noli timere messorem (defyuntildeath) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-02-12 11:00:00 |
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Jayati had definitely not planned on seeking out Mircea again. She didn't want to go to war, but if they did it definitely was better to have some distance between her and one of the generals. Her personality - direct and simple whenever possible, didn't really suit the friends close and enemies closer mentality. Even if it did, her baby sister was already their damn leader so she had that covered.
But then Ethan had rolled into town, and Dia had showed up. The Malcontents would love Ethan, and she had a feeling that would blow up in their faces. DIa also needed looking after, and she didn't want to dump that entirely on Mai, as much as the woman clearly wouldn't be unhappy with that possibility. Then there was the worst reason. Deep down, is that Ethan was still able to get under her skin. Rationally, she knew that the more isolated she was, the easier it was for him to do so, and she didn't know how much he could wedge that door open before it was flung open. Jayati wasn't fond of lying, even to herself, and she honestly couldn't say what would crawl out if he managed it. So here she was, knocking on Mircea's door on a night she knew he was home, trying to still justify thinking of him as a friend even though she shouldn't. At least she could be sure that he wouldn't slam the door in her face. As much as him signing up for this damn fool venture had shocked her, Mircea, as a whole, tended to be what he seemed on the tin. One of the things she appreciated about him. Mircea had not been expecting visitors. But then, Mircea never expected visitors. His home wasn’t conducive for it. Too many books, mostly. So when the knock sounded from the front door, he almost didn’t trust it. But he had a chicken in the oven that didn’t require a lot of attention for the moment, all the while slurping a bag of AB + positive like it was a Capri Sun. That wasn’t a thing he could just set down or there’d be a mess to clean (and there went his real dinner) however so it came with him to the door. The door swung open, and both eyebrows shot up when his eyes swept over the person on his front step. “Who died?” He asked, because there was no way she was here if this wasn’t some kind of emergency.He couldn’t fathom anything else, honestly. Jayati had been very clear that they weren’t talking the last time he’d seen her. Not that he could blame her, she believed what she was doing was right, he thought it was naive. Maybe the truth was somewhere in the middle. It often was. In any case, it certainly wasn’t so black and white (at least in his mind) that he had any problems still being friends. Agree to disagree. For a moment she considered that he would see her through the peephole and turn her away by simply not opening the door, but that would be too catty for him. Not his style. It was also entirely possible recent events had her over analyzing things too much, which was inevitably only going to make her anxious. And angry. Lovely combination, that, especially when she was what she was. It was the first time in a long time she had seen a vampire ‘eat’ properly in front of her, and somehow it was anticlimactic, and even more odd coming from him. It was enough to cause a moments delay in her response, one eyebrow raised as she sighed, “No one.” Another pause, “That I know of. I have information, and a favour, may I come in?” Some people may be surprised that the last bit sounded so formal, what with her biker boots and uh, everything else. They hadn’t known her mother, however. “Ah well this is a surprise then.” Not that it wasn’t a surprise already, but even more so knowing things weren’t dire. He took another pull at the “straw” and waved her indoors. “By all means.” He wasn’t going to poke at her, when it clearly must be a lot for her to come to him with a favor after their last conversation. Once she was in, he shut the door behind her and led the way into the kitchen. “I’m roasting a chicken, which you’re welcome to if you feel like sticking around for it. It’s my specialty.” There was really nothing as good as a properly roasted chicken. He’d come across a recipe that had this delightful spice rub that also included sugar which gave the skin a divine crisp when all was said and done and about ten cloves of garlic were stuffed in the cavity while it baked. Nothing he’d tried since had been able to top it, so it had become his go to recipe. Jayati sighed, reaching up to run a hand through her hair that didn’t get far. She had walked here from the Station and it was a mess, not that it usually bothered her much. “Yeah well, I didn’t plan it.” Was that supposed to be a defense or justification? Hard to say, really. But at least he didn’t push before letting her in. It did smell divine, she had to admit. Making her way into the somewhat cluttered (with books, mostly, because of course) house and towards the amazing smell. Now that she had a moment to pause and the smell of food was in the air her stomach woke with a vengeance, letting out an audible answer to his question that seemed to echo in the room with her embarrassment. “The chicken sounds and smells very nice, are you roasting a whole chicken for yourself though?” That was a bit odd, wasn’t it? Jayati was quite sure her or Bree could polish off a whole one on their own, but Mircea didn’t have their appetites or Bree’s metabolism. Another thought occurred to her and her steps paused, “I didn’t interrupt a date night did I?” Well obviously. At the very least, if it had been a planned visit, he hadn’t been informed, but she certainly didn’t give the impression that she was here on anything but last minute business. “Considering I assumed sightings of you were going to be scarce from now on, planned or not, it’s a real surprise,” he commented with a shrug to say it is what it is, basically. He nudged a few books out of the way on the way to the kitchen with his foot. He really ought to take an evening to clean up again--tonight probably should have been the night, but it didn’t seem that it would turn out that way. A grin tugged around the straw at the noisy growl of her stomach. He shrugged again. “I like the leftovers. Makes a good sandwich the next day, but you’re welcome to it.” He rolled his eyes dramatically at her question. “Really? When would I have the time?” That is, between running the store and uh… Revolutionary things. Though, to be fair, he’d had the better part of 30 years to strike up a relationship, but he just... Hadn’t. It was what it was. Theme of the evening so far. That sounded true enough at least. Not to mention the fact that Jayati nearly always cooked in large portions, so she really wasn’t one to criticize. For some reason though Mircea doing something as mundane yet responsible as cooking, and cooking in a way that ensure leftovers struck her as interesting enough to linger on her radar. “Fair enough. I might stay long enough.” No promises, this was going to be an awkward conversation probably, and not just because of how their last one ended. That was certainly part of it though. She leaned against the counter, watching him but also taking in the details of his home with an unmasked curiosity. A person’s house said a great deal about them, and she had to admit she was surprised he didn’t have all his books on careful shelves like sacred things. Though bookworms seemed to bounce in her experience, between treating books like it was a sin to crack the spine and being so casual with them they would read them while eating soup. Good news or awkward news first? Good news, the latter would take her working up to it, mentally, “If you don’t have time for date nights, do you have time to help look after a teenager?” He gave a nod, not going to press the matter further. She was invited to stay if she wanted, the offer was on the table, but he wouldn’t blame her either if she didn’t. In any case, it would be nice to not eat alone for once (alright, it wasn’t as if he always ate alone, not when he was out, but it wasn’t as if he had guests often at least). A timer went off, and he adjusted the temperature on the oven, setting another timer. It was a strange recipe, starting the chicken out at very high heat and then lowering the temperature at timed intervals. But that was part of the trick to getting the skin crispy while the rest of the bird remained delicate, juicy and flavorful. Timing was key. He glanced over at her with a curious expression, slurping the dregs of his dinner before responding. “A teenager?” All of the children he’d looked after years back were adults now. “What teenager?” Jayati had the oddest itching to make herself tea even though she was in someone else’s home and therefore had no idea where the makings for tea were. It was also probably rude to help herself on her first visit. Mircea’s home, unlike her’s, wasn’t designed to be accommodating for others. But she kind of liked that, or it in general, it felt real. She leaned down to peer at the oven curiously, the Sheriff subdued for a moment in favor of the cook, experienced nose already trying to pick out the ingredients that were used. It was enough of a distraction that it took her a moment to answer his question, “Yeah I guess I kind of went in the middle there,” Her eyes spotted garlic peel in the garbage and she hoped he had used enough. People never use enough garlic, “Are you familiar with what a Dhampir is?” Surely he was, even as rare as they were, not just because he was a not young Vampire but also because of how he consumed books, and by the looks of the ones she recognized on her way in, a whole scattering of genres. Luckily for her, now that he’d consumed one beverage, he had hands free to prepare another. And tea was generally his beverage of choice. He brought the kettle to the sink to fill it, and lit the burner under it when he returned it to its home. He was busying himself with pulling mugs and tea from shelves and cabinets when she asked her question. A hand hovered over one of the mugs for a moment before plucking it from the shelf and turning back to face her. “I have,” he replied, nodding. “They make very good Vampire hunters, you know.” Traditionally, anyway. But she was right. He’d done plenty of homework on the subject. He’d have been remiss not to, really. “Are you telling me there’s an honest to goodness teenage Dhampir on the island?” Oh good, there was going to be tea after all. Just watching the familiar process made her relax a bit more, which was a dangerous thing that she should maybe look into about herself. “Really? I hadn’t realized. Good thing we are getting this one on our side early then.” As soon as the words were out she closed her eyes and dug her fingertips into her temple with an unhappy noise, “Great. I sound like my sister. Yes. She’s sixteen, and at the Satyr. I thought I would tap you and Mai to help.” Among others. The baker in town, though she had a inherent distrust of Fae, maybe Daciana. She had motherly instincts to spare even with nephews to look after. It was damn sure not going to be her primary role, Bree was more her speed. “I think her mother is, what is the modern term? A nutjob? Doesn’t know she’s here now, either way.” Probably. Because if any old crazy person could make her tea and get her to calm down she was probably in trouble. Not that he was any old crazy person but still. “Hmm,” he agreed, though he’d leave the comment about “sides” alone. “Something like that. I don’t think they all hunt Vampires, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to have similar skills as the prey your tracking, if you catch my drift.” Not that he was assuming this kid was going to grow up to hunt Vampires but. It was a thing. “Good call though. I can help with that. And Mai’s good and patient. I think she had kids before… you know.” There was a grim smile as the kettle squealed. He pulled it from the burner to pour water into two mugs, dropping a mismatched set of metal tea infusers (one a sphere, the other a small box) filled with Earl Gray, and went back to pulling things off the shelf. Honey, sugar, cream from the fridge. “That’s too bad. I take it her mother is the human then?” No, but he was definitely a crazy old person. Jayati just happened to not mind, and she was rather fond of her habits. Needed everything she could get to keep her calm and level, especially now. He had a good point. About the hunting. Hunting her own kind hadn’t really occurred to her, but she would certainly be better at it than most. Imagining little Dia growing up to stake Mircea or Mai in the heart was a disquieting image, almost so absurd it was amusing, were it not for the death she had seen and the fondness she had buried deep down for two other long term residents. One of which hadn’t been eroded by time like her and Mircea, her more than him.”Have you ever met a hunter before?” Mircea seemed to be naturally disinclined towards the sort of activity that would put him on their radar, but from what she had heard, the hunters didn’t always need a reason. “True. I was hoping she would be be the nurturing patient one and you would be the stern-ish teacher.” Jayati finally took a seat at the dining room table, idly watching him even as she flipped through a book she found there, on etymology of all things, “She’s naive to the world as a whole, not just ours.” Look at him, all the proper fixins, “Indeed. I don’t know how much she’s aware.” Maybe that was why she raised Dia the way she did, or maybe that was how she ended up being targeted by a vampire in the first place. He hadn’t. But then he’d always been mindful to stay out of harm's way for the most part. At least, any of that sort of harm. He’d definitely launched headfirst into battle before. But hunters? Nah. “No, I’ve always been very good at passing,” he said, a lingering, unsaid hint of but I shouldn’t have to be hanging in the air. Oh goodness, what? Mircea laughed at the thought. Not because he thought Mai being the nice patient parent type was funny, but… “Have you asked Oksana about that? Or any of the Kings?” Stern teacher indeed. Kids were a soft spot for him. But he supposed if those were his orders, he could do it. “I suppose I can try,” he added diplomatically when the laughter subsided. “Hmm.” He chewed on that for a moment. It was interesting if unfortunate for the girl. But if she’d grown up so sheltered at least she didn’t have any deep seeded hatred of Vampires, which was a good place to begin. “Well at least she’s managed to keep her alive this long.” Jayati’s eyes narrowed across the kitchen at him, “So nice that you had the choice, with no one forcing you out.” It was calm, because if anyone was going to plunge them headlong into another debate it wasn’t going to be her, as the guest in his home. A Revolution, forceful recruitment, rally’s in the streets and calls for Unity would vilify those who wanted to stay hidden. Jayati smirked, because she remembered her intermittent self-defense instructor for the kids and the fact that Mircea never exactly looked elated when she picked the kids up to go to her house. He even saw what some might call ‘junk food books’ tucked under their arms. But still, “You have a good resting grumpy old man face at least.” She smiled almost wistfully at that and his laughter before tacking on, “Better you than Eddie. Or for me to be her teacher about the Supernatural world.” The man hadn’t been here for very long, but she was already quite sure he would be a bad influence. She stood, walking over to the counter to pick up one of the mugs of tea before sitting back down, inhaling the scent before wrapping her hands around it, letting it cool down, “I dropped a bug in her ear about the bookstore.” And the other bit, the warning she had about trouble for him to watch for, to warn his cohorts about maybe, or to just mitigate if possible, was something she was having trouble voicing more than she expected. It would have been better, perhaps, if it had happened before, when they were just friends without a divide between them. Or not happened at all, preferably. In a technique she had never needed before, she delayed, “How have you been?” He could practically feel the burn off of that glare, so he wasn’t about to argue. But, arguably, the definition of passing was being forced to pretend to be “normal”, granted it was easier to achieve when your usual form was mostly human in appearance. Not much he could do about his teeth or eyes, but there were also things humans tended to ignore when they didn’t want to see them. He snorted at that, unable to argue once again, because she wasn’t wrong. It was an art he’d perfected. “Ah, well. When you put it like that, I suppose you have a point.” Eddie most certainly would be a bad influence, though probably a fun one. She should be introduced to him in small doses, probably. Like he was the fun uncle in the scenario where Mai and Mircea were playing parents to the Dhampir girl. Mircea poured a small amount of honey and cream into his mug and stirred. “Honey for your tea, right?” He asked, indicating to the jar if she wanted it. That was how she’d taken it at her house, if he remembered correctly. Mircea smiled at that. If she was the sort of girl who might be enticed by a bookstore, they would get along just fine. He took a tentative sip at the tea, before setting it back down, deciding to let it steep a bit longer. Her question caught him by surprise, particularly since it seemed like this would be a very business like interaction. Or so he’d assumed. “Uh. Alright, I suppose. How about you?” The bit of amusement he showed and admitting that she was right had her giving him a self satisfied smile, “You look meaner than you are, I think.” Or at least for certain people or groups. Jayati honestly doubted her sister’s motivations for starting this misguided revolution, but between her experiences living in the same small town with Mircea for 20 years and their….Debate last time, she had little doubt about his. At least there was one person behind all this that had actual good intentions, even if she disagreed with him. “Yes, good memory.” She reached out for the jar, taking a generous spoonful and dropping it into the jar before sitting back down. It took a moment, watching his expression after she dished out such a casual question, surprise before he tried to readjust to it. It was faintly amusing, which was a nice reprieve at least, “Not bad. I have a new arrival in town staying with me. Been awhile.” Jayati had started that practice not long after she moved to town, taking in new arrivals who did not arrive in the best state, or who fell into a bad place and needed somewhere more private than the Satyr, but also didn’t need to be alone. Often who couldn’t have a job just yet. Not usually children though, hence the reason Dia was at the Satyr. Wasn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black? She certainly didn’t exude warmth either, but she was far more nurturing than she let on on a first impression. “That is undoubtedly true,” he agreed with a small smile. “It keeps away the people I don’t wish to speak with, so it seems to be working for me.” He nodded at the… compliment? He supposed it was. And he did possess a rather sharp memory. It would be terrible to be around for over 500 years and not be able to remember anything. “There’s been a real influx of new arrivals lately hasn’t there?” He commented. It wasn’t a population boom by any means but the town was certainly growing. “In addition to that teenage Dhampir?” Finally she took a careful sip of her tea, a bit more of the tension dropping from her shoulders with the drink, “Yet, you work in customer service and answer your door when you think someone has died.” An eyebrow raised at that, something that sounded like a tease if one didn’t know better. That was true. They had always had a steady population increase, but it had seemed to get more rapid lately. It was alright at this juncture, not forever, certainly, but now. Jayati was no Sociologist to say why, especially because there were surely a dozen variables that were difficult to measure, but she had a fear it could be linked to Xi’s cause, at least directly. Even if it wasn’t, she’d probably use it. “Oh, she won’t be living with me. I can’t handle a hormonal teenager.” Jayati waved off that possibility with no urge to give wiggle room for him to convince her, “This is a restless Werewolf who was going stir crazy at the Inn.” They would see how she would handle living with another Predator, but at least Jayati had her’s under control. It wasn’t a thing under her skin raging to break out, a bit of other, it was part of her. Another sip of her tea and she took a measured breath, “I did have something else for you. A warning for someone working for my sister and, I guess a warning for my friend.” Because Jayati couldn’t admit outloud that she also just really needed to talk to someone about this, but mostly, it really was meant to be a warning that she wouldn’t give if he and her hadn’t had such a positive rapport before all this shit started. “Ah, correction. I work with books. The customers are simply a means to an end.” Also, he’d reason that the sorts of people who came looking for books were (mostly) not there for idle chatter. They either were the introverted types who came in with a list and an idea of what they wanted and they wanted to get in and get out, or they wanted a recommendation. Which he was more than happy to give. Mircea snorted into his tea. No, he couldn’t say he could imagine her with a hormonal teenager at all. Personally, he didn’t mind them so much, but they definitely required a certain finesse. But he could also see how being in an Inn full of people would be more trouble for a Werewolf than for a teenage Dhampir. “How’s that going?” It had been so long since he’d lived with anyone else, he was genuinely curious. The timer went off again, and he adjusted the temperature for the final time. A nice distraction considering the turn the conversation was taking. Not that he didn’t expect there wouldn’t be… Something. He took a deep breath, leaned back against the oven, and took a measured sip of tea. “Alright, well. Shoot?” That earned her own snort of amusement, smile mostly hidden by the mug of tea except the way the corners of her eyes crinkled, “Perhaps you should be a librarian. They have more control over their domain.” When she first moved to Summerview and went to Books and Bins, she was frankly made a bit more comfortable in town. Ah, even in a town filled with Magic and Vampires, somethings were constant, including slightly eccentric bookish people. Jayati considered the question and her experience with Bree so far. Though Dragons were known for being solitary except their mates, she enjoyed company. In small, controlled doses, granted, but still. Her home wasn’t meant to be another Inn, and she took in only people who needed it, partially because there was an understanding between even an old Dragon and a young werewolf. “It’s good. We stay out of each other's way, but it’s nice to cook for someone on a regular basis who appreciates it.” The silence got loud eventually, even for her. The temperature changes had her curious, and if the chicken tastes half as good as it tasted then she was definitely going to be bugging him for the interesting recipe later. She wondered if he ever cooked by sprinkling blood in his mortal food, or if he preferred his capri-sun blood pouch instead. It worked out for her, however, this time. “One of our new arrivals is an old,” Jayati paused, mouth hanging open as she struggled to find a word for what her and Ethan had been, “Friend. He will seek to sow chaos here. Possibly with the help of your employer, but he will not require the assistance.” Her eyebrows drew down with frustration at the way her own words downplayed what he was capable of, and just how concerned she was about her possible future role in it. That was definitely a profession he’d considered at least once in five centuries, but ultimately dismissed due to the fact of when he got his mouth going on anything, he lacked volume control. Not really the best thing for a library. “Eh.” He shrugged. “At least I own this place. In a library, I’d be at the mercy of the tax dollars and the will of the people.” He was all for freedom of speech and all, but he was very against the whole idea of banned books and book burnings. At least with a store he could carry whatever his heart desired. Granted, Summerview was probably one of the safest places to own a library or a bookstore. He was more likely to get a very obscure request than to be picketed for carrying Catcher in the Rye. That was something Mircea could understand. “That I believe.” That was why he was so quick to offer some of the chicken he had cooking in the oven currently. It was unusual to have someone to break bread with, but not in a bad way. He rather enjoyed the opportunity to feed other people. He’d owned a tavern a time or two in the past, which was probably what triggered the initial love for cooking for others. “Ah.” Mircea said, sucking at his teeth thoughtfully for a moment. “You want me to keep him off her radar maybe?” He’d be willing to consider that, especially when she threw around words like chaos. Mircea didn’t need chaos. He needed this thing to go smoothly, frankly. “Sounds like it won’t matter though? What’s this guy’s deal, exactly?” She definitely needed to give him more to work with here. Ew. The will of the people. Mircea having to make a sales pitch for why books are important and why he should be given complete control over the library to a bunch of bureaucrats was such a ridiculous image that it wouldn’t even finish coming into focus in her mind. She was imagining his library as something from Discworld, except that he would be encouraging people to read unlike the librarian Orangutan from the Unseen University. Though he might be asked to carry more magic guide books, not a bad idea with their population of young people trying to figure shit out. “True. The council isn’t always the easiest to deal with.” Her head tilted at Mircea, tapping at her mug with her nail in a quiet chiming noise that echoed out into the kitchen, “Have you ever lived with someone, Mircea?” Curious, and trying to picture him with a roommate and a separated chore list. That would mean sharing space and having to move the books aside for someone else. Once again, she ran a hand through her hair, because keeping him off of Xi’s radar was the very minimal she was looking for. But at least he didn’t doubt her. That was nice, especially seeing as she had doubted his motives not long ago, considering. What was Ethan’s deal, exactly, was a decent question. If only she had a decent answer. Because she had understood him before, and part of her still did. It was just that the part of her that did, she tried not to look at. “Chaos for chaos’s sake? Profit and fun? When I travelled with him we were exactly the monsters Humans fear when they tuck their children into bed at night. I wish I was exaggerating.” Jayati’s face twisted into a scowl, “He has a way of finding people when they are vulnerable.” And lonely, but she wasn’t saying that out loud. Usually he appreciated the will of the people, at least, when the people were the ones being oppressed by someone with more power, but when they were just oppressing each other or stifling art or creativity? Yeah, he was with her on “ew”, in that case. “That would be the least of my troubles, I think, but you’re definitely right.” He’d forgotten about politicians and bureaucrats, though he shouldn’t have. At least in Summerview they were spared the absolute mess happening in the rest of the country, as far as politics went. It was the little things. What a silly question. Had he ever? “I had eight siblings who lived to adulthood, I can actually only count the amount of times I’ve lived alone on one hand. This is quite possibly the longest stretch though.” No, not possibly. Definitely. He couldn't have pulled off looking about thirty while staying in one place for over thirty years. Someone would have caught on. Why should he doubt her? It seemed a very silly thing to lie about. A dangerous thing even. It wasn’t a complete stretch for him to imagine her as she said--the monster of bedtime stories--not when he’d seen her eat a shark whole. He chewed on that a moment. She didn’t have to say lonely, because that was certainly already a vulnerability in his mind. “It’s her lieutenant you’ll want to keep him away from then.” He didn’t want to call her vulnerable, per se, but she was certainly an island compared to other people on the island. The only one like her was her estranged brother, which could certainly make her easy prey. Jayati gave him another self satisfied expression, as if to say, of course I am, though with a bit too much dignity and respect for their fragile peace here to poke him. Too much. The night was young and so were they. Ish. Depending on your definition. Jayati was actually surprisingly young for her kind, or, that was how it was before The Burning Times at least. She got a bit more comfortable, unzipping her jacket and twisting to hang it on the back of her chair and stretching out her arms, warm enough in the kitchen with the oven going that her t-shirt was fine, “If only you admitted I was right about the other things as well.” Well. That didn’t last long. Her eyes widened in surprise at that, leaning forward with genuine interest, “Eight? That’s a lot for that day, wasn’t it?” Not really the amount, but them living to that age. At least for humans, who were just ridiculously frail things, all things considered. Yeah, she wasn’t intervening with Ethan anymore than she had to. It felt like such perfect temptation it had to be a trap, that or she would have to fight his pet Werewolf, and if she knew him then he had probably inspired a sort of ardent loyalty and viciousness in her that her people were infamous for. Not that she wasn’t sure she could take her in a fight, but killing a Werewolf girl who was a child to her wouldn’t be great for town morale, or anyone having doubts about her. Another scowl and a displeased sigh, “Which one? The Fae or the foolish Dragon?” The Fae were the sort she had no interest in trying to help or manipulate, but Danny — oh, imagining him in Ethan’s hands made her own curl in anger. She had a feeling that the boy was an easy target for the clever and greedy. Mircea had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and there it was, though it wasn’t the worst thing she could have said. It was hardly enough to start an argument over. He let out another snort of laughter and shook his head. “Well, you can’t have everything,” “It is. My mother was lucky.” And very hardy. His wife hadn’t been. Which gave him less to lose when it came to taking on the feudal lord that turned him. “But she lost nearly as many. There were fifteen babies in all.” He fell somewhere in the middle. Ah, well that was actually a fair point. Either of them would be pretty easy targets, just as sure as if they had bullseyes on their backs, but he had been more concerned with Chrys. “Either, I suppose, both could be manipulated, it’s why they’re part of it, right?” He was not counting himself in the number of easy targets however. He knew what he was doing. “So what would you like from me?” Because obviously there was something. Jayati took a long sip of her drink and thought about that, listening to his amusement even as her own expression turned almost forlorn. “Yes, that has been made abundantly clear. It feels like Ethan showing up is a reminder of that.” Not only because the way she had met him, but also showing up now when things were going so well, even with her sister throwing a wrench into things. It certainly felt like this was the universe saying she wasn’t going to get things under control after all. Her eyes dropped down to the mug, one rough finger circling the rim of of it before raising her eyes back to him, “Have you kept up with any of their descendents?” Some did, she knew. Vampires keeping tabs on distant nieces, nephews, grand children. Even setting up a college fund here and there. Others couldn’t deal with the reminder of what they had lost. She forced her hands to extend, relaxing and popping her knuckles. Jayati had gone a long time without letting her temper flare, more due to her just feeling tired more than anything else, and here lately it had happened enough that she was tense all the time it seemed like. “Then what does that make you? For signing up with someone who targets those like them?” Because she wasn’t going to act like he was as vulnerable and malleable as they were, but he was willingly throwing his weight behind someone who eagerly recruited people like Chrys and Danny. Hmm. What was she asking, exactly? Without asking, she stood and topped off her mug with water from the kettle, leaning against the counter instead of sitting back down, “I want you to watch that your cause doesn’t dissolve into being spearheaded by people like him,” A deep breath before she focused on him, “And if I start slipping back into that monster, I need you to stop me.” Hmm, yes he supposed he’d feel the same way if someone from his past showed up unannounced and unwelcomed. “Well, as the Rolling Stones say, ‘if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need’?” He offered, half serious, half joking to lighten the mood. The final alarm went off and he pulled the pan out of the oven, and set it on top of the stove to rest. “No, not really. It was harder than it should have been for me though. By the time I was out of Vasille’s employ, my siblings were all gone, and many of their offspring. It was my great-nephew who overthrew him. After that it seemed strange to keep tabs on them. I probably still could, but.” He shrugged. He probably wouldn’t. Let them all have some peace. “The Watchman,” he replied simply, sipping at his tea. He’d inserted himself into this thing to keep an eye on everything and keep the revolution from getting out of control.He’d been protecting innocent types for ages, it wasn’t such a stretch for him to keep an eye on the misguided Fae and Wyrm officers, no matter what their titles happened to be. “That’s been my plan,” he replied, fearing that they were going to dissolve into the same argument they had last time. But at her second request, he gave almost a wry smile. “You do realize the irony of asking one monster to police another, don’t you?” Well, Jayati was definitely going to have that song stuck in her head the rest of the night, especially since he didn’t have any other music playing. Thanks for that, Mircea. It worked though, Jayati gave him a weary smile for his trouble, “I need some peace and quiet. I’m tired.” She gave him an exasperated sigh on the edge of dramatic, “I don’t date, I don’t travel, I don’t go to the bars. I do what I can to avoid trouble.” What more was she supposed to do? Other than hermit herself into the mountains like her brother. “That’s quite the familial legacy.” Jayati raised her mug of tea in a silent toast, because if the most recent action you knew of your kin was overthrowing a Feudal dictator than you were doing alright. All things considered. She only kept a distant sort of track on her own, which had turned out to be a major oversight. She eyeballed the chicken with curiosity and more than a little undisguised interest, head tilting this way and that as she took in the thing she had been smelling and imagining since she walked in. The Watchman indeed. Watchmen kept a distance and their mouths shut, and he already seemed to have taken more of a proactive role than that. “I thought you were more of a behind the scenes advisor?” Though he had said something about not being afraid to get his hands dirty if the situation called for it, and she believed him. To a certain extent. One never knew until they were faced with a battle, didn’t they? Curiosity won over politeness and she reached out to pluck a piece of chicken out of the pain, unphased by the heat as she leaned to the side and gentle nudged his shoulder with her own, “I don’t think you’re so bad. Most days.” With a quirk of her lips into a lopsided, amused smile, a bit of warmth in her eyes even. It was a good song. He’d definitely not be apologizing for that. But boy if that didn’t sound dangerously close to home. At the very least, he managed to get out sometimes. Not often, but… Occasionally. “Sounds like you need a hobby,” he said, nodding sagely. “Or at least a night out.” A snort of amusement and a fond smile paired with the returned tea-toast. “I guess we’re all just angry or something. Might not be too difficult to find my family after all. Just look for whoever is causing the most trouble. We’re probably related.” He grinned more broadly at that, as he pulled two sets of forks and knives out of a drawer and two plates off the shelf. Normally he’d just pick at it idly with his fingers--honestly the best way to eat a chicken--but people were over. Manners were to be observed. Proactive, maybe, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still keeping a close eye on things. And keeping his intentions regarding the Revolution underwraps, at least to his… “Boss”. If he could even consider Xi that, and really, he didn’t. “That too,” he conceded. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth disapprovingly when she stole a bit of chicken, though without any real annoyance. He was well aware how tempting the chicken was. It was taking a lot of effort to not do the same, but being the host, he’d figured he’d best try and pretend he had manners. “Ah, well as long as it’s most days,” he said, nudging her back as he handed her her own plate and utensils. “Go ahead, dig in.” Part of Jayati wanted to bristle in defense at that, even if she had walked right into it. “I have hobbies! I cook,” Wait, was cooking a hobby? She stopped short, trying to decide. Keeping up old combat training was tied to her job and therefore probably didn’t count as a hobby, “I love Monty Python?” Damn. Did she just make his point for him? Trying to imagine Mircea organizing a family reunion with all the troublemakers in a fifty mile radius was enough to earn a genuine laugh from her, and she wasn’t even sure why it was so amusing. Maybe because gushing about familial bonds didn’t fit with the grumpy bookseller image, or because that much havoc in one spot might cause some sort of internal explosion that she didn’t want to be near. “Let me know how those Holiday cards look, hm?” Honestly, there was his small army, he wouldn’t need Chrysanthemum or Danny at all. Good riddens, really. Maybe she could get more on board if there was someone like him behind the wheel, even if she had that gut check hatred of war and it’s effectiveness she couldn’t shake. At his noise of chastisement (if it could be called that) she raised a challenging eyebrow, and what are you going to do about it? that managed to fall somewhere between bored and playful cat, if that made any sense. She was a lizard, but she definitely had her feline moments. “Hm, I’ll let you know what I think of you on the other days. Count on that.” The hand not wrapped around her mug reached out to flick his shoulder before she took his place, setting her drink back down on the table so she could dish out a reasonable (for a human, at least) amount of chicken, sitting back down with eyes lit up in eagerness. Food transcends all things, even jaded emotional exhaustion. It only took her one bite for her to pause and look at him with an intent expression, “This is amazing. I can’t believe you share this. I wouldn’t.” That was a lie, but not by much. An almost smug smile crossed Mircea’s face for a fleeting moment. “This might be hypocritical, but uh. I think you need to get out more.” “Let me see if I can find any of them first,” he said with a short laugh. Who knows, maybe after several hundred years, all the fire had been bred out of his siblings’ children, and grandchildren, and however many greats-grandchildren. Maybe they were all terribly boring, or worse, lazy. He shrugged back, it hadn’t been a real chastisement. “I look forward to your assessment,” he replied with feigned seriousness, snorting again when she flicked his shoulder. He let her serve herself first before filling his plate. Had he realized he’d be having company he might have prepared something to go along with it--some potatoes, maybe--but since he didn’t actually require well balanced meals, he sort of just ate whatever he was in the mood for when he was in the mood for it. He wanted chicken, he was having chicken. He was just sitting down when she tucked in, the smile he gave her at that compliment was broad and genuine. “I don’t usually. You picked a particularly good day to come by and deliver news.” Though she was approaching her third century, she wasn’t above rolling her eyes, “My job requires me to be on call more often than not, what’s your excuse?” She raised one challenging eyebrow, because it was pretty hard to argue with, honestly. Granted, she took her availability a little more seriously than some, but still. It would be awful hard for him to go around the world tracking people down too, wouldn’t it? What was it he used as an excuse for not being able to travel and eat food he’s never had before? Jayati wasn’t entirely sure she believed it, surely with all his cleverness and books he could find a way, “Yes, you’d probably really stump the people at 23 and Me, so might have to find an alternative method.” It was a good thing that her mouth was full of delicious chicken when he said that. Because to her there was no good day to deliver half of the news she had brought tonight, but it could have been worse, she supposed. There was food, and food made everything better. Made it awful hard to be angry at someone when they were feeding you. It suited her just fine, even if it wasn’t exactly all the food groups. After a few bites and washing it down with tea though she cracked another smile, “Any day with chicken is a good day, I’ll even eat it cooked if it’s done like this.” A throwback with an almost ornery smile to their encounter some months ago on the beach. “Hey, now. At least I get out sometimes.” This was true. On his days off--when he took a day off--he could sometimes be found at the diner or the Long Way Down, or taking a walk, which wasn’t a hobby, but at least meant he left the house and possibly ran into other people in a semi-social setting. It was… Something? Mostly though, it was a feeble argument. “Right now my job is my hobby I guess.” It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it was what it was. Oh God, he couldn’t even imagine. Certainly someone would have to alert the authorities. Would they even be able to read DNA from him? Somehow he doubted it. “I suppose that’s what books are for,” he agreed with a nod. Not that she would likely allow him to peruse her library to find things, so the regular library and whatever records were available on the internet would have to be his starting point. If he decided to find them. That was true. It wasn’t good news she’d brought to him, but still. It was lucky for her that she’d come by on a night when he was cooking at least. And good for both of them because indeed, it could have been worse. Mircea laughed. “What can I say. Everything is better when seasoned properly.” |