SUMMARY: Mikolaj meets Alexander about a job regarding the death of his friend.
The air was filled with the raucous voices, loud Celtic music and the smell of tasty, fried food and good alcohol. “Hello Alexander,” Gabrielle, someone he had met not too long ago greeted him and spoke fluently, with the slightest hint of a french accent. She was rather attractive for a vampire, with black as-night hair that cascaded down to her shoulders and starkly white skin. She looked as though she had been carved out of marble and her eyes were a deep sapphire blue. “Gabrielle, what brings you here?” He acknowledged her, taking a sip of his drink warming his throat on its way to his gut. “Looking for you. I have someone who might benefit from your particular talents.”
He chuckled in a raspy bark of a laugh and she responded by smiling darkly back at him, revealing pearly white fangs that would normally send chills rattling down people’s bones. “Well, where is this someone?” As the words left his lips he noticed the shadowy figure standing a few feet away, waiting to be asked to join the table. “He’s been asking around for information regarding some - murder. I figured you might want to hear him out.” She figured? This was not the first time Gabrielle brought him a client and he had the slight suspicion that it wouldn’t be the last. “10%. That is if I’m even interested in taking it.” The annoyance that pours out of her heavy scoff reminded Alexander of his mother and how aggravated he got each time he disobeyed her. “You’re a cheap ass, you know that? Remind me why I keep bothering with you?” Alexander grins, taking yet another sip of his bourbon. “Because it keeps me off your back? Now get him over here before I decide not to bother at all.”
Mikolaj couldn't describe what it felt like to be on the other end of the line when the news of Anne Marie's death was delivered. The hollow silence that stretched itself across the room, swallowing an otherwise average, uneventful evening. Grief was a maddening feeling, a monster snaking through the veins, vengeful and poisonous. From that moment on, all he could think about was finding out who and why. He didn't need to think about what he would do to the culprit once he found them, that he already knew fairly well.
White Crest was just as he remembered from the last time he had visited her, odd and somewhat ill-fitted, like a mismatched piece in the great puzzle of their world. Anne Marie had made that sound like an upside. She was good at that, finding beauty in terrible things. Her optimism had cost her her very own life, and with it his already fragile peace of mind. Ever since his arrival, Mikolaj had started a relentless pursuit for information, but of course a place like White Crest was full of dead ends, and an astounding lack of solid answers.
After much frustration, he came across Gabrielle, a beautiful vampiress who promised him she knew just who would be able to solve all his problems. He wasn't so naive that he believed her, but certainly impatient enough to give anything a chance.
That was how he ended up in some hole in the wall late at night, making his way through a crowd of drunken degenerates to a table at the back. Gabrielle asked him to wait and while he did, Mikolaj glanced around the bar, attempting to disguise his distaste for their surroundings. It was too crowded, loud and lively in there for him, and he was relieved to see the vampiress approaching, his patience already thinning from standing around in unease.
Displeased as he was, Mikolaj took a seat across from the stranger and looked him dead in the eye. He seemed to be perfectly human with a sharp gaze and even sharper features, but you could never really tell in White Crest, specially now that his family seemed to drop like flies. "Alexander Cain," he finally greeted him, stoic and rigid, "I'm told you are the man to see when you need something found." Mikolaj assumed the man knew perfectly well he meant not something, but someone. Removing the leather gloves that cased his touch, he continued, "If that holds any truth, then I have a job for you." At last he stretched out a hand to shake his and said, "I'm Mikolaj Balik."
Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still hear his father’s voice booming in his ears. The raspy, monotone delivery of each word. Each syllable. Alexander was six years old when he first learned of the existence of vampires and how they were ‘despicable creatures who needed to be expunged from this earth’. Oh, if only he could see his son now. Meeting up with vampires in pubs. His father had a particular distaste for ‘Fangs’. There was a moment there when he had made him proud but even Liam Cain had his limits. Even he knew where to draw the line between hunting and murder.
Hunting was never meant to be a sport. It wasn’t meant to be fun yet Alexander had developed a taste for it. Nothing personal, he would tell himself and those who ended up on the sharp end of his blade or his stake. And as the years passed he discovered that there were plenty of opportunities out there. That killing left and right may not be the most constructive way to use his talents and so he began doing this. However, taking jobs from vampires was rare and not because of some ridiculous leftover notion but because vampires were usually not lining up to approach him.
Patience was not his virtue yet he had learned to practice it and so he waited for the vampire to join him on the table. Like in a movie, he stepped out of the shadows and he now resembled something from a Caravaggio painting. Hash light, complete shadow, expressive face. At the sound of his name he offered a half smile. “That’s me.” He watched him, trying to get a sense of who he was in spite of what he was. Of course he could not help but notice an air of pomposity as Mikolaj removed his gloves and introduced himself. The hand that was offered to him was remarkably pale, marble like. After a brief pause he finally grabbed it to give it a firm shake and squeeze. “Balik? Polish, I’m assuming?” With a wave of his hand he caught the attention of one of the barmaidens so that she could refill his drink and get his ‘new friend’ a drink of his own. “What are you having?”
Mikolaj watched the stranger as his face stretched into a half smile, noticing something oddly far west about it. There was a roughness to the sharp angles of his expression that made him look both elegant and dated, like a beautiful and yet yellowed black and white photograph. Cain was older than him, at least in appearance, and for a moment he wondered whether there was mockery in the curl of his lips. Either way, the man shook his hand, and that was enough for him then. "You assume correctly."
Before he could move into their business, Cain flagged down one of the barkeeps. "Stoli Elit," he said as the woman approached, "or any red wine if you don't have it." Since he wasn't there to drink, it didn't much matter in the end, though he did prefer his vodka. Once the drinks were set before them, Mikolaj reached for his glass with some amount of tentative satisfaction. If the place had Stoli, it couldn't be too bad. After taking a sip, he turned his gaze back to Cain. "White Crest is full of red tape. Everywhere I look, there are more non-answers and vagueries. I need someone who can cut corners and get me straight answers. Can you do that?"
Eyes narrowed when Mikolaj ordered his drink and he then proceeded to ask for another bourbon. There was a lot of frustration and sadness written all over the vampire’s face so even before he could get a word out, Alexander already knew that this was personal. Those types of jobs were a little more complicated due to the emotions involved. When someone hired him to capture a selkie so they could skin it or some generic beast to use in a magic ritual there were no feelings attached to the case. No, this was going to be different.
Once the drinks made it to the table Alexander reached for his glass and brought it to his lips while his ears perked up to listen to Mikolaj’s question. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I mean, why else would you be sitting here if you didn’t know the answer to that?” Alexander assumed that Mikolaj needed some type of confirmation from his lips in order to feel a little more hopeful. “Yes, I can do that.”
Curiosity really got the best of him sometimes. Frankly there were things he did and jobs he performed just to do them. Just to see if they were possible or if he could make it out of that situation in one piece. Dancing on that thin life between life and death always filled him with euphoria. Catching a vampire killer seemed a bit tedious in comparison to the many other jobs he has been paid to do but he was still willing to listen. Perhaps curiosity to work itself around him once again. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? Who are we looking for?”
Mikolaj didn't expect the vampiress to take him to someone efficient, and thus he wanted to hear from the man that he was indeed the man he needed. "That is what I've heard," he explained, "not what I know." There was a difference between the two, and Mikolaj certainly didn't believe anything he heard. Even as the man spoke, all he could learn was that Cain offered the kind of service he was looking for. Results weren't promised, it was a gamble, but one he was willing to make.
Looking down into his glass, he watched the vodka swirl around the rocks with the lightest twist of his wrist, and wondered where to start this at. "Two of my family have been murdered this past year. One right here in White Crest," Mikolaj explained, turning his gaze to the man. "I suspect they were targeted by the same killer. The police investigation has made little to no progress, and I believe it's a matter of time until he or she strikes again." It took him some amount of effort to suppress his anger, controlling his grip on the glass and the tightness in his jaw.
Swallowing down a generous drink of his Stoli, Mikolaj continued, "I haven't seen the deceased in a while. I need everything they have on her - witnesses, suspects, anything - a thread to pull.”
It was not a story he hadn’t heard before but he paid close attention anyway. Alexander could relate to that anger. The hopelessness one felt when placed between a rock and a hard place. One of the first lessons Alexander had learned was that true effectiveness could only be achieved by whomever was judging how effective something was. While this may have been more philosophical than he would have liked, when it came to practical hunter business it was true: if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.
“I have a few contacts so getting that information to you won’t be a problem.” Mikolaj was frustrated by the lack of efforts displayed by the police department so he could not blame him for wanting to take matters into his own hands. However, in order to get his revenge against the one responsible, he needed to be found first. Alexander’s low, malicious laugh bounced off the walls, and a grin worked its way across the edges of his face. “Are you planning on pulling this thread yourself? I don’t think you came to me just so I could give you a bunch of documents and call it a day, right?” At least he hoped that was not the case. “I can find this - person. Bring them to you alive so you can ask them why they’re targeting you.”
Mikolaj knew it wouldn't be a problem for a man in his... perceivable profession to gather information, and so he was pleased, althout not to surprised, to hear it could be arranged. What came as a surprise was the man's interest in doing the legwork himself, the puzzle piecing and brainstorming. Curious, the vampire watched him through the rim of his glass, taking the pause warranted by another drink to mull over his words. "I like your confidence," Mikolaj finally admitted, setting the half empty glass down onto the counter. "I want you to find them, but I want to see those documents too." His gaze moved away from the man, back to the room, the loud and lively crowd. "I need to," he confessed, well aware of his own sentimentalism. What was there to gain from seeing it all with his very own eyes? Maybe nothing, but it had to be done. Mikolaj couldn't leave anything to chance. He had already risked too much by not following up on Sutton's investigation himself, and Anne Marie paid the price for his neglicence. Not again.
He turned his green eyes towards Cain and a storm brewed and built in them, full of thunder. "Her name was Anne Marie Belrose. She was found dead in the penthouse apartment above the Belrose Art Gallery on October 24th. That's where I'm staying now." There was a pause, a hint of uncertainty, before he added, "How much do you need to bring me those documents?"
There was definitely anger there, and who could blame him. Alex was an angry person, and he was angry for many reasons since fury was one of the few emotions that he could never completely get rid of. His sadness was consuming, of course, but Alexander’s cockiness masked the worst of this in public, giving him a completely reversed facade. However, as for his anger, there was little that he could do about it. He could not let go of so many things - of his father, of his own failures, of the things he had lost because of his own stubbornness. For him, his only hope was to find outlets - small moments where everything inside of him could be released in bursts of aggression. For years, he had not been able to control these outlets, and therefore he often exploded in unpredictable bursts. In the past he had hurt people in those moments. Now, however, he had better control, and his temper tantrums usually happened in more controlled environments. At least this was what he liked to tell himself. It was good to be distracted which was why he worked all the time.
“You want to be involved, trust me I get it.” Another oddity. Typically someone at the other end of the table would hand him information about something they wanted or needed and he’d let them know where to start wiring the money. Rarely they decided to tag along and it was even more unlikely for Alexander to let them. He’d let them know that they’d be in his way and that if they were going to hire his services then that they needed to butt out and let him work. “Sounds like a team up.”
Mikolaj shared more information and Alex made some mental notes. Anne Marie. Vampire. Murdered above the Belrose Art Gallery. October 24th. “For this type of job I charge by the hour and I ask for a weekly deposit just in case you decide you can’t stomach it.” That same smile remained on his features as he leaned forward, as if he were about to share some secret with the vampire. “I’m curious. What are you planning on doing once we find said this fucker?”
Cain smiled at him with understanding and in return Mikolaj felt a wave of shame course through him. How dare he be this sentimental before a stranger? It brought him some amount of comfort to think the man seemed to think little of the matter, but that never eased his disappointment in himself. Leonid's void was clear in his head, mocking him for clinging onto such human dispositions.
"I will see this through," he promised, though his word meant little to a man who didn't know him, "and I will pay handsomely for it too. Just help me find whoever did this." The question caught him by surprise. Wasn't this the profession of no questions asked? For a moment he fell into a pensive silence. "I don't know," Mikolaj found himself answering honestly. "But they will pay for what they did. One way or another."
It wasn’t that Alex worried about the consequences or cared about what happened to the person or thing once it was captured. The question was the result of basic human curiosity and the answer that was given was slightly disappointing. Frankly he was expecting something a lot more graphic, bloodier. At the same time it came to no surprise that the vampire chose to keep the details of his revenge to himself. “How ominous.”
Alexander sat back into his chair, kicking back the rest of the drink and controlling the urge to get another one. Last thing he wanted was to give his new client the impression that he was some type of raging alcoholic and then give him a reason to change his mind. “What makes you think they were killed anyway? Maybe they just decided they didn’t want to return your calls. Is it possible that they are together somewhere in - oh, I don’t know - Croatia or Texas?”
At the comment on how ominous he sounded, Mikolaj offered the man a rare smile. "I don't mean to be." He could sit there and discuss what he would like to do to this terrible stranger, but once he stood in front of the killer and looked them in the eye, what would he do? There was no way of knowing.
Following Cain's lead, he finished his drink as well, pushing the glass forward, left abandoned on the table. "I wish that were the case." He suppressed a tired sigh from escaping his lips, but that didn't keep the tiredness from creeping up to his eyes. "I have their ashes. Don't worry, I did have them tested to make sure they were theirs." That was hardly good news. "Found by friends when they didn't make it to their appointments. They both had rather social lives."
“Well, that’s a bit morbid.” He confessed with a wave of his hand. “I like it.” Alex was not going to question him any further , he simply wanted to make sure that the murders actually happened and that they were not going to be chasing ghosts. Although the idea of leading this vampire on, suck as much money as he could out of his bank account and then feed him lies was pretty tempting, the look of desperation in Mikolaj’s eyes made him reconsider. And people called him heartless?
“Guess we can focus on Anne Marie for now since she’s local. You said there were two? I can take a weekend off and check out that other one to see if there’s anything unusual.” Alex reached for his wallet, pulling a few bills out and placing them on the table. “I need to see where she died. I also need a list of her closest friends, places she liked to visit, things like that. It’s possible that this killer watched her from some time before he killed her. Maybe even befriended her.” Once he got a hold of the police report he would know if there was any sign of forced entry and a sign of struggle. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
Mikolaj arched a brow at the man's sense of humor, finding it odd, though not entirely unpleasant, that he appreciated the so-called morbid situation. "Joseph Sutton," he offered in a beat, followed by a soft shake of his head. "He was an all over the place kind of character... It didn't surprise me when the news of his death came. I should've taken a closer look into it." There were many actions he would have taken now if given the chance. Perhaps that one would have spared Anne Marie's life.
"Come to the gallery tomorrow at sunset," he instructed, giving Cain's glass a nudge. "You are too far gone tonight to be of any use. I will give you everything I have on them then, and you can see where she was found too." His green eyes seemed to glaze over at his last memory of the vampiress. "Two weeks before her death, but our phone calls were never too detailed. I do have some of her letters from last year too." Frowning, he added, "I don't believe she would have befriended her killer... She was too smart for that."
Alex listened to Mikolaj describe the situation with the other victim. A vampire named Joseph Sutton who apparently wasn’t one for subtlety. “Oh don’t be hard on yourself. Vampires get dusted all the time. I should know.” He was not going to get into specifics but he had been responsible for a few vampire deaths in his life. “You know, there is the possibility that this might all be a coincidence. You say Joseph was pretty out there so he could have attracted a slayer. And Anne Marie? Well … she just happened to move to a town crawling with hunters.” However, Mikolaj seemed to be convinced that these weren’t two random attacks. Perhaps some type of supernatural gut feeling.
The following comment made Alexander’s lips curl into a grin. “Are you insinuating that I’m drunk?” He bursted out laughing, finding the suggestion incredibly humorous. “You’re a funny one, Mik. Can I call you Mik?” Mr. Balik sounded too formal. “Listen, Mik. I happen to be a professional drunk. Trust me, I am far more pleasant and effective this way. It’s like … fuel.” Mikolaj answered the question regarding their last communication and Alex made a mental note of it. “Well, they wouldn’t have worn a big red sign that said, vampire killer, now would they?”
It wasn't as if Mikolaj were under the impression the man had never wronged someone else, but to be flat out told (or at least implied) that he had dusted a few vampires on his own was rather disconcerting, to say the least. A crease appeared between his brows on an otherwise marble expression, etched in with distaste. His disregard for innocent bystanders allowed him to tolerate unsavory actions such as the casualties of war, but to speak so openly of them required a certain appreciation for violence that Mikolaj had never truly shared.
Brushing off his discomfort, the vampire offered a soft nod. "I'm not ruling out coincidence. I am aware that three makes a pattern, Mr. Cain, but I want to avoid that third dead body. I have lost too much already, I have nothing to spare."
Mikolaj slipped back into his leather gloves while his company burst into laughter. "In any case, I would prefer that you kept your 'fuel' to a minimum." He settled his gaze upon the man once more, taking in his features once again, marked by time in a way that hadn't touched his skin in over a century now. "Vampires don't come with signs either, and yet you can tell what we are." He smiled. "Sometimes." There was a pause, a moment of quiet deliberation, through which he made up his mind about Cain: he would trust him, at least for now, with this. "Come see me tomorrow at the Belrose Gallery."
The response coming from the vampire upon learning that Alex had been responsible for vampires getting dusted was expected. A creased frown, disgusted look. Where there was softness there was now distaste. And yet this had not been enough to make Mikolaj change his mind, which meant that he was desperate enough to trust him and therefore was not going to be backing down any time soon.
“Of course you’re not. I’m sure you’ve contacted the rest of your … family members to let them know that they might be in danger. A list of enemies you’ve managed to make over the years would also be very helpful. Try to include old acquaintances and pissed off ex lovers.”
Alexander watched the vampire as he reached for his gloves, preparing to leave him to his vices. “Whatever you say, boss.” There was some sarcasm behind his voice but there was some truth to his words. After all, Mikolaj was holding the contract and paying him to do a job. “I’ll meet you tomorrow all good and sober.” Before the vampire walked away he decided to clarify something. “You’re in good hands Mik.”
Mikolaj wondered what kind of clients the man most often took on for him to suggest that former lovers would be behind such a vile act, but he managed to keep his thoughts to himself. "I will be extremely thorough," he assured Cain despite having no intention to expose his personal history to him. He was already one step away when the clarification reached his ears and with little more than a sullen look, Mikolaj turned away from the man.
There were no good hands left in this world. Anne Marie's killer had seen to that.
For a second, they were interrupted by someone else coming out of one of the many classrooms. The door closing behind them echoed in the corridor, the clicking of the young man’s low block heels enhanced by the lack of words coming out of their mouths. It felt wrong to be acting so intimate when they were surrounded by cold marble stones. Silence didn’t seem proper either, it felt out of place, for they had never been quiet. Communication was something they used to be somewhat good at - at least between the two of them, not necessarily with the outside world.
The student passed by them, politely greeting the couple, and, once his steps died down, Fran felt a little less uncomfortable. “Others’. When it came to my own jealousy, not so much.” Exhaling smoothly, the tip of her tongue brushed her lips as she bit the inside of the bottom one. As vivid as the night before, she could remember how insecure she felt about him. It had always been a trace of her personality, to think of herself less and not worthy of love. Or at least she thinks it has. It was hard to accurately remember who she was before her death. Mikolaj was handsome, kind, rich and adventurous. Every high society girl dreamt of the day he’d make more than small talk with them. Those girls were mostly pure and came from the same background he did. Why choose her? A once-upon-a-time poor immigrant who thought God could save her from a monster hiding behind a disease. She never admitted that fear, of living without him. Not until he was in his deathbed, at least.
That particular thought made her tear up slightly, which she ignored with a discreet bat of her eyelashes, glancing down for a moment as a feigned sign of attention to his answer. But as the ties suddenly shifted, Francesca lifted up her head, looking at him with a puzzled, almost painful, expression. She knew what it was like to lose people. People who had been a part of her story for long, ones who were irreplaceable. So she knew how it hurt. She actually had felt that recently, when White Crest’s policemen got rid of one of her oldest friends. Immediately, Fran gently reached for his hand, holding his cold fingers. “We can, though. Talk about that.” And she meant it. Regardless of how ugly things ended up between them, how hurt she felt, he was one of the good ones, she had always known. Mikolaj would always have a place in her heart, no matter what she said. “I’m really sorry about your mate. White Crest isn’t exactly the safest place for our kind.” And her hand started to slip. And she let go.
Now even her sense of direction was blurred. It felt awkward to suddenly go from confident badass bitch to pathetic teenage vampire in love. So dependant, so puzzled and full of these… arg, feelings. She turned and let him guide her instead, giving up leadership or control. Over their course, not the situation. She couldn’t let herself get hurt again, especially not by him. “No,” her response was firm, almost instant, barely letting him finish. As if, unconsciously, she urged to tell him he wasn’t an obstacle in her life anymore. Well, not at the moment, at least. “He’s gone. Not dead, but… gone. We cut ties for good.” Hopefully. “I’ve been back and forth from White Crest since - for a while now. Alone.”
Canting his head, he assessed her with eyes that were both familiar and new. There was much of the Fran he knew in the porcelain-faced vampire, she hadn’t aged a day since he met her, nor would she ever. Still, it wasn’t all the same, no. Though the years could not touch them, they hung heavy in the corners, in the curves of their lips and wells of their eyes. Mikolaj couldn’t remember - he could barely picture the woman’s jealousy, let alone that it would be directed to someone like himself, who once either blabbered in nervousness or grew all too quiet in the presence of a beautiful woman. A frown lined his forehead with an unspoken protest. He did not remember her jealousy, but his own? Very well.
The walk to the cafeteria was interrupted by his confession and though Mikolaj kept on moving, intent on ignoring the hollow aching in his chest, he came to a stop when Fran reached for his hand. It was terrible to watch the pain color her irises again, twice by his hand, but there was comfort in seeing her and knowing she understood. Like few would, she understood. “I don’t know what to say.” If she meant for him to speak of his grief, then what better to sum it up than silence? Mikolaj had never been good with words, but pictures. Paintings. And maybe the tangible world, too, a little. “You mourn family like you mourn yourself, isn’t that so?”
They were at the end of their journey when she cut him off with a firm and urgent no. Her maker had always been a sensitive topic between the two. Some things never changed. “Gone?” Mikolaj repeated, walking her to one of the tables at the edge of the cafeteria. “Have you been on your own for long?” He told himself the question was out of caring for her well-being in a place where his loved ones may be in danger, and not at all more to do with the fact that she may or may not have spent the good part of the last century with her sire, a man who once stood firmly and proudly between them. Not at all.
CONGRATULATIONS. We have delivered your SECOND BALE OF HAY. This one is in your CAR. If you do not have a CAR, then it must be your NEIGHBOR'S CAR. Oops. Reach into the HAY. There is a SNAKE in the HAY. CONGRATULATIONS.
I’ll watch the neighbor and see what happens. Hopefully the snake isn’t venomous, but if it is - well, it will be good to know.
There was uncertainty in his step. Slowly, he paced around the classroom, as if he were taking his time to consider her invitation. That hesitation sent her straight to the repressed memory she had been trying to avoid, revisiting the last time they ever saw one another. It wasn’t a pleasant recollection, and it certainly didn’t reassure her that no, keeping herself enrolled in this class wasn’t a bad idea at all. Perhaps it was a bad idea. Maybe their final argument was what shaped his perspective of her from then on. Maybe he was being polite. Again: bad timing. This would’ve been much easier if they simply had crossed paths in town.
But, in a moment, his voice turned louder as he addressed his students. He was joining her, after all. And although his steps got closer by the second, the sensation of that memory lingered in the back of her head, just about to muffle all her genuineness. “Sure,” her agreement was reluctant and her smile just as timid as his. All that confidence suddenly crumbled. This was proof why keeping to yourself was better than going about, bonding with people. Sooner than later, those connections made you weak. Just like, unintentionally, Mikolaj was making her feel at this very moment.
Fran led the way. Not because she wanted to take the dominant stance - as she usually does about anything in life - but because she did feel restless and, this time, it wasn’t about excitement, it was just her nerves. Her anxiety was getting the best of her. An anxious vampire, that’s quite ridiculous. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, turned to him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. She didn’t say anything - what was there to say? That she wished things had been different? That she was sorry he didn’t get the death he asked for, even though this one gave him a second chance? That she had missed possibly the one relationship in her entire death that hadn’t been toxic and built on of self-interest? Or that she still harboured some sort of anger after he chose to face his new life alone? It was just too much to put into words, so Fran, who often had plenty to say, fell quiet.
And after taking in his smell - much different from the one she recalled so vividly, that warmth and freshness that reminded her of springtime in the sunlight - she unwrapped her arms and cleared her throat. “Just had to get that out of my system. You know, before we got surrounded by potentially jealous students.” It was a joke, but she didn’t laugh. The brunette started walking again, not exactly sure where she was going, mind completely unfocused on their destiny to linger on the ‘what if’s’ of her own imagination.
“Why White Crest?” Fill the silence, it’s easier.
The expression on her delicate features shifted, softer now that the two were alone, perhaps even a little unsure. Mikolaj didn’t question it, he wouldn’t dare, there were certain answers he wasn’t all too prepared to receive. It came to him as a surprised when she stopped and turned, throwing her arms around his neck to pull him closer. For a moment there, he stood still, frozen in place, almost shocked by this turn of events. Who would have known so many years later the distance they built between each other would break just like that? Then he brought his arms down to lace her waist and hold her close, breathing her in.
Silence stretched itself in the spaces between them, heavy with unsaid words. Mikolaj owed her a proper apology, but he wasn’t certain that he deserved to be forgiven. Maybe it was not so much about what he wanted rather than what she deserved to hear? Once Fran pulled away, he felt terribly out of place, like this reunion should have happened elsewhere, in a much warmer, intimate place. The University hallways offered them little of either. “You shouldn’t worry too much about that. You have always handled jealousy particularly well,” he noted with warmth, falling into step with her.
Too many memories ran across his mind and although focusing on the present made it easier, Mikolaj would have preferred that she hadn’t asked him about White Crest. “A good friend of mine,” he started, wishing he knew how to use words as well as he did a paintbrush, “a vampire - she lived here in White Crest and - she died.” It was painful to hear himself talk for it was the right time to be delicate, and yet all he could stomach was the cold hard truth. Quick and easy, or, well, easier than letting out his emotions. “She was - ah, killed.” Mikolaj furrowed his brows. “But you don’t want to hear about that.”
Fran made a turn in the wrong direction and he reached for her elbow to prevent her from taking another step. “You don’t know where you are going, do you?” Despite his sad eyes, there was a smile on his lips. “Follow me,” Mikolaj added in a gentle tone, walking her towards the right direction then. “Are you - do you... still live with your sire?”
Um, I don’t think so! At least, I didn’t learn that in health class… I think we should ask a doctor. Do you know any doctors?
But wait, that’s not the point! I got delivered an EGG! It has stripes on it, and now I’m responsible for it. I don’t know if I should eat it or hatch it. :[
Ah... let’s just assume your health class was right.
I wouldn’t eat it. I would most likely get rid of it as it sounds like someone tampered with it, but if you need a second opinion, see a veterinarian or a zoologist. It is possible they would know what it is.
I don’t go to libraries that much. Guess Google will have to do. Um, looking at his shit. He just randomly threw paint at the white thing canvas and got famous? Think I know the dude with the ear. And Picasso. Depends. Am I being judged? Don’t know. Maybe I am. I was more into music in school. You’re a painter or something?
The dude with the ear is Van Gogh.
Music is excellent as well, but I am more of a visual person. I am a painter, though my official job is teaching. I paint for myself most of the time these days, and only occasionally on commission, which is how I prefer to work. Art feels better without the added pressure of a client. What do you do, if I may ask?
Don’t you think that’s the price we pay for being the most self aware species on the planet? When you understand that you’re catapulting toward death, you kinda have to be sad about it.
You believe that is the source of existential dread? The knowledge that one day we will inevitably come to an end?
Oh, wow. Is that the usual going rate for art posing or is that a special rate because it requires crossing in and out of campus in the dead of night?
It is a generous rate. It is important work and it should be valued as such. I know I wouldn’t have learned half as much if I hadn’t had access to life drawing classes with live models and yet they can be severely underpaid.
Clothed, I hope? I’ve got two good angles, and butt booty naked isn’t one of them, I’m afraid.
You are supposed to pose at the center of the room with all art desks surrounding you so I’m afraid not one angle will go unregistered. And, no, it is not clothed, but however you look, you are beautiful. Don’t let societal expectations convince you otherwise. The students, of course, will be looking for curves and angles and understanding the way your body works, how limbs meet and such. It is not so much about how you look, but finding the beauty in the chaos of our differences and familiarity in every what makes us alike. That is why all body types are welcome, it just depends on who is comfortable enough with themselves to let others look and learn from them.
Sounds like fun. I’ve got experience, though it’s been a few years. I’ve posed for Rodin, Waterhouse, I even met DaVinci once, but apparently he preferred brunettes- Do you mind if your models have tattoos?
How much coverage? I am inclined to say it does not matter, but perhaps if your entire body is covered in ink, it might be a little hard for students to abstract shapes and forms.
Art models? I’m totally not the right person for this but it’s super cool. Are you like an art student? Or teaching an art class? Is this like nude modeling or something?
I am a Fine Arts professor and yes, it is nude modeling. Society makes a great deal out of nudity, but when gazed upon in a respectful way, it is all very simple. Life drawing has been one of the best tools to teach art for centuries.
Any way you can make those classes start faster? Sort of got a you know, stomach. If not, you know of any other… artistic? Opportunities that pay something?
As in sooner? I could try to arrange something of an open class if you are looking for work. Is money the issue?
Raise that price to $1000 and I’m in. My body is a valuable resource. Possibly, in fact, too beautiful to be gazed upon.
I am sure it is worth every penny, but you have to remember this is for art school, with too many classes a week and too many weeks of classes to afford anything more than we have offered. The rate is already well above standard. The students would be delighted with the priviledge to gaze upon your beautiful body, but we understand.
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