[Lancaster] A Fraternal Affair

[Bjorn]

In spite of everything Elliot had done for Bjorn, there was still considerable distance between the two. Lancaster didn’t spend much time at the Den, and on the few occasions they crossed paths rarely catered to extensive conversation. Despite this, the young vampire had come to admire a great deal the d’Artois patriarch. There was a bond that had been formed in the absence of blood connection, but that was open to further development.

“No! I haven’t seen the boat,” he said, disbelief and amusement brightening his youthful features. It was a dangerous thing to mention boats around Norwegians. Slipping his hands into his cardigan’s pockets, Bjorn approached. “What kind of boat you got? What’s wrong with it?”

[Lancaster]

”It’s a paddle wheeler,” he said, then hesitated. He didn’t know how much Bjorn knew about boats, though his eager reaction suggested that he might know quite a bit. Was he looking for the specifics? Paddle wheeler would do, for now. It gave the type. That was the question. The question was answered.

Bjorn’s eager reaction also suggested that the plans were set. That’s where they were going. There weren’t any portals that would take them directly to the docks, but they could get one to the station and go from there. Although Lancaster had a car, the last time he tried to use it, it didn’t start. It’d been sitting idle for too long. Rather than try to fix it, he’d just left it there, parked in the garage. Maybe he’d get it seen to eventually. One day, he’d stop forgetting about it. He gestured toward the portal that would take them to the station. He had keys and his phone and wallet tucked away in various pockets.

”It’s uhm… three levels? It’s got a board room for the more formal functions, but mostly it’s just people getting drunk and having a good time? I got the idea from back home. On the Brisbane River they have a boat called The Kookaburra, and it looks… well, I saw a similar boat here and had to have it,” he said with a shrug.

So used to the portals, now, Lancaster stepped through as if he were stepping through a door – waiting for Bjorn on the other side to continue the conversation.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn’s enthusiasm dampened at the mention of a paddle wheeler. Now that Lancaster described it in a little more detail, the telepath could picture it in his mind’s eye. He’d seen said boat one a few occasions, usually from afar on the shore. It had never appealed to him, but he couldn’t deny to be a little curious about what it looked like from the inside. Hands still in pockets, he stepped through the portal. In a blink of an eye, the Rock Bay Docks materialised before him.

Only once had he ventured through here, at the time seeking cover from a predatory vampire who’d likely seen his image once too many on the violations lists. Bjorn squared his shoulders and glanced around, actually giving his surroundings more than a panicked, passing look. There were some boats he truly wouldn’t mind boarding.

“How d'you get everything you need to start all these businesses? Are you still alive, legally speaking?”

Bjorn had yet to truly resolve his own identity issue. He had a bank account under a fake name, as well as a contract through Bunk Backpackers under that same fake name, but he wasn’t at all in the know as to how the undead could organise so efficiently when they were limited to nighthours, amongst other things.

[Lancaster]

As soon as they landed on the other side of the portal they were greeted with the scent of salt. The ocean reached this far into the inlet. It clung to the air like it was infused into the very molecules, the atoms a mere collection of brine. It reminded Lancaster of the weekends at the coast with his friends – there was a bar at the beach they used to frequent. It was probably gone now. Time had a way of taking things away, eroding them until there was nothing left.

”Technically, I’m still alive,” he said with a shrug. As far as papers were concerned, why would he have to change anything? Until he got to an age where he should be old and grey and the banks started asking questions – but did that even matter anymore?

”It’s all just paperwork, and it was easy enough to orchestrate. Being an allurist makes business easier,” he said. He’d already started down the dock, his feet thudding subtly upon the wood. He pushed his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears before shoving his hands into his pockets.

”Now? I dunno. I s’pose I’ll wait and see how things work out? Humans know about vampires now. Who knows? Politics might settle and I might be able to keep doing everything above board, without having to change things as soon as I reach an age where I should be grey and wrinkling,” he laughed. He hadn’t really thought about it yet. He’d never been the sort to think about the future. He lived in the moment. It wasn’t the best life philosophy, but it was a hard habit to break out of.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn still didn’t know what had happened on the fateful night(s) of his siring. He didn’t know whether his friends were alive or dead. Had they been victims to the same vampire that turned him? Victims to his newfound thirst? If he’d buried himself in work and training, it had been to avoid thinking about it.

His cellphone had been lost during the months of wandering sewers; he’d never bothered committing any phone number to memory. He’d been offline for months before regaining access to the internet upon being welcomed into the d’Artois complex, and he hesitated to check his social media accounts now that he could. A search for his name on the most popular search engines had shed no light whatsoever on his situation. He’d even tapped into his own metaphysical biology for answers, but his blood had led down a string of barely-there ties that felt unnatural and of no consequence. There were no answers to be found.

Truthfully, he had little desire to know the details. Bjorn was better off facing forward, as far as he was concerned, which was what he’d done. With Lancaster’s help, he had acquired a new identity, and through it he continued to live as a Canadian citizen. Whether or not he’d be able to publicly thrive the way his guardian did, was not worth testing just yet.

“Time will tell,” Bjorn conceded. The masquerade had only just fallen, there were many things left to resolve. His stance on the matter remained fairly conservative, though that might change. The truth was that he had no idea where he stood, on many matters regarding his existence.

“I went to see Berlion, by the way. I thought it was time I branch out... Masquerade or not, things are bit better out there.”

[Lancaster]

Berlion. Lancaster snorted, and nodded. Not because of where Bjorn had been or what he had been doing, but because the mention of the wraith reminded Lancaster of all the magic that surrounded them; of the magic infused within his own blood. It came with its constraints. It wasn’t just freedom. The musician wondered whether the stronger he got, the more wraiths he talked to, the more magical and mental walls that he broke down, the more he was cursed. The previous answer that he had given Bjorn might have to eventually be amended. What was he supposed to do, how was he supposed to get around the paperwork if he himself could not lie? Would he still be able to forge the paperwork? Could he lie when writing things down? Or would he have to hire someone else to do it for him?

The meandering path his thoughts had taken was scrubbed as he realised he’d have to hire someone either way.

”Are you burdened by anything, Bjorn? I mean… there’s things I can’t do. Like, during a full or new moon, I can’t use any of my abilities. I can’t lie. It doesn’t matter what I do with my appearance – whether I shave or cut my hair, it always goes back to the way it was the night I was sired when I sleep. I’m plagued by guilt, I can get sick… who the bloody hell knows what else? I suppose I want to warn you to be careful, because it seems the stronger I get the more of these curses I obtain. I don’t know whether there’s a correlation, though. Just be careful,” he said, voice a humbling rumble.

They’d reached the branch of the deck that led to the party boat – there was a gate on the lower deck that they were delivered to, which Lancaster proceeded to unlock. The boat was shrouded in darkness, but would be doused in light as soon as the two men made their way to the switchboard.

[Bjorn]

Bjørn’s thoughts ran parallel to Lancaster’s words, a mental checklist materialising in his mind’s eye.

“I used to party a lot, but now I can barely stand being in a crowded room. That, and the fact that I’m out cold as soon as the sun’s up, are the only things I’ve noticed,” he commented, unaware of many other limitations that would impose themselves upon him as he moved onwards. There were days where he felt inherently weaker than others and was unable to accomplish tasks that other times came easily, but he’d never sought to correlate it to the lunar cycle.

The telepath furrowed his brow at the floorboards while the other unlocked the gate, and wondered what else he didn’t know about himself. With his self-imposed containment, he’d given no opportunity for anything unexpected to happen. He’d have to take care, as Lancaster encouraged him to do.

“The insurance of this thing has got to cost a pretty penny. You had any issues with drunken people going overboard?”

[Lancaster]

Lancaster laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, there have been a couple of incidents, but no one's drowned. And no one's tried to sue me. I think they're all aware that it was their own fault," he said. The insurance did cost a pretty penny and the inspections were numerous. But the safety precautions were all in place, the life jackets and the life boats and the buoys, ready to throw overboard for anyone stupid enough to slip or fall.

"This boat is pretty fuckin' slow, too, so there's no issue of leaving anyone behind. Even if they were left behind, if they can swim they just need to head for shore. It's never too far away," he said. Though who knew what got dumped in this river? He wouldn't enjoy taking a dip in it. What kind of diseases could he come out with? And he knew he could indeed contract them.

"I forgot about that, too. The sleeping thing, as soon as the sun comes up? Same," he said. It annoyed the **** out of Pi... well, it used to. He slept with no one, now. No one who could be bothered by it. By this point, they'd reached the switchboard, and Lancaster flicked a few of the switched. The lights came on in bays, flickering in certain sections before burning to life. Soon, the boat was alive with light.