He.. he mean's there is far for sin here. Which it fitting for your kind.
Francis gives a soft noise of acknowledgement.
"Funny how these things work out. My daughter lives here. Not very far away in fact."
Several blocks and a veil of dimensions but near enough. One can never be entirely certain where Aurora's body is residing much less her mind. It's one of the things he treasures about her.
She's a flighty thing that flits through dimensions like a butterfly. A sweet, odd little duck.
"Mm, really? It's an interesting city. Doesn't sleep, really. Kind of obnoxious, but it's home, now."
He glances up from his work and smiles.
"If she ever needs anything, you can have her call me." And he isn't jonesing for a phone number or anything like that - he's a genuinely nice person who just wants to help people out.
This is his friends (sire? boss? captor? savior? he loses track of how Marcus slots into his life) doing. It's fucking antiquated, this is the 21st century, no one should be arranging marriages anymore, least of all Ethan's.
Admittedly, when whoever tore into his neck that night and didn't get to finish, he was sort of thrown back a century of two. Vampires...do things differently. They live differently, they govern themselves differently. There's a whole...infrastructure and caste system he wasn't aware of (and why would he have been, he was a horology studying, book reading, fanfic writing, video game playing dork with few friends and one dog. Vampires weren't a part of his world. Hell, people in general weren't really part of his world. He wasn't exactly mister extrovert.
And now...now they are his whole world. He has been forced to learn more about human anatomy and the way the body works than he had ever been interested in, and he's seen more blood than he'd ever wanted to.
The first time, to his friends horror, he'd fainted.
Great. A vampire who faints at blood, fucking...fantastic.
He wets his lips and looks in the mirror. He's in the bathroom before the 'ceremony', whatever the fuck that is, trying to prepare himself for this shit. Marcus has been dead for two months and this fresh hell is all his fault. Ethan still hasn't decided if he hates the man, or misses him horribly.
Ethan remembers the conversation like it was yesterday.
"Look, I know it's crazy, I know it sucks. But this guy is old and has a ton of resources. Our coven is just you and me, man. That's piss poor compared to others. We need this if we want to keep the club running, and ourselves safe."
"Why can't you marry him," Ethan asked him pointedly.
Marcus pulled a face.
"Because he didn't want to marry me."
"Oh, so he gets to choose?"
"Ethan," Marcus said, a little pleading. "He's loaded. It's a good match, and we need it."
Ethan scrubbed his hands through his hair and growled in frustration, but in the end, Marcus was right. It was just them, and Ethan is not an argumentative person.
And now it's just me, Ethan thinks, swallowing as one of the other grooms butlers or what the fuck ever pokes his head in.
"Mr. Crowne? It's time."
Ethan nods, smoothing his jacket. He'd have been late, if not for the butler, just staring off into the mirror, lost in his memories.
Instead, he's following the man out - Robert? Was that his name? Doesn't matter, really - and down the hall, where his fiance is waiting.
His Fiancé indeed, who for his sins just can't seem to stay away from vampires.
Which really, seems to be his running downfall in the last millennia. It makes sense. He's weak to humans and vampires are just like humans except they're needier and live longer.
And in a way that suits him just fine because he is also needy and lives far longer than he has any real right to. Forget the knowledge and children, perhaps it's life itself that is Francis' greatest hoard.
They haven't met, he can only trust the agreement he made with Marcus that the match is good and it will fill the hole in him, if only for a little while.
And should it not he'll simply skip dimensions to another and reevaluate his options.
He really shouldn't get involved in this but.. there are so many vampires in his family now. And he's a damned sucker.
And a damned fool.
A lord amongst the undead without being one of them. Association with Ethan will skyrocket the club, not just keep it floating.
So he waits at the end of an aisle, not bothering to trouble his family to stand there with him.
Not in a church of course, though that cliché is tired and incorrect.
A brunette in fair skin and soft brown hair, standing tall at six foot three with round, silver glasses. Who turns when he hears Ethan enter and smiles so softly. Oh yes. Pleasing.
Ethan doesn’t know why this guys so important, but before Marcus died, he’d hammered that fact home. This won’t just keep us in business, we’ll go from dive bar to elite status, man.
And the club is even more important to him now that Marcus is gone. It keeps his memory alive, and. Well.
That’s important to Ethan. He’s sentimental and a softie. He can’t help it, so here he is.
There aren’t many people in here. It’s just Francis there up front, a lawyer with the paperwork. A few witnesses. Ethans family is dead, and Francis... doesn’t seem to have any.
So.
He wets his lips and straightens his shoulders, and forces himself to chill out. Relax. Nothing weird about getting married in the dead of night to... someone who looks like a librarian.
You love the fact he looks like a librarian, admit it Ethan.
Besides, what were you expecting, some gold draped European Duke? Dripping in money and jewels?
If that's the wort of thing just play your cards right. He'll shower you with all the ridiculous splendor you can handle and then some.
Francis smiles as he approaches and holds out a hand. Long, elegant fingers slightly calloused from his work. Freckled with very, very green eyes flecked with gold. The sort of emerald you only see in movies. When he speaks it's with a soft but pleasant cadence. Easy to lull someone. Comfort them. He has, to his credit, an immediate pull to those around him. The curse of his kind.
"Ethan Crowne. It is such a pleasure. Marcus spoke so highly of you, my deepest condolences."
So, Erik thinks to himself as he steps into the club, Nox, this place seems to be running smoothly enough, all things considered. The loss of Marcus was felt higher north. Erik had always considered him a decent enough neighbor to have. There was no bad blood between them. And, in honor of that, he comes down now to pay his respects to the new blood. And to bring a goodwill offering of his own. That offering's name is Max.
His Pet trails a step behind, like a faithful labrador, decked out in a nice suit and silver tie that matches his Master's own. They make their way to the bar, where Erik says to the bartender nearest them, "I'm here to see the master of the house. Tell him Lord Erik Osborne, of the Ozark Mountains, is here."
If Marcus had kept his protege well-informed, that title should mean something.
They look sharp - they're let in immediately, though there is absolutely no reason they wouldn't be. The bouncers in this establishment are very aware of the clans and their respective leaders.
The bartender in question, Cerai, glances up and at first doesn't make any moves to go get Ethan, because he's busy, and so is she.
The name, though, that gets her moving. She nods, disappearing into the back to go fetch her boss, who is...
Well. Hiding, really. Crowded bars and clubs weren't his thing before the change, and it's just his luck he's inherited this place and is hell-bent on keeping it safe. That doesn't mean he needs to walk the floor all night every night, though. Lucifer Morningstar, he is not.
But when Cerai tells him who's there, he'll pull his sport coat on and make sure his hair is in place before heading out to greet his guests accordingly. He takes a deep breath, and steps out from the back rooms with a smile.
"Lord Erik," is how he addresses him, because he doesn't know how else to. Marcus taught him some things, sure, but this sort of thing wasn't yet necessary, and then the man had to go and die and now here he is, hoping he doesn't accidentally offend someone who could probably rip his head off, newbie and pacifist that he is.
That greeting is a tad casual for Erik's tastes, but he lets it go without issue. He is on someone else's territory at the moment and he does sense a certain air of inexperience from this young new vampire. Erik is forgiving of it, for now.
If they are going to talk casually, well then, "Ethan, I presume. It's good to meet you at last. And allow me to introduce my servant, Max." Erik sweeps his hand behind him to indicate the human standing by.
Max bows at the waist and gives Ethan a quick greeting of, "Pleased to meet you." Then, the human rights himself and goes into a sort of placidly neutral posture. He's not unnaturally still like a vampire would be but he seems to suddenly take about as much room and attention as a floor lamp. He will stay that way until addressed directly.
"I apologize for coming unannounced," Erik says primly. Truthfully, he does not sound that sorry. He's always liked to make introductions this way, without warning. So he can get the real measure of a place, before anyone's had time to put their skeletons back in the closet. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Ethan flashes smiles at them both, offering his hand to shake to each man, like any normal human would. That's what you're supposed to do, right?
Right.
"It's a pleasure to meet both of you," Ethan says, flicking his eyes between the two of them. "Not at all. We aren't overly busy at the moment. What can I help you two guys with?"
Erik's hand is slim and delicate, but his handshake is firm. Max looks, frankly, shocked when Ethan reaches out to offer him one as well. On pure muscle memory, alone, the human takes the proffered hand and shakes it. But he quickly drops his gaze to a space in front of him, unsure what to do about being addressed as an equal among them. This is just... not how it's supposed to be done.
Erik chuckles seeing Max's flustered reaction. That's enough to make him forgive the error on Ethan's part.
"I'm happy to hear you say that," says Erik, "Because we have come to get to know you better. I like to meet all my neighbors. And, I wanted to offer you something of a..." he cocks his head, searching for the right way to put this, "housewarming gift, as it were. But, it may be better to discuss that somewhere more secluded."
[ Ethan can be...overwhelming in his affections. He blames the Scorpio in him, the overwhelming water signs in his chart threatening to crash and burn every relationship he has because he loves fiercely, deeply, hopelessly, without remorse.
His fingers dance over her skin before he palms her lower back, bringing her in closer, right up against him. He cups her face with his free hand, thumbing her cheek as he explores her mouth with his tongue, tasting, teasing, maybe a little needy, too. ]
[ For a woman so deeply steeped in isolation, in pushing people, relationships away in place of an odd one night stand for company, Sara's not quite accustomed to so much... heat. The intensity of his focus, the possessiveness, the reverence in his touch.
It's not entirely unwelcome. She melts into him, stepping in close so she's flush against his chest. Eyes sinking closed, she lets her jaw drop to graze her tongue along his, a soft groan escaping her as her hands slip down to start unbuttoning his shirt. ]
[ It would certainly be a way to keep the sting of heartache away, but it just isn't Ethan's style. Every kiss is earnest and heartfelt, full of want and need just as every touch is reverent, purposeful - focused in his desires but staying gentle, respectful.
He slides the hand on her cheek into her hair, fingers light and easy, cupping the back of her head. The other drops from her back, lower and lower, gripping her tight as he growls a little against her lips. ]
[ He pours so much into that kiss that it's dizzying. Overwhelming. Leaves her breathless, her heart pounding, cheeks flushed as she pushes in closer. Her eyes blink open at his touch and she looks up at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she takes a step back, pulling him along to the lounger nearby. ]
I thought you liked the cold. [ She certainly doesn't mind it, and God knows it's a damn good view out there. Not that her attention's anywhere but on him at the moment. ]
[ He laughs, going along with her easily, eyes dropping to drink in the slivers of skin he can see. ]
Doesn't bother me a bit. [ And if it doesn't bother her, all the better. He'll come right up behind her, chest to her back, arm around her waist as he noses at her neck to breathe her in. ]
When she hid herself on that boat that took her halfway around the world, to a different land where witches were not hunted and burned on a pyre, Hermione did not envision she would end up in this circumstance, in particular.
She's not exactly a prisoner of the Coven, though she has been claimed by its de facto prince, just so the other vampires know to stop drooling over her at every ball, and it rakes. Oh, it rankles. Imagine this - she traded faking a painful death on a pyre that could never kill her, traded being forced to start fresh every time the village elder or some nobleman decided he wanted under her skirts and cried witch when she rejected them (and gave them boils), and her reward for it? She is not left alone, not truly, until another man claims her so that the men of his coven don't try to do it daily.
Nevermind that she could burn them all herself. Nevermind that she is a force to be reckoned with. This is the price to pay for being a woman and a witch in this day and age, in Avalon or across the seas.
Still, the situation at hand?
"Stop sniffing my potions," she snaps at Ethan, slamming the door to her laboratory shut behind her. This is the seventh time she's found him on her territory, and she is feeling hissy. "Unless you want that one to make your cock fall off."
He knows it drives her crazy, and most days, Ethan stays well out of her way without managing to make it look like he's avoiding her, or that he's relinquished his 'claim'.
The word makes him balk, but he knows if he hadn't, she'd have more problems than she does currently.
"Sorry!" He jumps back, looking exceptionally guilty, and folds his arms to keep his hands to himself. "I was looking for you. There's a...gathering tonight, that we have to go to."
She wants to say something clever like of course you were looking for me, which explains your intrusion, but the idea of the gathering makes her balk a little.
"Is there now? And why is it that we have to go?" she mutters, unsure.
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for @antiquarius
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Not what he'd call it, but sure.
"More like circumstance. Haven't been to Vegas in a while, though."
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Francis gives a soft noise of acknowledgement.
"Funny how these things work out. My daughter lives here. Not very far away in fact."
Several blocks and a veil of dimensions but near enough. One can never be entirely certain where Aurora's body is residing much less her mind. It's one of the things he treasures about her.
"She seems to like it despite the reputation."
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"Mm, really? It's an interesting city. Doesn't sleep, really. Kind of obnoxious, but it's home, now."
He glances up from his work and smiles.
"If she ever needs anything, you can have her call me." And he isn't jonesing for a phone number or anything like that - he's a genuinely nice person who just wants to help people out.
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"That's kind of you. I shall inform her. Are you really so kind a soul? You don't know anything about me much less her."
It reminds him for a moment of Aurora's other parent. He would have offered the same.
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from here.
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This is his friends (sire? boss? captor? savior? he loses track of how Marcus slots into his life) doing. It's fucking antiquated, this is the 21st century, no one should be arranging marriages anymore, least of all Ethan's.
Admittedly, when whoever tore into his neck that night and didn't get to finish, he was sort of thrown back a century of two. Vampires...do things differently. They live differently, they govern themselves differently. There's a whole...infrastructure and caste system he wasn't aware of (and why would he have been, he was a horology studying, book reading, fanfic writing, video game playing dork with few friends and one dog. Vampires weren't a part of his world. Hell, people in general weren't really part of his world. He wasn't exactly mister extrovert.
And now...now they are his whole world. He has been forced to learn more about human anatomy and the way the body works than he had ever been interested in, and he's seen more blood than he'd ever wanted to.
The first time, to his friends horror, he'd fainted.
Great. A vampire who faints at blood, fucking...fantastic.
He wets his lips and looks in the mirror. He's in the bathroom before the 'ceremony', whatever the fuck that is, trying to prepare himself for this shit. Marcus has been dead for two months and this fresh hell is all his fault. Ethan still hasn't decided if he hates the man, or misses him horribly.
Ethan remembers the conversation like it was yesterday.
"Look, I know it's crazy, I know it sucks. But this guy is old and has a ton of resources. Our coven is just you and me, man. That's piss poor compared to others. We need this if we want to keep the club running, and ourselves safe."
"Why can't you marry him," Ethan asked him pointedly.
Marcus pulled a face.
"Because he didn't want to marry me."
"Oh, so he gets to choose?"
"Ethan," Marcus said, a little pleading. "He's loaded. It's a good match, and we need it."
Ethan scrubbed his hands through his hair and growled in frustration, but in the end, Marcus was right. It was just them, and Ethan is not an argumentative person.
And now it's just me, Ethan thinks, swallowing as one of the other grooms butlers or what the fuck ever pokes his head in.
"Mr. Crowne? It's time."
Ethan nods, smoothing his jacket. He'd have been late, if not for the butler, just staring off into the mirror, lost in his memories.
Instead, he's following the man out - Robert? Was that his name? Doesn't matter, really - and down the hall, where his fiance is waiting.
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Which really, seems to be his running downfall in the last millennia. It makes sense. He's weak to humans and vampires are just like humans except they're needier and live longer.
And in a way that suits him just fine because he is also needy and lives far longer than he has any real right to. Forget the knowledge and children, perhaps it's life itself that is Francis' greatest hoard.
They haven't met, he can only trust the agreement he made with Marcus that the match is good and it will fill the hole in him, if only for a little while.
And should it not he'll simply skip dimensions to another and reevaluate his options.
He really shouldn't get involved in this but.. there are so many vampires in his family now. And he's a damned sucker.
And a damned fool.
A lord amongst the undead without being one of them. Association with Ethan will skyrocket the club, not just keep it floating.
So he waits at the end of an aisle, not bothering to trouble his family to stand there with him.
Not in a church of course, though that cliché is tired and incorrect.
A brunette in fair skin and soft brown hair, standing tall at six foot three with round, silver glasses. Who turns when he hears Ethan enter and smiles so softly. Oh yes. Pleasing.
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And the club is even more important to him now that Marcus is gone. It keeps his memory alive, and. Well.
That’s important to Ethan. He’s sentimental and a softie. He can’t help it, so here he is.
There aren’t many people in here. It’s just Francis there up front, a lawyer with the paperwork. A few witnesses. Ethans family is dead, and Francis... doesn’t seem to have any.
So.
He wets his lips and straightens his shoulders, and forces himself to chill out. Relax. Nothing weird about getting married in the dead of night to... someone who looks like a librarian.
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Besides, what were you expecting, some gold draped European Duke? Dripping in money and jewels?
If that's the wort of thing just play your cards right. He'll shower you with all the ridiculous splendor you can handle and then some.
Francis smiles as he approaches and holds out a hand. Long, elegant fingers slightly calloused from his work. Freckled with very, very green eyes flecked with gold. The sort of emerald you only see in movies. When he speaks it's with a soft but pleasant cadence. Easy to lull someone. Comfort them. He has, to his credit, an immediate pull to those around him. The curse of his kind.
"Ethan Crowne. It is such a pleasure. Marcus spoke so highly of you, my deepest condolences."
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That starter I owe you!
His Pet trails a step behind, like a faithful labrador, decked out in a nice suit and silver tie that matches his Master's own. They make their way to the bar, where Erik says to the bartender nearest them, "I'm here to see the master of the house. Tell him Lord Erik Osborne, of the Ozark Mountains, is here."
If Marcus had kept his protege well-informed, that title should mean something.
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The bartender in question, Cerai, glances up and at first doesn't make any moves to go get Ethan, because he's busy, and so is she.
The name, though, that gets her moving. She nods, disappearing into the back to go fetch her boss, who is...
Well. Hiding, really. Crowded bars and clubs weren't his thing before the change, and it's just his luck he's inherited this place and is hell-bent on keeping it safe. That doesn't mean he needs to walk the floor all night every night, though. Lucifer Morningstar, he is not.
But when Cerai tells him who's there, he'll pull his sport coat on and make sure his hair is in place before heading out to greet his guests accordingly. He takes a deep breath, and steps out from the back rooms with a smile.
"Lord Erik," is how he addresses him, because he doesn't know how else to. Marcus taught him some things, sure, but this sort of thing wasn't yet necessary, and then the man had to go and die and now here he is, hoping he doesn't accidentally offend someone who could probably rip his head off, newbie and pacifist that he is.
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If they are going to talk casually, well then, "Ethan, I presume. It's good to meet you at last. And allow me to introduce my servant, Max." Erik sweeps his hand behind him to indicate the human standing by.
Max bows at the waist and gives Ethan a quick greeting of, "Pleased to meet you." Then, the human rights himself and goes into a sort of placidly neutral posture. He's not unnaturally still like a vampire would be but he seems to suddenly take about as much room and attention as a floor lamp. He will stay that way until addressed directly.
"I apologize for coming unannounced," Erik says primly. Truthfully, he does not sound that sorry. He's always liked to make introductions this way, without warning. So he can get the real measure of a place, before anyone's had time to put their skeletons back in the closet. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
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Right.
"It's a pleasure to meet both of you," Ethan says, flicking his eyes between the two of them. "Not at all. We aren't overly busy at the moment. What can I help you two guys with?"
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Erik chuckles seeing Max's flustered reaction. That's enough to make him forgive the error on Ethan's part.
"I'm happy to hear you say that," says Erik, "Because we have come to get to know you better. I like to meet all my neighbors. And, I wanted to offer you something of a..." he cocks his head, searching for the right way to put this, "housewarming gift, as it were. But, it may be better to discuss that somewhere more secluded."
christ this is going to go so well
what a glorious train wreak this will be
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[ Ethan can be...overwhelming in his affections. He blames the Scorpio in him, the overwhelming water signs in his chart threatening to crash and burn every relationship he has because he loves fiercely, deeply, hopelessly, without remorse.
His fingers dance over her skin before he palms her lower back, bringing her in closer, right up against him. He cups her face with his free hand, thumbing her cheek as he explores her mouth with his tongue, tasting, teasing, maybe a little needy, too. ]
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It's not entirely unwelcome. She melts into him, stepping in close so she's flush against his chest. Eyes sinking closed, she lets her jaw drop to graze her tongue along his, a soft groan escaping her as her hands slip down to start unbuttoning his shirt. ]
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He slides the hand on her cheek into her hair, fingers light and easy, cupping the back of her head. The other drops from her back, lower and lower, gripping her tight as he growls a little against her lips. ]
Should we move this inside?
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I thought you liked the cold. [ She certainly doesn't mind it, and God knows it's a damn good view out there. Not that her attention's anywhere but on him at the moment. ]
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Doesn't bother me a bit. [ And if it doesn't bother her, all the better. He'll come right up behind her, chest to her back, arm around her waist as he noses at her neck to breathe her in. ]
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ok maybe i don't have a starter idea but i bring pics for royals magic vampires
i lied yet again: a starter
She's not exactly a prisoner of the Coven, though she has been claimed by its de facto prince, just so the other vampires know to stop drooling over her at every ball, and it rakes. Oh, it rankles. Imagine this - she traded faking a painful death on a pyre that could never kill her, traded being forced to start fresh every time the village elder or some nobleman decided he wanted under her skirts and cried witch when she rejected them (and gave them boils), and her reward for it? She is not left alone, not truly, until another man claims her so that the men of his coven don't try to do it daily.
Nevermind that she could burn them all herself. Nevermind that she is a force to be reckoned with. This is the price to pay for being a woman and a witch in this day and age, in Avalon or across the seas.
Still, the situation at hand?
"Stop sniffing my potions," she snaps at Ethan, slamming the door to her laboratory shut behind her. This is the seventh time she's found him on her territory, and she is feeling hissy. "Unless you want that one to make your cock fall off."
i enjoy your lies
The word makes him balk, but he knows if he hadn't, she'd have more problems than she does currently.
"Sorry!" He jumps back, looking exceptionally guilty, and folds his arms to keep his hands to himself. "I was looking for you. There's a...gathering tonight, that we have to go to."
good you should be
"Is there now? And why is it that we have to go?" she mutters, unsure.
no subject
So.
"You'll need a dress," he says. "Unless you prefer trousers? That's up to you, I guess."
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