“Do you have photos?” Skye asked eagerly, practically rolling at her imagination’s conjuring of Atlas without his luscious locks. “Well. I’m still wearing a flapper dress if the prohibition comes along, can’t stop me. Celebrating the freedom and all. Plus I look damn good.” It wasn’t that she’d dismissed Atlas’ history lesson–Skye had a habit of absorbing his random bits of trivia and experience, tucked them away in the depths of her memory, a hidden smirk of just awe every time that Atlas knew so much and her so little. As though she remembered just how old he was–a teacher and their student.
‘Have you forgotten I’m nocturnal and you my dear are not?’ A scoff falls from Skye’s lips, arms folding over her chest and pouting, not offended in the least but playing up the ‘hurt’. If anything to win their current banter. “Technically, I’m not a slave to the moon like the bitten, but technically I’m nocturnal. Half-nocturnal.” Snickering at the question of a Snuggie, Skye made a lips-are-sealed motion and gave a enigmatic shrug. “Guess I know what I’m getting you for your belated Valentine’s Day gift.” Untraditional, perhaps, but now she had all the more reason to purchase him one that was pink.
She then shot Atlas a smirk at the thought of marriage. “Is that your proposal? Here I thought I’d have this lavish display of something old and traditional, a flair of the dramatic. You’d at least get down on one knee.” An up-down glance at him before pretending to cold shoulder, a cascade of mahogany locks over her shoulder from the flip of her hair. If given the opportunity, Ske would’ve married Atlas–keep him in her life forever, never thinking or imagining the day they’d part. Skye was convinced, just as spontaneously as he’d showed up in her life, that he would always be there no matter what–never thinking that he could just as easily disappear. “’Course you can wear the dress, don’t be silly. You can even pick out my wedding attire.” She did, secretly, thrive when Atlas or anyone picked out anything for her. Relishing in the attention, a game of who knew her better than herself, sympathetic toward those that tried and didn’t succeed.
As Atlas spoke, Skye considered the idea, shifting not something that had ever really appealed to her–preferring to be whole rather than half within any species. “That’d be such a dangerous ability for us…” A mischievous smirk curled on her lips at the thought, scenarios dancing through her mind and chuckling to herself. “He has every opportunity to do that, doesn’t he? But he wouldn’t.” There was a sincerity, knowledge in Skye’s response, just as Atlas knew Seamus wouldn’t either. Adopting Seamus as her pseudo-brother along with Zoey, Skye had had no doubts or hesitations to do so. A bond between them from being lost, unaccepted, darkness residing that threatened to consume and drown them, respectful in giving the other space. But all Skye wanted to do was be the lifeboat Seamus needed, that between the two, if they were both drowning, could manage to wade the waters for him. Detached, as they were, but Skye was trying to prove that above all else, she was someone Seamus could rely on.
‘What now’ should always be followed with ‘another round’. Skye laughed, recalling scenarios she’d been given the opportunity and kicking them out instead in an effort to self-preserve and to sever anything that might’ve tethered them. For them to become a regular occurrence, to last longer than a flavor of the week was almost impossible for Skye to consider, afraid of herself getting too attached. Used to doing the rejecting now than being the rejected. “I prefer spontaneous encounters. If it’s meant to happen, I’ll make it happen.” Not exactly spontaneous then, was it? Work was just the outlet she needed again, to lose herself in the moments, to live for the night. “I suppose I can take time out of my busy day.” Teasing, Skye had rolled her eyes as though she were doing Atlas a favor. But he knew she’d be there. “Do you have a new cocktail to debut after the closure?” Figured that might’ve been what Atlas had been doing in his free time.
“I had no idea.” The response Atlas uttered caused Skye’s lips to press together in a thin line, knowing that her attempt of comfort hadn’t worked. She hated having inexperience, in life, supernatural or not. She was a competitor that thrived on winning, hated losing, even if she acted like she didn’t care about any of it. Quiet now as Atlas continued, unable to fathom the emptiness of longing–or she was able to, at least somewhat. A part of her that couldn’t be filled, no matter how much she wished, how much she trained–she’d never be whole. Atlas too was without that fulfillment in his own life, a piece of him unable to be filled. But they weren’t comparable, at the same time–entirely different feelings of emptiness than one another. Her natural joking would’ve taken hold with anyone else, but at a loss for words, Skye felt numb in the moment, breath caught in her throat, almost swelled, as though she wanted to cry for Atlas. Ridiculous, wasn’t it?
And sat there thinking–wishing there was a cure just for Atlas and other vampires that felt the same to be able to have what they wanted: a choice. Become human again, to live and then die, or remain as they were. To grow old with someone. Skye would age. Anyone Atlas knew that wasn’t a vampire would ultimately die–and he’d gone through his entire existence experiencing it. Death appearing just to drop their scythe and claim souls while leaving Atlas by the wayside. Meanwhile the other side of the scale was almost a complete balance of the reasons why Atlas couldn’t. ‘I would do it if Bash did.’ An averted gaze, soft smile there on her lips. “Surely if you were the one to offer it to him he’d take it.” It was another moment of envy, an unsettling jealousy that Skye found herself feeling toward Bash–wondering if there’d be anyone who felt so fiercely as Atlas did for the other vampire for her. A dawning realization of heartbreak on her end experiencing it first-hand when Atlas had been separated from Bash. Knowing in her heart that if anything were to happen, if both were in the face of danger, that Atlas would save the other, and Skye would silently agree for him to do so. Morbid thoughts–but it was simply how they were, and Skye knew this. A connection that was stronger than what her and Atlas shared, and Atlas was the one to teach her that love was the most powerful emotion.
A soft intake of breath–the question poised to her in turn. A conversation that, under normal circumstances, having not gone through what they’d all gone through, Skye would’ve said hell yes. “It’s tempting, the idea of remaining beautiful forever.” A stall, purposeful and deliberate as she thinks of an answer. “My thoughts are similar to yours–but I don’t know if I even want children,” Wondering if she’d flee, become too overwhelmed at the thought of motherhood, disappear entirely from their lives. “–but you know how stubborn I can be if I can’t have something I want.” The smirk she manages doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’d…it’d be something that was mine though, wouldn’t it?” Atlas knew, on equal lines of Ally, just how much she loathed being a halfling, the be part of something but never entirely. Weak and never complete. “Like Kaleidoscope…that’s mine. Something I chose–” At first an escape, being a bartender at 32, circumstances that stemmed from rebelling against her father for the daughter he’d also had prior. “I’d have a world I belonged to entirely.” No longer part of one or the other, no longer divided in the middle, not quite fitting into either side. “Why? Are you offering?” Skye asked lightly, realizing now she didn’t know Atlas’ circumstances, in an attempt to clear the mood she’d unintentionally blanketed between them.
"No." Yes, but he wasn't about to go pulling them out. Just as he wouldn't share the photo of him and Bash in the 80s when Atlas convinced him to dress up as punks in London. It was a look neither would go on to revisit, but a memory locked away somewhere in one of his many photo albums. A strip from a small booth they'd slipped into at one point, holding up middle fingers and sticking their tongues out. It was ridiculous, and perfect all at one. Even the memory of it pushes away any nasty ones from his shaven head days. "You look good in anything," he points out as if it was an obvious fact she looked good in a flapper dress. He'd yet to see something she couldn't work. She could even pull off the colour yellow, a shade not made for everyone.
"Half-nocturnal? So... fairly mundane?" Atlas wishes he has a cup of coffee to hide his smug grin, knowing it would only draw further reaction from his companion. Confusion won over his smile though, unsure what she was talking about and why she would not elaborate. Feeling as though he had no choice once she had decided it would be gifted to him he let out an over the top sigh looking at her "if you must I suppose I shall accept such a gift." If only he knew what to expect.
"I may be old but do you think of me as traditional?" Truth be Atlas would at least have a ring to give, even if it was one of the many he wore on his hand. Perhaps if he ever did propose he may get on his knee, but he thought it would come more of a natural moment, whispered between them as he passed his ring over. He ignored the fact he'd given Bash a ring in a similar manner, knowing in that moment it had been a different context completely. "So monkey costumes it is?" he jokes before turning more serious on the subject. One day he would probably go to her wedding, if she did wish for one. "I could see you in a wedding dress. Something with an open back... flowing with delicate features. Hair up but not in a bun... maybe like curls cascading down in some sort of up do. Oh and one of those skirt overlaps that come off so the dress is shorter of dancing in." Sure, he could see her in a tuxedo with clean lines and maybe lace shirt underneath or an open blouse, but something about her in a dress basically floating on her body felt right. A gentle, romantic side of her, one not everyone was lucky to see.
"I think he wants us to trust that he wouldn't unless he needed to. If he suddenly shifted we should be worried, you know? Almost like a secret password to say he needs help." Atlas knew how much identity meant to Seamus, having calmed him through some of his troubles with it. He suspected it would be some time before he saw the young man shift again, and if he did it would draw questions as to why and if Seamus was okay. Thus why Atlas would assume Seamus was in some kind of trouble, perhaps even avoiding someone who could get them into trouble.
For the old vampire spontaneous just felt temporary, and after some time temporary was all he had. Everything he knew was always leaving him. Now there were a few lovers he held on to, not wanting to watch them walk away as if there was nothing between them. Sure, Atlas was not good at what came next, what most people would call relationships, but he knew returning to someone meant something. There were strangers in his bed, and then there were his lovers. Sahid as of late, Tuah for many years. Neither of them were temporary, even if it was over now. He rolls his eyes, moving pass the subject of sex to that of work. Somehow they both felt somewhat addictive. "I don't know, do we?" he returns to her, given she was his head bartender and often let her run wild with creativity behind the bar as long as the drinks tasted good and people kept coming back for more. "I'm sure between the two of us we can think up something."
"And that is how it should be." Atlas didn't wish upon anyone to have to think of the things people missed out on life when it was taken from them. He would never wish on her to deal with any of these issues as a mortal either. He is not alone in issues such as futility, and perhaps as a human he would have suffered them regardless. It was just a fact now, one he could not work around in any manner. Perhaps one day he would find strength in himself to adopt but raising a human came with risks of its own, and Atlas' mental state was not healthy to be around reckless children prone to injury. "It is something my kind do not talk often on. A subject to avoid unless you know the vampire well." A warning of sorts, not to upset those who have not come to accept their fate as he had. It was not an easy subject for him to talk on, he could not imagine a younger vampire only realizing such things now.
"As flattering as the thought is, I do think he would take it from others." Bash was older than Atlas, and had long lost a spark in him that made him strive for more in his life. Atlas knew how tired the vampire was, how he ached from his past mistakes and horrors. Though he suspected if Bash was given a cure he would first offer it to another, selfless as always, but ultimately he thought the man would take it. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was bias, thinking Bash deserved that choice, but either way it saddened him to think about. Humanity meant living, truly living, but in the end it also meant death was unavoidable, and this earth would lose something more special than people realised. "But, there is no cure for what we are. At least here in Astoria we can pretend... blend easier, live more openly. It's nice after all this time. So at least there's that." He smiles, trying to make light of the darkening subject matter.
Her breath tells him he's caught her off guard. Something he didn't often do. "As if you wont already remain beautiful forever," he taps his temple "already have you saved for eternity up here." Flirting aside he listens to her thoughts, unpacking what it would mean for her if she ever offered to be turned willingly. "You don't have to have them. No one does." Atlas wanted her to know it was a valid option in life, especially now more than ever. They were still in an era where it was somewhat expected but it was not unusual for people to go without children, even without marriage or partners. The blueprint on life was being rewritten, with a million different versions for people to decide from. It was rather liberating, and Atlas could not wait to see what came from it in the future. Something that was all mine. Atlas was not unfamiliar with the struggles Skye had as a half-ling, though he could not understand it directly he understood she struggled with it. Something in him swelled with pride, perhaps joy too, when she mentioned the club, claiming it as hers. "Yes," he nods as she continues to elaborate. "Not to get too sappy on you but you belong to my world. Entirely so. It would feel wrong without you in it." Maybe it wasn't the same thing but he wanted to remind her she had a place, even if it was with one old man who filled his wine glasses with blood most days. Atlas chuckles, his eyes flicking to her neck momentarily before he says "not today" as if one day he might.
