Zania Castalia (ex_brokendol405) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-12-05 21:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-04, leif |
blood for blood... with a side of coffee
Who: Zania and Leif
Where: Starbucks
When: Afternoon
When it was too quiet in her house to work, Zania camped out in Starbucks, where she could get a caffeine fix while she scribbled out new spells. One in particular was giving her a headache, a curse that she was determined to perfect, even if she didn't have a target for it at the moment. Sometimes it was just fun to see what she could do. Writing spells took time, but that was something she often had, and brain power, which she didn't exactly need at work. She loved being a DJ at Heme, but it was also something she could do in her sleep.
Apparently it was the afternoon rush hour, when everyone needed a pick me up, including mothers with a litter of kids. A few of them would do better with a leash and muzzle, anything to keep them still and quiet. Zania hadn't been the most well behaved child herself, but she didn't remember being that out of control. Her parents would have never allowed it. Glaring up at the kids, she dug into her purse, looking for her headphones to drown out the noise. "Dammit," she muttered to herself. If they weren't in her purse, where they hell had she left them?
"Is it really so difficult for you to just do your job?" Leif had perfected the art of smiling at the baristas while snarling down the phone at whoever happened to be on the other end. The majority of his employees resented him. Not because he was a ruthless employer, but because they were all at least reaching their forties while he had yet to hit thirty and still made them feel like toddlers with their hand caught in the cookie jar. The barista, however, seemed to love him. Clearly, she wasn't listening to his conversation. How considerate of her. Was he making any effort not to listen to her mind? Of course not.
'What is that screeching?' Apparently even his familiar objected to the vulgar displays of a child's lung capacity that Leif had actually pushed so far into the background that he could hear their minds over it. Brats. Or perhaps his telepathy was flaring. The result was the same. If they didn't shut up soon, however, he was going to really give them something to-- Who was he kidding? He'd do it on the way past. 'You can't curse a child.' Strange how a reprimand could sound so much like a challenge.
Dove's blood, fresh. A touch clichéd, even if Miakoda didn't understand why, but it would do. Maybe it was a little too much to just shut them up, but the pill bottle he had emptied it into had just now left a convenient smudge on the palm of his hand. 'You're unbelievable.' With his had clasped around the small amount of blood -- it was only a little curse -- he hung up without warning and smiled at the barista. "Hey, buddy," now that was a word he never thought he'd say in public, and somehow his hand had ended up on the kid's back. Black shirts hid red stains so well. "Don't you think you should lay off a minute? Your mom's got enough to--" He silenced himself when he was glared at. The mother appeared to be grateful, though. She had counted her eggs before they hatched. Flashing a smile at the woman, he claimed his coffee from the pick up point and muttered the first appropriate curse that sprang to mind. Now the child had a reason to scream, and would do for quite a while. Leif couldn't imagine how much that curse hurt; he had never been subjected to it. The others in her brood had fallen silent -- probably out of shock -- but hopefully none of them would be allowed out in public for quite some time. Still, he had to smirk as they were dragged out. Who said blood magic wasn't perfectly functional? He did need a table, though.
'There's blood in the air.' Zania looked up, abandoning her search for her headphones as Riddle's voice spoke up in her head. He lay curled up beside her, hidden in the bottom of a hobo bag. She'd thought he was sleeping soundly, but was pleased to see that didn't stop him from being nosy. 'Where?', she thought, only to receive a snort of derision in return. 'Not my job.' She might have argued, but her eyes had already landed on the culprit. No sooner had she spotted him did she see him mouth a spell and suddenly the child was shrieking, body twisting in agony. Zania looked back at the witch, a man a few years her senior who was much too pleased to have his coffee. She couldn't blame him, though, as she was thrilled with the silence that followed the family's exit. Her eyes darted to them as they made their way through the parking lot, the boy screaming and likely on his way to the hospital. "That might have been a little over dramatic," she said with a knowing smirk and a small laugh. It was hard to judge when she didn't know how long the spell would last.
"I really can't say I know what you're talking about," Leif's eyebrow raised, though the smirk remained. He had been caught red-handed, so to speak -- 'That isn't funny.' -- and the lady clearly knew what she had just witnessed. But still, he was neither going to confirm or deny what he had just done. Plausible deniability, etcetera. "But I'd be willing to wager he will keep quiet in public in the future. And possibly take stranger danger a little more seriously." He paused to grab the sugar. "His parents will have a headache by the evening, though." And for that he was not sorry. They should have known better than to take unruly children to a public venue when they clearly had behavioural issues. Leif could not remember ever having been taken out into a cafe or anything like that when he was ill-tempered. Then again, he couldn't remember ever behaving like that. Demonic lineage or not, his reactions had always been quiet and controlled. Usually followed by laughter. "Sorry, may I?" He needed somewhere to sit, and right now he couldn't be bothered playing the gentleman to any other complete stranger in the place. This complete stranger would do. Besides, his telepathy was flaring and all he could hear was the barista working the till. That is the most boring job on the planet. And he had to listen to it.
Liar, liar, pants on fire, Zania sang in her head, then briefly considered setting one with a spark of a spell. It would be so easy, but might turn Starbucks into a battle ground. Please don't. I'm napping, Riddle yawned. Zania's smile persisted. "Sure, just watch the bag," she said, pulling Riddle's bag closer to her before shuffling some of her notes into a pile. If he was going to sit with her, then she didn't want him spilling coffee on her spellwork, messy as it might be. "I would have thought a five minute sting would be enough, but if you're looking to traumatize..." She shrugged, not caring as much as she thought she probably should. Her parents had been strict, still were in fact, but she thought herself better for it. "Zania Castalia," she said, reaching across the table to offer her hand. Her bracelets jingled on her wrists as she smiled. No harm in introducing herself when she'd done nothing wrong.
One venti cappuccino and a half-projected thought coming from the woman he was talking to. Leif didn't see the point in cappuccinos. They were just lattes, filled halfway with foamed milk covering the rest. Better to order a tall latte and forgo the foam. And the extortionate pricing. "It's not a lie if I don't deny it in its entirety," he pointed out, seating himself and answering the tune to which the thought had been attached rather than what she actually thought. He didn't know what she had actually thought, thanks to his subconscious fixation on the barista, so if he was wrong... Well, he would cross that bridge if he came to it. "I wasn't caffeinated enough to be forgiving." An honest enough answer from over the top of his own latte. Now, whether he would have done the same post-coffee was a different question. And the answer was probably yes. Castalia. "Leif Niemi," he flashed a smile as he shook her hand, trying to place where he knew that name from. Not work. Not from the town, because he didn't pay attention. But then how many people had he listened in on during his excursions? For all he knew, he had passed close enough by her to pick her name from her own head... though he didn't recognise the first name. "Sorry, I'm familiar with the name but I can't place why." The only reason she needed to know that was that he was not certain if he ought to have known her. It was good to know who you were potentially insulting.
Had she said he was a liar? Maybe it had been implied within the look she gave him. Zania had known telepaths, but didn't immediately jump to that conclusion just because someone had read her right. It happened from time to time, as she was one to wear her emotions openly. "So can I assume you won't hex me now that you've got your latte?" she asked with amusement. He could always try. It wouldn't end well. "Your name, too. I've heard it somewhere." She was usually good with names if she'd met the person, but she was sure she'd never met him before. "I've got a big family, but most of them are back in New York. Maybe you've met my cousin, since he's been here longer." Nic's short stint as Officer Castalia might have been noticed by natives in the area, but she wasn't at all sure. She'd known the officers back home, but that was mostly because she was paying them off.
Miss. Castalia didn't react; something he found interesting but could not quite decide whether it was because she was used to telepaths, unmoved by his response or... something completely unrelated. He supposed he could have argued that body language gave her away, though it did no such thing. With a brief laugh and a vague nod of concession, Leif shrugged. "You can assume, yes." Though he saw no point in hexing her and he doubted that his sleight of hand was good enough to get a quick curse past her after she had already borne witness to the result of his last one. Besides, he was not looking for a fight, nor did she irritate him. "I've not been here long myself, but I'm afraid you're the first I've met carrying that name." Social disadvantages. He really did prefer the world of business. "My family is also relatively large; they live over by the river. My father... Jokull Niemi. He passed away recently." And that tended to be why the family name was known. That and Linnea seemed anxious to know absolutely everybody, but that went ignored.
Good, no hexing meant she didn't need to start building up shields or anything of the sort. Zania's defensive magic wasn't near as good as her offensive magic, but she comforted herself with the thought that she'd take out her opponent before the other was ever necessary. That's what she liked to think, at least. It had worked well enough in the past. "Ah, it was in the paper," Zania said with a small nod. She tried to keep up with what was happening locally, if only because she needed to know what was going on around her. "I'm sorry for your loss," she added as an after thought. He seemed relatively calm for such an easy admittance, but men tended to hide their emotions better than women. "Is that what brought you to Scarlet Oak?" she asked, glancing down to realize she'd written the word 'worm' and stopped there. Worms? No, wormwood. Right.
Leif tried not to scoff at that sentiment. Which was actually rather hard. He would have laughed at his secretary when she first said that had he not been too busy considering where his next blood donor was coming from. It was a pity he couldn't have used her. It would have been more productive than simply firing her when she gave his address to a damned siren. Why do people say that?
'Because it's an appropriate display of... empathy,' Miakoda offered, though she didn't sound as though she was convinced.
"Don't be, it's hardly your fault." He knew how cold he could come across when talking about similar subjects. It came with the element, he supposed. Odd that despite the level of fear he had inspired in the rest of the family, Jokull was the one person who brought about some semblance of genuine warmth in his eldest. Cold became calm. Because the alternative was somethin akin to a maelstrom. "Wormwood?" He was making no attempt to hide that he was psychic, nor was he actively trying to listen to her any more. But his telepathy's focus had broadened, and it was leaving him with a lot of thoughts at any given moment. But Zania was closer and thinking about wormwood. Pointedly trying not to look down at whatever she was reading, he just raised his eyebrows politely and started considering the relevant properties and uses. Force of habit.
"I know," she answered. "But it felt like I should say something." That was the kind of thing her mother had spent years trying to beat into her. Certain manners were required, even if they didn't always make sense. Zania got tired of arguing with her and at some point had adopted a few of them. They came out of her mouth without a second thought until someone had the nerve to throw them back at her. She might have been annoyed if he hadn't been right.
Okay, that time she knew he'd picked her thoughts. There was no way to read 'wormwood' from her body language, and the mess of notes was hardly organized enough for him to declare an ingredient without reading the whole thing through. "Yes, wormwood," she said with a hint of a smile and a snort of annoyance. "I was thinking it would do, but the more I think on it, I might go with belladonna. I've had better luck crushing it's berries into blood than with wormwood. Do you always listen in to other's thoughts? Or is just the mood you're in?" No reason not to be upfront. He certainly had been.
"It makes you a better human than me," Leif said, head inclining as he wondered what that really meant and whether it mattered. Well, no. It didn't matter. He also doubted it made her a better anything than him. Possibly better at following habits and gut reactions that had developed over time. He could not remember ever being told how to behave when somebody died, with the exception of human sacrifice, but that one was rather a given. The corner of his mouth tried to tug into a smirk when he considered how an intended sacrifice would react to receiving premature condolences.
"I'm untrained," he admitted off the bat. The fact alone caused a stir of annoyance, but it was what it was. At some point he would get around to finding someone to help him fix that. "I can't help what I listen to. Someone else is wondering if their skirt makes their ass look fat." Of course, he wasn't going to bother looking for the person belonging to the mind, but he was willing to bet the answer was yes. "From your reasoning the belladonna sounds best, assuming none its properties clash with other ingredients, but you've already covered that much." Or she wouldn't be considering it. Born witch? Possibly. But then he had made a point of not trying to read her work, so he had no real idea whether she was writing a spell or simply substituting one ingredient for something she found easier to use. Either way, she was a blood witch which automatically put her higher in Leif's regards than the other three areas.
Zania shrugged, taking a sip of her latte. "No, it just makes me a creature of habit," she said. "People say and do things all the time just because it's custom, not because they mean it." Which wasn't to say she didn't mean it, but she'd never lost a parent and couldn't quite relate. She'd never lost anyone that close to her, assuming Leif had been close to his father. There was always the possibility that that wasn't the case. Some big families were not as close knit as her own was.
"Seriously?" she asked, one brow raising. "You mean to tell me you can curse at the drop of a hat, but you neglected to find your psychic volume controls?" Zania wasn't a psychic herself, but couldn't imagine having gone this long without figuring it out. Listening in on people might be fun from time to time, but not all the time, and definitely not at random intervals. That would quickly drive her crazy. "The properties are the same, but sometimes one works better than the other," she said, referring back to the spell. "There's a lot of moving parts, so it might not be the only thing that needs to be slightly altered. I'll find out when I use it." It would be interesting to see the result even if it didn't work, so long as it did something.
Leif shrugged one shoulder, the other curling in on itself as someone tried to push past. Get your bag out of my personal space, moron. Everyone was a creature of habit to some extent. His habits just weren't necessarily things the masses would find acceptable, even if all they were privy to was the expressions his face arranged itself into when he felt no need to censor his behaviour. "You wouldn't believe just how much people don't really mean," he said absently, eyeing the man he could hear trying to listen in on the conversation. Some people just had no manners. And the most inane thoughts.
"In a nutshell. I was a little preoccupied with the former. And... other family traits," he reached into his coffee and pulled out the ice-cube he had been trying to focus on instead of everyone else's commentaries. He was far from being a diligent practitioner regarding his element, but he knew how to use what he had. That small fact did not make him more at ease with his fourth level abilities that paled in comparison to his blood magic. "I was never very good at honing my... mind without help." As though he was going to admit that, for whatever reason, Jokull Niemi did not want his son improving that ability. He could respect that decision, but since one of them was now dead... it was perhaps time to fix the constant humming in his head. Born witch. She was writing a spell. That wasn't just tweaking. "With any luck, nothing major will need to be changed." He tried to sound agreeable, but someone had just thought of him as 'Casper', which had been a cursable offense since he was a first level witch.
"I don't think I'd want to be privy to everyone's passing thoughts," Zania said. "It might be interesting from time to time, but when I consider how much of what goes on in my head is utter nonsense, I can't imagine having that broadcast at me." And that was coming from someone who thought she must be more interesting than the majority of the populace. She could care less what a single mother thought as she rushed to the store, or a banker had on his mind as he took his morning coffee. These were the kind of things she'd prefer to be without, and she imagined he must feel the same. But if he'd been focused elsewhere, she supposed she could imagine putting it off... so long as the other focus was worth it.
Black and blood magic were fairly good excuses in Zania's book, and she wondered what else might have fed into his family that he had to focus on. She had her glamour on the side, but that wasn't anything compared to what other abilities might run in families. "I bet if you put as much effort into it as you do magic you could do it," she said. "At least enough to shut things out when you don't want to listen." That was the part that would have annoyed her, the constant background noise. "It's not everyday I run into someone that shares my interests, so I have to ask, is it a family thing? Or did you just happen across it one day?" Prior to the Light of May, people didn't usually take up magic because they didn't think it would really work. Leif's abilities were too well developed for this to be a recent thing, so what brought him into it? Was he a born witch like herself?
"It depends on the day." Or hour. Or minute... Or month. "Most of the time they just blend into background noise, which is easy to ignore unless I have a headache." Which generally left him incapable of ignoring anything. "Thoughts are easy to pass by when they're mundane. Other times I manage to focus on just one person, or the focus leaps around. Occasionally it switches itself off for short periods of time. That is unsettling." Having never truly been alone in his own mind, the silence that fell was eerier than how he imagined his youngest sister viewed him. "Although familiars tend to fill in unwelcome peace." It would help if he ever found Miakoda's opinion helpful in any way, shape or form. Somewhere outside a hawk voiced her disapproval. Leif remained unmoved.
"I had my father's help from an early age. I wasn't born blessed with it like he was, but he was a good teacher." He paused. "It was a family thing while he was alive. The rest of my family--" Well, the ones that mattered. "--followed closer to... my mother's path." The word only just made it past his teeth. Linnea had no right to it, but for the sake of public appearance he'd use the title. "Water elementals." He dropped the ice cube back into his coffee to watch it melt. It almost seemed symbolic. "With two exceptions who really don't do much at all." He honestly didn't mind Valterri, but one day he would drain Kajsa dry and sell her to Kiara. Hopefully she would be worth nothing. "But you are right. It really is time I looked into finding a little help." That was almost painful to say. Help. Even if it was true.
It made sense, she supposed, to find the silence unsettling when noise had always been present. The best comparison she could imagine was having a television always running in the background, just noise that could be ignored most of the time. Maybe the volume went up or down at odd intervals. Somehow she didn't think he'd appreciate her comparing his abilities to a TV, so she didn't say it out loud, immediately realizing he might know anyways. "Am I a loud thinker?" she asked. "I have a cousin who's a vampire telepath and he feels like some people are louder than others. Harder to ignore." She could be a loud talker at times, but that was something she could put a lid on. Silencing a broadcasting mind wasn't something she'd ever trained herself to do.
"Elementalism can be interesting," Zania pointed out, oddly optimistic in the presence of someone who seemed the opposite. Perhaps she just wanted to be contrary. "It doesn't have the span that magic does, but it's not without it's uses." She looked at the melting ice cube in his coffee cup, understanding that it had only survived that long because he'd willed it to be so. "If you can keep an ice cube frozen in boiling water, then you can give someone a fever or freeze the water in their veins. We're ninety percent water, or something like that, right? Not that I'm suggesting you master the element to creatively kill people, but I think there's more to it than cooling your coffee." Fire would have been her choice if she could pick an element to work with, but she hadn't been given such a choice. She hadn't been given the ability at all. Something was better than nothing, so as she saw it, he'd lucked out.
Loud thinker? People didn't usually ask that question. He tended to be the one to insist that their turn their own volume down. Then there was Kajsa and her mental screams of 'CHEESECAKE'. Please. With a slight frown, his head turned to one side -- a pointless habit, since he didn't need his ears to listen -- and tried to single people out. "Compared to almost everyone else in here," almost because he could match the mind to anyone's face right now and had no idea who was thinking what; barista excluded, "you're practically whispering... The volume tends to be higher for the stupid, the over-confident, the obnoxious... and those who know they have something to hide from me. And projected thoughts, even if they're not projected at me." Someone else's thoughts inside the wrong mind rather stood out. "Vampire telepath," Leif repeated. He was not in the business of outing people, or Kiara would have killed him by now, but he was fairly sure that wasn't what most people called them. But he could be wrong. "That's an interesting talent to have." He was going to comment on listening to minds with no expiry date until he realised he had no idea how old the siren was.
"It certainly makes my sister's temper interesting. But if you want enough cold to require an amputation, that would be her area." Not Linnea's, because she wasn't demonic. She didn't have the strength of will to turn the power she possessed into the asset it was supposed to be. Because she's weaker than the rest of us. On some degree, Leif was aware those were not his thoughts as much as their were probably his father's, but it hardly mattered if it was true. "Something else to put on my list of things to do," he nodded, ignoring his familiar's complaints that she had been telling him that the whole time. No, you want me to go to Linnea. It still isn't happening. Though he wasn't all that impressed by the fact he actually had succeeded in cooling his coffee. "Creative killing still sounds more interesting than, say, stocking up on ingredients." Not even Miakoda could argue with that.
Zania laughed, pleased that her thoughts were quiet compared to those around her. She had plenty to hide, but knew enough about telepaths to know that if she wasn't thinking about it, then it was unlikely they would find out. Her focus was on him at the moment, not on her secrets. Maybe he was lying, since she'd never know either way, but even if he was she wasn't going to change her way of thinking. She wasn't even sure she could. "Good to know," she smiled. "I'm sure I could project, but there's no reason to, not right now." She had the feeling her projections would be all the comments she barely kept herself from saying. With her manners lately, that wasn't much.
"I believe vampire telepathy is just like normal telepathy, but restricted to vampires," she shrugged. "I could be wrong, since I'm not in the minds of either, but it could be useful." She knew Nic had found a way to make it so. Everyone had their thing, if they were a supernatural at least, and magic was hers. "Not all magic needs ingredients," she pointed out in response. "Like your curse. Well, that needs one thing, but it's not really something you have to hunt down and stock up on." Blood was easy to find, when it could be your own. Blood from others had to be carefully procured, but she managed that bit as well. It made her wonder if he'd used his own blood for the curse, or if he had some on him. She didn't see a wound, so she didn't think there was a cut to bleed from, but her eyes could be wrong.
"A lot of people do it by accident. Tends to be how I know what my employees think of me." Eyebrow raised, he automatically pressed his fingers to his ear as his mind's focus shifted rather drastically. It was like having serious inner ear problems. "Heated insults tend to breach the gap fairly well." He smirked, shamelessly amused at how he managed to be such a thorn in so many people's sides just by existing. Not that he wasn't guilty of pulling all their strings, and often at the same time. That was their problem, not his.
"He'd have a heads-up on any attacks, I guess." Though that didn't mean he'd necessarily be able to stop it. Leif wasn't sure he'd want to listen in on a vampire's mind. Especially not when his bloodtype made him a refreshing power-trip cocktail laced with acid. He didn't want to know if someone was considering eating him. Even if the ancient and the demented sounded potentially interesting. "My stock is healthy enough as it stands." And he was always carrying, as it were. Then there was always the trade he had found himself pulled into. "But true enough," he held up the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand, scarred from too many spur of the moment curses. "I never did take kindly to irritation." Raising the palm of his other hand, he glanced at what was left of the red smudge. "But that wasn't mine." It was harder to draw your own blood in a place like this. At least, without drawing unwanted attention to an injury.
Her head tilted to the side as she watched him listen to something she could never hear, intrigued by the idea that the physical action could effect the psychic result. There was so much she still didn't know about psychic powers, but now that supernatural abilities were public knowledge she hoped to find out more than she could before. Tracking down accurate information on something that people didn't believe in had always been a bit tricky. "Your employees?" she asked, raising a brow. "What kind of work do you do?" From the sound of it, she would guess he ran a corporation of some sort, despite his young age. With blood magic and hexes on his side, it was a definite possibility.
"We match," Zania said with a laugh as she held up her hands as well. Just like him, she had scars on her thumb, index and middle fingers from years of pricking them with tacks and knives. If she'd known white magic, she might have been able to prevent the scarring, but white magic had never been possible in her family line. It was a shame she couldn't learn them all, since Zania never liked being told there was something she couldn't do, but if she had to choose it would be black and blood she would go with anyways. "It seemed a little quick to be your own, but I wasn't sure." He'd had a good teacher though if he was able to utilize blood on the fly as he had. She would have been jealous if she hadn't been able to do the same herself.
"I run a technology firm in Detroit. Took over when my father died, which caused a delightful stir since I'm probably the youngest senior member of the company." Leif shrugged, unable to keep the shadow of amusement from his face. He lowered his hand -- the obnoxious trail of thought from wherever that person was was not going away. "They really don't like me very much." Though other than his age, they had no grounds for complaint. That they knew of. If they were to come to him with anything regarding curses, then they were getting a little warmer, but apart from that the company ran like clockwork. Except when they couldn't find him.
With a slightly more genuine smile, he glanced at his own fingers and cracked his knuckles. "I've taken to bringing other supplies out with me." Or, in the very least, a bottled supply of his own. "It was something I used in school that I perhaps naively thought would not be necessary outside of it." Just a little presumptuous, even if now he had a familiar who did an excellent job of tearing up skin. "Linnea can't ground me for what she can't prove anymore, though." Partly because he would never adhere to any such conditions and because she knew exactly who was responsible for accidents that happened to people he didn't like.
"In some cases, seniority aligns more with talent than age. It doesn't matter that you're the youngest if you're the best equipped to run the company." Zania could see how it could work, though in her world age was everything. And sex. Being a daughter of the mafia allowed it's privileges and it's restrictions, but Zania often wanted one without the other. She was the keeper of their family spellbook, an archive that grew with each generation, yet she would never hold a place among the ranks. Only those closest to her-- Nic, Mannix, and Fionn-- treated her like an equal, perhaps because they were restricted as well, the three youngest men in a generation of eleven. Breaking rank was a near impossibility for all of them. "I'm sure their dislike is based purely on being passed up for the position themselves."
Ah, yes, cutting in school resulted in unnecessary trips to the nurse's office, followed by a round of counseling that bored Zania to death. No, she wasn't cutting, but she couldn't explain what she was doing, and had to go along with it. She'd learned her lesson fast, taking blood samples with her, should she need them. Otherwise, all detailed spellwork was done after school. "I still carry some with me," she smiled. "Though I deal, too, so it's good to have samples." What was he going to do, turn her in? He'd just cursed a child; he hardly had grounds for blackmail. "You got grounded for it? So your father taught you, but your mother..." Was it even his mother? It seemed like a good guess, but their methods were rather counter-productive.
Nodding, Leif smirked. "They're learning, they just don't like the lessons much. I was also born and raised to inherit the business, so I think they saw me coming. Just... not as early on." He was the best equipped to run the company, though. They was little to nothing they could do about that besides go to great lengths to find someone better still. Said person would not survive very long, however. Leif had always been a terrible loser, no matter how much of a good sportsman he appeared to be. "There's the chance they didn't like my father much either. In which case, I may well be an improvement." Or not. His father was probably enough of a professional to avoid cursing his employees. Leif could not boast such a claim. Since the business had forcibly changed hands, everyone's luck had probably taken a turn for the worse. Whether or not any of them were superstitious enough to blame him was another matter.
She dealed? Leif had to confess himself suddenly interested. "I have recently found myself in the business as well," he admitted, "Or rather, it found me after pulling my home address out of a secretary who has since been fired." He had never been a fan of loose ends and that was just one of them. "I apparently inherited two family businesses." Why was he telling her that? In the vague hope that he may be able to glean some kind of information from her. As much as he was indeed a businessman, blood and technology did not even begin to approach the same market. But the idea of carrying samples should have been an obvious one. Even if he was barely ankle-deep in dealing, Leif was a little annoyed that had not occurred to him. "She hates it," he clarified, with a smile that was almost triumphant. Everything he did that even so much as wound Linnea up was considered a victory. "She never did approve of father's hobbies." Which was almost understandable -- mastery required a human sacrifice -- except Leif really only saw said human as a means to a desired end. "There have only ever been two paths to take in my family; father's or hers." He paused. "Unless Kajsa is included, who genetically doesn't seem to have followed either." Valterri, at least, had tried with the blood magic which put him several pegs above the undisputed bastard of the family.
"So you're competition?" Zania asked, raising a brow. Even if he was, she suspected they ran with different circles in this town, preventing a lot of overlap. It was for the better; he was far too interesting to take out. "I suspect it will be a growing business, more for those who drink it rather than use it for spells." These days it was more socially acceptable to be a vampire than to practice blood magic, and for good reason-- vampires were presenting themselves as creatures who wouldn't kill, while no good blood witch would make such a proclamation. It was impossible to progress without it. "It's strange to me that your family's divided so, but that might be because there was only ever one path in my own family." You were either in or you were out, and if you were out then you were no longer considered family. Generally, people wanted in. "Kajsa is... a sibling?" she inquired. It was an odd name and she wasn't even sure if it was a brother or sister. Either way, it sounded like the black sheep of the family. Or the ugly duckling. Whichever.
"That would really depend on who either of us were catering for and whether you could, indeed, consider me competition," Leif pointed out. "As I said, the business found me. Not the other way round. It quite literally turned up on my doorstep with little room for negotiation -- something I am getting tired of, quite frankly." He was perfectly capable of reeling off the magical properties of certain bloodlines and he was not ignorant of effects they had on vampires. However, the witches' market and the... consumers' market were not the same thing and it tended to change the value. Leif's own blood was far more interesting to a vampire than it was to a blood witch. Too many qualities in one supply made spells awkward. "For the most part, our blood is inclined to rebel. It doesn't lend itself well to family bonding." There should have been only one path in the family; something else he was inclined to blame Kajsa for. Her existence had changed family dynamics, visibly split up their parents and left an alternate route where there should not have been one. "Half-sister." Had he just acknowledged that in public? How terrible of me. "We're Finnish," he clarified, almost subconsciously picking up on the confusion while his telepathy wandered. "Well, my parents are. Damned if I know who Kaj's father is." The poor bastard.
"That's what I was thinking," Zania smiled, pleased that he hadn't picked up on every thought that went through her head. "I doubt the same people that come to me would be welcome in your circles." Though she could dress up real nice from time to time. She wasn't allowed to attend formal gatherings with dreadlocks and piercings, but a little glamour and a cocktail dress fixed that in seconds. So long as she kept her face out of the papers, Daddy was happy. She was both the black sheep and the princess. "Finnish," she said thoughtfully. It wasn't a land she knew much about. "My own family's Italian. Well, mostly. My mother's got a bit of French in her." And a bit of Fae, which Zania enjoyed as much as anything else. "I've only one brother, but a shit-ton of cousins, so that makes up for it." The younger ones were close enough to be brothers and that's what mattered.
"I doubt it," Leif agreed. "They'd have to find me first. Though at the rate people seem to be turning up--" Two people wasn't exaggerating as far as he was concerned. Not when one was a siren and the other a vampire. "--I'm going to ward the areas around all the entrances to my house." And maybe the rest of the block. "I sell to a dealer at any rate. I've got no idea who the blood is going to." Vampires. Undead burnouts. No blood witch would want stoned water elemental blood. It did make him wonder who she was selling to, though. "The rest of our family is in Finland... and I've got no interest in meeting them." He shrugged. They were just there. He functioned perfectly well as a single unit anyway and his sisters had friends enough. "Perhaps if there were more from my father's side." But there wasn't, so the point was redundant. Coffee pausing halfway through its path to his mouth, he pulled a face and pushed it away. Now it was just too cold. Still, it prompted a thought that caused him to lower his voice slightly. "Don't suppose you know where to get a... medium supply, do you? Personal use only. Not looking to steal any sources." Personal use that he wasn't certain he would use. But did it matter if he paid?
"A medium?" Zania said, thinking through what she had on hand and what she could get. She didn't have a regular medium she could go to, not here in Scarlet Oak, but she did have a few pints from previous encounters. "I don't have a supplier at current, so there's no source to steal, but I do have some on hand. How much are you looking for?" She assumed he needed it for a spell of some sort, since personal use couldn't possibly be for consumption. Zania was itching to ask what sort of spell he was working, but they'd only just met and she doubted he would tell her. She decided to ask anyways, nosy as she was. "What kind of spell are you looking to work?" It couldn't hurt to ask.
How much? That, actually, was a good question. Leif couldn't even remember where he had read about it, never mind if any spell he attempted would honestly work. "An acquaintance may have earthbound issues." Didn't everybody these days? "And séances are a little too girls' sleepover." That, and he was more used to occasionally putting people in their graves than poking around in their afterlives. "Probably whatever one could consider superfluous," he finally answered, rubbing his forehead. Really, if he wanted to try and 'make contact', as it were -- and without the aid of a live medium or any other third party -- he would, ideally, need to be ready for making any number of mistakes. Amongst other things. 'Has it occurred to you that he may just be a really annoyed poltergeist?' Leif ignored Mia. 'Really annoyed' tended to be among the many definitions of poltergeists, for starters. "There's always a chance a séance would work better," he admitted finally. He'd heard they worked better with a psychic present.
"Hey, now, séances can be fun with the right crowd," Zania smirked. She'd been to a real séance once and it was truly one of the creepiest events she'd ever experienced. Mediums held a power she'd never want for herself, yet enjoyed watching from the outside. "Honestly, I think you'll have better luck with a live medium than the blood from one, but if you'd like a pint to play with, then we can work something out. My experience with a medium is that they can truly communicate with spirits, whereas you'll be restricted by the limits of a spell. Find the right one and it might work, but if you're writing one from scratch, well... you could go through a lot of blood in the process of perfecting it." Zania was one to mix blood magic and black magic as needed, and she thought that might be necessary in this case. "While it's none of my business, if you do hold a séance, would you mind a casual observer? I find them fascinating."
"The crowd would be the problem," Leif stated, tilting his head. He had never been a fan of outside parties getting involved. It was one of the reasons he resented the fact his underlings apparently needed to know where he was during work hours before they could do their job. They had his number and they knew what their jobs entailed. Why they also needed to know his whereabouts was beyond him. Unless they were running for cover, which he supposed was a possibility he could live with. "And I can't write them." Which was a bitch, frankly. Casual observer? "As much as I understand the fascination, I'm afraid there's nothing casual about the subject." He was not going to add that it was to the point that he wasn't certain how comfortable he was actually taking it on as a project. "A pint would be excellent though. And if I change my mind you'll be the first to know." Because he would never tell anybody else.
"That's too bad," she sighed, then took a sip of her drink. "I expected contact with the dead to result in a private conversation, but it was worth a try." Without asking, how would she ever know if he might accept? People made ridiculous deals with her all the time. They just didn't realize that was the case until much later. "If you find a spell that you think might work, I'd be happy to look it over for you. Maybe try it myself and see what happens. But, yes, a pint. How do you plan to pay?" she asked, eyes sparkling. "I don't need the money." She had plenty of that, even if he couldn't guess it. She preferred an exchange, preferably blood for blood, but she was open to other options. Other witches tended to be creative.
Leif shrugged an apology he didn't particularly mean and considered the idea of payment. His own supplies were currently limited after the past few days. "I can offer a pint of psychic demonic water." It could have been two pints, but he'd already given two to Kiara and he liked having a healthy blood supply to his brain. "Apart from that, I'm dry. Well, out of anything worth anything," he corrected. A pause and a flash a smile that strongly suggested he was joking. Just because he could hear someone in the room listening. "Unless you were looking for a sacrifice. Got quite a few of those, though they're run of the mill." But then a sacrifice was a sacrifice and it was the nature of the death that altered how it could be used. Though really, there were very few occasions Leif ever managed to find willing donours.
He was offering his own blood in payment? To another blood witch? It was a sign to how badly he wanted what she had to offer, and the sort of offer that Zania would not turn down. She felt like she was getting the better end of the deal, for there was much she could do with his blood. "I'll take the pint," she smiled. "I have an easy enough time finding sacrifices when needed, but I appreciate the offer." She'd killed enough small animals for her cousin to make an undead army of them, but she preferred to pick them for herself. Certain animals she didn't like to kill. Like kittens and puppies. She could stab a human in the back, but kick a puppy and Zania would cut your foot off before tending to the cuddly little animal. "I DJ at Heme, so if you want to stop by and pick it up, just let me know and I'll bring it with me. Or we can meet somewhere else. I'm flexible."
"Excellent." Because that cost him nothing but a few minutes of his time, even if it was walking a very fine line between making a simple trade and handing over something that with the right spell could possibly be used to control him. Comforting thoughts. 'Personally, I think that was the most stupid thing I've witnessed you do.' Automatically smiling again before his expression turned into a glare aimed at his familiar, Leif tilted his head to one side. "Your job is infinitely more interesting than mine," he conceded. Actually, the position rather suited her. "And I'll pick it up, if that's alright. I've been meaning to make a visit out of sheer curiosity." Really, a vampire was a vampire, even if some were more intimidating than others. He knew why they attended the bar; he wanted to know why everyone else seemed to as well.
"It keeps life interesting," Zania grinned. She enjoyed being one of the beating hearts in a crowd of vampires, no matter what kind of danger it might put her in. Zania was certain she was capable of taking down a vampire or two and, if more proved to be a problem, then Nic was working the door. "Text me when you plan on dropping by," she said, fishing a pen out of her purse to scribble her number on a napkin. "That way I can be sure to have the blood with me." As she grabbed her bag off the floor, Riddle let out an annoyed growl, popping his head out of the bag to get a glance at Leif. If Zania was going to be bringing home new blood, it never hurt to familiarize himself with the source. "It was nice meeting you, Leif. Hopefully I'll hear from you sometime soon." He seemed to be an interesting character; she'd be disappointed if she didn't.
'Blood in exchange for a number. Yes, that makes perfect sense,' Miakoda rambled in the back of Leif's head (nonsensically, in fact, since apparently she had forgotten the other half of the deal) while he dwelled on the fact he had made it through an entire conversation with someone in Scarlet Oak without wanting to curse anybody--'Not true.' He knew what she was talking about, but the child didn't count. He wondered if it had stopped screaming yet. "Thank you, I will." He smiled and stood -- a knee-jerk reaction that was originally self-taught. In the right mood, he was nothing if not a gentleman. The cat was a familiar. Something made obvious even if it was just because she was carrying it around in her bag. Regardless, he nodded at it in polite acknowledgement. "Likewise -- and you will." Right now he wanted another coffee. And he probably should have expressed some kind of good wishes regarding her spell, but... 'You're a little late.'