Of Sanguine Disposition

Serafin · Mar 27, 2016

Mirak took a seat in a velvet chair in a warm part of the room, and put up his feet carefully on a small Baroque ottoman. From here he could listen to the excited drone of the party, certainly. He scratched under his chin automatically, as he pondered his successes in the previous social encounters. It was good to make friends, and contacts, and to learn about people, but one must never get too anchored to a conversation. And so polite exits were prepared. Here he would contemplate his next introduction.

The young captain caught a small glimpse of his reflection in the glass of rouge sherry in his hand. What he saw reassured him, slightly. His hair was not immaculate, but tousled just-so to look as if he had woken up with it beautifully straight and untangled, if not curated. His ruby earring was just the right shade to reflect brightly in the glass, and so was his smoking jacket. It would be hard not to be confident looking one's sharpest.

He took a great breath, and swirled his reflection into nothingness. Faces flickered through his head as his mnemonics matched each of them to a name, and, as he rehearsed his next friendly how-do-you-dos, he sipped patiently from the glass, scanning the room mildly for another kind (or perhaps, unkind?) visage to greet.

A shepherd can't watch over a flock he doesn't know, Mirak mused.

Mertiya · Mar 27, 2016

The slightly dimmed lights matched the slight, welcome haze that was beginning to drop over Damian's perceptions as he downed his third beer with just a shade too much focus and eagerness. There was a buzzing, burning fear itching at the back of his mind, but he'd been in the library too long, tracking down yet another idea that had turned out to be a dead end. Of course. As usual. He shook his head slightly. Maybe being drunk wasn't going to cut it tonight, maybe he'd need more of a distraction to chase away the shadowy cobwebs of fear burning at his brain.

He scanned the crowd. Still didn't know enough people here, and besides that, he didn't, technically speaking, have an invitation, which meant he should probably attach himself to someone before he got thrown out.

Far from the center of the room, he caught sight of a figure sitting in a large, imposing armchair, light glittering off a glass of ruby liquid in his hand. His first brief glance across the crowded room was enough to make Damian gasp and shudder, but a second look told him the liquid was probably wine. There was no unnatural pallor about the other man that might suggest the kind of being Damian would claw off his own arm to avoid. Still, the sight was suggestive enough to make him uneasy, and, irritated at his own cowardice, he found his feet moving him across the room toward the man in the chair. Good-looking, Damian thought, almost clinically, and he surreptitiously undid the top button of his loose black shirt.

"Hey," he said, leaning down across the chair. "So, uh, you're not a vampire, right?"

Serafin · Mar 27, 2016

Mirak turned to the stranger, more than a little amused. His face returned pleasant curiosity to his new acquaintance's confusion. Perhaps, if he has no smile, I will give him mine, he thought.

"Vampires? Why, no, friend. Blood's an acquired taste, to be sure, but I don't usually drink it."

Mirak stood, as was his custom, and with a small smoothing of his jacket, exchanged the glass to his left hand, and offered his right warmly, gently beckoning with two fingers for a handshake.

"Mirak Aquila, captain of Lastwall, hunter of night creatures. The pleasure will certainly be mine."

Mertiya · Mar 27, 2016

Reassured and not particularly wanting to admit he felt reassured, Damian took Mirak's hand in his, holding on a touch longer than was entirely necessary.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "You can call me Damian, refugee of Kentucky, I guess." He grinned, letting his eyes flicker up and down Mirak's form briefly. "Good party," he said, taking a swallow of his beer. He was beginning to wish he'd chosen a stronger drink. "Are these common? I'm kinda new."

Not quite the time to mention I'm also lacking an invitation, he cautioned himself.

Serafin · Mar 27, 2016

Mirak slowly slipped his hand out of Damian's grasp, pausing momentarily to run his fingertips across the palm of his hand, before motioning to sit in the adjacent chair, and sitting tentatively himself. A handsome enough fellow, if a little scruffy, and maybe not quite fed enough, he evaluated.

He had noted the gentleman's initial glances, and, not being able to tell paranoia from a genuine assessment, consciously settled on giving him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps a touch of wit and the Goddess' kindness would settle his nerves.

"Frequent, yes. Common, no. You of course find yourself in the company of the greatest artists and" — here he nodded, slightly, as if to acknowledge himself before continuing — "sufficiently personable dilettantes that Julian Antoinette has recognized. I would presume to flatter you, but your presence here is flattery enough. It is an excellent invitation. And you are most certainly not common."

With this notional advance, Mirak shifted to the side, propping up his elbow beneath the sherry glass, leaning in to the conversation, and then crossed his legs above the knee. "So, Damian. What brings you to this lovely gathering? Are you an appreciator, or an artist?"

Mertiya · Mar 27, 2016

Damian smiled carelessly and let himself sink on the arm of the chair, leaning over so that he was crowding Mirak a little, but not so much that he was really intruding into the other man's personal space. "Oh, I'm very much an appreciator," he said lightly. "I wish I could be an artist, but I've never had much chance to learn."

He couldn't tell yet whether Mirak was being interested or just polite, and he probably should test the waters a little more before assuming anything. He wasn't keen on getting beaten up before getting thrown out, and that had certainly happened more than once.

"So, are you a--student? Townsfolk? Something else?"

Serafin · Mar 27, 2016

Mirak's eyes widened, but his posture remained forward. He didn't know if he should be embarrassed to make this confession, but he was going to make it anyway, in the interest of honesty.

"Uh, I'm a student, yes, actually. When I came to..."

He paused.

"Visit this plane, I received an invitation to the Academy. I've had lots of good opportunity for martial training, but I'd always wanted the chance to learn more about the divine arts. You know, evocation, thaumaturgy, professional education, that sort. So I'm starting classes here very soon, and making the best of my free time."

He swirled his glass as the next beat dropped. He considered asking the young man about his studies, but thought almost immediately of a better icebreaker, and withdrew a crystal flask, about half-full, from under the table, and an identical glass. Damian still seemed a little bit tense, as if he were ready to run away, or pounce, or... something. If kindness did't put him at ease, perhaps this would.

"Beer is nice, several varieties here, but... you seem... hm. Would you care for some fortified wine?" he grinned out, full well knowing the answer.

Mertiya · Mar 27, 2016

"Fuck yeah," Damian sighed. "Much better than beer. I'd love some."

A good sign, probably. He finished off the last of his beer and set the empty can on the ground at his feet, biting his lip. The same damn nerves he'd come here to quiet down had flared up again in the back of his head. He just couldn't quite read Mirak's intentions yet. Talking around things seemed like the easiest solution.

"I'm a student, too," he said carelessly. "Mostly interested in demonology. It's going to be the most valuable study for my future, I think. As for the rest of it--well, it's interesting." What little he'd seen of it was, certainly. "So..." he cocked an eyebrow upward, shoving the nerves down once again. "You trying to get me drunk here or just being friendly?" His voice came out laced with a twist of mockery, but maybe not a subtle amount of interest as well.

Serafin · Mar 27, 2016

Mirak smiled, sweetly. His gambit was taken.

Putting aside momentarily the struggles that would arise from befriending a demonologist, and any questions of motive — surely motive is flexible, certainly one would be a good influence — he decided to respond with candor.

"Let's answer that with 'yes and yes', then." He topped off his glass, and poured Damian's at an angle, so as not to sweeten it with too much air. Holding the bowl of the glass rather than the stem to keep it lukewarm, he offered it to Damian, while lifting his own.

Then, he locked eyes. "To new friends. Cheers?"

Mertiya · Mar 27, 2016

Damian, not expecting the eye contact, had to take a moment, but he managed to hold Mirak's gaze before letting his own slide away as he took the glass himself. "Cheers." He swirled the glass several times, letting the dim swarms of light dance through it, then drank all of it off at once, which he was pretty sure hadn't been the intent, but fuck it.

The alcohol burned going down his throat, dropping into his stomach and sending warmth tingling up through his limbs. He leaned forward, almost forgetting the glass as he did so, and now he probably was invading Mirak's personal space. Oh, well. Again, fuck it.

"I can be friendly, too." The damn Kentucky twang was coming out again, the way it always did when he was drunk, or getting there. Damian hated sounding like a hick, hated even more hearing the flat, measured sounds of his childhood. He shook his head, trying to keep his mind from fleeing back, and anchored it in the present instead, by laying a hand on Mirak's warm, solid shoulder.

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Of Sanguine Disposition

Serafin

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Mertiya

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Serafin

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Mertiya

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Serafin

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Mertiya

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Serafin

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Mertiya

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Serafin

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Mertiya

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