Who: Violin and George Camarine What: meeting When: After this. Where: Fountain Rating: PG Status: Complete; Closed
Violin slipped from her apartment and moved with ease to find the fountain. She knew exactly where it was already in this town. Before she got there she deftly made her way to the roof of a building within sight of it, taking the extra minute to check things out from a good vantage point, searching for the man she was to meet. Once she found him she nodded lightly to herself, then hopped down the two stories into the back alley.
She circled around and with all the caution of someone born and raised to kill approached him, eyes on him the entire time, but it was clear she was keeping tabs on her surroundings, too, because even here she wasn't immune to paranoia. Dome or not, who knew what lurked beneath the surface of this sleepy looking town. She wore a pair of black pants that looked easy to move in, black boots that were probably a variation of combat ones and a black jacket with a dark burnt orange and red headscarf artfully wrapped in place, her dark hair peeking out from under it. She approached with confidence, a warm smile on her face, her eyes dark and hard but she was genuinely pleased to see someone who didn't mind hearing of people being killed by her hands.
"I am Violin, you must be George." the accent was middle-eastern and faint, as though she'd had practice hiding it.
----
While George was chatting on the network, he was also taking note of the people around him: how they walked, how they spoke, and how they dressed. By the time Violin appeared, he had a fairly good idea of how to pass himself off as a local.
Unfortunately, the court attire he was wearing couldn’t ever be passed off as normal on the jeans and sweater-wearing populace, but he’d at least shed his cape, which he neatly folded up beside him.
“Hello, Violin,” he replied, already taking on the cadence and flat vowels of local speech. That was one of his skills: he was extremely good at blending in.
Tall and lean, he rose to his feet to greet her. He was a beautiful man, with delicate features that wouldn’t be out of place on a girl, and an air of fragility that made him seem like he’d snap under a brisk breeze. His pale blue eyes did nothing to oppose that suggestion, distant and wistful as they were.
He offered her a smile; it was a very nice smile. “Are you here to hear my impressed voice?”
*** Violin wasn't as good at blending in, she couldn't pick speech up fast enough. But she could blend in in most other ways quick enough. Her speech was the only thing that truly gave her away.
She wasn't fooled by his looks, he looked delicate but she knew many delicate looking men who could break people without a sweat. She smiled sweetly, her eyes were hard but glittering just a touch.
He was taller than her but not by much, so she lifted her head just enough to get a good look at him. She was built like a ballet dancer, long lean and lithe, curves in the right places and sharp edges elsewhere.
“I have indeed, and to extend a greeting in person to the lone person thus far to not be freaked out when I've admitted to killing.” Her smile turned gently wicked.
***
“I don’t understand why,” George said lightly. “From what I hear, killing one vampire can be difficult enough. But an entire group of them? That’s something else.” And here he injected that note of admiration he promised.
He gestured politely to the edge of the fountain in a silent invitation for her to take a seat. “Or is it the idea of vampires in general that freak people out?”
He picked up on her slang smoothly.
*** “I suppose the idea of killing is displeasing. Back home, it is frowned upon in general.” She took the invitation to sit upon the edge, one leg crossing over the other.
“I have been told there are vampires here. An interesting conundrum.” A slow shrug of one delicate shoulder. “As I am speaking freely, it is my job to hunt down people deemed dangerous. I think it scares people. To know such a person walks among them.”
She only smiled, though, turning enough to give him her attention. “you speak as if you've heard of vampires, by experience or myth?” ***
***
“I’ve heard of vampires. I’ve been lucky enough not to have run into any myself, let alone be taken away for breeding purposes.” He slanted a smile at her.
Now that she’d taken a seat, he did the same, retaking the spot he’d been sitting at when she arrived.
“And what do you deem dangerous?”He was curious. Because she was right - he might look like a breakable pretty boy, but he was anything but harmless. “Are there many dangerous folk here?”
*** “They aren't fun on a normal day. These were genetically created, so they functioned like humans. Only the males are vampires, and they're born that way.” She left off the fact she was the product of one, her mother had fled taking her away.
“There are many here, but it is not my job to manage it here. Powers and abilities aplenty from what I've seen. Even one who says she is Death herself. Back home, however, it was those who tried to destroy humanity by any means. Mostly, I hunted the vampires but I've dealt with others.”
Violin rested her hands neatly in her lap. She was a mercenary, an assassin for hire. It was an interesting life. She didn't mind sharing the details with this man, he didn't seem to be scared by the idea, but she kept many details to herself. **
That was different from the vampire legends George had heard of, but he didn’t challenge her on it. There were so many things from so many worlds he had yet to discover.
“It sounds like we have quite the interesting mix here,” he said. Death herself. That would be interesting. For many years George had struggled with the idea of death and why things had to die. He’d nearly killed himself trying to keep everything around him alive.
“Does it ever get borin’?” A hint of southern slipped into his accent; he was still calibrating.
*** “It is a most interesting mix of people.” She agreed with a faint nod. She reached up to tuck an errant hair behind her ear, back under the silk. She didn't think her version of things were the only ones around. It would be silly after all she's seen to think that.
“Here? Yes. Home, no. Here seems to be a very sleepy little town where from what I've heard things happen from time to time that are strange.” A shrug of her shoulder at that.
“I am sure it will have it's moments, no place can be so innocent.” Her jaded world view was showing. “Though the current hype seems to be a black tie brunch, seems formal events are few and far between.” She almost sounded a little sad. She was rarely gifted the chance to actually look nice.
***
George’s gaze was drawn to the motion as she tucked her hair under her scarf. It was a beautiful scarf, worn by an even more beautiful woman. He’d noticed that as soon as he’d caught sight of her circling the area. In a town full of fair skin and flat accents, she had an exoticism to her that was immediately noticeable. He’d noticed people glancing over at them, although he supposed he, dressed in Adrianglican fashion, didn’t help things much.
“If that’s the most exciting thing to happen here, I’m sure people will be bored enough to change that.”
He spoke lightly, but his cynicism showed in his words.
*** Violin was quite aware of her looks in this place, and while she was vain in some ways, she didn’t dwell on it. Looks could be fleeting, although not for her and her ilk, though she still scarred like normal. They were hidden beneath layers of silk and cotton. No one needed to see them. She dressed to accentuate her looks, today anyways.
Her eyes drifted to a couple’s whose gazes lingered too long upon her and George, and with just a tilt of her head and a smile that was cutting instead of sweet, sent them looking away embarrassed. She didn’t take pleasure in scaring the locals often, and didn’t mind the curious glances, but the lingering looks were annoying.
Her laugh was airy, lilting. “I have heard Lucifer himself is also here. I suppose with him and Death in the same town things can’t stay boring forever.” her lips twitched into a smile that said she didn’t mind the idea of a little interesting fun. Then she paused, giving him her gaze once more. “I wonder idly, of course, what do people think when they see people like us: that don’t fit into their happy little normal world?” the question was more idle curiosity.
***
George knew enough of human nature to venture a good guess: curiosity to start, but quickly descending into fear and suspicion of the unknown. A few people might rise above it and see the advantages of having people of particular...skill within easy access, but on the whole George didn’t expect much from the natives. It was why he was already gathering information to try to pass himself off as one.
“I imagine they’d freak out upon learning the beautiful woman they’d been watching is capable of taking out an entire group of vampires,” he said drily. Then he paused. “Group? Gaggle? What is the collective noun for vampires?”
*** Violin kept hidden most of the time back home - only out when missions required it. She could blend if she had to, but out too long and the differences became noticeable. She moved too quick if she wasn’t thinking, moved things someone her size should not. She forgot herself when she was focused on something else.
It was hard to forget her nature at moments like that.
She gave him a demure smile. “I’d be left without a place to get my coffee in the morning, I fear. They would cower and cringe and none of that is worth it. I am not here for them.” she snorted softly as she shook her head. “Eh, I’m not sure there is an official collective noun. We called them a horde. Or a hive, but hive was more like the home base.” she waved a hand as if it was a little of this and that.
***
It wasn’t important enough for George to press for full accuracy on, anyway.
“I usually find that the more unremarkable I am, the more likely I am to get a good cup of coffee without incident,” he said. He looked her over without any sort of sexual intent. “Something tells me you get noticed when you step into a room.”
*** Violin lifted her head a little under his scrutiny. “Makes my job harder. I can blend, but it takes a lot of time to do so and out of the middle east? I'll always be just different enough to be noticed.”
She didn't take his look to be anything but analytical. Nor was she vain enough to call her attractiveness what drew eyes. “You've got talent at blending in. I can hear it in your voice.”
***
“As I said, the more unremarkable I am, the more likely I am to get a good cup of coffee,” George said with a small smile. “And speaking of good coffee...does that exist here? I don’t need anything that was grown by the light of the moon and tended to by highly trained monkeys. Just something that doesn’t taste like brown water will do.”
*** Violin’s lips twitched into the kind of smile that meant she was trying hard not to laugh. Her eyes lost their cold edge for a moment. “Yes there is such a place here. I'll take you to it if you would like. I have found a couple little places that are worth the time.”
***
“Perhaps just the address,” George suggested. He indicated his current outfit, which looked much more suited to a fantasy ballroom than Main Street. “This is decidedly remarkable, and I fear it’ll affect my chances of getting that coffee.”
*** Violin inclined her head, and smiled, giving precise addresses to two of the smaller local cafes she had discovered. “Fair enough.” She said afterwards as she rose, adjusting the scarf to settle right again. “It was an absolute pleasure, George. I look forward to speaking with you again.”
***
“Pleasure’s mine,” George responded, after noting the addresses. He got to his feet when she did. As long as he hadn’t completely immersed himself in the role of a normal human young man, he might as well keep his manners. “Until next time, Violin.