op (maldito) wrote in repose, @ 2017-11-07 06:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, daniel webster, newt penhaligon |
Log, Webster's Vinyl: Daniel W & Newt P
Who: Daniel Webster & Newt Penhaligon
What: symbiosis
Where: Daniel's place above Webster's Vinyl
When: after this
Warnings/Rating: blood, at least.
What was exchange but mutualistic symbiosis? And what was this but an exchange of a sort? After chewing on the Greek etymology of 'symbiosis' for some of his jaunt (it meant something like 'living together'), Newt allowed himself a few moments of philosophy. His mind was cluttered with other thoughts, other topics, but he focused, just so, on the notion of mutual benefit. Daniel needed to eat, of course. What the vampire got from the encounter was obvious. But, Newt wasn't left in the cold, hm? No. Because he got time away from himself. He'd mentioned it, in his conversation with Daniel, but the man hadn't understood and Newt hadn't felt up to explaining. But, after the fiasco with Adrian, the redhead was rather tired of hearing himself think. It wasn't a common experience, this; after all, he'd been hearing himself think for going on thirty years and he spent a good deal of his time (nominally) alone. But, the difference was, when he was (nominally) alone, he was thinking on his creatures. He was reading and creating potions. He was writing. His thoughts then were occupied, jagged and dynamic. Now? Of course, occupation wasn't the problem, was it? It was that the pattern was circuitous, redundant, and horribly depressing. I won't bore you with the details of what these thoughts entailed, but suffice it to say that the action of being in an environment that required engagement, and not on the topic that was currently beleaguering Newt, would be a godsend. And, as he now knew, having one's blood imbibed did call for engagement, albeit of a rather specific sort, hence: mutualistic symbiosis. If meeting with Daniel could pull Newt from himself for a few moments, it'd be something. It was a bit much to put on a man who was basically a stranger, but, well, if it didn't work, he'd find something else to do, somewhere to go, something to research. In his blue coat and marled trousers, with his flop of red hair, the man appeared as he always did. Though, perhaps today he was, beneath the cream of freckles, wan and a little tired. His fringe was heavy over his eyes, but it and his hedged collar kept him warm on the walk from the B&B. It wasn't too long a haul. Fifteen minutes or so on beaten soles and a small warming charm on the hands and ears. Only the tip of his nose was red when he finally arrived on the front step of the music store. If there was a bit of color under his eyes, a touch of shine on yellow pupils, it could easily've been that November evening chill. He hovered a moment, he was hesitant a moment. But only that. A moment. He knocked on the door. He knew Daniel wasn't going to come down to open it, so, with a quick Alohomora under his breath, he let himself in. Newt made certain to announce himself with heavy footfalls as he took the stairs, and, once he was outside the landing of the vampire's flat, he knocked again. "Hello, Daniel," he said through wood in his soft sotto. "May I come in?" |