Leon (corpuscle) wrote in the_cirque, @ 2024-06-24 21:15:00 |
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The hour was late, but that was the point. You didn’t ask a vampire to join you by the river at an hour that would burn and otherwise kill them. Leon, clad in a varied array of dark muted shades cut a sharp figure even with the way the material hung loosely around his lithe form, long hair left loose, and olive skin glowing under the light from the nearby streetlight. He was nursing a herbal cigarette as he waited for Kit to join him, the vampire’s blood tucked away neatly in a pocket, smoke curling lazily around the corners of his mouth as he watched the lazy way a faint current stirred the water. It was easy to lose track of time when watching water and blood, but that was Leon’s own perspective, unlikely to be shared by many others. Ironically he thought out of everybody in the Cirque a vampire would be the most likely to understand. After the mild confusion as to why Leon—someone whom Kit knew but didn’t actually know—had asked him for a jaunt down to the river had been cleared up, Kit had been more than happy to take some time out to comply. Although he hadn’t been the one to ask for the blood protection, he had certainly benefited from it and was grateful to Leon for not asking too many questions when Mihail had brought him a vial of Kit’s blood. The very blood they were meeting to dispose of. Walking casually with his hands slipped in the pockets of his bomber jacket, Kit gave the witch a tilt of his chin in greeting. “Cheers for your offer,” he said once he was close enough to drop his voice. There weren’t too many people around but one could never be too careful, “I assumed you’d have used it all. I didn’t give you much to start with.” “Blood is a powerful thing,” Leon remarked as he turned his dark gaze to rest on Kit and unlike many he didn’t have to crane his neck to meet the vampire’s eyes. “You never need a lot, but it helps to have more just in case something doesn’t go to plan.” He tucked his cigarette between his lips and rummaged out the vial which he held up for Kit’s perusal. “Et voila,” he murmured. Watching as Leon procured the vial from the depths of his fluttering layers, Kit hummed in acknowledgement and reached to take it. The glass was warm against his palm, the glass having conducted the witch’s body heat. “Looks like a shot to me,” he teased, playful look turned to Leon, “But a stale one. Best to get rid of it.” “Even warmed it up for you, mon ami.” A flash of Leon’s own sharp pearly whites before he swept his arm out towards the river. “Let’s see how far you can throw it before it lands and sinks, never to be discovered again.” He took a final drag from his cigarette and crushed what remained beneath the sole of his boot. Moving over to the river’s edge, Kit rolled the vial between his fingers almost pensively before drawing his arm back and launching the glass into the air. Given his strength, it sailed for many seconds and eventually fell with a distant splash somewhere near the middle of the water. Turning back to Leon, he grinned. “Not bad. Hopefully it didn't knock out a fish or something.” Leon watched and murmured an appreciative sound when the vial finally hit the water and sunk, a murmuring of creole accompanying the compliment. “Let’s hope not, hm? Poor fishes never did anyone any harm.” He let out a breath and reached up to ruffle his hair, darkly painted nails clear beneath the strands. “I can’t speak for you, but I think a drink is in order.” Eyes following the path of Leon’s painted fingers through his long tresses, Kit hummed affirmatively. “Never one to turn down an offer like that,” he said, hands returning to his pockets, “Lead the way. There are a few nice bars in town.” “Parfait,” Leon rumbled, purred even. He turned on his heel and fell in step beside the vampire, the scent of sandalwood, cedar and leather catching on the breeze. He hadn’t explored all that much but he had found a good bar that served the sort of drinks that reminded him of home and that was the bar he led them to. It was busy, but busy was good. Easy enough to get lost in the throng and sometimes that was all you needed or wanted. Leon briefly reached out to catch in the fabric of Kti’s jacket, using that to guide the vampire to a booth near the back, removing his hand when they arrived. “What you drinking?” Kit hadn't visited the bar that Leon led them to but he was clearly interested as he looked around upon being led inside. It was full but not jammed, a comfortable ambiance as the witch tugged him gently to the back of the establishment. “Whatever you're getting to start,” he said, collapsing gracefully down into his seat, “I want to know your poison first.” “Absinthe, ordinarily, but it isn’t something served in many places.” He shrugged out of his own jacket, exposing the low cut dark t-shirt that did little to hide his various markings and tattoos. Some were ritualistic in their purpose whereas others were decorative but with their own meaning. He slipped away and confidently navigated the crowd until he caught the bartender’s attention with a disarming smile and emphasis on his accent until finally he came back carrying not one but several glasses, a selection of shots. Leon couldn’t decide what he wanted to drink so this made the most sense. The vampire shamelessly watched the swing of Leon’s hips as he squeezed his way towards the bar, an amused smile on his face as he smoothly shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. Clad in a form fitting black t-shirt and equally snug black jeans encasing his lithe, pale form, he cut a striking figure in the corner of the bar as he oversaw the crowd with casual interest. Leon’s return certainly brightened his already amenable countenance. “I had no idea we were drinking to get fucked up,” he teased, gaze roaming over the various drinks now on the table, “You're indecisive, hmm?” “Just tonight,” Leon answered with a chuckle. “I also don’t believe in limiting myself so why have one drink and one flavour when you can have all of them.” He slid into the booth and divvied up the shots, gaze travelling up to rest on Kit’s handsome features. Vampires, they had an ethereal untouchable feel about them, like they’d been plucked out of time and frozen at their best moment. Leon didn’t know how he felt about getting older and eventually dying, but it wasn’t something he exactly revelled in. Maybe in the future he’d look to change his fate, become something other than what he was, but that was a concern for his future self. “What's different about tonight?” Kit asked, taking note of the lingering looks and smiling to himself as the shot glasses littered the table top. There was a wide array, perhaps even enough for him to feel a buzz. Rather than immediately swipe a glass, he nodded slightly for Leon to have first pickings. “Next round is on me, assuming we're still standing after this.” “New company, mon ami.” He considered the shots and drummed his nails against the table before selecting the one on the far right, it was a flavoured vodka or so the bartender had told him. He’d be standing after this, took more than shots to take Leon down, call it experience from his upbringing and thereafter. “Bottoms up,” he drawled, tipping the small glass to his lips and leaning back which exposed the length of his throat as he did so.” Given his age, Kit was always making new friends and acquaintances. Life at the circus meant a near constant stream of new faces that replaced old and familiar ones as they moved on to whatever came next. Leon had been at the Cirque for a while but their paths had barely crossed, at least until fairly recently. “The best way for bottoms to be,” the vampire quipped cheekily in response, taking up the nearest shot to himself and downing it without much reaction. Some sort of cream liquor; sweet and strong and everything he liked. Smacking his lips happily, Kit set the glass down but didn't immediately go for another. They were here to socialise, not merely plot through drinks in silence. “Can't believe it took someone else coming to you for blood protection on my behalf to get us out together like this.” “Funny how life works,” Leon agreed with a hum as he set his now empty glass back on the table, chasing the lingering taste of vodka on his lower lip with his tongue. “But, we’re here now, that’s what matters.” He selected his next shot but didn’t make any attempt to drink it, focusing instead on Kit. “I’ve been a hermit until recently. Amelie has spent enough time pestering me to get out more so it helps that I’ve been more forthcoming than I have previously.” As the witch selected his next drink, Kit perused the selection with interest. “Feisty, tiny girls will do that,” he commented with a wry smile, eyes flickering up briefly, “But she's a good one. Cares a lot about people, especially you. I bet she'll be pleased when you tell her where you were tonight.” “The feeling is mutual.” He adored his familiar in all the ways that mattered and it had pained him that she had been hurt meaning he had failed to protect her as he’d promised to do all those years ago. Still, he’d refreshed her protections and that had gone a long way to putting his mind at ease. He picked up his shot, regarded Kit over the rim, and then without breaking eye contact knocked it back. The liquid burned but had a faint taste of honey to it, liquid fire came to mind, and Leon let out an approving sound. The only thing that would have made it better? A touch of blood. And he said as much. There was something so painfully flirtatious about holding someone's gaze while eating and drinking, the very sight of it causing Kit’s lip to curl and his brows to raise with piqued interest. “Blood makes everything better,” he said, picking up the next shot and mimicking the witch exactly. Eyes still fixed across the table, the vampire let the aniseed tang of Jagermeister coat his throat and the glass was set down with an almost fond lilt to his smile. The taste made him think of Mihail now, of the viscous ichor that so often accompanied their kisses. Reclining once the alcohol had pooled pleasantly in his stomach, Kit opted to give it time to settle before picking another. “I've not met many witches of your kind,” he confessed casually, “Weird, since we have a need for blood. Common goals and all that. Was it something you were born into or did you get to pick?” “Born into it, long family tradition. Goes back generations.” The necromancy he practiced however was a brand all of his own, but it wasn’t as prevalent. He glanced over to the rest of the bar, tucking some errant strands of his hair behind his ear. “Between that and the necromancy I know I’m everything you might expect from a boy born and raised in New Orleans.” There had been no mistaking that drawl, especially given that Kit had first joined the circus when it had passed through the Big Easy over fifteen years previously. He had spent a fair bit of time in that part of the States, even more so since signing his contract. The three month long stint there just the previous year was still fresh in his memory. Leon was as cajun as they came. “You wear the stereotype well,” Kit complimented, giving the witch another slow once-over, “But you know I have to ask what prompted you to leave. You’d have made a killing in the French Quarter.” He felt and saw the slow once over, lips curling into a pleased smile. “My folks,” Leon answered with a very slow lift of his shoulders. “They got it into their heads that to maintain bloodlines and the power that comes with them I should be wed off to some random stranger from another well-known and highly powerful magical family. Spent four years arguing with them before the Cirque came to town and it seemed like the perfect solution.” He lifted his hand and ran it above the shots before he closed around a milky-looking shot that he knocked back a second later. It wasn’t all that surprising to hear of a possible arranged marriage between covens. Kit had known enough witches in his time—not blood witches, as he’d said, but enough—to be aware of that old fashioned way of thinking, of preserving magical lines to the point of purity. The very thought of it made his nose wrinkle as he followed suit and selected a shot that wafted the pleasant scent of peaches up his nose a moment before he swallowed what turned out to be schnapps. “Their loss is our gain,” he said, belatedly clinking his empty shot glass against Leon’s own before moving another in front of the witch and taking another himself. They were quickly depleting the bounty but the night was young and so were they, at least in appearances in his case. “To your ongoing freedom.” Another toast, another knock back. Leon chuckled, a low rich sound, stirring from deep in his chest before he helped himself to the shot placed in front of him. He caught the scent of aniseed which reliably informed him that he was about to drink Jagermeister, knocking it back with a slow breath out following soon after. “We seem to be running out of shots, mon ami.” Not that it was of any concern, they were in a bar with a plentiful supply of alcohol and a night that stretched out ahead of them. “You got Ame to thank for me being part of the Cirque. She was the one who found it and then wouldn’t shut up about it.” “Then we'd better get some more,” Kit said with a grin as he pushed his chair back, “Want me to just order the same again?” Before he left the table, the vampire nodded. “Got a lot to thank her for,” he said before departing for the bar again. It took him a ridiculously short amount of time to return, his ethereal look enough to charm the bartender into seeking him out along the crowded bar. Yet another perk to being immortally handsome and bold enough to skip lines. “Welcome back,” Leon remarked as he reclined back, looking as though he belonged. “Not surprised that it took you a record time.” He should have been timing it, really. “Bartender must think he’s struck gold or at least enjoying his shift a little bit more than before.” Settling back down after sliding the very full tray down, Kit couldn’t help but preen. He did so like the attention, revelling in the compliments paid. “I’m pleased my face can provide such a service,” he said, eyeing the shots that still remained from the first round, “Seems a tedious job but I’m glad someone wants to do it or else there would be no booze.” After picking up an errant glass, the vampire tapped it playfully against Leon’s own before sinking it. “You’re not too bad in the face department yourself though,” he said, perhaps a little belatedly. “Thank you for the afterthought.” Leon snorted and leaned back to tip his shot to his mouth, the remnants disappearing down the back of his throat seamlessly, the very same that bobbed with the movement of his Adam’s apple. He hissed softly as he placed the now empty glass back atop the table, rim to wood. His dark nails and olive skin a stark contrast to the clear glass. “Better than no thought at all,” the vampire returned, though his tone was playful as he set his latest empty down. Rather than pick another, he fixed his full attention on the witch across from him and held his gaze for a beat too long; a little unsettling but nothing negative. “What’ll you be using Mihail’s blood for?” Leon didn’t seem particularly bothered by the prolonged eye contact, holding it comfortably and confidently. “I’m not sure yet. I have no immediate use for it and I’ve mastered the art of storing blood in a way that it remains as fresh and new as the day it was drawn from the vein.” It had been ample payment for what Leon did for Kit. That information caused a flicker of surprise to pass over Kit’s face that promptly melted into a smirk. “And why haven’t we spoken about that before now?” he asked, reaching across the table to playfully tap the topside of Leon’s hand with his fingertips. Leon chuckled and reached out to catch Kit’s fingers with his own, idly and absently turning the vampire’s hand around before running the blunt edges of his painted nails over the back of those long lengths to trace the lines on the palm of his hand. “Maybe because you’ve never asked before?” Eyes flickering down to the tickling trace of Leon's fingers on his palm, Kit chuckled to himself. “Want to read it?” he asked, extending his arm to set his hand a bit closer, “You do cards, if my memory serves me right, but I'll bet you're good at all kinds of stuff.” Leon inhaled and smoothed his touch down to fully capture Kit’s hand, gaze holding the vampire’s before it turned towards his palm. “Hm,” he hummed, consideringly. “Your heart line is quite faint which suggests you are careful about the depths you’re willing to go to with your relationships. You prefer freedom over… any one thing, but this slight angle suggests that you feel more than you would like to admit.” As the witch tipped his head to observe the head line a few strands of his hair slipped free. “You’re intelligent, logical when it matters, but not limited by it. You have a wealth of creativity which has in the past helped you come up with solutions to problems that others haven’t thought of.” He rounded on the lifeline. “You have a passion and zeal for life and all its experiences.” Rather than look down at his own hand, Kit kept his gaze on the witch as he focused and worked through each of the inconsequential lines intersecting his palm. There was surely an art to it but Kit wasn't entirely convinced in the truth of it. What use were lifelines and love lines to the technically dead? Still, it was pretty amusing to hear what Leon had to say. The compliments certainly helped. “Bang on with that, I reckon,” he said once Leon had fallen silent, “What does your own say? Or aren't you meant to read your own?” “I haven’t even talked about your fate line and the various mounts,” Leon pointed out, a playful smile on his lips. “You can read your own palm, but it’s a little harder. You could be influenced by what you want to be true rather than what is true which fucks with the reading.” It also didn’t help that Leon lacked a dominant hand given that he was ambidextrous so it was a challenge to work out which one to read. With a little curve of his lips into a perfect ‘o’ shape, Kit nodded back at his hand. “Thought you were done, sorry,” he said with a grin, “Tell me more.” “Your fate line is curved, suggests you took the road less travelled. And then we have your mounts…” Of which there were many. He covered how the Mount of Venus represented Kit as somebody who had a lot of passions and had a very healthy sexual appetite with a desire for beauty. The Mount of Luna was not as developed, meaning he was much more of a realist than an idealist, feet planted firmly on the ground. Then there was the Mount of Apollo which given its development indicated a preference for the arts than anything more mundane and boring. The mount of Jupiter was as Leon stressed the most important for assessing strength of character, it represented ambition, leadership, and authority. It was this mount that Leon pressed against and he made a hmm’ing sound. “It’s large but hard, which can signify a considerable ego and difficulty in relationships.” “And the last but final mount is the Mount of Saturn which covers how you deal with problems. It’s large, firm, and spans a great deal of your palm which suggests to me that you are stubborn and unwilling to change.” Perhaps it was surprising that Kit actually let Leon finish without interruption, given that he was practically chomping at the bit to speak up. Instead he bit his tongue as each and every emotion passed so clearly across his face, eventually ending in one that looked somewhat pouty and defiant…perhaps even stubborn and unwilling to change. “I liked the intelligent, passionate bits better,” he said with a slight huff. Good that he didn’t exactly put much stock into such arts. Him, egotistical and adverse to change? Surely not. Okay, so perhaps there was some truth to it. “I’d say it was time for more drinks, don’t you?” he went on to suggest, removing his hand from Leon’s to pick up another shot glass. Leon took Kit’s huff in his stride, the hand that had held the vampire’s now lifted to the witch’s chin where he perched the sharp edge. “It’s all an interpretation and it really depends on how much stock you put in arts like this.” The witch did put a lot of stock in it, but then that was how he was raised. “Drinks,” he affirmed, reaching out to capture a further shot glass that he knocked back and chased the taste with his tongue. “And palmistry is not my speciality. Tarot, blood magic, and a touch of necromancy are.” Following suit, Kit tipped his own shot down his throat and set the glass back down with a hum. “Then I’ll have to swing by some time and see if your cards are nicer,” he teased, a flash of mischief in his eyes, “And it’s good to know that you’re well-versed in raising corpses. Sometimes the dead need a little help.” Was he being dirty? Perhaps. The smirk tugging at his lips would certainly indicate so. Leon was grateful that he had swallowed his shot or he might have struggled at that comment from Kit. “I do like to think I’m particularly skilled in raising corpses, helping the dead get up.” The ‘it’ might have been omitted but one look at the glint in Leon’s eyes, and honestly who even needed to say the word? “But, yes, do swing by, try your luck with my cards.” “I’ll be sure to do that,” Kit said, taking up another glass and extending it in the hopes of yet another toast. While the night was still young, they still had half a table to get through and more besides. With any luck, the vampire would begin to feel the effects eventually. |