with other people so he carried on.

“Is there a lamp inside of the nesting coop? Sometimes it can interfere with their natural egg laying cycle and cause them to try and lay prematurely,” he’d began to explain as he proceeded to bring out a large basin and fill it with warm water from the sink on the side of the room, might as well let the hen start soaking in the water while they spoke. “Also there has been studies that have shown a decreased chance of being egg bound if you increase the calcium in their diet. It might sound a bit strange but you can grind up discarded egg shells and incorporate it into their feed.” He brought over the half-filled basin of warm water, tested it with his fingers and then motioned for her to lift the chicken up, “If you would please place Eggs in here?”

        Valentina shook her head regarding the lamp, it was too hot for that this time of year and so had not considering doing so, an idea she would have potentially considered come winter but would now likely ignore if that could potentially be an issue. “I have not considered adding that to their feed no, I usually use what I make myself but food is strange now, I potentially have not added enough of the ingredients that I should have,” she noted. 

“Of course, it’s no trouble at all,” Marco assures her.  Never in a thousand years would he expect someone–vampire or not–to haul all of that by hand when it’s such a simple gesture to drive it over.  Assuming, obviously, that he manages to retrieve his car without any further setbacks.  So far it seems like Wolford is full of such veritable speedbumps. “There’s no exchange necessary,” he replies with a smile as he watches Valentina peck her information into his phone, “I’m more than happy to pay you for your services.  Frankly, a competent tailor is worth their weight in gold, especially these days…”  It strikes Marco that unlike most of the seamstresses of ‘these days’, the vampire had likely acquired her skills by necessity in her human lifetime.  “May I bring you a few pieces in need of alterations when I stop by?”

The alchemist retrieves his phone, quickly shooting off a text identifying himself to the number Valentina has just entered so that she has his number easily accessible.  “Perfect.  If I can get my car out of the impound lot without too many delays I’ll swing by tonight.  I’ll text you, either way.”  He shifts to collect Magdalena from his shoulder, setting the crow back onto the counter, and waiting for his guest before moving to see her out.

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        Valentina offered him a nod as she responded, “you may bring as much as you need, I don’t tend to be someone who slumbers often.” Certainly not since she rose from quite a deep sleep she avoided it for as long as possible and would much prefer to have things to do. A collection of suits that would need fitted to the measurements and shape she took for him would be much more preferably.

        “Sounds wonderful, be careful at night, it’s dark in the woods and you don’t know what’s there these days,” she stated, aware Sal was...something even if she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Her heels clicked as she moved out, having a hard time setting down the glass he had giving her but doing so aware she could have more later. “Have a nice afternoon, Marco.”

The first part of Len’s explanation is not unheard-of; vampires posing as wedded couples or some other familial unit throughout the ages.  Over the course of his participation with the Historical Society’s project Seth has come across more than a few who had, at some point in their existence, done much the same.  It is not the matter of Valentina’s marriage that strikes the human as particularly difficult to understand, but rather, of her willingness to separate from her own children.  “So you just…walked away?”  It was a different time, surely, but try as he might he just can’t wrap his head around it.  “Do you ever regret it?”  

Seth shrugs, pulling a face when Valentina explains what it truly is that she’s hoping to find through her participation.  “Won’t lie to you, that’s kinda’ a tall order.  I haven’t been doin’ this as long as some of the other folks with the society, but I’ve been doin’ it long enough to say in no uncertain terms that there ain’t too many vampires like you ‘round here.”  He means it as a compliment, insomuch as he’s ever really inclined to pay them in the first place.  It probably doesn’t do much to soothe Len’s feelings of solitude, however.

He’s only half listening to Len as she speaks of her father and uncles, and of her male cousins who might have carried on her maiden family name.  That’s not the name which has caught his attention.  “Yeah, there might be a reason for that,” Seth replies vaguely, turning the paper around in his hand and holding it out for the vampire to see.  He points to a branch of the family tree; one which originates with Valentina’s youngest daughter and the man she eventually grew up to marry.  The two had raised only one living child to adulthood, but from him several more generations were to follow.  “Right here, a few generations down from your daughter–” The human moves his finger to indicate on the visual aide, “–This woman here, Evelyn, she was your direct descendant…and look who she married, Samuel Jansen.” Seth points to the man’s name beside her before continuing.  “Right here’s their son.  That’s Ezra Jansen, of Wolford, Tennessee.”  He fixes Len with a pointed look, before elaborating.  “Ezra Jansen was my grandfather…which means…” 

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         “I don’t think I truly saw it as walking away, I wasn’t capable of caring for them anymore, especially at the start when I was finding control. I might not have mourned them the way women mourn now but I would have felt unimaginable guilt if I had returned and hurt them. Once I did have my feeding under a relative amount of control I did check in and they had a new mother, a women in the town who was not as skilled as myself but was in some respects prettier and was a competent mother,” Valentina tried to explain, it was hard to because yes, it had been another time, but beyond that Valentina was not one to linger on the lost. “I think I perhaps regret not delaying what had happened, I didn’t exactly have a choice but I suspect if I had been more hesitant I could have waited until they’d grown. It seems silly to regret now though, generations after they’ve died, wasted energy to reject what can not be changed, best to simply push on.”

           “Oh,” Len let out, trying to school her disappointment but nodding gently. “Doesn’t need to be vampires, I suppose, I will...find others.” The hopefulness of that was obviously a bit void however, the old woman in her young form looking down, a tightness in her chest because it did hurt to think she might actually be the only vampire who had not spent their extra decades trying to seek wealth and belongings.

          Valentina’s fingers followed his, soft eyes on her youngest daughter...perhaps she did have regrets. Her youngest had been so like her, not exactly in looks but in action. It was maybe silly the child she clung to was the one who had likely coped the best with it, but Seth’s finger continued to move down the line, Len following until he offered up his own name, not needing a genius to connect the dots, small smile pulling across her lips. A strange coincidence, a small laugh escaping her lips because it felt both so entirely unlikely but obviously very plausible with the how many people surely had to be related to her. “Your grandfather, that is...astonishing,” she lifted her eyes to him. “I...I don’t think I ever considered that there were people anywhere who had my lineage but...you really do look like him.”

         It was probably inappropriate, because in reality he was a stranger, but Valentina reached out and attempted to touch his jawline, intending to feel the way his was shaped along to his chin. Really though it was more than her husbands features, it was his eyes, pools that reflected her own. Perhaps to deflect from the overwhelming nature of what he’d suggested Len looked to the papers, “I am probably the vampire you had to interview you were least likely to hope to find a connection to,” she mused, not intending to be an insult, or to imply he was some gold digger, rather she assumed she had to be the least interesting because of her lack of finances. “I didn’t sit with Lincoln at some fancy dinner or share drinks with Audrey Hepburn.”

The misunderstanding is apparent, and Seth huffs a laugh under his breath.  “Never remarried, huh?” He asks, partially because it feels like a relevant question, but also as a means of segueing her confusion into some productive aspect of the task at hand.  Valentina seems confused, and possibly a bit overwhelmed by the paperwork, and for an instant he feels a twinge of sympathy for whatever it must feel like to have one’s entire existence reduced to a stack of historical documentation.  It’s short lived, after what she says.  “You just left your kids behind?  Was there some reason why?”

Seth isn’t a man of many virtues anymore, but one of the few he’s managed to hold fast to even through the hardships of the last decade is his patience.  It’s on full display as he waits and watches Valentina sift through the paperwork.  Something catches his eye on one of the pages in her ‘genuine’ pile, and he absently reaches over to pull it off the stack and sets it on his lap for further inspection.  “Who exactly are you hopin’s gonna’ hear you?” he presses, “I mean, you said yourself you’re not concerned with whatever family you might have left.  Is there somebody else you’re tryin’ to get through to?”

The smile that suddenly pulls across the vampire’s face is unexpected, though no less lovely for the surprise.  He wishes he’d had his camera in hand to capture it.  Instead, Seth takes the photo she hold out to him, looking closely at the image.  “No shit…” he mutters, blinking.  She hadn’t been joking; the man in the picture could be his twin.  “Koning, right?  You kept his name?” The human asks, handing the photo back before glancing down pointedly at the piece of paper in his lap.  His index finger traces over several lines as he reads down through the generational breadcrumbs, following the various branches of the man’s family line.  His daughters–Valentina’s daughters–and their marriages, their children, their children’s children…Suddenly, Seth goes still, staring at the paper for a moment before his gaze rises to meet Len’s.  “You gotta’ be fuckin’ shittin’ me…” 

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         Valentina shook her head, once she had died she had loved her sire deeply and in a way she had not loved her husband - believing the love she held not something capable of being felt in her mortal form and not because her husband had been undeserving - but marriage had never been on the cards for them as they were dead. “My sire and I posed as husband and wife on occasion, as did myself and my own progeny, but I never actually remarried,” Valentina offered as explanation. As for her children... “Well my sire told me I needed to be dead to the world and children were not quite the same then as they seem to be now, I knew my husband would remarry quickly and they’d have a new mother who would do for them what I could not as a vampire. I missed them, especially my youngest, but in the end I’ve always been rational to a fault perhaps.”

         There was someone it would be nice to find but it was not what she’d meant when she said it, softly shaking her head. “I don’t know, maybe people like me, who aren’t obsessed with wealth? People who I could have as company,” Len stated, feeling a bit silly to confess a statement that on it’s own probably meant very little but overall showed a distinct loneliness.

         “Yes, my poor father, he had brothers though, perhaps they had male children where he did not,” because despite modern choices when Valentina had married it was far less common for women to keep their names, only done so in specific circumstances. She said this however as he moved through her family tree, still moving through the other documents until he swore, the terms not upsetting her but did, due to their specific nature, cause her to look up at him. “He really does look like you, doesn’t he?” she said rather simply.

“So I’m told,” Marco replies with a little smile.  In truth it’s an accusation more often levied at him as an insult than a compliment, but he’s gotten the sense from Valentina that she intends the latter.  She’s certainly not the easiest person to read, even for someone as innately perceptive and empathic as Marco usually is, but thus far she has exhibited a tendency toward candor.  It’s something the warlock can appreciate.

Her words settle over him more ominously than he expects, and the alchemist’s expression falters a bit.  “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid,” Marco offers, reaching up absently to stroke the crow perched on his shoulder. 

“I feel terrible not being able to offer you a ride at the moment,” He admits, pulling a face.  His only mode of transportation is currently sitting in a tow-yard, and it will take him at least an hour to jog over and fetch it.  “I don’t think they have taxicabs around these parts…or Uber.  Is your place very far from here?  I promised you a couple cases of synthetic blood, as well–I’ll bring those by for you after I’ve gotten my car, if that’s alright.”  

Marco is already reaching for his phone when Len brings up her own technical challenges, deftly tapping on the screen to add her into his contacts before stepping over to hand his device to her.  “Here, go ahead and put in your number and then I’ll text you mine.”  His head tilts curiously as Valentina speaks of her business endeavor, “Really?  It so happens that I’m in the market for a competent tailor, myself.  Are you currently taking customers?”   

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          Len had a feeling she could carry them strength wise but physically there were limitations depending on how large a ‘case’ was. If they were to large in terms of volume rather than weight she would definitely have issues carrying it back to her home. “That would be helpful,” Valentina agreed, aware she could probably come back with some way to carry them but it seemed silly if he had a car not to let him help if he desired to.

          The man handed her his phone and, because while she hadn’t learnt everything about the technology she had yet she did have a mind to adapt, was able to put in the numbers she had been told were assigned to the device. “Yes, I am attempting to acquire them, perhaps when you bring by the cases I can work on something for you, in exchange and to show you I’m capable,” she suggested, since she knew it would take time to be known around the town as someone who could tailor things and make suits since for all people knew now she could destroy them.

    he wasn’t sure where to take her, he felt it’d be rude to assume she’d want to go to dinner and strokers wasn’t his  first choice in going on a first date. sal was suddenly mentally htting himself questioning if he  should have gone with a different option, maybe she wants to go out to eat, then again he knew he could make the movies sound better than it was. his brain jumping between the two ideas, wondering what he should do beyond cancel - he wasn’t going to do that now after he managed to dance around the subject. 

   “well i would never want you to dim your shine for me that’s for certain.” sal reassured with a smile in return, a hand once more ran through the hair at the nape of his neck. dare he admit his cheeks felt warm with her agreement to go. “i most certainly can – if you have questions about your phone, i can always help. at least with the basics, like… inserting contacts or the camera.” 

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       Len flushed at his words, even if technically her cheeks couldn’t do that, especially adorable as she watched him touch the back of his neck, like he was nervous the words had come out at all. “Then I will have to find where I’ve left it, probably around the cope somewhere,” she joked, her eyes moving over to Mara once again and back to him. Valentina assumed, since he said that women didn’t particularly like single fathers, that maybe it would take him a moment to believe she was interested regardless and so figured best not to push the issue but let it all occur naturally.

Seth obliges without fanfare, setting his things down and taking a moment to pull off his boots before placing them on the rack Valentina had indicated.  He’s once again struck by how little by way of material possessions she has visibly displayed; only a few pairs of shoes, most of them utilitarian in nature.  He’d been given a house tour by one vampire over in Shimmering Oaks who’d proudly shown him a collection of footwear that would put Imelda Marcos to shame.  The contrast here is striking.

“Be who you were before I knocked on that door,” the human suggests, not unkindly.  In his line of work it’s not uncommon for clients to become wishy-washy about their general appearance or their choice of attire, but there’s something about the way Valentina quietly fusses over herself that makes him wonder if there’s a deeper element at play.

He chuckles under his breath as the vampire works out the mental genealogy hypothetical aloud, stooping to gather up his things before padding further into her home in sock covered feet.  “Like your husband, huh?  That’s a new one,” Seth notes; the grin he returns full of amusement.  Glancing over at the seating area, the photographer follows her instructions and moves to take the offered seat.  He puts his camera bag on the floor and breaks into the folder, withdrawing several sheets of paper noting centuries old records of births, baptisms, marriages, deaths, and other relevant information.  There are black and white photographs affixed to some, others bearing shoddy print-outs of old documents.  The oldest dates have few visual aids, though there is a family tree charted.  “This’s what the Historical Society has managed to pull together,” Seth tells her, handing over the stack and pointing out the highlighted lines.  “We’re supposed to review and trace back through it to verify these are correctly referencing you and your biological family members.” 

The question earns a shrug from the human.  “I’d never met a vampire before I agreed to do this.  Or, well, I never knew I had,” he replies honestly.  “It wasn’t about that.”  It’s a bit of a non-answer, he realizes, but then he’s not especially inclined to delve any deeper than that.  “Why’d you agree to participate?”

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         Be who she was when he knocked at the door, she supposed she could do that and yet it still felt like she might have a bit of a challenge on her hands to not come off...peculiar. It makes her adjust herself, that thought alone, brushing back some of her hair with the back of her hand so it moved behind her shoulder but still covers her ear.

          “A new one? No, I only had one husband,” Valentina offers, unsure what his amusement comes from specifically, watching as he puts his camera bag down and starts to pull out the paperwork he mentioned needing her to go over. Len had anticipated needing to fill things out but it instead seemed to be a collection of papers that were more for her to assess the authenticity of. They were strange to see, mostly because the photographs of some, or the state of others didn’t quite fit as she recalled them. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be,” Len offered, taking the papers from him and starting to move through them. “I had five children and two sisters who also had rather a lot of children, I imagine I might get a bit lost, especially since once I died I left them all behind and keeping track of those who are living never seemed a valuable use of my time.”

           Valentina moves through the papers, placing them down in piles, one she knows for sure are genuine, ones she knows for sure are inaccurate and, the largest of piles, one that she is unsure of. “I agreed because I...well I suppose I agreed because I don’t feel particularly heard in this time and this seemed some way I could do it. It’s probably the wrong way,” she admitted, but technology still felt challenging and though so many more people were willing to listen to her these days it didn’t feel like it changed anything.

From the time Elric released Niklaus, he had been in charge of finding his own source of blood. It was a lot easier than he expected. Stumbling into his first position as a mortician’s apprentice had been a fluke. But from the first day in the morgue, he had a plan in his head for feeding himself that didn’t harm anybody. From that day in the 70’s, every place he moved, he made sure he knew where the morgue was if he couldn’t get a job there. It was another nine years, when he met a vampire without Elric’s help that he got into selling and supplying blood to those who needed it. Even still now, with the knowledge of vampires being pubic and synthetic blood able to satisfy the needs of vampires as well as willing humans to offer up themselves to be fed on, he still supplied blood to those who wanted it.

He was running late to meet up with Len, but the preparations of the body for tomorrow’s funeral had taken a lot longer than he had anticipated when he made the deal to meet up. When there was a knock on the door, he glanced at the clock. Even later than he realized it was. He pulled the sheet up over the body he had drained and headed for the door. “I’m sorry for not being more prepared. Come in.” He stepped back, giving the other vampire plenty of room to enter the funeral home.

       The man seemed rushed upon opening the door, stepping inside the place of business. It had actually never occurred to Valentina as a young vampire to drink the blood of the dead. Anne Rice hadn’t existed in her time so it wasn’t about ‘taking death into you’ as she had created for her fictitious vampires, it mostly had been that Len found killing so simple. It had been part of the reason her sire had turned her, Valentina understood you could be kind to something and still understand it had to die to be your food source. Killing had been simply but it no longer was.

“Is his house really that big?” Sure, Mason had had drug money but he’d only lived in the trailer he’d grown up in or apartments. The idea of a house that big, some swanky mansion that you could just….I dunno, swim through your money in seemed pretty unfathomable. Again, it wasn’t like he and Beau talked much so he didn’t know that much about his life. “He’s got descendants in town? Who are they?” Mason was curious in spite of himself. He probably should just ask Beau but she seemed to know and she was here so it was easier just to check with her. “Doesn’t seem to have a problem admittin’ what he likes.” Mason mused. Beau was always very clear with him about what he liked and wanted. 

Mason made a tsking noise. “Yeah? That’s too bad.” Where the fuck would he even be without booze and drugs? No wait, he knew that answer, because he hadn’t had either in jail and it had been a nightmare, at least for that first year. At least after that first year the vampires had come out and there’d been some in there and they’d introduced him to some new addictions so it’d been bearable after that. 

He was still chuckling about the idiot who hadn’t know what she meant. “What a dumbass.” Mason mused, as they headed for the car. It wasn’t the nicest car but it was pretty nice. He’d bought it with drug money and though it wasn’t the flashiest it was still a smooth ride and had a few nice perks to it. He shook his head as she explained further. “Can’t see why they wouldn’t wanna try it. You know how much I love it, they’re really missin’ out if they won’t even try.” Unlocking the car, he let them in and got it started up. 

It wasn’t a long drive because Wolford wasn’t very big so they were parking in his spot beside his apartment building downtown soon enough. He got his groceries out of the back and soon enough he was unlocking the door to his apartment which was a few flights up. “Just let me get these put away.” Some of the stuff had to go in the fridge. His apartment wasn’t the neatest and tidiest but it wasn’t a pit by any means. It looked lived in, there were a few half full ashtrays scattered around and there was the lingering smell of smoke that didn’t quite go away but Mason hoped that wouldn’t bug her too much. “Couch or bed?” He asked, walking over to her and smirking after he’d put the groceries away. 

.

           “Ridiculous sort of Scarlett O’Hara type thing, the kind she has at the end of the movie, very vulgar,” she mused of Beau’s estate as they wandered, not aware a lot of what she was saying probably should have been kept private. In her mind, if Beau was sleeping with him, these were not overshares. “A young woman named Juno, must have mostly inherited her personality from other familial lines,” Valentina offered, a dig at Beau that most rarely saw. “Privately, perhaps, but apparently he has had as hard a time ageing into this era as I have.”

            When mason said she understood how much he liked it she actually smiled. Most of the people who wanted to be with vampires sort of gave her this icky feeling, like they were going to try and trick her into something, Mason didn’t do that, he was an easy person, someone who didn’t seem the type to engage in trickery or manipulation regularly, he also didn’t dress in fishnets and corsets with black gunk around his eyes which was an improvement. “As I would say most vampires are missing out on being aware of you,” Len offered, a kindness in a way as she pulled her seatbelt over her chest. She didn’t own a car but had been in them a few times now, so much more quiet than they had been in the past, she felt exceptionally safe in them which was a misguided opinion worse than her others really.

          For most of the drive Len remained silent, it wasn’t especially long and he could probably tell she enjoyed watching the town as the car drove them through it, eyes flicking to street signs and numbers on homes to try and work out in her mind where they were, intent on eventually knowing the whole place by memory alone. Once inside she allowed him a few moments to put things away, standing by the counter and watching him, eyes lingering on the various muscles of his form, contemplating their tenderness. It was enough to distract from the scent of chemicals in the air, cigarettes not smelling quite the same as she remembered, certainly the tobacco of it didn’t bother her.

           When he moved to her though, done with her groceries she offered a vague smile to his smirk, stepping into his presence in the solitude of his home, silence radiating around them, white noise of the water in his pipes and the flame of his water heater hidden somewhere in the trailer. Was it silly she actually admired the minimalist living state? Certainly she found it more appealing than the grandeur of others homes. Hunger partially abated by the woman’s actual enjoyment of his presence - it was so much easier to rip the skin off someone who she found to be undeserving of her attentions - she allowed her fingers to find purchase against the waist band of his jeans, nails pushing up the fabric of his shirt, leaning closer to him, drawing in the smell of cigarettes that were on him as much as his home. “Why not here?” she asked, heels on the linoleum of his kitchen. Hands to his chest, feeling his heart throbbing beneath the base of her palm, she lifted her chin to him, brilliant blue eyes full and focused onto him. “Easier clean up,” she mused.

           He didn’t quite get a moment to answer though as her soft lips reached for his, fangs descending only when her tongue touched his only. Sharp teeth lowering around her tongue, slicing it just briefly enough that she felt a droplet of her own blood fall beneath her tongue to the base of her mouth. “You want to be messy, don’t you?”

“Should I take my boots off?” He asks, lingering in the entryway after the door is closed behind him.  Growing up on the farm, it’d been common practice to remove ‘outside’ footwear before proceeding ‘inside’ lest all manner of offal be tracked through his mother’s house.  Not that he’s been out traipsing around in pigpens or anything today, but the human hasn’t missed that his host is barefoot in her own home.  

Seth takes a moment to look around, absorbing the aesthetic of the little cabin as he examines his surroundings.  For as old as the rustic place looks, it certainly doesn’t seem as though the vampire has lived here for very long.  Most of the others he’s met with so far through the project have lived in grand estate homes, filled with creature comforts and historical mementos they’d collected over the decades or centuries.  Not so this one. 

Her question jostles him from his thoughts, and Seth turns his attention back to Valentina.  “Well, ma’am, that’s up to you…” He offers with a shrug, feeling a bit reminiscent of when Gracie used to ask if an outfit made her butt look bit.  There was never a right answer.  “The goal of the exhibition is to present subjects like yourself in a way that you feel reflects who you are in this time,” the photographer explains, “I don’t know you well enough to say…” he hesitates, and then ventures to add, “…but, if I may, I think if we’re goin’ for authenticity, you’re nailin’ it just as you are.” 

He can’t help but huff a laugh under his breath as she offers the compliment.  “Thanks?” Seth manages.  He’s not really sure what else to say; at least not when he’s supposed to be here in a professional capacity.  Then again, she’s hot as hell…he decides then and there that he’d take her to bed if she asked, even if it does get him fired.  “Maybe you knew my granddaddy,” he jokes, before her concern registers.  “Don’t fret none about that.  I’m not good at much, but I could coax an expressive portrait out of a marble statue.  Face like yours?  Got a feelin’ you’ll do just fine.  Wanna’ get this paperwork outta’ the way first?”        

.

       Valentina looked to his boots and though there was nothing specifically dirty about them she gave him a nod, gesturing towards a small rack by the door that contained her own. There were two pairs of heels, some boots as well as some other flats, standing by it some wellingtons for when it rained and she needed to feed the chickens.

       When the photographer said it was up to her Valentina  was even less sure of what to do because she had only been risen in this time a few months and was sort of aware of how out of place she tended to be in the community. “I’m honestly not sure who I am in this time,” she offered, looking down at the black fabric of the pants she had made, trying to determine if, at the very least, it was clean. “I suppose, if the goal is authenticity then this should work, I wear a dress when I leave the house usually but at home I tend to find pants to be easiest,” she acknowledged, examining the hands she had just cleaned to be truly sure that they were.

       “That would be sort of amusing, but I think it would have to be your great great great...,” Len paused, trying to work it out as she had slept for so long. “Great great grandfather,” she concluded, unsure how accurate that was but figuring it got close enough. “You actually rather look like my husband did when I married him, it’s your nose, the way it pulls around your smile,” Len offered with a smile of her own and a shake of her head. “We should get the paperwork, yes,” she agreed, gesturing for him to take a seat on the lounge and doing so herself, toes pushing up so when she sat her knees came together and were angled in his direction, hands against her thighs in a resting position as she waited.

  did sal dare tell len her smile was beautiful? he caught himself staring at it for a moment before forcing his gaze to meet hers again, a nervous laugh coming out after her questioning. he wondered if it was simply because of how long she’d lived that she would be above the common thinking of this generation, it also made him find something endearing about her not minding it. “some would believe there… may be a fault in myself, or perhaps that i can’t fully invest in them due to my role but those are also my assumptions.” he couldn’t really admit that he never actively was trying to find another partner, sal really did have his focus fully on mara. if anyone had flirted with him over the years he was certainly oblivious to it. 

  as she seemed to take in his features he took a chance to look over her own, her scent surrounded him as if he was in a field of lilies - given the only reason he knew the specifics was his time spent in the woods. “then would you mind if i took you out this weekend – i need to find proper arrangements for mara but i would like to take you the movies, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

.

         “Hmm,” was all Len let out when Sal explained there were assumptions about how much he could invest into someone. With context, the context that dating in this time period took much longer than Valentina would likely be able to comprehend, she may have understood, but as it was she didn’t quite understand that. She was not a child, so of course she required less time, Sal didn’t need to devote attention to keeping her alive.

"Allowing Beau's insolence to grow to a point where he feels he doesn't owe me respect, when he does. His behaviour is both unseemly and childish, more so due to his age, it was perhaps forgivable in his youth but is now boring, feeble minded and a sign of poor character."

Vampires seem to have a knack for brevity where difficult conversations are concerned, and Valentina is no exception.  It does not escape Marco that her dismissive tone is edged with a hint of uncertainty, but he is not foolish enough to press the issue.  He lets it drop, content only that he’s offered her the unbiased truth which perhaps too few other magic users in her past had felt she was entitled.

Her assertion of anecdotal evidence earns a huff of amusement from the alchemist.  “I would submit that given the unique, ah, predator-to-prey dynamic involved with a standard vampiric diet, your particular relationship with the concept of food motivation is something of an outlier.  But I digress…”  

Marco leans back against the counter, fingertips drumming along the edge as he regards his guest thoughtfully.  “I wouldn’t know the first thing about farming practices,” the warlock admits, “If you haven’t got the space to keep them on your own property, perhaps there’s a local supplier in the area.  What I brought with me from Houston–” he gestures at the now-empty bag of pig’s blood, “–came from the local university’s veterinary school.  Not exactly many of those around Wolford, but maybe there’s a butcher in town?”  

Len’s question about the magical aspect of blood is met with a simple nod.  “Yes,” Marco replies without pretense.  “Yes, I do, because honestly I’ve spent my whole life trying to answer that question in every other conceivable way, but the fact remains that there is no scientific explanation.  Synthetic blood was developed by replicating human blood down to to the most basic chemical compounds that comprise it.  If you were to write out the elements and quantities on a white board, they would be identical…” the alchemist points toward the fresh glass of synthetic blood he’s set on the counter before Valentina, “But you know, and I know, that there’s something different.  A thousand blind taste-tests confirm it.  The greatest scientific and arcane minds in the world don’t know what the answer is, but I think it’s always been of a magical nature.”  Marco goes quiet, and Magdalena suddenly flaps over to perch herself on his shoulder, a pistachio still clutched in her beak.  “Those secrets are buried deeper than anyone has yet to tread.”  Though not for lack of trying.  

“Anyway, let me write down that recipe for you…” He murmurs, turning to fetch a notepad from a drawer and quickly jotting everything down before passing the piece of paper over to Len.

.

        “You’re amusing,” she noted when he spoke of her specific ‘predator-to-prey dynamic.’ She assumed it was a joke, a joke riddled with truth but a little dig at her that was actually somewhat funny to her, even if she didn’t externally laugh this time.

         A butcher did seem like a smart option, a career Len hadn’t thought on since she was mortal but in her time they had always been amenable to selling whatever they had. Pigs head was quite delicious and her butcher had always had some, maybe pigs blood would be easy too, people did use it for puddings...

         Len listened, not quite sure what chemical compounds specifically meant but from context determined it was like ingredients in a way, science ingredients. “I suppose then it is up to some people to tread it,” a soft smile in thought as Len looked to the bird upon Marco’s shoulder. “‘If this be magic, let it be an art lawful as eating,’ in this case a double entendre,  not simply to be allowed to practice magics, but by practicing said magics making my diet as common as that of your own.”