In Loving Memory [Open]

[Myk]

The words in the CrowNet Obituary Thread burned into his eyes, setting a fire through him:

Ripper. Grigori do not forget.

“You *****,” the Telepath hissed with more anger in him than he thought possible.

Myk wasn’t a hostile person, but those few words had him carried away by a deep-seated rage. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d composed that hiss of his into a digital post ready to be submitted. It was only luck that made him stop himself. He barely ever posted anything on the CrowNet and certainly never anything aggressive. With a squeeze of his shut eyes, Myk deleted the text. When he opened them, he disengaged from the Technokinesis session altogether. Pewter eyes surveyed his environment, jogging his brain that for the moment was so lost in its analysis of the CrowNet message that it barely remembered where he was in the physical world. Seeing tables and chairs and people and a bar made him realise that he’d turned up in some kind of a tavern or pub. It had a quaint feel to it, and was dark like British-style pubs where the intention was to sit and brood over a cool, flat pint. That sad atmosphere and the smell of lager was fresh in his mind as he looked around some more, but was barely able to decipher his imaginings from what was actually happening around him. Worst of all, however, was that Myk couldn’t recall how he’d gotten here or where he was. The only thing he remembered prior to the obituary post was being in the caverns.

Myk shifted in his seat at the bar, crossing one leg over the other a little rigidly – partly because of the tightness of his black jeans and partly because he was uncomfortable, irritable and confused. His eyes were focused on every movement he made, assessing them for clues of the past. As his cold hands lifted to twirl a lock of his bone-white hair, he marvelled at the colour of his nails. They were a green-black and sparkled with the smallest specs of glitter, reminding him of the darkness of space. As his fingers moved under the dull light, the green hue waxed and waned in intensity. Myk’s pale lips twisted into a thoughtful mark across his painted, white face. He couldn’t remember this manicure either and neither could he recall the application of such fluttery fake eyelashes which cast shadows over his cheekbones. Judging by his attire, he was pulling the androgynous look off again. The oversized, grey chiffon tunic he was wearing could easily have come from a woman’s fashion website, or failing that, straight off the flesh of some woman. He wasn’t opposed to mixing the genders to suit his weird tastes, or to stealing for that matter. Still, he couldn’t recall the origins of this shirt or the necklace that came with it.

It was almost like someone had roofied him just so they could give him a make-over. Yet, they’d neglected to add a pair of shoes. Myk couldn’t feel the coldness until he looked down, surprised by bare toes that wriggled in greeting. Unlike the rest of him, Myk’s feet were not the colour of clean porcelain, instead they were like soot. It seemed like he had been walking around barefoot for a while. It wasn’t really that surprising that no one had stopped him to ask him about his shoes, but then again, maybe they had and he just hadn’t remembered. Myk’s hands redoubled their efforts in his hair, twisting the long strands so tight and repeatedly around his fingers that they became knotted. Tangled, Myk gave a frown and canted his head to get a better look at the damage and how he could fix it. His hair had become long enough to sit on unless he twitched it out of his way before dropping into his seat. It flicked around his thighs when he walked, yet it was barely past his elbow now. Had someone taken scissors to his hair as well as dressing him and stealing his shoes?

When he pulled his hand free of his hair, he put his face into both palms and turned into the bar. He breathed out heavily, eyes squeezed shut again, ears oblivious to the sounds around him. He wished for a reset, for some magic button to be pressed that would restart his brain and uncover the missing moments of his past.

[Elizabeth]

The petite woman had seen the obituary notice and knew that one in her household would be greatly affected by the notice. With a heavy sigh, Elizabeth set aside the dress she was patching up due to a rip she attained in the caverns, blinked and cleared her mind from the crownet. The women moved to her bedroom where she changed from what she was wearing, which was not suitable for making social calls in her mind (even if it was a pair of dark denim jeans and a top that flowed with floral print and would be suitable for anyone to go anywhere) and donned a dark blue dress, complete with a belt.Belts were a nice thing for women like Elizabeth, because she didn't have much of a frame to hold anything up nicely top wise, or waist wise.

Her hair was braided in a quick fashion and somewhat messy too, before she slipped in to a pair of heels and was out a fade portal. As she waited for the train to arrive, Elizabeth honed in to Myk's location, and verified that he was there with a quick glance around the bar he supposedly was in. When she received confirmation that he was in fact in Lancaster's, Elizabeth purchased the correct ticket to the side of town needed and was headed towards the small bar she had only been in once before when looking for rogue vampire a few months ago.

The ride was uneventful. Nothing outside the ordinary. No one talked to Elizabeth, but she did not go out of her way to speak to them either. Not many looked at her either, which could be because Elizabeth wasn't her usual cheerful self. Even with spring here. But, someone she cared about and had taken care of and accepted in to her household was more than likely affected by Mister Ripper's death, and so, she ventured out and sucked it up (as the saying goes).

When the woman arrived, the male was exactly where she saw him to be. She did not speak to him from across the room, or even make her presence known until she was sitting besides the male. "Good evening, Myk." Elizabeth said, as if the encounter might have been planned on both their parts. As if she were expected.

[Myk]

As he rubbed his face into his palms – smudging his mascara some – he tried to identify which scenario was better to describe the sudden headache he was experiencing. Myk was torn, he couldn’t tell whether something was trying to burrow its way into his brain or whether something was trying to make its way out. Regardless, there was unnatural pressure on his skull and Myk kneaded the flesh of his forehead in the vain hope it would ease the pain. It helped, forcing his other arm to slouch on top of the bar, focusing his efforts on massaging out the pain with his right hand. He could see now, if he dared to open his eyes, but the option was a distant thought. Even after Elizabeth had come into the bar and sat herself beside him, addressing him as she did, it took a while before he acknowledged the presence or even the voice. Some five seconds after she’d spoken, Myk frowned at the incoming words. He pivoted on the elbow he’d propped on the counter, on the hand which had been massaging his head, then he opened the left pewter eye and groaned.

“Eh… Uh… Good evening… Lady,” he managed.

Of course he wasn’t disappointed to see her, or angry, or any other negative emotion for that matter. Myk was mostly confused and he wore the emotions on his face whether they were understandable or not. It was always nice to see the Lady as far as Myk was concerned, but given their relationship, he would never admit to there being anything the matter with him. As curious as he was to figure out what had happened to him tonight, he wasn’t going to alert her to the fact that he’d lost a good couple of hours of his memory. His only option was therefore to neglect his curiosity and perform as expected. This was why he sat up, dropped his right hand across his lap and feigned a smile. And, just in case she was suspicious or concerned, he closed his eyes, pulling his famous anime cat expression and then chuckled lightly.

“Just a headache,” he purred, fixing pewter eyes on her outfit and then her hair. “You look lovely tonight. Did you dress up just for me?” He scrunched his nose and put a hand out to hold hers - he would give it a gentle shake and sway if she allowed. “It’s so nice to see you.”

[Elizabeth]

A small smile formed upon her lips as she watched and listened to Myk. When he asked her if she dressed up for him, all the blonde could do was shake her head, smile still in tact. "Is this what one would considered dressed up?" She looked down at the dress, finding it nicer than what she had been wearing, but not too fancy. Though, when he saw her, she normally was in her garden, wearing something bleaker. Her garden clothing tended to be neutral or dark colours, so if they were to get dirty, it was not so easily spotted.

"I was just in the area." She said as her eyes returned to his. It wasn't the complete truth, of course, but once she found his location, Elizabeth was just in the area before entering the pub. "Strange, is it not that we both happen to be here, at just the right moment?" She questioned him, though the blonde found nothing strange about it at all. She was here because it was where he was. "So as to get the elephant out of the room, I am sorry to hear about our mutual friend, the Englishman." Elizabeth's smile faded just a little bit. She was uncertain how to feel about the male's death, but knew he would be back sooner, than later.

[Myk]

Rather than present her hand, Elizabeth looked down at her dress. Myk’s hand withdrew rather like a rabbit retreating into its burrow, taking with it the light and whimsy in his eyes. Perched on his barstool, Myk just stared at her and waited for some new conversation to ensue. Elizabeth had always been an unusual person, likely on account of her having been from a completely different time period before she was sent to the Dark Place. The world she returned to was beyond different and even now, some three or four years later, it seemed that the world was still a new thing to her. She wasn’t as cultured as she might have been if she were born in his time. The average person was a lot more aware of the world around them these days on account of the internet. Information was accessible from any place and at any time. As a result, Myk expected more out of people. Not that he thought that Elizabeth was in any way dense. She was a wonderfully fascinating creature and being with Elizabeth was like living in a history lesson, a cultural lesson from times gone by. Admittedly, Myk didn’t know the woman all that well, but she had been so nice to him and he only had positive feelings toward her.

Myk wasn’t great with social situations as it was, so it wasn’t that unusual to him to have his behaviour misinterpreted and misunderstood. Still, his fingers curled inward, flexing as if he’d taken a slap to his cold white hand and was working through the pain. When she mentioned she was just in the area and that it was strange how they happened to both be in there at the right time, Myk just nodded and looked to his hands which were settled in his lap. The sting he felt in his flesh like he had in fact been physically assaulted was distracting, but he knew he hadn’t actually been touched. Still, none of his acceptance of reality did anything to take away that hot rash of pain that broke across his hand and worked up his forearm. He rubbed his right hand with the left, transferring the heat somewhat, but the blistering feel of pins and needles was relentless. Even as Myk’s attention shifted from his hand and to Elizabeth on the mention of a supposed elephant in the room, the pain remained.

“The Englishman?” Myk parroted, his brows turning toward pewter eyes. “You mean, Mr Ripper? What about him?”

His features were completely blank in that moment, suggesting nothing about why he was confused. Typically, it could be that he didn’t know that Ripper had been thrust into the Dark Place or that he didn’t care. It was neither of those, however. Being unable to do anything about the man’s death made the Telepath wash his hands of the matter – as it always did. That wasn’t to say it didn’t upset him, but Myk had learned that the Killer wasn’t the type to give up. Determined and ambitious for whatever reason, a little week’s trip to the Dark Place was little more than an inconvenience. Of course they both understood that there was a risk in never being able to return, but either way, there was nothing he could do. Before he could let Elizabeth’s mind wander and assume wrongly, he thought it worthy to explain.

“He’s gone for a little vacation,” Myk said dully, his voice low and dark. “Again... Though, it happens. For some of us it happens frequently… because of who we are… And so, what can you do about it?” He forced a smile and then let it drop immediately. “I’m sorry for your loss…”

[Elizabeth]

A curious tilt of her head was offered in his direction when Myk expressed his condolences to her. While she enjoyed the Englishman and his antics from time to time, Elizabeth could not say she was deeply affected by the loss of Mister Ripper. He killed Habren for whatever reason and so there would of course be retaliation to be expected. Elizabeth just nods her head and then looks around the bar before speaking again.

"I am surprised you are here. I did not know you indulged yourself in such beverages." It was a very polite way of hinting around at why Myk was actually here. As far as the woman knew, he was a telepath and so few telepaths could take part in eating and drinking. That seemed to be something only Allurist could do and a random vampire here and there not on that path. "Do you come here often?" If asked by anyone other than Elizabeth, it might have seemed like a pick-up line used in these times, but Elizabeth didn't know such a thing and would of course never be trying to pick someone up. Most of all, in a bar. "The owner, I believe, is a man by the name of Elliot. I have never had the privilege of meeting him, but I have heard of him. His stories are only ever positive when they fall upon my ear." She smiled, giving Myk a look of approval if this was a place he chose to spend his time at.

[Myk]

When the subject was changed, Myk felt that maybe his feelings would change and perhaps the burning sensation in his hands would cease. It didn’t. Myk continued to rub his palms idly and as Elizabeth looked around the bar, inspecting it if you will, Myk looked around as well. When she asked if he enjoyed these types of beverages he automatically assumed she was talking about alcohol. Flavour-wise, he wasn’t much of a fan. He liked some wines – he had to, he was French and Italian after all – but he never really drank alcohol for its taste. The only reason he ever drank was to escape because apparently the psychopath needed more forms of escape. What he also did, when Elizabeth had questioned him, was assume he was still a Human. He’d forgotten the trouble he’d had when first turned to drink and eat as normal. It took a few years of supreme will-power to get to the point where he could keep anything other than blood down. A look of confusion crossed his face briefly, partly because she spoke again, about the bar, about the people who owned it. Myk gave a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before,” he mumbled.

His pewter eyes kept glancing around at the décor, ignoring the other patrons. Though, he did wonder if her mystery man by the name of Elliot was here. She had never met him and Myk had never heard of him – or maybe he had and he’d just forgotten. It wasn’t rare that he’d forget things after all. Like, for instance, why he was here in the first place, why he’d lost his shoes, why his hair was shorter and why he wasn’t in the clothes he was wearing earlier this evening. Myk didn’t suspect that Elizabeth would have a clue and he didn’t suspect that she would notice any change in him either for that matter. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her, but it was likely a week or two before this time. Myk sighed and looked across the bar, looking over Elizabeth’s shoulder and into the distance. His hands were still hurting, but he was doing better at ignoring them. He brought one arm up and rested it on the counter, the other lounging between his thighs.

“So why did you drop by?” he asked, barely pulling his pewter eyes out of the murk and toward her again. “Do you come here often?”

[Elizabeth]

A slow shake of her head was given when Myk asked if she came here often. It was only fair, she supposed, since she posed the same question of him moments prior. "What sort of lady do you take me for? Sitting at a bar, drinking my woes and worries away until the early hours of the morning?" Elizabeth feigned a moment of mock horror, but it was gone as soon as the look had found a home on her face.

"In truth, I came for you, and nothing else or no other. I searched for thee." Elizabeth finally admitted. "I was worried-because of our mutual acquaintance." A small smile was offered to the male as she looked him over. His attire and looks were always so...eclectic, Elizabeth supposed that was the word to use. Not that she minded. It was something she adored about Myk. He wore what he wanted to wear, often looked good in it and did not care what others thought of his appearance. Refreshing, it must be. Elizabeth, however, was constrained by social norms and a time frame in which ones appearance had to be meticulously planned out for each event and outing, and so, the woman wore safe colored dresses because that was, well, safe.

[Myk]

Elizabeth’s comments might have made him laugh any other night. He enjoyed joking around with her. In fact, it was the premise on which their relationship was formed. He was the happy clown, the comic relief that people needed to forget their woes. People might come to him if they needed cheering up and he would always smile and perform accordingly. This night, however, he was feeling not so much like the clown he always wished he was. Instead, he was morose, a little frustrated, a little too sober. Myk shrugged off her jest and concentrated his attention on his own hand that had begun drawing figure eights into the wood of the bar counter. Despite the length and shape of his painted nails, he wasn’t scratching the surface any. He might have insisted to Elizabeth that the need to drink the night away was not the only reason one came to a bar, but the thought alone had him searching for his own reasons for being here. He would come to a bar for very few reasons: to escape, to reflect, to attract or to hunt. Though, of course he couldn’t discount the improbable either, that he had come here for safety – another kind of escape. Trying to flee something might have caused him to make drastic changes to his appearance. It was a perfectly logical theory.

Suddenly, the man was pulled from his thoughts by the woman once again. Myk’s eyebrows raised at the confession of her lie. Honestly, he never thought her capable of a bare-faced lie. She said that she’d come seeking him out because of Mr Ripper as well, and this idea caused him to frown. Why did she think he would be so concerned about one person? Had she read his mind, or was she just aware of his actions and knew about his affections for the aloof one? Myk shook his head, both to address her concerns and to rid himself of the thoughts.

“Your concern is not necessary,” he said; frustration flaring in his voice.

Catching the emotion made him frown. Pewter eyes searched the ground, not for anything in particular, just to cue his mind. Why was he so frustrated? He’d barked angrily because of what he’d read on the CrowNet earlier and was even prepared to express his feelings to the known world. Something was pulling the strings of his emotions, but he couldn’t fathom why. Had it anything to do with his missing hours of time? Myk took in a sharp breath, the exhale thundering out of him. He was starting to get too worried to hide it and while he didn’t want to burden her, she might take it upon herself to get involved. She would only ask him the wrong questions if he didn’t explain right away and the wrong questions would simply stoke the fire of his rage even more. Myk didn’t like being angry, he didn’t like what it did to him. He took in another breath, his fingers becoming unconsciously taut against the wooden counter, and he looked into Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes with fraught featuring in his own.

“Something’s happened,” he whispered to her before looking around and half-ducking. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s not right…”

[Elizabeth]

His initial tone cause Elizabeth to frown and even veer away from the male slightly. Something, most certainly is -not- right with Myk. The environment seems out of sorts, his responses and now his tone, lets the woman know something is wrong. Was it Ripper's death, or was it something else?

She is about to ask. Potentially opening up a can of worms for herself, when the male confirms that something is off. What, however, remains a mystery to the pair of them. "You look fine, physically. I do not smell blood." Elizabeth's eyes move to his body to ensure that what she said was the truth. Eyes move back to him, as a wayward Elizabeth reaches out a hand for Myk's and places it on top of his. She gives it a squeeze and gives him a small, wry, smile. "Do you feel out of sorts? Here?" She points to her head with a single finger from her free hand and taps at the temple once. She of all people could understand when one was lost within their thoughts, or just simply...lost and confused. "Do you wish to leave? We could go elsewhere." Perhaps the environment was confusing Myk and upsetting him so. Elizabeth would offer a trillion suggestions to help her friend in his time of need.