Re: Quicklog: Sasha & Daniel - Masquerade
[It was too bad. He knew, even if he didn't know how he knew, or what it meant that he knew, or even exactly what it was that he knew. But he recognized her, knew her to be his in some definition of the word in the past, and was satisfied. She could have been head of a vampire slaying cult and he would not have known it, so ready was he to act on this vague instinct. He smiled upon her when she came close enough to touch him, his shirt not especially fine, because the vampire didn't have a flare for appearance. He probably didn't even know what he looked like.
He took her hand and bowed over it. It was courtly, and at the same time cursory. Circa London 1786: big buttons, high stockings, powdered wigs, tricorn hats, bows to accommodate skirts three times the size of the woman. He didn't even think on it, he just did it. (All gesture, by the way, no kissing or anything so risque.] Helen.
I could not be Vladimir. [Straightening, and tucking her hand into the curve of his elbow.] I am not Russian. [No, he was British. Flavored slightly with the north.] You must name me something more fitting. [He smiled into her smile again, approving it.] I hate politics. [As if this would help.]