Eric Vartan (cardinalsin) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-08-09 20:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-07-22, kendal |
She's deadly, man, and she could really rip your world apart
Who: Eric and Kendal
Where: Heme (and a bit on the streets and the Hathaway home)
What: The Temptation of Christ in the Garden of Eden and other mixed-up religious metaphors
Heme was, of course, quite busy this evening as it always was. Crowds had never bothered Eric. He preached to them often enough. He slipped in casually with a flash of fangs and a handshake from the bouncer. He had no ID, at least not any that weren’t falsified. He had abandoned his cassock for more appropriate attire this evening. There was a bar but he did not feel like being recognized and, as he had not announced his visit to Grayson, felt it would be in poor taste to simply storm up to the VIP section and demand to see him. No, Eric would wait it out a little bit and observe the Scarlet Oak crowd. So far, he had only met the devout. It was time to meet the rest of the citizens.
He slid onto a stool at an empty table and tucked his legs against the stool’s and ordered a simple gin and tonic from a passing cocktail waitress. She tilted her head in a motion that clearly expressed she didn’t quite understand the choice before smiling indulgently and whirling around in a flash of shiny fabric. She came back with his drink a short while later and Eric let it sit on the table as he swirled the lime around before he resumed his observation of a dark-haired vampire by the bar.
So what if she hadn’t told the others where she was going? Kendal was a big girl now. Which, as most would probably agree, had been established after a fashion in high school. It wasn’t as though her siblings would care anyway. Her parents would either blank her or encourage it on the grounds that it showed support for the supernatural--which would only spoil her fun. There was no way the youngest Hathaway daughter was doing anything her parents had practically endorsed. They could suck it. Really.
While her outfit, and possibly her reputation, had stirred mutterings of “vampire bait”, it really only spurred Kendal on. She had played with the telepath, now she wanted something else. Heme was full of something elses. She just wasn’t sure what the difference between half of them was--ignoring those with fangs. Anything that looked human was debatable, apparently. Jesus, and she actually seemed to know some of them. It was just weird to think that someone she’d bedded wasn’t even necessarily--Ooh. That was a not-human she actually recognised. And, damn, for a man of the cloth he was hot.
Sidling up to the priest, looking almost lost (an Oscar for the lady), she wrinkled her nose sheepishly. “Hey--sorry--I don’t mean to interrupt but,” she didn’t bother lowering her voice. Didn’t vampires have super-hearing or something? “Do you know if they serve just regular alcohol here?” What? It was a reasonable question--even if she already knew the answer--and she hadn’t given his glass a single look. Or anyone else’s for that matter.
Eric looked down into his glass as the ice melted and considered actually ordering some blood before deciding against it. The blood he consumed was given to him by the Cyri from some willing donor properly compensated for their gift. He had already fed tonight and any more would simply be gluttonous and the cardinal was nothing if not a righteous man. He looked up in time to notice the young lady that approached him. He smiled at her. She may have faked the confusion on her face but she did not smell of the fear that came with being lost. He reached out and raised his glass.
“I believe they do,” he responded, listening to the clinking sound of the ice in the glass as it melted and shifted. He set the glass down and looked at her quietly. He had never been a particularly adept judge with age (as he had begun to lose track of his own) but she was most definitely human. He could smell the blood that ran through her veins. “Aren’t you a little young to be in a bar? And a little too alive to be in this particular one?” he asked, with just the slightest hint of taunting in his voice. It wasn’t like him to tease but she was clearly looking for something, with her attire being the way it was. His fingers itched to touch the patch of dirt sewn into the lining of his Alexander McQueen jacket, but he wasn’t sure if that would send the wrong signal to the young lady.
And that smile would make ice melt--oh, it really was. Kendal blinked at his choice of beverage in polite surprise. If asked, she would readily admit that was a little confusing. But he had clearly ordered it, so hey, whatever floated his boat. She was, however, taking it as some kind of safety tell. Either he had alcohol so he could lure in unsuspecting humans, or he didn’t feel like his usual tonight. Given that he was a priest, she was perhaps a touch naively choosing to go with the latter. “I’m twenty-four,” she answered with a smile that usually appeared only after she’d stuck her tongue out at her audience. Catching the crook of the arm of the waiter that passed--and she knew he was barstaff, because she’d seen him behind the bar--and beamed at him. “Can I have a bloody mary?” And quickly tacked onto the end, “A regular bloody mary! Please.” She didn’t want to end up drinking someone she might have known, even if it was donated.
Her attention quickly turned back to the Cardinal, however, and she slid onto one of the seats. “There’s no way everyone here is a vampire. Or supernatural.” Though she did find herself looking around despite already having established she knew at least two people here and had slept with them. “And there’s no sign saying ‘no fangs, no death certificate, no service’, right?” No, for most the presence of that many pairs of fangs in one building was deterrent enough. Kendal just saw it as one of the many new and interesting bridges she needed to cross. “And really? Pointedly avoiding Heme is essentially--” Self preservation? “--ostracising its clientele.” Oddly enough, she meant that. Kendal: apparent advocate of supernatural rights. Or, more accurately, firm advocate of getting to include them in her fun. It amounted to the same thing.
Eric inclined his head in acknowledgement of her response with regards to her age. He had no reason to believe she was lying and, even if she was, it was none of his business. Besides, he was fully confident in the capabilities of the bouncers Grayson hired. He watched as she sat across from him without his invitation. A little pushy, but there was nothing wrong with that. It was not the first time Eric would be involved in a “bar confession” if it was what the young girl was seeking. While not the Lord’s preferred spot, a penitent sinner was always forgiven when he or she asked for it. The Lord, after all, is infinitely merciful and compassionate. His gin and tonic remained in the glass it came in, ice half-melted and precipitation running down the sides.
He shook his head at her claim and pointed to two young gentlemen sitting by the bar. Both looked like the typical bar-goers, with nothing to set them apart from the rest of the patrons. Well, except their beating hearts. Eric paused. His own heart was beating and he had a flush in his cheeks, but that was a gift of his family. “Those two gentlemen over there are quite human, much like yourself,” Eric explained, but he knew their kind. “They are, however, what the market calls ‘blood dolls.’ I’m sure you are familiar with the terminology?” he left the last statement as a question. He could tell easily by the puncture wounds that had scarred and would never go away. He could tell by the way they were nervously yet excitedly trying to catch the attention of a group of other vampires at the end of the bar. And the fact that one of them had ordered a glass of blood when neither one of them would drink it.
Eric sighed internally. He had possessed a blood doll in the form of a fellow priest installed by the Cyri in his earlier years, but the temptations that being filled with fresh blood posed had become too strong...and he had stopped drinking from live victims shortly after that point. He leaned back in his chair as the Bloodless Mary arrived at their table. Perhaps just one glass... Eric pursed his lips and denied his thirst. A hand instinctively went to touch the packet of dirt in his jacket without him thinking about it.
Kendal was most certainly a sinner by any priest’s standards, but for her particular brand she was in no way penitent. She was, however, willing to concede that just taking a seat was rude, but putting a noticeable gap between the act and the apology was a habit. Then people actually noticed you had apologised. Which was important for Kendal, since the word ‘sorry’ rolled off her tongue all too easily in everyday conversation. It was a reasonable habit to pick up. “Sorry, that was rude of me.” She paused. “Although, really? I kind of feel safer over here than, say... back there.” Where the chick with the fangs looked like she was about to eat her companion alive. She was rather devil-may-care with her attitude, but Kendal wasn’t an idiot. She knew she wasn’t in the safest bar on the planet--that was why she was there. “I’m Kendal Hathaway.” She extended her hand, as was polite. There was no reason she couldn’t be nice about name-dropping.
Attention temporarily split between the conversation and her drink, she eyed the men at the bar, not particularly caring if they saw her watching them. They were there to be noticed, so she was noticing them. She was just lacking the desired bite. “Like rent-a-neck or ‘baby, have my neck for free’?” Because she knew which category they looked like they fell into and her tone rather suggested it. They looked like freshmen waiting at the bar during their first week of college. The kind of guys she went through faster than she went through underwear. “It’s not... unhygienic or something feeding from them?” Her nose wrinkled slightly. As guilty as she was of playing with toys from a communal toy-box, the idea of sharing her food like that was not appealing.
“Okay, I really don’t want to be rude--again--but why was that your beverage of choice?” And to clarify. “I mean, why spend money on something you know you won’t drink when everything else is available?” Kendal shifted, crossing her legs. If her skirt rode, she didn’t notice. “Hey, let me get you a drink for stealing your seat.” Suddenly that idea seemed brilliant. “Even if it’s just so I can see the look on the bartender’s face?”
The Hathaways. Eric recognized the name and the family. They were large supernatural supporters, if he remembered correctly (and he always did). Very political, much like his own family. Three daughters, two sons...Aldwin III was well-known, yes, he had heard of the family and the way she dropped the name made it impossible for her to be from any other line of Hathaways. He took her hand and shook it, not expecting her to know the tradition of kissing the ring, not that he ever expected anyone he did not specifically meet at the church to know. He made allowances for everyone that was not blatantly Catholic and he was not dressed as nor functioning as a priest right now, anyway. “Eric,” was all he offered. “You may be safer at this particular spot in this particular company than specifically over there, perhaps. As a whole, though...” Eric paused and smiled. “Well, it cannot be said that you would be any safer in a ‘human’ bar. I find that most vampires that bother to drink donated blood are oftentimes more civilized. Of course, there are many that would disagree.”
Eric turned away from both men and kept his attention on his guest. Her question was posed in a manner that did not require a response and he let her believe what she would. It wasn’t his duty to confirm or deny the nature of blood dolls. Her next question, however, was posed a little more as a proper question and he chose to answer it. “No, it isn’t,” he responded. A small smile appeared on his face. “We’re dead, Miss Hathaway. Disease does not affect us at all. In fact, we may even be considered the disease. The blood is enough to create a mimicry of life for some of us,” he gestured to his own flushed face. “But for most others, it is simply a source of nourishment. The blood is corrupted by our own systems and whatever the virus feeds on does not exist in our bodies. We have no living cells to corrupt.” And any vampire with illusions of ‘life’ are simply fools. Eric wrapped his hands around the glass, though he could hardly feel the coldness. He almost told Kendal this, though he managed to stop himself. That was enough information for her.
And yet the girl was not done with her questions. Having been a priest for most of his life as it was, he was used to all sorts of questions about theology and life and Jesus and the gospels, but this lady was quite another thing. “You are being far from rude, Miss Hathaway. I would call it inquisitive,” he smiled. “I had no intention of drinking anything when I arrived, though I thought it in poor taste to simply sit here and take up space without ordering anything. Furthermore, instead of watching blood run cold and then become useless, I would prefer to waste a little alcohol and water.” And the alcohol smelled of the old speakeasy days with Grayson. Back when they were both human. Back when they were the fleshies behind the counter with the vampires. Back when...Eric cleared his mind. There was no sense in his idle thoughts. No need for useless dreaming of days that would never be relived. Instead he smiled at Kendal and refused gently. “I have fed this evening, but thank you for the offer.”
Kendal smiled. She knew his name just like she knew he was a Cardinal and very not-human. Sometimes her parents and their faux-concern in certain political rings was actually useful. Taking the rest into consideration for a moment--there were more than a fair number of jerks in most bars, but it didn’t take her long to realise what he actually meant--Kendal fidgeted with her earring rather pointedly. “If I was in a ‘human’ bar, my jewelry wouldn’t be gold-plated.” Not that she preferred silver--expensive was her favourite, followed by the things she hadn’t paid for herself--but she wasn’t stupid either. Kendal knew a fair number of people, and even if the advocates of Supernatural Rights did not spread vampire weaknesses, the opposition liked to. And she made a habit of paying attention to what went on around her; it was how she painted her latest targets on her parents. Of course, she had no idea that some vampires were also just as susceptible to gold. “And I have a miniature canister of mace in my purse.” She didn’t fight fair, either. Aldwin would know. And like anyone would attack a Hathaway. Really. She didn’t want to dwell too much on the civilised part, but she stored it away in the back of her mind. Things like that were always good to know in case of emergencies. She didn’t want to dwell on those emergencies either.
Kendal paused, drink hovering in front of her face as she registered that. “Oh.” And then the penny dropped. “Oh! ... But you’re not a disease.” If she thought that, she wouldn’t be there. It was almost like someone saying Melody was diseased, which wasn’t something Kendal would ever tolerate, regardless of how much contempt she usually had for her sister. True, the bitch was now a shiny, happy person who wanted to hold your hand, but that wasn’t a disease. “You’re not just... re-animated dead, though. Or ‘undead’, because they’re both too George. A. Romero. ‘Re-animated sentient dead’ sounds disgustingly politically correct and the Pope abolished the idea of limbo...” Yes, she was actually putting effort into finding a more acceptable category for vampires. They couldn’t be just dead, because the dead didn’t talk without a psychic being involved, and Kendal wasn’t psychic. Later, she was going to wonder why she seemed to care about the idea at all. Maybe it was the disease part. “You’re just... you.” It was the kind of term she used to categorise herself, there was no reason it wouldn’t work for vampires. She really was fascinated by the colour in his cheeks, though. Especially in contrast to the alabaster creatures that had passed. She caught herself before she could officially be accused of staring. But she was.
“Call me Kendal. There are three Miss Hathaways.” And her sisters--well, Gwyn, at least--would object to being mistaken for her as much as she would resent being mistaken for them. “Not at all,” she could be perfectly polite when it suited her, and the vampire she was talking to was attractive enough that she had actually found herself listening to what he was saying. “No room for dessert, then.” An amused smile played across her lips for a moment before she sifted through the rest of information provided. “Here to observe the lazy worshippers and the unbelievers?” Of which she was most definitely the latter. Kendal’s world revolved around her, not some omniscient, omnipotent being that needed to keep their nose out of her business.
Eric looked at her ears as she talked about her jewelry. He could have mentioned that the members of the Gabriel House were an example of those that would still find her earrings somewhat offensive but he kept silent. “How conscientious of you,” Eric offered politely, gesturing at a passing waiter to finally take his drink away. It was starting to lose the aesthetic he had ordered it for. Mopping up the little puddle of water on the table with a napkin, Eric chuckled. “I, personally, have never been mace in life or death - and I never hope to be - but I hear it hurts when you’re alive and is particularly annoying when you’re dead. So annoying that you wipe it out of your eyes and pursue the person who maced you with every intention of ripping their throats out or bleeding them dry. But, again, that is merely hearsay,” Eric told Kendal, mostly to point out that vampires were not “sexy beings of the night” as many were wont to believe but bloodthirsty (literally) and could be killers at the wrong provocation of the wrong vampire. Of course, he was personally trying to show the side of vampirism that wasn’t particularly pretty. Much like he would speak to someone Catholic about hell or the Crusades.
Eric shrugged. “What do doctors call a disease? Isn’t it something that kills living cells and could potentially kill you? As well as something that may be spread through human interactions? As far as I am concerned, I could have simply contracted some disease that killed all my living cells and replaced them with dead ones yet...somehow keeping me alive. We speak, we move but we do not eat, breathe or reproduce - all important definitions of ‘life,’ Miss Hathaway. We are dead. Any vampire with illusions of otherwise is simply a fool. That is not to say we do not deserve or rights or that we are barbaric or any more a threat to the human race as a snake in the wild is or another human with a gun. We have the capacity to kill, as do you, and we may choose not to exercise that capacity, which most of us don’t. We abide by more rules than humans do as each family has its own rules to keep its members in place. My family, the Cyri os si Vyri prohibits its members from taking blood forcefully,” he inclined his head. “But why I chose to lecture you on vampirism is beyond me. I apologize for rambling as I have, Miss Hathaway.”
“Kendal, then,” he agreed amiably before gesturing to a waiter to put the lady’s drink on his tab, which they had probably already done but what self-respecting cardinal paid for drinks at a bar? And for a young, attractive female at that? Eric smiled despite of himself and nodded at Kendal’s dessert question. “Here to see an old friend, actually, who is actually a little too busy that I’d rather not bother him or alert him to my presence. Simply sitting here, enjoying the presence of other people and vampires before I have to return to solitude and peace within the diocese.” An almost inappropriate joke rose to Eric’s lips but he had enough sense to swallow it back down instead.
“The mace is for human jerks,” Kendal pointed out with an eyebrow that was threatening to arch in a manner not exactly fit for a Cardinal. It was for the idiots who thought that her reputation meant they could do what they liked with her. So were her nails. But regardless, she was storing that information away too. Memo to her: do not mace vampires. “If regular self-defence doesn’t help, I didn’t think peppery aerosols would either.” The wording was a touch petulant, perhaps, but she remained in good humour. “Don’t get me wrong--you seem really nice, but the anti-supernatural fascists like to spread--or even exaggerate--how dangerous you are, and I am more inclined to believe that it would take less that a heartbeat for you to put an end to my vitals.” And it really didn’t make a difference how nice a vampire seemed. They were what they were. The next person to say otherwise was going to get a lecture on humanity’s choice of targets when it came to war. There was a chance that, where Mr and Mrs Hathaway saw a very comfortable bandwagon, at least one of their children saw a real cause. A real cause that they knew their parents wouldn’t necessarily approve of, but couldn’t complain about because it would make them hypocrites. And no one liked a hypocrite. Kendal was many things, but at least she was true to herself.
“You’re defining life by the idea of being physically alive--electricity firing through your nervous system, etc.--rather than what you do,” she observed, perhaps a little cautiously. “Aren’t man’s actions in life supposed to define who, and, maybe to a certain extent, what, he is?” A little deep for her usual conversation topics, but still. “You might not have an actual pulse, Eric,” she revelled in the fact she got to use his first name, “but you’re still acting like more of a ‘human’ than many I know. And sometimes ‘magic’ is as good an answer as any other.” Whether or not the humanity part was a good thing was subject to debate. Maybe one day she would regret that all people saw in her was ‘whore’. But then it was generally to her advantage that they forgot she was relatively fucking intelligent too. “No apology necessary. You’re not rambling, because I would have stopped listening an age ago otherwise.” Alcohol--it only ever took one drink--loosened Kendal’s tongue as well as her morals. It was a well-known fact that often got people other than just herself into trouble. “And maybe it’s because you’d rather I didn’t have some kind of teen-aged, sickeningly romantic idea about living forever with one really hot guy with fangs who I somehow managed to fall for?” She grinned. “I read Twilight--it’s not going to happen. I also have Circle of Life from the Lion King on my iPod.” There was a food-chain. Humans just weren’t at the top of it. God, was she the only human on the ball here? Did they really have to put up with this crap? At least she did the research. Well, some of it. She had blinked internally at the the thing about the rules his family had. Kendal made a mental note to start paying more attention to her parents’ supernatural affairs.
Reaching the end of her bloody mary, Kendal looked up, surprised. She had caught that gesture. While, for once, she wasn’t going to flaunt her wealth around, that hadn’t been necessary. Although it was kind of nice. “You really didn’t need to do that,” was her automatic reaction. Partly because she simply wasn’t used to it. She wasn’t a lady, thus people generally didn’t treat her as such in any capacity. She was just a rich bitch with too much time and money on her hands. “Right, honestly? I could never cope without having people around me. Especially since you’re making it sound a little like solitary confinement--and regardless of your vocation, that doesn’t seem fair.” Why? Because he really was stunning. She hoped she didn’t end up saying that out loud.
He ignored her petulance for the most part, laying his hands flat on the table as she spoke. “This is true. I probably could, should I choose to, end your life as we speak here before you could even consider screaming. Yet I choose not to. First, because I respect human life for what it’s worth and a great, great majority of vampires feel the same way. Second, because this is my best friend’s bar and though I haven’t seen him in nearly seventy years, I respect him and his business. And, third, because if I did, I would not only destroy what my family and I have been working towards - vampire/human friendship, that is - I would probably get a very swift visit from an executioner and be put to death by my house. A life for a life...barbaric, yes, but life takes on a completely new meaning for us when we are turned. Your life, your blood sustains our...bodies and if we cannot understand that, then we do not deserve this gift - and curse - that has been given us.” Essentially incredibly philosophical for a bar and Eric easily recognized this as he leaned back in his chair and shrugged with a smile at Kendal.
“I am dead. I have a death certificate to prove it,” Eric chuckled lightly before bringing his hands back together to steeple them. “If you would like to get into semantics, then I am more ‘humane’ than many humans, if half the stories on television are true. But I am not alive, not any more than the goldfish you flushed down the toilet as a child was. A philosopher once said that we are not bodies that possess souls but souls that possess bodies. Perhaps they were right. Your soul possesses a body that is alive and mine lives in one that has died. Perhaps. I am not certain,” he threw his fingers casually into the air, as he had learned to do in Italy before gesturing at her emptied glass. “I believe our conversation can be directed at lighter matters. Death and its implications are certainly not typical topics for this setting, though times have dramatically changed since I’ve last been in a pub. Would you like a second glass? Or perhaps something else to drink?”
He inclined his head graciously. “Please, it is not often that I engage a beautiful woman in conversation. The least you can let me do is pay for your drink,” that was a glimpse of the man before the priest...before the vampire. He called another waitress in case she did want something else. The hunger was stirring in him, but he had fed sufficiently: a brief internal struggle before he won over his baser desires. “My vocation requires that I speak often to our Lord up above and silence is usually necessary to hear him clearly. I have spent days locked in cells alone and days spent in complete silence. My current office no longer requires such penitence of me, but such things keep me humble. It reminds me to remain prudent and to not go into the sunlight without the proper sort of protection because it specifically does not make me sparkle.”
Where Eric said ‘probably’, Kendal heard ‘most likely, if I wanted to’. It didn’t alter the way she viewed the rest of what he had to say, but then his wording didn’t really alter the truth, now, did it? Yes, the youngest Hathaway daughter was going so far as to presume what was and wasn’t true from a Cardinal, but from parents who tweaked their truths for the sake of public appearances, she naturally expected it from anyone who cared how they were viewed by the majority. It did not occur to her that the mere mention of her screaming should have set off alarm bells. He wasn’t going to do anything to her without permission: she was a Hathaway and her family carried too much weight for him to cause any upset with them. Plus he had said so himself. She was just fine where she was. She did frown slightly at the idea of execution, however. Smothering her imagination--just how far would animal rights activists go in trying to protect cattle bred for consumption?--she took that under consideration. Not even humans took life so seriously. They went through armies as though the members were disposable. And yet Eric treated his natural food source as though they were--Well, she wasn’t going to go as far as say equal, because that was presumptuous, but he gave off that impression. Regardless, he had given her food for thought, and she liked knowing what she was dealing with. Even if it was just a conversation over a drink.
The first words on Kendal’s tongue were along the lines of ‘I’ve never had a goldfish’, but she held her tongue. “This is probably the deepest conversation I’ve ever had,” she admitted with an almost sheepish smile. Hah, she rarely ever got to the stage of conversation--however alcohol fuelled anyone was--that entailed deep thought. Self-absorbed and superficial, her intelligence was mostly lost in drunken stupors that lead to unsavoury behaviour. Which wasn’t something you admitted to someone like Eric unless you were at confession. Kendal wasn’t even Catholic. “Um.” Uncertainty wasn’t a trait that she pulled off very well. Even when it was sincere--which it was--it did not suit her. She was in her element when she knew (or thought she knew) the ins and outs of everything in the immediate vicinity. Usually, she would not have thought twice about requesting another drink. Somehow, both Eric and the situation in general changed that. “If you don’t mind?” If the sort-of-question sounded awkward, it was because it had been intended as a statement. She just wasn’t sure she meant it. Yes, she wanted another drink, but did he have to be so nice about it? “I don’t mind. Really.” Because she would drink just about anything.
Smooth. Very smooth. And just one of the many reasons Kendal was cursing the fact he was a priest. God hated her. It was official. “Then I won’t argue with you,” her lips curved into an almost playful smile. Not one that should be aimed at a priest, but no one sound of mind could possibly blame her. Humble. She didn’t do humble, but she wasn’t going to question his apparent need to remain so--even if he seemed perfectly humble anyway--because that was rude. “Plenty of factor-fifty and the right make-up department,” she replied with a wink. Not necessarily a product of flirtation as much as her own sense of humour, but it was open to interpretation much like everything else she did.
He took her acquiescence to a switch to more pleasant topics as his cue to begin on them. But what did one converse about in bars? He had forgotten...simply because he had often merely sat there while the twins came to speak to him about their adventures. “Once in a while, such conversations are a pleasant exercise for the mind to keep things agile and the cogs turning as they ought to,” he said pleasantly, completely oblivious to the possible double entendre tucked away in that sentence, which was wholly unlike him to be not completely aware of what he was saying. The waitress that came by was perfectly efficient with a second bloody mary already in hand. Eric turned towards her and thanked her. “Ah, vampires. Excellent hearing. They make the best sort of servers, I suppose,” he laughed a little. Grayson’s staff was very well-trained.
Eric leaned his arm on the table, with his other arm propped up so he could lean his chin against the back of it. “So, will you tell me about yourself?” he asked lightly. He had some knowledge of the Hathaway family, of course, but he was asking the context of her and not her family. It would have been easy to request a simple recitation of her family’s dossier, but he was genuinely interested in knowing about her and her interests. He felt like an old fool trying to pick up a girl at the local bar for some strange reason. And while he was old and possibly quite foolish, he wasn’t trying to pick her up. Or at least he shouldn’t be. “And none of this ‘my father is a very important man’ nonsense,” he added, just to clarify. He liked knowing his parishioners and even though she was not of his church, it couldn’t hurt to know who else lived in town, yes?
He nodded at her joke. “You could say that,” he agreed. Factor-fifty in this case was fae blood and the make-up was his conscious effort to remember that he had to keep his face flushed, his heart beating and his eyes moist with tears. Humans didn’t like it when they shook or kissed a cold hand. It made them distrustful. “Thought, mind you, I won’t burst into flames either, as you may have also seen on television or in movies. Nothing quite so drastic. Hollywood has romanticized us far too much, I fear.”
Don’t they just? Though she wasn’t saying that out loud because part of her wasn’t convinced he had meant to say it out loud--or just not quite like that, and Kendal wasn’t in the habit of upsetting her company when they didn’t even deserve it in her eyes. Had he been less... holy, she might have leaped on it, but alas. That wasn’t to say she was above torment, and her previously playful smile gained another layer. She remained quite unaffected by the knowledge that the majority of the bar could hear her. Double-edged remarks were never actually needed, however. She could easily settle for simple body language. Without thinking, she shifted in her seat, her legs leaning closer to the vampire. Of course, it wasn’t the kind of thing she noticed.
And now he was asking about her, which tended to suggest he didn’t already know. Some part of Kendal objected to the very idea of him not knowing, but then she supposed he wasn’t exactly a gossip, nor the typical audience the motormouths she relied upon were likely to unload on. She tried not to snort at the idea that her father was a very important man--mostly because it was unladylike and she was not about to put dents in her behaviour thus far for that man. “That’s the last thing you’ll ever hear from me, even if it is true on some incredibly screwed up and deeply unnatural level.” She took a rather large mouthful of her drink, playing with the base of the glass while she tried to think around her own history. A reputation like hers wasn’t something you could just explain. It generally had to be experienced. “Okay. Me?” She arched an eyebrow at Eric, knowing he wouldn’t like what he was going to hear. “Youngest of three daughters who don’t actually mean anything because we’re not male. Mostly ignored as a kid, went from being the black sheep of the family for attention seeking to being the most likely unwanted sheep of the family for lashing out. Categorically not looking for sympathy, majored in Art at college, came away from university with a degree in the same and I’m living off my parents’ money, since it’s about all they’re actually good for.” Alright, maybe that was something of a confession. It was certainly done with minimal breathing and followed by another mouthful of alcohol.
“Well, have no fear, I am no romantic.” Kendal’s smile had re-emerged. Sure, Eric was all kinds of beautiful--a thought that was playing on her mind far, far too much--but she knew she only really had a hint of the reality that was him. Not even vampires in general; just him. This was, what? A conversation? Not seeing him tear someone--something--apart for whatever reason, and those fangs weren’t for decoration. He was also a priest, which meant had had to be nicer to people. And there was that thing about his family and human-vampire... harmony. Or something. The blood-dolls at the bar had high-lighted the fact she was a source of food rather nicely. “And I don’t believe what I see in the movies.” Because that was retarded.
It was time to slow down on the drinks, Eric reflected. As a bartender in another life, he knew the signs. Placing her body mass and gender into the equation as well, he was not particularly surprised. Perhaps it was time for some fresh air. He hoped she had not driven here. He wasn’t in the habit of ever encouraging drunk driving. He listened to her, however, keeping his attention trained on her as was polite. Mommy and daddy issues, mostly, he noticed. Unsurprising, to be honest, watching the manner in which she spoke and behaved. It wasn’t the typical behavior of someone with attentive parents. “Art? Please, go on,” he encouraged. “I have recently moved here from Rome - the Vatican - and I adore art. Preaching in Italy was a treat, seeing all the old churches and visiting the museums. Tell me, are you more fascinated by the Renaissance? Or perhaps you are more inclined towards modern artwork? Or perhaps architecture?” he listened attentively. Clearly, attention was what the young lady needed and if she got some of the proper kind, she’d stop looking for all the wrong sorts. Of course, it wouldn’t happen in a night, but he might be able to at least start a trend.
He smiled genuinely when she said she did not believe in movies. He gestured for the check. There would be no more drinks for the lady. At least not on his tab tonight. “You shouldn’t. Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt did us quite a disservice in their movie. Feeding on rodents is not an acceptable method of survival. And our hunters are far more subtle than Blade. Leather chafes,” he smiled. “I hear,” he added. “And we most certainly cannot reproduce - at least in the manner with which babies are created - ever. Dead is dead, no exceptions,” he smiled. Several fictional books had been written on the subject of vampires impregnating women “as long as it was recent enough.” No, no, no. That would be an atrocity of nature and God’s design. It was part of the reason that Eric felt comfortable with his vow of chastity. He would not be able to reproduce or give himself fully to another person - body and soul - and, thusly, all such acts would be a sin in the eyes of God. Unfortunately, the same notion did not apply to his brethren.
He slipped a certain dollar amount, including a sizable tip into the sleeve discreetly. He made sure Kendal could not see - that would have simply been in bad taste - and laid it back on the table. The question might as well be breached sooner rather than later and he voiced his concern. “Did you drive here, Kendal? An innocent enough question, I assure you,” he tacked on. Despite his priestly vows, some people saw way too much into many things. The nature of society, he supposed.
Openly surprised, Kendal blinked at the vampire. People just... didn’t ask her about art. They didn’t ask her about anything, really. She got filed into a little box that was hopefully sound-proof and locked away until she chewed her way out again. Okay, so, he wasn’t going to want to know about how she had redecorated her room with what was essentially pornography, or how she intended to paint Aldie’s expression of pure horror on the ceiling above his bed. “Wait, the Vatican?” True, she had studied Art in university in a half-hearted attempt at kicking back against her parents by studying something they deemed useless, but that didn’t make her any less interested in it. “Vatican museum, Sistine Chapel, the whole deal?” Her hands had become rather more animated than they were previously--the level usually reserved for the excitement that came with a new and delicious discovery. She wasn’t a hard person to understand, even she would admit that, but few people ever bothered. Usually because she bit. “Gwyn got to do the Europe gig. I don’t think I’d be allowed out of the state again.”
Hey, Pitt and Cruise were hot in that movie. And Stephen Dorff was edible at the time. A reel of film quotes played themselves in a strangely neat order in her mind before she turned her full attention back to the rest of the conversation. She wrinkled her nose at the idea of the dead reproducing--it was weird that one parent would have died before their child was born, okay?--and then shrugged. “Duly noted,” she tilted her head, amused. It cleared up one particular concern she had about vampires anyway. Well. Potential concern. A relatively strong potential concern. “Life is stranger than fiction anyway.” She was, after all, sat in a vampire bar, speaking to a vampire Cardinal. Beat that, Lestat.
Kendal nearly laughed. Drive? She could drive, sure. She had the car to go with the matching ability. But she wasn’t going to drive herself anywhere unless she had to. She got lifts from handy acquaintances and people who owed her favours. She tormented Aldwin until he caved. Whatever. “I took a cab,” she clarified before her amusement became too apparent. “I don’t drink and drive,” she added, flashing another smile. Sometimes she actually listened to the advice her elders gave, because she didn’t like having to fork out money to get a new paint-job. “Had enough of me?” She was teasing, but it was a valid question. Heme was not the kind of place she wanted to out-stay her welcome.
Eric nodded. “Yes, I’ve had ample opportunity to gaze upon the ceiling of the Sistine,” he responded. He had, in fact, had the opportunity to crawl on his knees and prostrate himself on the floor beneath the very ceiling Michelangelo had painted. But he was not about to tell her that. There was no need to tell anyone that. “Gwyneth, your eldest sister, then?” he asked. There was no need to pretend he did not know their birth order or whom she spoke about. He smiled indulgently. “Why, Kendal, did you not behave accordingly the last time you were out of state?” Perhaps she had run someone over. Plausible, yes.
Lestat would probably already have seduced her and drained her of blood in some back alley. Not that Eric was planning on any form of seduction or blood draining tonight. A waitress passed by with two glasses of warm blood and, if Eric’s digestive system had had any function whatsoever, his stomach would have growled. As it was, it was a silent battle of the wills again. Despite his goodly priestly nature, he was beast at the very best and had all the usual vampiric desires plague him just as much as the next bloodsucker. He took a deep breath and exhaled before offering his hand to Kendal.
“That is very smart of you,” he commended. He had not bothered to drive here as he could run the distance between here and the church in a few minutes. Not that he would. He wasn’t one to abuse his special abilities. He would walk, enjoy the night, before returning to write his sermons. “Would you like to talk a brief walk, then? I am not trying to get rid of you. Simply that I do have sermons to write and they should be sufficiently boring or else my parishioners will miss their nap time and stop coming to Mass.” He wasn’t on the schedule until Wednesday, but the smell of blood was starting to get a little intoxicating and perhaps he hadn’t drunk enough earlier but he was going to feed from his little storage box. Not here. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to stay here,” he offered.
She envied him that. Kendal would give anything to be able to travel through even one part of Europe--but no, she did not think her parents trusted her that much. For some reason it stung to realise he knew that small detail about Gwyn, but not of her own indiscretions. It was just as well, really. He probably wouldn’t appreciate it anywhere near as much as she did. “Yes. Melody’s the middle sister, but she got herself cut off.” No. No, I really didn’t. “It wasn’t so much anything I did out of state as everything I’ve done since,” she answered in a tone that was verging on innocent. As though her behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, it wasn’t for her, but not everyone asked their little brother for their opinion on lingerie while already wearing it.
She eyed his hand for a moment before taking it with a hesitant smile. It was not that she did not trust him--surprisingly, she did--but rather that people just didn’t make gestures like that. Not for her. Not unless there was something very specific they wanted, and if that were the case, Kendal had a feeling she would have caught wind of it a while ago. That remark, however, earned him a laugh. She came very close to informing him there was not a chance in hell--perhaps a bad choice of words--that his congregation found him boring, since any creature with an eye for man-candy would be fixated on him. But she thought better of it. Had he been human, she would have said it just to see if he squirmed. Vampires didn’t really seem like the kind of people she could screw with like that. They were far from exempt, but it would require a different angle and a desire to survive. “Sure, I’d like that.” Following the vampire that seemed far less likely to just maim her and leave her for dead seemed like her best option at the moment. Next time, she needed to think this through properly. Plus, you know, he was hot. “I doubt your masses count as nap-time, though.” It just needed to be said.
Eric would have tsked, but that did not seem appropriate at this time and not in this context. He inclined his head at the knowledge she imparted, though he did not comment any further. She was intoxicated and he wanted to avoid having her regret any of her words come the morning. It would only be proper to make comment but be polite enough to say that yes he did hear her and what she said. He gestured a last time to the waitress with his free hand before cupping his hand around hers as they stood to go. He guided her through the bodies milling about the bar room before they were out into the fresh, night air. It was a little muggy, a little different from Italy, but he would get used to it. He walked with her a little ways away from the bar, making sure no one was paying too close of an attention to the priest and the lady he was escorting, especially not with his reputation and, well, hers.
Further away from the eyes of most gossips, Eric slowed down to a more leisurely pace, tucking her arm underneath his. “Are you all right to walk, Kendal?” he asked gently, taking a quick look at her shoes. It was a little too late to avoid it now, especially as he’d just realized that the scent of blood lingering in the air that he merely thought was in his mind was coming from the girl next to him. Ah, he had promised her a walk and he wouldn’t just dump her in a taxicab now and run off. It would be an excellent exercise in self-control, he told himself. And she was engaging conversation. He would see Grayson tomorrow - make a phone call first, perhaps. “And, as for my Masses,” he finally addressed her statement. “Seeing as you’ve never been to one, you cannot possibly know how droll I can be in front of my parishioners. ‘Do good or be cast into hellfire and brimstone’ can really only be said so many ways before it becomes a tad bit repetitive and, thusly, somewhat of a bore.”
Maybe it was best that Eric did not know that everything she had said would have been voiced with or without the aid of alcohol. It was the idea of someone actually wanting to know that left her knocking back her beverage of choice. Especially since she couldn’t admit most of it. Hello--Cardinal. Not the kind of person you confessed exploiting telepathic abilities in the bedroom to. The route out of the bar was one of the few times Kendal found herself not pointedly making eye contact. Usually, she preferred to be remembered, but while she didn’t mind people knowing she’d been at Heme... There were some people there who she’d rather forgot about her. She did have a sense of self-preservation, contrary to the beliefs of some. One deep breath once they were outside, and she felt better. This was the real world as she knew it. Heme was something else entirely. Her head remained almost respectfully inclined, though, and she fixed her eyes to the floor in front of her feet. Eric’s name was not one she was about to drag through the mud with her own reputation, and she knew how bad this could look to some. Hell, she usually made a point of being seen in that particular light, regardless of who she was with. But again, she was not screwing with a vampire--especially one whose beliefs were genuine. The official Hathaway beliefs were not.
Nodding, Kendal grinned her amusement at that question, but chose to at least appear oblivious to the fact he had her arm. Or that she had his arm. Same result. “It’s practically my job to be able to walk in these shoes.” God knew she’d been wearing heels for far longer than would be considered good for one’s tendons. “I can run in them too,” she added for good measure. It wasn’t intended as any reflection on her current company. It was just a fact. “But thank you for asking.” If he was going to be a gentleman, she could manage to keep her behaviour under check. She just rather hoped he wasn’t telepathic or something. Was there such thing as a telepathic vampire? Oh god, had he heard everything she was thinking. Her trail of thought faltered. She couldn’t remember how many times she had consciously sworn or blasphemed in her head. Shit. “Don’t tempt me, I’m notorious for not being able to stay quiet or sit still. I’d be infuriating.” And she probably wouldn’t be able to find the right church. Or.... any church.
The night was pleasant enough by Scarlet Oak standards - at least it wasn’t raining. “I dearly hope you have no reason to run in them tonight,” Eric responded pointedly, almost a little outside of himself. He had not had fresh blood in a very long time and had never had the desire to bite any of his cardinals or fellow priests. He shook himself mentally. He was a Vyri, designed particularly for a purpose. He was in control of himself and his environment at all times. A hand went up to touch the packet of dirt by his chest. He sighed gently as the presence of the Italian dirt reminded him of what he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He had never had much difficulty maintaining himself and his vows until he came to Scarlet Oak and left the soil of his rebirth. Or, at least that was his excuse.
“You’d be lost in the congregation, dear,” Eric responded affectionately, moving some hair out of her face. There had been several occurrences where parishioners came up to him and asked if he had seen them at church. He never did. When he was up on the podium, he wasn’t looking at specific faces, he was speaking to the entire people, the entire congregation...and it just seemed that several people did not quite understand that. “The most you could expect to do is scandalize your seatmate,” he smiled as they strolled. Pausing for a moment, however, he asked her a question. “Which way?” he intended on walking her home, or at least in that direction before he packed her off in a cab and went back to the church himself.
It was one thing when she said it, but it was another matter entirely when he said it and gave it meaning. Looking up, Kendal eyed everyone she could actually see with a fair degree of... something. It wasn’t quite concern as much as it was surprise. That’s not funny, and the slightly increased grip she had on Eric’s arm confirmed that. It was as though she were in college or university again, and the guys were playing tricks on her while she was on her own in the showers. Switching the lights off was a favourite, but everyone always scattered when she emerged, unwilling to face her temper. The one time they had all tried to take the blame to save the one jerk who was a lousy liar, she had locked them all in their own shower room and set off the fire alarms. Childish, but they got their asses kicked for not evacuating the building as and when they were supposed to. And several of them had forgotten their towels, left to exit the room naked in front of everyone else. A more pleasant thought than whether she’d be doing any running.
With a pleased hum, Kendal just smiled again. “I said nothing about being noticed.” What? It was true, even if most of the time she just expected it. “And the majority would be scandalised by sitting next to me on a park bench, so that’s nothing new. But hey, I could have a domino effect. Next thing you know, the whole row is squirming.” She was amusing herself more than anything else, but that was brought to a halt. Why did people ask her technical questions? All she ever really remembered was which side of the cab she’d climbed out of. “Um, that way.” She pointed, relatively sure that was at least the direction the cab had come from. Whether that was a walkable route was beyond her. And she probably shouldn’t have actually entertained the idea of disrupting one of his masses. Oh well.
They walked past a couple of shops, mostly closed, under relatively ample lighting. Eric was blunt, of that he was sure, even if he was political. He danced the dance, yes, but he always presented himself as unassuming and straightforward. It was the easiest way to earn someone’s trust and it was the only way the Lord would accept him. He wasn’t the type to sugarcoat his words of advice to people who came to confession or to his office. He was sensitive (or at least tried to be) but he was adamant and stuck to the laws. “Mm,” Eric acknowledged the thought. “In that case, Mi-- Kendal, I shall know when you decide to attend one of my Masses. I suppose an entire row of people at unease would catch my attention. Perhaps.” One could never be sure. He liked to think he was an adept reader of behavior and of audience response but he was, like all men, fallible and far from perfect. He tried.
“Are you sure?” he asked politely, trying not to sound condescending. Perhaps it was time to pack the girl in a car and send her off, however, Eric was beginning to reflect. He definitely had not drunk enough blood this evening and Miss Hathaway was proving to be a much larger temptation than she ought to be. I simply haven’t had warm blood in ages, Eric reflected. He caught himself watching her a little too keenly before managing to look away and start looking out for cabs. Mentally chiding himself for being weak-willed, he made a mental note to perform some penitence when he returned to his quarters. He was getting too lenient and weak. It wasn’t becoming of a man in his position, this desire.
Like I said, don’t tempt me. I’ll make it three rows. For no other reason than he had said ‘perhaps’ and she liked the challenge. Besides, vampires had super-hearing and stuff, right? Theoretically, all someone needed to do was say the right words in the right order. Like the way the government monitored phone conversations and stuff. But she would, obviously, simply be supporting supernaturals. Mother and father would be so proud. Ew. Still, she just smiled and pulled out her phone, texting most of her contacts for directions back to somewhere-near-home from Heme. Fingers crossed someone knew better than she did.
“Mm...” Glancing at the shops they had just passed, Kendal nodded. “I passed those on the way in. Photographic memory.” True enough, but she generally needed to have been paying attention first. The only reason she had noted those particular shops was because the driver was creeping her out and she wanted to make sure they were still somewhere vaguely civilised rather than on the way to, say, a serial killer’s den and her impending doom. “Are you alright?” She looked up at Eric with a touch of something that was not entirely dissimilar to concern. “You’re tense.” Not necessarily physically tense--he was dead--but he wasn’t the only person who could read behaviour. Even if sometimes she didn’t appear to be paying attention. Luckily she hadn’t caught him staring, or her question would have been quite different.
Eric laughed as Kendal tried to be feisty. “St. Francis could certainly use the temptation, I suppose,” he shrugged, releasing her arm so she could use her phone. Temptation was perhaps a poor choice in words at this time and moment, however. “Faith can only be tested by fire,” he recited. Until a man really underwent something that would shake the very foundation of your faith and emerge with it intact, he does not really understand the full meaning of the word ‘faith’. Or at least it was so in Eric’s point of view. He clenched and unclenched his fingers as he tried to get a hold of his own senses and battle his own temptation.
Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he continued walking along with Kendal as was polite. His reached for the patch of dirt against his chest and pressed it, feeling the packet give him some form of comfort. He let out another sigh. The blood was draining from his face and it was becoming slightly more difficult for him to maintain a strong heartbeat. In a very surreal sense, he felt like he was dying again. He had to laugh at the idea...except it came out as more of a choked sound. He cleared his throat. “I’m well, thank you for asking. All this exercise has simply made me a little thirsty,” he responded honestly without being completely blunt. And it certainly didn’t help that the way she craned to look up at him exposed her neck and the wonderful little blood-pumping vein at her neck. He forced himself to look away.
Kendal gave a short hiccup of laughter, one eyebrow raising, “Well, no one would argue about the obvious comparison between a serpent and myself.” She tried to think of half of the names she had been called by her siblings alone in the past, then tried to imagine what they called her behind her back. She tried to weigh the chances of Melody actually telling her if she asked, but then she really wasn’t very fond of the idea of spending much time with the Loving One. “What happens when you have no faith pre the fire?” Kendal paused. “Or at least none in a deity.” Very little could shake Kendal’s faith in herself. Nothing to date, actually. To her it was a strength. To others, a potential failing depending on the situation.
“Oh hey, I was right.” The response from Bed Warmer #something-something confirmed it, though she’d not really intended to say that out loud and flashed a sheepish grin. Kendal-charms had gotten her out of every problem to date (except The Problem in high school, because money fixed that one) and there was no reason they should fail now. Though, really, it only took a look at his face for her to realise someone wasn’t telling the truth. For once it wasn’t her. “In the nicest possible way, and an advanced apology for my language, you can’t bullshit the bullshitter. The colour has gone from your face.” Hand now on one hip, she stopped walking and looked at him in seriousness. “Eric, you look dead.” Yes, she realised how ridiculous that sounded on his own. “You’re obviously dead and tense.” With that said aloud, and the full implication dawning in relation to her, Kendal’s heart-rate began to pick up. The fact that he was a Cardinal, she was a Hathaway and he had to ask did not detract from the previous comment about running in those boots.
Eric smiled politely. “I was not inferring any sort of analogy between yourself and certain animals,” he told her. Animals are full of blood, too, but they can’t keep me alive. “I can’t imagine you would be the type to cause the downfall of mankind.” Just one man. This man. You could very well be my downfall, Miss Hathaway, so if you could just stop being alive for a second, I’d be very grateful. “Everyone has some form of faith. It doesn’t necessarily have to be in a higher being. But everyone has to believe in something or they don’t bother living. If a man did not believe in even himself, he would find no point to life.” Religion was a testy subject but he had committed to it and to preach it when he signed on for his job.
Indulgence was the name of tonight’s game, though Eric was trying his best to be the one indulging Kendal and not...well, the one indulging in the lady. She was a child at the very best and almost adorable in a take-you-home-and-dress-you-up sort of way. He laughed lightly when she confirmed that she hadn’t but now did know the way back to her home, though his voice was still strained. Dehydration apparently did that to you. Joy. “Why, yes, I am quite deceased. I thought we had established this,” Eric said, trying to lighten the mood and failing quite considerably. She was catching on - wait, caught on - judging by the increased speed of her heartbeat, which didn’t help Eric at all. It just made her all the more obviously full of blood. He clasped his hands in front of him in his best holier-than-thou position as he stopped walking and turned to look at her as well. “Kendal, is anything the matter?” The game was sometimes also called denial.