Saturday: Brothers Reunited Who: Santiago & Thomas When: Saturday Night Where: Vapor
The tour had been very thorough.
Santiago was very proud of the club and all the changes he had made. It was very diverting to have him so excited. For his part, Thomas was just delighted to have encountered him again. Three hundred years since the last time. Too much time apart for such as they, or so he thought, but then, he hadn't met the other three Sons in all that time. Strange, but true. Perhaps they were hiding...
He ordered another drink from the bar tender, who was very polite and professional and smiling and so on, but was giving both men curious looks. Thomas had briefly wondered if there was something on his face, but he'd checked in a polished, metal surface at one point and his face was fine.
Santiago ignored the curious looks. He was used to them. The ones he got here were usually tolerantly amused beneath the necessary respect for the boss-owner-fellow brave enough to wear a dress, but he was used to curious looks, too. He knew nothing was out of place, so he didn't even bother checking. Thomas was right that he was proud of his club, but most of his own excitement also came from who he was dragging around it to show things off to, as well, rather than the club itself.
The storm had rolled in early in the tour, but you really couldn't tell except in the Water Room-- which had of course been closed up from pier access once the wind started frothing up the water-- the Air Room-- which had enough of an overhang that it was protected, and was facing the wrong direction to be in any danger of waves anyway-- or at one of the windows in the Fire Room, looking out. The strobing lights inside muted the effect of the lightning and the music all but drowned out the thunder and wind.
"So?" Santiago asked, plucking up a drink, himself, and looking at his brother with an expectant smile. "What do you think?"
The storm was quite impressive and Thomas had, so far, resisted the urge to run outside, stand in the path of the waves and command them in a water dance. He shed his black, leather jacket and picked up his drink - single malt Scotch, neat - and smiled at the Metal Son.
"I think it's fantastic," he said, genuinely impressed. "And so are you. Cheers!" He raised his glass in a toast and had a sip. Smooth. "The themes are a very nice touch."
Maybe it was just the excitement of seeing Thomas again, but Santiago couldn't stop smiling. Sometimes it was a sardonic smile, sometimes it was an amused smile, but it was always a smile. Right then, it was a smile of almost girlish pleasure at the praise from an older brother, former lover, and good friend. Santiago beamed, raised his own glass in a return toast before tossing the whole drink back. He was going to wind up with an even worse headache, but right then he didn't care.
"I can never get away from this particular theme," he told Thomas, rather louder than he would have otherwise, since the bar was just as loud as the rest of the club. "But I imagine neither do you. There are so many of us here, though, that it is like an inside joke with everyone who comes in."
The smile was also fantastic, but Thomas just basked in it rather than commenting. He'd missed that smile - any smile from his brother. He'd missed his brother. Thomas tossed back the rest of his drink as well and set the glass on the bar.
"The elements are an inspiration," he all but shouted back, in order to be heard. What a shame the Sons weren't born with telepathy or something useful like that. "It really shows... in my artwork..." He would likely have a headache tomorrow, but he didn't give a shit. "'Us'? What, you have a Metal community?" Many places had neighborhoods run by different elements. Perhaps that was why Santiago was here, of all places on the globe.
"We as in, all of us, dear Thomas," Santiago told him with a smug sort of smile. "There is a clan of Earths living to the southeast, and a whole collection of Metals living in the hills to the north, a small family of Fires living here in town, some Waters on the island, and while I have yet to come across an Air child, the Son is living here at the moment, as well." There was three of them in the same town. That was probably a first in all of human-- and otherwise-- history. Santiago immediately wanted to drag them all out to dinner together, no matter how much Kaz would hate it. ... maybe because of how Kaz would hate it.
"It sounds like a very busy area," he said, definitely interested in the news about the Water community, though the fact that there seemed to be a substantial number of all the elements was -
"Is that why you're here? Because of all the ele - The Son of Air is here?" If Thomas had been a cartoon character, his eyes would have visibly bugged out of his head and his jaw would have hit the floor with a clang. He wasn't, but it was a close approximation. He had never encountered any of the other Sons, in all his multiple thousands of years.
Santiago couldn't help it. He busted up laughing at the expression on Thomas's face. "Oh, brother," he laughed. "Oh.You poor thing, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He put his arm around his brother's shoulders, leading him gently bur firmly away from the bar. They could get something else to drink in his own rooms. "Come on, let's go talk someplace a little quieter, and I'll tell you all about the Son of Air-- who yes, is here. Not that he'll be happy to see you, I'm sure. He wasn't particularly pleased to see me."
But then, who was? Besides the rare, very strange one like Thomas, anyhow, or his children. Those of them who hadn't gotten to know him yet.
When Thomas managed to speak again, he was being directed away from the bar by a lanky arm around his shoulders.
"'Startle' isn't the word I'd use," he said, his voice a bit faint. Another Son, in the same town? What were the chances of that happening? Since it never had happened, as far as he knew, the answer would be 'zero', and yet - "I'll go with 'shock'. Maybe some 'amazement' thrown in there, just for color." Thomas frowned a little. "Why wouldn't he be happy to see me? Not like he's ever met me." Thomas would remember something like that.
"Because for a child of Air, he is a stodgy and stuck up old fool," Santiago answered flippantly. "He doesn't like me. And so, I of course assume that anyone I like, he would not like. Besides," he added, leading Thomas back through that side door Fay had led him through earlier that night, "I get the feeling he feels crowded by other Sons. Perhaps he hasn't shaken off that territorial nature out children are so prone to."
Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Stodgy and stuck up? You're joking...? You're not joking... Good Lord..." He wasn't Christian - by any stretch - but living in Britain during a certain period - and posing as an Englishman, on and off, for quite some time - led to certain phrases being part of his repertoire. As they passed through a door, he said, "But we're the Sons. There's only five of us, hello? Alienating one another and fussing about territory seems absurd." Not that he was the least stubborn person himself, but still...
"Perhaps I'll try to find some way to introduce you," Santiago chuckled dryly. It'd be difficult, given he didn't know where Kaz was living, but he could probably manage it anyhow. The hall door clicked shut behind them and the sound level immediately dropped down to a low buzz and throb on the other side of the door. Santiago sighed in relief and led the way back to his own rooms. "Then you can meet him in person and discover how lovely a person he is." Santiago rolled his eyes at the very thought. "Good-looking, though."
"How about 'hello'? That usually works..." Thomas looked around and nodded in approval. "Good insulation. No one can hear you scream. A looker, is he? Not better looking than you, little sister, surely?" He followed Santiago at a leisurely pace, his leather jacket over one shoulder, his senses absorbing everything like a sponge - which was such an appropriate thought, it made him smile.
"That's the way I like it," Santiago said smugly and with a trace of self-mockery, like usual, at Thomas's approval of the insulation. "But he's good-looking in a different way than I am. I'm pretty, and he is ruggedly handsome." No one would ever mistake Kaz for a woman, tall or otherwise. And Kaz would probably never encourage anyone to, either.
"Oh, I see," he replied. "'Rugged'. Where do I fall on your scale of attraction? Somewhere between 'rugged' and 'pretty'?" Not that Thomas would likely try to ever pose as a woman, but he doubted he'd make a very good one if he did. "Do you do much screaming back here?" It was asked casually, and the smirk gave away that he was teasing, but Santiago wasn't looking at him at that moment.
"Me, patrons, guests...." Santiago shrugged, looking from door to door as they passed, taking a leisurely pace down the hall and around the corner to where Santiago's rooms lay. "There are private rooms a-plenty back here, and some upstairs. The insulation keeps them from intruding on the dancers and drinkers-- but more often vice versa." It was too loud in the main rooms for people to be disturbed by a little screaming in the private rooms. He pushed open the door to his rooms, the lock opening to his touch, and added thoughtfully, "I think I'd call you sculptural."
"Yes, privacy all around. Very nice set-up, mate. This place is bloody huge. I feel like I need a ball of string to find my way back to the door. How long did it take you to get this the way you wanted it? Because I doubt it came this polished." Thomas noted the door lock trick - a neat parlor trick - and repeated Santiago's word to describe him. "Sculptural? I can see that. I suppose I'm a bit... chiseled. Planes and definite angles and such." He smiled. "Appropriate choice, coming from a sculptor. Sounds like we're all very different, we Sons. Not a big surprise, is it?"
"Most of us are European," Santiago shrugged. "Which makes us largely the same, in that fashion. And of course we are all good-looking." He shot his brother a bright, smug sort of smile, and led him into his room. It was largely decorated with black, white, and silver, with large, abstract steel sculptures here and there, which he had obviously sculpted and placed himself. There were couches in black leather and steel trim, a small drinks bar in the back, and a door leading through the bathroom into the bedroom. "Make yourself at home, brother," he said, moving immediately to the drinks bar. He needed some tea. That would help his head, he was sure.
As he poured water into the teapot, he continued, "I bought up the club and spent about a month refurbishing it. It wasn't as hard as one might thing, but then, I threw a lot of money into it, and did a good portion of the artistic work myself. Obviously. Tea?"
"I've never met the rest of us, sadly," he said, though he didn't actually know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. That he and Santiago got along might be unusual. "Though I'm not surprised we fall into the higher end of desirable, in some fashion, no matter what might be in favor. If we were rock bottom, I doubt anyone would want to breed with us..."
Santiago offered tea and Thomas chuckled, saying, "My dear brother, need you ask? I've been in England for so long, I think my blood is blue. It's always time for tea. And I gathered, about the art." He leaned in closer to one sculpture and let his eyes linger on the shape. "Nice work, as always. I still recall those gates you did, back in Rome. The theme might suit a place like this..."
"Someone needs to get a little more adventurous in picking places to live," Santiago teased, setting the teapot on the coffeemaker burner. He'd had it refitted to do both, and all he wanted to do was boil water, anyhow. "But two teas, it is."
He came back over to drop himself casually onto the couch with a sigh. "I don't think doors with actual people on them would fit in very well here, brother. This is modern and abstract. Those doors would stick out like a goose among the ducks." Perhaps-- perhaps-- he could have installed them in one of the themed private rooms, in one of the walls, but definitely not anywhere else. The decor was completely different.
"Ha-ha," he said dryly. His gaze shifted from the statue to Santiago as the man draped himself over the couch. "And I was referring to the content of the gates, actually. The whole... naked people being intimate theme." Thomas looked at the walls, as if he could see through them - which he couldn't, of course. He was the Son of a god, not Superman. "With your private rooms and so on..."
"Still wouldn't fit, I imagine," Santiago mused, looking around. "Now, some modern art of a similar subject matter, or at least hinting at the same as much of the modern art here is suggestive rather than obvious, that I already have." He flashed Thomas a half-lidded smile. "In my bedroom, anyhow. This is supposed to be a neutral meeting place. I conduct interviews for the press here, and I think they would object, don't you?"
"Art is, like beauty, in the eye of the beholder," Thomas said, crossing leisurely to another piece and placing his jacket on a chair. "I suppose the press might go into shock or something. Do you conduct interviews often?" He reached out and tapped the sculpture with a fingernail. "I suppose if I started painting too many nudes, the press would have some sort of seizure." He slid Santiago a look. "Though I have one in my bedroom..."
Laughing lightly, Santiago said, "Of course you do. You wouldn't be you if you didn't. I imagine you are quite happy to show that piece off to any slip of a thing you decide to take home." He just hoped Fay wasn't going to be among them. That was the last kind of complication the three of them needed. The teapot started whistling, and he flowed up off the couch again to go take it off the coffeemaker burner.
Of course, the bedroom involved was in England, along with the piece of art, but that would be remedied eventually. Since Santiago was aware of a connection and attraction to his... what was she? Manager? Since he was aware, it was interesting he should use the phrase 'any slip of a thing'. Fay hardly fell into that category, but then Thomas suspected his brother was hoping to put a stop to that particular complication.
As Santiago rose to deal with making tea, Thomas asked, "So, why here? Isn't this rather the back-end of nowhere for a club such as this?"
"There are some rather interesting properties to the island," Santiago began lightly. "They caught my interest, and I decided to stay a little while to see what came of them, if anything. And since I would otherwise be dreadfully bored without some kind of excitement in town, I created some for myself." He poured the hot water into two lovely china teacups as he spoke, on top of the prerequisite teabags-- he was not a fan of leaves, since bags had been invented; this way he didn't wind up swallowing the leaves on accident, and no one tried to read his fortune in them-- and brought them over to the couch for the both of them, offering one to Thomas. "The rocks on the island, for one thing. They're magnetic."
He accepted his tea cup, looking a bit forlornly at the bag - Didn't anyone use leaves anymore? - and said, "Magnetic. I see. So, there's an... attraction," he said, smiling. "Logically, the Son of Metal might like some pretty rocks, but how did you know they were magnetic? How did you choose this place? And what do magnetic rocks have that New York, for example, doesn't?" Surely there were more exciting places, where Santiago wouldn't have to create his own - not that there was anything wrong with that, but still...
Rolling his eyes at the bad pun, Santiago settled himself down again and said, "Magnetic rocks are different, Thomas. I have been in New York, or London, or San Francisco, for decades now. Magnetic rocks are interesting, at least for now. New York and London and San Francisco are not." He set his tea and saucer on the arm of the couch, and added, "And I knew because I went out to sit on them one day, while doing the tourist thing, and I stuck. Quite simple."
Thomas smirked. "You got stuck? How did you get... unstuck or is that a personal question? So, you were touring." He sat in a chair and crossed his legs, one ankle over one knee. "And you accidentally discovered these rocks, so here you are. Do you know how I decided to come here?" He sipped his tea - horrible stuff - and sighed. "I need milk..." And he uncrossed his legs and prepared to go in search of some at the 'coffee station'.
"Since everything I know about you being here I learned from you in the past hour or so," Santiago answered wryly, "no, I don't have any idea how or why you decided to come here. Why don't you fill me in?" He sipped his tea, not at all disturbed by the taste or lack of milk. Milk was the last thing he needed at the moment; it would just exacerbate the sinus headache. He wished he would just go ahead and get sick, so he would get it over with.
He checked in the little bar fridge, found some milk and added it to his tea, saying, "I threw a dart at the map of the world." Thomas put the carton away. "Well, I spun the globe I had on my desk, closed my eyes and stopped it with my finger. It landed here." he turned and leaned against the counter. "And, no, I'm not kidding. I looked it up on the Internet, saw the lovely landscape and thought 'Why no?' It was time for a change of scenery. But what are the chances three Sons would be in the same place? And of all places, somewhere not noted for... anything much?" He frowned slightly. "Are you well?"
Waving a hand airily, Santiago answered, "Fine, fine. Merely a bit of a sinus headache, probably from this storm. I get these little spells all the time. The bane of being related to Metal in any way. You really found this place by poking a map?" He chuckled. "Perhaps the gods have other ideas for us. Perhaps we should start looking for Earth and Fire, as well, and we can have a lovely family get-together." Wouldn't that be... fun? Though Santiago did miss his other counterparts from time to time, he could only imagine the horror of having all five of them in one place.
He snorted softly. "The gods are gone, brother. I think they departed this plane of existence some time ago, leaving us and our legacy to... carry on." He had a sip of tea. "And yes, that's exactly what I did. Completely random. Assuming Earth and Fire have made it this long, and there's no reason to think otherwise, how would we seek them out? Put an advert on genealogy.com? 'Sons of Metal, Water and Air seeking two remaining brothers. Drop us an e-mail at godsarebored@yahoo.com." Thomas sighed. "I can see it now. Think of all the loons we'd get responding to that one..."
"Sons of Metal and Water," Santiago corrected, trying not to snicker at the thought. "Kaz isn't likely to be interested. Wouldn't that be amusing-- just to see what did send us communications! Complete lunatics? Other elementals? People asking us if we were lunatics?" His amusement faded into a little sigh as he shut his eyes and let his head fall back onto the back of the couch. "I must register that email address, however. Very witty." And fitting. Santiago was often bored.
One eye came open, though, to regard Thomas. "The gods are still here, though. My father does drop in on me from time to time. I'm surprised yours doesn't." Well, not really. Usually when Metal Himself came by, it was because Santiago was somehow not living up to his legacy properly. Usually He stressed the need to continue the line and keep himself in good shape. It was always a rather unpleasant visit.
"Whatever," he replied, shrugging. If the Son of Air wasn't interested in an aspect of his own heritage it was his loss, as far as Thomas was concerned. "And I should think that 'all of the above' would be likely. Lunatics, the lot of them. Even the elemental ones, I suppose, for answering such an odd notice in the first place. Would you answer it?"
Thomas held up his free hand, as if to stave off the anticipated answer. "Oh, wait. You might, because you're bored. And go ahead and register it. I haven't the time for another e-mail addie." He raised an eyebrow about the gods. "Are they, really? Father hasn't bothered to keep up with me." And that didn't hurt, in the least. Not for someone with such deep emotions as Thomas, oh, no.
Answering Thomas's comments with an exaggerated pout, Santiago muttered mutinously, "I do not see how anyone would not be bored." Everything had been done, a thousand, a million times before. Nothing was new, nothing was exciting for more than a moment... Thomas was lucky if he found it otherwise, but that wasn't the case for Santiago.
"Be glad yours hasn't," he added, closing that one eye again. "Mine usually uses his rare visits as a reason to illuminate my shortcomings." He smirked, a bit bitterly. "I think I have been something of a disappointment. Perhaps yours' silence means you're doing just fine."
"That or he thinks I'm full of shite," he murmured, leaning his head back to rest on the back of the couch and gazing up at the ceiling. "Or he's dead or sleeping or doing a show in Vegas. I have no clue. My mother loved me and Father hung around for a while, visiting periodically, then... nothing."
Perhaps the God of Water was truly gone, though Thomas always thought he'd know if that happened. Still, anything was possible.
"I'm sorry you're bored, little sister," he said to the ceiling. "And that your head hurts. Maybe you should take something for that..."
"It is hardly your doing, brother, it is just my lot in life." Santiago stretched out a leg to pat Thomas's knee with some very flexible toes, clad only in a thin sock. "And you are here. That makes things much better." He'd rather not talk about their absent, elemental parents, personally, so he gave up on it and let Thomas think what he would. Obviously Thomas would, anyway, after all.
"I know, but I'm still sorry." Thomas lifted his head and reached down with his free hand to grasp the socked foot. "I don't like to see you suffer. And now I know you're here, it does make it so much better. Perhaps you can help me choose a home. I can't stay in the hotel forever. I don't think Magda minds it, but it's less to manage than a house." His thumb started to massage the bottom of Santiago's foot. "I've met some very nice people here, too..."
Fay, Sofia... and now, Santiago and who knows what encounters were yet to come?
"There are a number of nice people here to meet...." Well, now, that was a little distracting. Santiago sank comfortably into the couch and shut his eyes again, smiling. "Mm? Who is Magda? And why is she managing your hotel room?" Did hotel rooms require managing? Santiago required managing wherever he was, of course, but he didn't imagine Thomas was quite so dramatic, nor quite so casual about appointments and bills, as Santiago was. Thomas was always more responsible than he was.
"There are," Thomas said softly, and set his cup down on a side table. As Santiago closed his eyes again, two hands applied themselves to his foot, giving it a thoroughly, lingering massage. Lots of trigger points in a foot...
"Magda helps me manage my life," he replied. "She's... my granddaughter."
"Ah. Keeping the jobs in the family, hmm?" Santigo didn't bother opening his eyes. It felt really good-- when was the last time anyone had so much has touched his feet, much less massaged them? It might not be a cure for sinus pressure, but it sure as hell didn't hurt. "Can't complain. Fay isn't quite that direct, she's a few generations removed, but I'd rather work with her than any simple human." Since he intended his second-in-command to have this place when he was through with it, she pretty much had to be an elemental. He didn't like bequeathing things like this to people who would die before they could even make use of it.
"Yes," he said simply. "In the family. She's very patient with me." Most of the time. "She doesn't let me get away with things. " Like drowning in guilt or depression for too long... "She's used to managing a house, so the suites at the hotel are a bit... Well, if she wasn't a big reader, I think she'd be bored, despite all the international meetings and back and forth to organize and... so on..." Thomas continued the massage, then set that foot down and picked up Santiago's other one. "Your feet are very tense... Relax..." He knew the topic of Fay would come up eventually, but for now, he just wanted to be in contact with his brother. If they said nothing of real consequence, that was fine.
"I am relaxed," Santiago protested lightly, opening one eye again and shooting his brother a smile. "If my feet are not with the program, that is not my intention. Though you're doing a marvelous job of getting them going the same direction as the rest of me. That's wonderful." The Fay issue could wait, indeed. He had a feeling Thomas could guess his own feelings on the matter without much effort at all, anyhow.
Thomas smiled. "Good. That is my intention..." He couldn't do anything about the sinus pain, but a happy, smiling Metal was better by far than a sad, pouting Metal - though he had to admit the pout was rather fetching on Santiago.
"Living large, I see. How long have you been here? Did you tell me that already? Mind like a sieve, sorry..."
"Just a few months," Santiago replied. His own memory wasn't too bad-- at least when he was sober and clean-- it was just cluttered. But that, he didn't have any trouble remembering. "Long enough to get settled and redesign the only hot spot in town, but not much longer. Vapor has only been open again for a week, now. It has been doing well, though, better than you'd think for an out-of-the-way town like this."
Thomas didn't really have a mind like a sieve, unless he was distracted. He tended to remember every joy, every pain, every laugh, every sorrow and every, single thing done against him until he enacted his revenge. He was complicated that way.
He smiled at Santiago and said, "I should imagine it's the only thing going for miles. People probably come here in droves when they can, to get away from it all. You're doing them a service having this club..."
"That was my thought," Santiago said smugly. "And I'm doing the town a service by letting minors in, too. Now it will be much easier to keep them out of trouble at night." Not that, that was why he'd done it. He simply thought the youngsters didn't need to be excluded from the fun. Quite honestly, he was pleased with how things were working out, small town or no. But then, right now, with a foot massage and his brother, he was pleased with life in general.
Age was a strange thing and Thomas had no issue with minors being permitted into establishments with alcohol. "As long as everyone behaves themselves, how can anyone have a problem with that?" he said with a chuckle. He doubted anyone really behaved themselves here. What would be the fun in that? "So, how much time did you spend as a female, brother dear? And when did you get those fantastic tats?"
Oh, yes. He had been playing at being a woman the last time they met, hadn't he? Santiago chuckled. "After you and I parted ways, I went male again. I've only switched things up for about one lifetime since, but I do enjoy... hmm, shall we say, bending things, these days." His next chuckle was a trifle wicked. "It is even more fun, brother dear, to walk around in a short skirt or a fantastic gown when you are not trying very hard to be flawlessly female." If there were a gender between the two, he'd have much preferred that one. "The tattoos have been here and there over the centuries, I couldn't tell you exactly when I started."
"Bending things. Quite. I want to see all your tattoos and your wardrobe... And you bend it well, little sister." Thomas was comfortable calling Santiago 'brother' and 'sister' and the other elemental hadn't corrected him. They were family, no matter what - as far as Thomas was concerned.
"These days, anyone can be anything. There's a niche for every look, style, persuasion, gender, belief. The Internet is full of endless chat rooms for all walks. Its a wonder some people leave their computers." He sighed. "I shouldn't criticize it, though. Its a wonderful promotion tool. I suppose it's helped the club as well?"
"I let the marketing geniuses deal with that sort of thing," Santiago said lightly, much more interested in the first half of Thomas's comment. He was always happy to show off his wardrobe, really, so he pulled his foot from Thomas's lap and sat up, drinking down the last of his tea and holding out his hands to the Water Son. "I have a lot of my things here, mostly my club and professional clothes, but if you want to see them...." He smiled hopefully.
"I am my own marketing genius," Thomas replied, laughing and taking Santiago's hand. He stood, sipped the last of his own tea and said, "Show me everything..." It had been so long - too long - since he'd shared anything with Santiago. The Metal Son could have announced that he had a snail collection and Thomas would have wanted to see it, but fashion was certainly more interesting than a snail. Well, today, anyway.