And so it begins...
dhorreurs:
Philippe smiled, pleased to have found such a dedicated witch. He grew more confident in Constantine’s capabilities every day. “Don’t neglect your body, I need you at your best,” he said, running his fingertips along the edge of the table. The carvings were beautiful, Philippe almost regretted giving it away to Constantine’s work. God knew what’d happen to it once magic got involved. “The unconscious mind can make connections you are too busy thinking to consider. Give it a chance.”
He was amused by the lightness of his tone. Constantine was unafraid, more than that, he seemed to be comfortable around him. Philippe wondered if he’d ever fought off a vampire and won. That’d explain his lack of caution. That and the notion that he would be of no use to him dead. “That you do,” Philippe said, allowing his sight to wander along his neck. He’d love to sink his teeth into him, but a quick bite would make him no happier than their treasure hunt. He’d rather not lose a valuable asset over something as fickle as a craving.
Dead languages. He loved the name they’d been given for they lived only through the dead. The old ones, the Ancients, they often knew what the world thought lost. And he felt the weight of his age when Constantine handed him the page. Philippe creased his forehead as his eyes traveled down the text. “How did I miss this?” He wondered out loud, turning to give Constantine another look. “Most people would’ve suspected Gothic, not Vandalic.” The witch never ceased to amaze him.
“Impressive work, Constantin. My Vandalic is a little rusty, but I should be able to translate it. Just give me a minute,” he said, stepping away to grab a drink downstairs and some pen and paper on his way back. Philippe hoped the page would be useful, he did hate to waste his time. Settling into a seat, he started reading the page a second time, nursing a glass of blood that was still warm in one hand.
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” It was strange to get health advise from a vampire. Specially when he knew that said vampire wanted to eat him. Constantine wasn’t oblivious to the this fact and he wasn’t ignoring it either. He wasn’t so reckless as to come into a vampire’s home unprepared. He trusted that Philippe would respect his boundaries because he needed him, but at the same time he knew that vampires were not famous for being trustworthy. So he had a trick or two under his sleeve just in case Philippe decided he wanted to have a taste without asking or if he decided he didn’t need him anymore. Constantine enjoyed living on the edge though and being near someone so deadly was incredibly exhilarating. Why have a safe and comfortable life when he could be in constant danger, right?
Philippe seemed impress with his knowledge of dead languages and it only fueled his ego and his desire to learn more about these mysterious artifacts. He did feel rather embarrassed that he wasn’t as versed with this particular language and that he needed someone else to translate but at the same time he was happy to give Philippe something useful to do other than pace around and stare at him. Not that he minded the company but this was helpful. He watched as the vampire drank from the glass, blood coating his lips. “May I ask you something?” He interrupted him, taking a seat on the nearby armchair. “What is it like? Being immortal?”

















