[CLOSED] Sympathy for the Devil

Sarai had gotten in the good graces of the old man through luck. His mother, a fetish witch, was long lost, but had singlehandedly raised him, here, outside the community. He knew well the danger of being an outsider, and she had been his guide through life, until she wasn't. Sarai didn't have to talk to understand it all the signs were there in the house. Old things, cared for and preserved, the portrait and clothes as well, a few female garments were still in the back of the wardrobe, particularly some finery which belonged some 50 years ago.

Sarai knew this was a thin hold, if she didn't nurture what they had, it might wither and die, and she was not ready to simply dispose of him, she still felt like it was relevant that the luck had been by his side.

So, she came up with the idea to preserve the memory of his mother, an impossible task, she's gone after all, but she was a vampire, already existing on the other side, and while she's just a neonate, she knew well the versatility of disciplines and magics.

Auspex, she knew held the power to read memories from old items, things that left an impression, and she would use this to get waht she needed.

Obviously just "sensing" hat the mother looked like is no help, she needed the one who did this to be an artist and draw a proper colored portrait, something more than just this graphite sketch.

Convincing the old man to take along the painting was not going to be easy, she couldn't explain it all anyway, except "I'm a witch and I know magic" but it was the singlehandedly best expanation a vampire could ever get to rely on.

Technically that too should be kept a secret, but he was already on the inside of it, being part of the legacy. And part of her wondered if she could learn more from him, or more correctly his mother. But that was for  future in which she had gained his loyalty. This would go a long way she thought.

Slowly he nodded in agreement, he was worried, he didn't understand why she needed it, but she knew what it meant. The old man started to wonder if he had made a critical decision too fast when he took her in? What did he know about her anyway? But, she was convincing and she had the spark, he knew that much, that alone was enough to remind him of his mother.

Sarai came home finally, the painting under her arm, a trophy in more than one way, her gamble to involve a Toreador had paid off, and now she had the final bridge between her and Miquel.

She opened the door, needing to push it open because of the big frame. It was huge, actually, covering the better part of a wall. But it would get a good place to rest.

"Sarai?" The old man asked, it was late... or early, one might say, and she had expected to wake him up for this, but on the other hand, he must've picked up on the occasion beforehand. He shuffled closer to the door and smiled wide as he saw her, to him of course, it was a matter of relief, the doubts had been there, a strange woman, she had spun his head around no doubt, he's still a man after all, but how would it all end up? Was she just after a place to live? But here she was, the tenuous connection to his mother has finally shone through the admittedly strange patchwork of a woman he'd gotten to know.

She was crazy, and not just in a cute way, he'd seen the signs, the pale skin, the predatory traits. It had scared him witless when he first realized it, but then, somehow, he was ... safe? She never did anything but treat him as another decent human being would, and the promise of something related to his mother kept his quiet, after all what did he have to live for except another day at this point?

They carried the painting to the wall, he'd prepared a hanging spot, and had hammer and nail ready. An old tool, well worn, just like its owner.

They hung up the painting, and he feels something. He's moved? This is his mother, not the harangued woman who raised him, but the adored, strong woman who she really was.

In a way, it was strange for him to see this side of her, as her son, but it didn't deter him, rather it gave it a wholesome distance to the subject. He could now rest easy somehow, knowing his mother had been restituted in their home, the gossip was a thing of the past, but her past endured! He reached over and squeezes Sarai's shoulder, overcome with emotions.

Miquel tells her: "I thank you Sarai, I wasn't sure what you could bring, I knew you'd bring something, but... this is more than I imagined." he thinks about asking her, but the danger stifles the words in his throat, she treats him humanely, but what if his questions were to unmask a monster? No, he's fine like this.

"I'd offer you some breakfast, but you usually want to sleep at this hour don't you?" he says, somehow unable to let go of his morbid curiosity, she lives during the night. He's seen her during the night, like a shade of life lingering in the dark, no life to her at all.

Sarai: "Actually, why don't we sit up and talk you and I? It's time we cleared a few things up."  she says seriously. He realizes that she can in fact stay up then, right she has before. The curiosity wins over. He looks her in the eyes, an old man with little to lose: "An honest talk then?" he says, unable to hide his elation.

"An honest talk." She agrees, and they take a seat.

(to be continued)

The twosome sit by the square wooden table, big enough for one to eat at, Miquel didn't use to hav ea need for more, and Sarai didn't eat much, so it stayed. She sat down in front of him, a beautiful, scary and altogether strange being to him.

Sarai had given him more than she had taken at this point, sure he gave her a roof over her head, but she brought back the esteem of his dead mother. somehow. He wanted to know more about that, but he was not sure how long she would entertain his curiosity, should he ask her about.... her first?

Sarai grimaced out of boredom, the gesture of the painting was a nice enough moment, but the constant hand-wringing was annoying her: "Go on then, we don't have all day, besides you need to board up that window very soon." she says curtly.

Miquel scrambles to get up the covers, somehow the tension breaks a bit as he reaches to close up and he lets his first question drop: "Why did you end up here with me?" he blurted out, somehow self aware too late about it. His eyes boring into the wall and window ahead of him, too scared to meet her face.

"The magic guided me here, I needed a place to stay."

He hammered the cloth in, then turned around: "The magic chose me?"

"I think it felt the energies your mother left behind, it was the best place for me to settle down and grow, I already have learned how to enchant like she did, well not all of it, but in time..."

He nodded, and understood, his mother was central to all of this, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, she was strong with her magics to be able to shape such an event. He went back to the table, fumbling after the spine of the chair in the darkness. Sarai too didn't see too well, although she was habituated to the dark.

He changed his mind as he was sitting down, and got a candle instead, lighting in in between them. Sarai handled it fine, but as she flame sat there in between them, Miquel could see that, a semblance of life was back in her eyes, as if the flame mattered to her, for real.

He chuckled at his own stymied approach, he had a chance here to ask a strange being what he wanted and he can't think of anything! Is he still scared?

"I don't know what to ask, I am afraid I might upset you, with the things I've seen..." he says

Inside Sarai the beast growls, the candle was like a statement clearly! Come no closer! Well the old man will get his due in good time!

Sarai could only agree, the old man wouldn't have much time yet, not compared to her, but the beasts visceral aspirations were probably going to fall flat, though she expected that perhaps at some point the kind thing might just be to exsanguinate the old coot before the pain of living becomes too much.

"I wont get mad, I've said we should talk, I want you to be comfortable in knowing at least, but you will have to ask, so ask, you know, don't you? You always do?"

Miquel smiled at that. Yes they had become to know each other, slowly but surely, the habits, the unsightly parts. Even such things as reserved for family.

"You're not a timid woman, I've seen you change clothes right in front of me. I know I am just an old man, you've nothing to fear, but I had thought most would cover themselves. You didn't you never do, and when you do something that feels natural, it... it's as if it's not natural to you but rather intentional ... and you..." he paused, unsure how to continue.

"You seem to carry yourself with pride, but you can do things that are, strange, I saw the smear of blood on your cheek one night, you must've eaten raw meat, I could smell it on you."

"I would ask about it, but I have no idea what to ask! Are you... human?"

Sarai's laughter clucked through the house: "I think perhaps you're right Miquel, I am so used to being me that I forgot how strange it might be. Very well, I used to be human. Now I am, different."

She reaches out her hands to take his, and he lets her hold his frail appendage willingly.

"I don't eat meat, I only drink the blood, but I prefer it raw." she says, seeing the revulsion in his eyes

"But that would make you a... vampire?!" he says it finally. She suspected he'd had the thought many times, but refused to acknowledge it, just like the masquerade intended. Good on you Camarilla.

His hand stiffens in hers for a second, but she holds it still. "You're right, but vampires are a myth, what you might think you know of them could easily be wrong."

Miquel was conflicted, he had hoped it wasn't this, his mother wouldn't approve, not of this! Would she? Did it matter? She was gone, it was up to him, he was no longer alone, he had a friend, even if she did drink blood.

"Do you kill people?" he couldn't help himself but ask, if innocents were on the line, he told himself he'd do something about this, that's the line he cannot cross!

Sarai: "I have the potential to kill, but I am not a slave to my desires, I do as I please, sometimes that means the death of another, but because I decided they had it coming, just like any human might. I generally don't just murder people though, but I have, and I will, when the occasion calls for it."

"I let you live, and the villagers below, because I don't wish to surround myself with death, this is my new home, but I do seek out blood, further away, at times, and I will show you what it means, to sate your curiosity." she lifted his wrist and leaned in closer. Miquel grew pale with the thought, he was curious but he didn't ask for this, but then again he trusted her. He might've said no, but he held his peace and let it happen. Her fangs appeared, subtle and as natural as a cat's claws. He expected her heated breath against his skin, but there was nothing, an echo of life, but as she pierced his skin, oh!

Oh! The rush of the blood, the moment of pain exchanged with such peace, no, not peace, it was a tender embrace, in the back of his mind he railed against what happened, this was not natural, there would be consequences! But he sat there peacefully and enjoyed this. Yes truly, he hadn't felt any enjoyment like this in years, save for when she restored his mother to memory. But this was more corporeal, less spiritual. The realization dawned on him then, why vampires can exist, they can manipulate the humans senses, they are made for this, but why?

She drank only enough to let him feel the sensation of it, knowing even he will be fine by tomorrow, then she licked the wound and put down his wrist again.

"That was, at least not so painful as I might've thought" he uttered out loud as his other hand wringed around the sucked wrist, it searched for an opening, a scar, something, but there was nothing there, not even pain.

Sarai cocked her head as if saying; see I told you so. Miquel relaxed his arms on the table and refocused his efforts. He had more questions.

I the next few hours, she told him about what it meant to be a vampire, showing him how they can heal wounds, telling him about mimicking human pules, warmth and even sexual relations if they want to. He found it mostly funny. Why would a predator want to have sex with its prey?

So she told him, about the depravities, the intricacies of a hedonist lifestyle, why naked and vulnerable were no longer concepts that had any human meaning to her anymore. She told him of how some might use sex as a way to get a chance to feed, and that even vampires can decide to have a relation, and enjoy it.

"I don't feel like I can understand such a distant perspective, I may be old but to live without passion is not to live at all, even you must want something, is it truly just blood you crave?"

Sarai leaned back, it was an interesting question, after all any vampire would have to say yes, but it wasn't the whole truth. There was the myth of Golconda, separating oneself from the hunger, a self-discipline approach. then there was the roads and the paths, which were also something that a vampire might strive for, a way to keep the self. Most vampires struggled with their beasts, she was an exception of course, because she understood her own beast, and they got along quite well.

"I think there's more that a vampire could want, just like a human want more than material things and food. We tend to our spirit and to our bodies, the blood keeps us alive like food does you. It's just vastly more limited, but I think that's because we drink of a being, not just the fluids in themselves, there must be something in it that has meaning to us, at least I think so. Some of us can live off animals you know. But they don't taste the same, and you get hungrier faster."

Miquel leaned back in his chair and breathed, all this information was wearing him down, somehow he missed the excitement of not knowing, becasue there was no sliver lining to any of this. Predators existed, they had lives of their own, they couldn't be just 'monsters' based on what he now knew, they were not human, but certainly persons still. Individuals with their own ... not lives? Deaths?

"I need to have more to eat, I guess you already had some, would you like me to try and get you some more?" he asked, it was only polite to offer food after all.

"I can wait, maybe we'll arrange dinner? I live animal could go a long way for me, you could rig traps in the hills."

He smiled, yes that was true, she could eat with him, and they could share that much at least. IT comforted him, these similarities. So he got started on the breakfast.. Oh gosh, time flies, it's almost lunchtime!

With lunch followed a bit of a break, Sarai continued with her training and her bracelet reminded her of her sibling, a quiet nice break from all the questions. Until Miquel awoke once more, rested and rejuvenated.

He sits on the edge of the bed and wonders, if she tells him all this, she puts herself in terrible danger, what if he told everyone? He'd doom himself for sure, but.. it meant that she trusted him. Which was a nice feeling, it meant that it wasn't just one sided.

"I was wondering, all of those things you mentioned with your sire, the... sex stuff. You uh, seem to recall enjoying parts of it, as you said, but now you don't? Were you not a vampire back then too?" he asked, finding that particular shift peculiar. She almost made an effort coming off as uninterested.

Sarai pursed her lips in thought. This, sounded correct, like he pointed something out about herself she was not so much aware of. She didn't enjoy all that happened, but some of it was nice, great even. It must be because of her road, how her outlook changed.

"When a vampire is first turned, we remain human in our feelings and out outlook, but in time we learn more about our nature and such things change, the things that happened to me expediated the process maybe, I think that was his intent. He didn't do it to do me harm, and because of the blood bond, I wanted to please him too, at least somewhat."

Miquel: "I think perhaps you should try to reconnect to more of that, you might nt be alive, but you probably need passion and meaning as much as I do. Do you read?"

Sarai smirks: "I can read, yes, what, do you suggest we start a book club?"

Miquel: "I think something like that is still enjoyable, and perhaps not something he managed to distance you from, or, perhaps something like singing even?"

Sarai shook her head; "No he had me sing too, he'd dress me up and invite people to come and watch..."

Miquel raises his hands and waved away her comment, he didn't need to hear the gory details.

"Music then?" he wondered, his eyes bright with inquisitive glee.

"Alright, yes music, I guess, there's no harm in that." she folded, not willing to admit to this theory of his, the beast was confused, and that can't be a good thing.

Soon they looked at an old notebook filled with folksy songs, and he didn't have any fine instruments, but a flute was there at least and he played it for her, she sang along, training her Catalan in the process, though she didn't feel like this awoke any particular feelings in her, she was dead inside after all.

She did notice her foot tapping along though, and the laughter that came when he played the third verse wrong for the third time, was genuine. But so what? She didn't always do everything with intent, that's just... becasue she was a predator, she understood her beast, it was her nature to be.. aware.

Letting go, and just enjoying yourself, well that's what sheep did. And sheep were food for someone else.

She told herself these things as she danced for him as well. She wasn't very good at it, but he liked it nonetheless. Not just like her sire used to, though she could tell he could tell that gleam in the eye was there  as well.

By the time the day came to an end, Miquel arranged a meal together, a raw hare for her to ... drink? and he cooked the meat. It was more complicated and filled with work than he liked to think, but it was worth it to spend some time in each others company.

Then he retired and Sarai let him drift off to sleep.