gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-02-14 15:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, jonathan harker, raistlin majere |
Who: Jonathan & Raistlin
What: Raistlin just wants some damn takeout and he almost gets carjacked, fuck everything
Where: Close to the above's sketchy apartment building
When: Recently, pre-tidal waves
Rating/Warnings: Low; talk of vampirism
Status: Complete
Raistlin was trying to balance both his work and his magic studies, which usually meant he was heading for home later and later these days. As much as he wanted to learn everything he could about magic as fast as he could, he had to be sure he stayed on to of his work at Stark Industries. If he lost his job then he and Tas were S.O.L. So in the interest of keeping a roof over their head - even if it did constantly mysteriously smell of wet animal fur - Raistlin’s days were getting longer and longer. It was well after nine o’clock at night and all Raistlin wanted to do was get something to eat and go home. Step one of that process had been accomplished. He’d stopped at his usual take-out place between work and the apartment, they had grown accustomed to him at this point and practically had his order ready for him when he came in the door. Bag of take-out in hand, Raistlin was making his way back to his car. His shoulders slumped when he saw someone lurking around it near the driver’s side door. The figure had something long and thin in his hands that looked very much like a device used to jimmy a car door open. Raistlin narrowed his eyes. Brilliant. At least he had his magic this time. “Excuse me,” he called out to the would-be car thief, “is there something I can help you with?” The figure jerked away from the car, obviously caught red-handed. “This your car?” He asked eyeing Raistlin up and down carefully Raistlin narrowed his eyes further, mentally prepping the calculations needed for a spell. “Maybe.” The figure must have determined Raistlin wasn’t much of a threat. A gun appeared from the darkness of the figure’s coat. “I’m taking it.” This part of town wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was where Jonathan would find his next meal. He’d done his research, as always, a meticulous hunter through and through - and this meal also had to stretch. Vlad could go a month in between feedings, whereas Jonathan - practically a newborn, he had only been a vampire since October - was struggling to get himself on some kind of permanent schedule. That he’d been well-fed at first, doing that ‘favor’ for Leliana, just meant that it was difficult now to learn how to make meals last but he was steadfast and determined. Especially after that fog episode - if it taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t be so careless as to wait too long between feedings. He’d have his pick of the crop here. And, stumbling upon a carjacker, that seemed to be a stroke of good luck for once - perhaps not for the thief, but for Jonathan. Only sharp senses and keen eyes noticed right away that the vehicle didn’t belong to just any ordinary person. It belonged to someone he knew. In the stillness of the night, he looked every bit like how horror novelists of Victorian London, that age of intellectual enterprise, expected him to be. Skin pale to the point of a frigid death taking hold, eyes an angry volcanic red fire when those instincts were pushed to the forefront, when he was on the prowl. Blink once and he appeared, blink again and he’d be gone - but at the moment he’d come from the shadows, a gentle thud as cold fingers wrapped around the carjacker’s throat when he was shoved up against the side of the door of the vehicle he meant to steal. Technically, Jonathan could squeeze only slightly, a little bit of strength, and crush the windpipe like a banana. But not yet. “I don’t think you are,” he said calmly. Taking the car, that is. He met the man’s eyes, deliberately, an invisible hypnotic fog beginning to swirl around him - he wouldn’t have any choice but to obey. “Drop the gun.” The wouldbe thief was taken completely unawares. Who expects someone - something - to literally appear out of the shadows? That was his thing as a thief. He never would have thought to be on the receiving end, and that was his downfall. He stared with wide eyes at the man who now had him by the throat. He gawked and tried to speak, but sheer terror in the face of what was possibly the only apex predator above man made him dumb (not that he was particularly bright to begin with). The gun slipped from his hand and clattered harmlessly to the ground by Jonathan’s feet. Well, this was a change of events Raistlin hadn’t counted on. He’d planned on electrocuting the man. Just a small jolt from a simple defense spell that’d give the carjacker reason to think twice about pulling a gun on him. However, before he’d even had a chance to utter the spell’s words familiar gaunt features had stepped seemingly from the shadows. Raistlin figured he’d never see Jonathan Harker again after their encounter in the fog a few weeks ago. The vampire hadn’t exactly been in the best shape when the two of them had been separated and Raistlin had wondered if maybe he hadn’t succumbed to bloodlust and frenzy. Apparently he had not. He seemed much more in control of his faculties this evening. Raistlin remained standing where he was. He was morbidly curious to see what Harker would do next. Actually eating the prey, sinking teeth into his throat right here, well - call him soft hearted, but Jonathan really didn’t have the urge to do that. At least not in front of Raistlin. He didn’t want someone he knew seeing him like that right now, seeing him fall deep into a dangerous place that was putting control and trust into the gnarled hands of the monster within him - trusting that it wouldn’t take over entirely, that Jonathan Harker the young lawyer who had recently won a multi-billion dollar case in his legal debut would still be there to quiet that demon once it was satisfied. It was something every vampire struggled with. And he’d probably only let Vlad see him in his bloodthirsty element - a show of trust, between him and the person who he loved and who understood. Zelda had seen it briefly too, but she was his best friend. Still locking the would-be thief in that hypnotic hold, Jonathan simply scowled and released his grip. “Go throw yourself off the pier,” he commanded, and the haze and fog of that hold wouldn’t fade, at least, it wouldn’t until long after this unlucky fellow had plunged into icy waters. After he’d shuffled off, Jonathan stooped to pick up the gun and offer it to Raistlin. A shiny prize, of sorts. Another weapon he could learn to use, in addition to his spells, maybe? He smiled a little, morbidly amused. “We really have to stop meeting like this.” Raistlin watched the former carjacker amble off into the night looking as though he were stuck in some kind of dream. Something of a smirk pulled the corners of Raistlin’s mouth as well. Well played, Harker. Very well played. He looked back towards the vampire. “If I recall the last time we met, I was the intended meal.” Raistlin’s version of teasing, of course, but it he found it curious that Harker hadn’t actually bitten the thief. He’d had him at his mercy, it would have been easy and there wasn’t anyone around, other than Raistlin himself, to see. And Raistlin, a mage and a man who had studied vampire lore since he’d been a kid, wouldn’t have really minded. Then Raistlin remembered the sheer repulsion Harker had displayed out in the fog, as if the mere thought of drinking the mage’s blood had been too horrifying for words. Whatever had spared Raistlin from having Harker’s teeth in buried in his throat was obviously at work here as well and that was a little concerning. With the threat gone from his car, Raistlin approached, bag dinner still in hand and spell calculations dismissed from his mind. “I’m glad to see you survived out there in the fog, Harker. I trust nothing else tried to bite your face off?” He eyed the gun for a moment before shaking his head. “Keep it,” he said. “I don’t know how to fire one and the last thing I need is for my roommate to get his hands on it.” Jonathan nodded, tucking the firearm away - not like he had much use for it either (his preferred weapons were a lot sharper, and in his mouth) but he could give it to someone else, maybe. Perhaps Svetlana, since she seemed to be having a bout of bad luck with getting cornered in alleyways lately. “I’m glad you did too. It was a pretty nasty time, even for this place.” He’d seen a lot of hellish things, not sure what the sheer frequency of it all meant. Maybe that they really were destined for the end of the world. “But no, nothing else found me,” he assured. “Turns out it was someone’s dream bleedover. Nothing like that from your dreamworld will pop up here, will it? Because I sincerely hope not.” “Fog and monsters? Probably not,” Raistlin said with a shrug. “If it were mine we’d be treated to dragons and vengeful gods. Nothing that involves completely warping the face of a landscape nevermind hiding monsters in a damn mist.” Which honestly wouldn’t have been so bad, had it not been for the fact that it had also robbed Raistlin of his magic. It had certainly been better than watching Frosty the goddamn Snowman amble through the lobby of Stark Industries as if he belonged there. Then there had been the infestation of gremlins, which had been more annoying than anything else, but if something was going to go surreal, Raistlin preferred it to go completely balls to the wall. “Seems to be a monthly occurrence around here, doesn’t it?” He asked, “for someone’s dream nonsense to bleedover into our reality.” He looked in the direction the wouldbe thief had shuffled off in. The man was long gone by now. Raistlin was silent for a moment, mulling over a few thoughts. He looked at Jonathan sidelong, “What are you doing out here, Harker?” Dragons and vengeful gods. “Sounds interesting, actually,” Jonathan remarked, and the scholar in him certainly thought so - his own dreams had already bled through to this reality, hence what he was. In a way though, he would have chosen it anyway even if it hadn’t happened naturally - for the sake of his partner who lived forever. Perhaps a silly decision, but love made you contemplate things like that, putting the other first. Hadn’t he done the same, vowing to become immortal if Mina transitioned fully as well? “The frequency...yes, every month or so. Sometimes we get a break but there always seems like there’s something going on. As for me - “ He watched Raistlin, with those unblinking eyes. They appeared macabre and sinister, but conversing with Jonathan was essentially chatting with a friend - he was in control of himself. “Hunting. I tend to stick to the unsavory parts of town. It’s...I research first. I don’t like just...picking someone off the street.” A confession, of sorts - it might explain why he’d let Raistlin go during the fog. Because Jonathan didn’t even know him and now that he did, a little better, he was glad he’d made that decision. The neighborhood they were currently in certainly wasn’t the best around. Raistlin’s apartment was only one or two blocks away and although it had not been his first choice, it had kind of...grown on him in the same kind of way mildew found in your bathroom can grow on you. You don’t particularly like the way it looks, but it adds a bit of character to your surroundings. Raistlin had even gotten used to Hilda, the crazy cat lady who lived across the hall. A harmless old woman given to bouts of delusion completely out of her own control. There were the low lives around, of course - those apples that spoiled an entire barrel, and Raistlin had taken Isabela’s knife lessons to heart. Raistlin understood the desire to research. It came naturally to scholars such as themselves. The insatiable desire to know. It brought satisfaction, power and peace of mind. Of course Raistlin was thankful that Harker’s desire to just not pick of any random individual off the street had spared him, it still concerned him. A person in Harker’s situation couldn’t afford to be too picky. Clinging to his humanity could turn him into the very monster he wanted so desperately not to be. Or worse, kill him. Harker’s explanation, while perfectly reasonable and honestly commendable and understandable, did not do much to ease Raistlin’s concern for him. He did not like the idea of Harker losing his mind to the hunger. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “What sort of things do you look for in a meal?” That was an easy question to answer, surprisingly. After his first night, reawakened as a vampire, when he’d gone with Vlad to dispose of the body that Jonathan had drained he knew it couldn’t be like that for him from then on - he had to hunt on his own terms. Maybe his heart no longer beat but there was space in it for those he loved, those he couldn’t bear to hurt by becoming something so cold. “Scum of society,” he responded, elegant hands slipping into the pockets of his long coat. “I tend to favor human traffickers. Rapists, sexual predators. Child abductors. People that others wouldn’t miss. It’s - “ Jonathan paused then, attempting to explain, putting his thoughts together. But that part was surprisingly easy too - he saw a kindred spirit in Raistlin, to some degree. A jaded intellectual. Even if he didn’t understand firsthand he would at least try to. “Many of the vampires here drink from blood bags but a vampire is meant to hunt. We are meant to taste human blood too, which is why a diet of only animal blood is dangerous - it means that if you deny yourself so much, one drop of human blood falling upon your tongue for some reason puts you in a frenzy.” And led to lots of accidents. “Hm. That’s interesting.” It didn’t come as a surprise that there were other vampires in Orange County, Raistlin had been told as much, however, it did come as a surprise that some of them - many of them according to Harker - fed out of bags. Raistlin agreed, a vampire was meant to hunt - at least that was what the books and manuals had always led Raistlin to believe. He was a little (actually more than a little, if he were to be honest) relieved to know that Harker himself understood that and better than Raistlin himself would ever be able to understand. He was still trying to understand the duality of his own nature, the disconcerting pulls toward something else. He shifted his own dinner from one hand to the other. The movement was more reactive to relieve his hand from gripping the bag than actual awareness that he was even still holding it. It was rare these days that something other than magic so captivated him. “That’s a difficult balance to maintain,” Raistlin said, “and I don’t envy you for having to maintain it. Still…” a thoughtful pause, “there is something oddly poetic about your choice of prey,” a thin smile - not a smirk, not a tease, but an actual appreciation, rare for the mage. “a vigilante vampire. You know that’s the stuff comic books are made from and you’re living it.” Sort of living it. Unliving it, if one were to be technical. Another glance the way the would be thief had gone. “How long will he remain under your spell?” He asked. “Will he actually throw himself into the ocean?” Vigilante vampire. It had a nice ring to it, and Jonathan supposed that was an accurate descriptor. “It’s the only way I can balance everything, but you are right, it is difficult,” he said. “For me, personally, it’s the choice I made. I can’t survive on blood bags, but I can’t lose myself entirely either. I also choose to recognize there’s another presence within, a monster - I recognize that I’m not longer human, so I shouldn’t pretend to be.” That’s what sort of confused him about other vampires in the area too - they viewed this, the curse of immortality, as a gift. Something to be happy about. But how could anyone be happy about leaving loved ones behind, because their mortal bodies would perish and you would remain stuck? Not his place to judge, really. The smirk appeared on the lawyer then, something that continued to be morbidly amused - macabre humor was his staple so often these days. “Oh, he actually will, but,” Jonathan shrugged. “No big loss.” The thief might survive, he might not - circle of life, right? Natural selection - if he was meant to survive, he would. “I won’t keep you from home, though. But if you’d like, maybe next time we could meet someplace without the danger?” Dinner, coffee, whatever else - Jonathan would eat and drink normally, human things, whenever friends wished to. There was something about what Jonathan said - about another presence within that gave Raistlin a moment of pause. He thought again of the voice he’d heard speaking to him in one of his dreams and how sometimes he felt something lurking in his own mind, drawing him towards something Raistlin couldn’t see or understand quite yet. Perhaps he and Jonathan had more in common than he had first thought. Perhaps that was why Raistlin felt so comfortable with a vampire. It could also be that shared dark humor. Raistlin grinned a bit himself. A growing gnaw in his stomach reminded him of what he’d originally stopped for in the first place. He glanced down at the bag he carried. “Ah, yes. I should probably head for home. I appreciate you coming when you did. I could have zapped the man, or set him on fire, but drowning in the ocean is a much better way. Far less questions to have to answer.” He offered Harker his hand. “I would like to meet again someplace other than a darkened street. Coffee, maybe, if you’re able.” Jonathan shook Raistlin’s hand, clasping with a fondness despite the chill of his skin. “You never can tell what will happen around here...is it terrible that I’m interested in seeing you zap someone with magic?” He was always curious about the abilities people found themselves wielding after dreaming, after those realities zipped up a little tighter together - never an exact match, because that was impossible, but very close. “Anyway, coffee would be great. I still drink it regularly, it’s why my partner keeps the Turkish coffee brewing implements at the house,” he chuckled. Those small cups with sugar added, thick foam on top, fortunes told in the remnants once the drink was drained - it was wonder Vlad kept it around at all considering his disdain for the Turks but their specific way of brewing was fantastic. “Come by if you’d like, or we can go somewhere. Just let me know.” Raistlin noted the coolness of Jonathan’s hand and how it seemed to be counteracted by the fondness of the handshake. It was odd, but a good kind of odd. “Terrible?” Raistlin asked with a soft laugh. “No, I don’t think so. It’s probably more terrible that I want to show you. Maybe next time you’re out ‘researching’ your next meal, I can show you what I can do.” A vigilante vampire and a vigilante mage. The idea was ripe for one of those genre shows the networks were so fond of these days. “I’ve never had Turkish coffee,” Raistlin said when Harker released his hand again. “I’d like to give it a try. I’ve heard it’s a fairly strong brew. Maybe some time next week?” There was a spark of intrigue in the fiery red of Jonathan’s eyes. “I actually think I might enjoy that,” he admitted. Never did he think he’d have someone willing to hunt with him - Vlad hunted on his own, because they differed so much when it came to not only technique, but about selection and also methods for disposing of the drained corpse afterward. But perhaps with a partner, a mage, Jonathan might fare all the better. “And will be happy to introduce you to Turkish coffee. Next week sounds good. It’s best after dinner, not in the morning, so if you’d like a full meal I can do that too - I’m actually not a bad chef, all things considered.” He did not require human sustenance but it tasted as it should, perhaps with a little enhancement to the flavors, and he could eat it with no ill effects. Call it curiosity of Raistlin’s own. As much as Jonathan was interested in seeing Raistlin use his magic, Raistlin was curious how Jonathan conducted his research into who would prove to be a good meal or not. The vigilante aspect of the matter, while fitting and an appropriate way to maintain a delicate balance, wasn’t quite as interesting as the actual hunt. Mornings wouldn’t have been any good for Raistlin either since he was busy with his day job usually as early as he could be. “Evening would be better for the both of us, I think.” There was something about the idea of a vampire cooking that tickled that odd sense of humor and made Raistlin chuckle. “I look forward to trying the coffee. You don’t have to go out of your way on my behalf, but if you want to cook dinner, it’d be rude of me to try and stop you.” Well, Jonathan was certainly glad to amuse! He smiled a little, a brief flash of those sleek fangs in the moonlight before they were concealed once more. “It’d be no trouble. Check your schedule and shoot me a message about what day works best for you, and I will make it happen.” He really didn’t mind and in addition to that, Raistlin could take leftovers home to his roommate - because it wasn’t like Jonathan or Vlad had any use for reheating dinner in Tupperware containers for lunch the next day. Then he took a few steps back, tipping an invisible hat in a gentlemanly exit. He blended into the shadows effortlessly, where he had made a new home and where he best belonged now, but he’d wait for Raistlin to get into his car and drive off safely before leaving. Just in case. You could never be too careful. Who knew what monsters were out there, lurking in the cover of darkness? |