Finding the Crow (Eric)
John was restless. The City was having a strange effect on him. The sudden return to a more normal atmosphere, with people who were usually indistinguishable from the type he'd grown up with was bit of a cold shock for the vampire. It reminded him of the first time he'd come home from a difficult tour. Everything around him appeared to be functioning normally, the way it always had been, but suddenly he saw. He saw the fragility, the illusion, the sense that most people walked around with that everything around them was normal, permanent, and peaceful. He saw how blind and ridiculous that notion was.
It was slightly different when you were a vampire, though. Before he'd felt what it was to be the line between the normal life and the horrors and chaos that threatened it. Now, by definition, he was one of those disturbances. Even in a City where the remarkable was accepted with a blink and a double take, he knew he wasn't part of the world most lived in, now.
He'd taken to wandering the streets at night. It helped him stay accustomed to the lights and noise of the City. It was louder here than it had been where he'd lived before, as a human, and his heightened senses were still adapting to his surroundings. But he was a soldier, and worked through the challenge as stoically as he ever had.
Tonight, wandering through the streets, the young vampire turned towards the quieter part of town. He'd woken up with a headache, and even feeding hadn't helped completely, so he'd moved to where he thought he was least likely to run into sirens or too many bright lights. As he wandered, however, he paused as he heard the muffled sound of somebody messing with a guitar. It gave him pause, coming from an otherwise uninhabited area. Curiosity got the better of him and the vampire walked down the street until he came to an ordinary brick building, nothing remarkable or significant other than the red crow painted over the glass doors.
John hesitated at the door, but trying it he found it open, and as he walked in no sirens blared. The pluckings of the guitar got louder, too, and as John wandered in he suddenly realized the atmosphere around him was one of a recording studio.
As a human, a strong respect for the law had always kept John from wandering too much. But now he was curious about this place, and the strange feeling that prevailed in it, and he moved forward through the halls. The decor was nice, nothing cheap or fake, but it also looked unused. Almost artificial, like it was just for show.
John moved towards the sounds, unsure why he was being pulled in. He found his way through a door with a light labeled "Recording" burning brightly above it, squinting at the bright glare but then otherwise a darkened room. The lighting was kept low, a mood John appreciated as he stepped into the recording booth illuminated only by the laps from in the actual studio. He was almost unsurprised to see Eric there, messing around with a guitar, shadows cast long and sharp by the incomplete lighting.
The Southern blond stopped moving once the door clicked softly shut behind him, for a long moment just watching the dark haired stranger he'd met a previous night. He still didn't know what to make of the man, but everything he'd heard about the City suggested a certain kind of fate for its citizens, so he took a moment to consider why he would happen to stumble upon the other for a second time. Especially in such a specific surrounding.
He watched the pale, long fingers muddling with the guitar, ears picking up every note plucked. He couldn't make out a specific tune, yet, but for the moment one musician was just appreciating another, with all of the sounds and lights of the city muted.