Of Prophets (Closed)

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Elizabeth
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Of Prophets (Closed)

Post by Elizabeth »

Elizabeth had a plan brewing in her head. There were a few things in which she needed to do, before departing for Italy in just under two week's time. The first, of her agenda would be to inform Cosimo of her departure time and date and ensure that he would watch the bakery for her while she were away for the thirteen nights. That was, if he was not attending. She saw that there were approximately seven tickets left, a few of those were together, but most were not. She had not heard one way or another, so Elizabeth assumed he would not be going. But, if he were, she could alert him in knowing what she saw for the flight she was taking.

The second would be to attain a tour guide for the nights Elizabeth wanted to venture out. Essentially, almost all evenings would be spent somewhere within the various cities within Italy. The third would be to procure a service that would feet her cats and puppy while on her absence, as to not over burden Cosimo with too many tasks that were not his responsibility. And the final task (not that any of these tasks had to be completed in any specific order, sans the first), was something that had been upon her mind for the last two weeks or so.

There was a heavy truth that had burdened her doorstep for some time, but Elizabeth had been content at ignoring this truth, or denying it. That was, until the woman had stood alone. She was certain Cosimo would have came, if she had no other plans for him, but even then...there would be just two. And while Doc had proposed the idea of reaching out to him in times like the one Elizabeth had encountered, there would come a day in which that may too come to an end. There was really, only one solution in her mind.

An eyelid type sweater was pulled from the closet, and covered Elizabeth's bare shoulders, before she buttoned it up. Half her hair had been collected and pinned back, before her feet found a pair of white heels to accompany the dress and sweater she put on. After her bedroom door had been closed behind her, Elizabeth headed out of the penthouse in the tower, and called the elevator to her. There was no need for her to go through a fadeportal, or take a train, where she was going was right outside her home.

This was by no accident within Elizabeth's mind. She was an avid supporter of the Crow and had, in fact, gifted them a piece of the city, or two. One of them being, the very park in which they claimed the underground areas of. After a brief walk through the park, Elizabeth was in an area that she had never been within. There had been no reason-she trusted they would do what they wanted and needed to do, and she was no enemy to those that followed the Crow.

The sewers were...as to be expected. Damp, humid and not a place in which she was fond of. It would perhaps, be the only, and last time in which Elizabeth would make her way down here. Her blue orbs looked left, then right and without seeing anyone that Elizabeth believed to be a true believer, she headed within the depths of the abandoned sewers, in search of the only one that interested her down here. The one that would one day, be the harbinger of good news in regards to the Crow.
Wearing: http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Arri ... NKcF7x.jpg
Why are you taking me through troubled waters, I asked? Because your enemies cannot swim, he replied.
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Alaric von der Marck
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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There were a few items of clothing that had only recently been added to Alaric von der Marck’s closet. They were items of clothing that did not work well with ties – bow or otherwise – and looked a little ridiculous with a vest. He had been assured, many times over, that these clothes were normal. Far more normal than the formal suits he liked to wear. They were ‘casual’ and, indeed, on his forays into the city he had seen men wearing these kinds of clothes. It did not feel right to the elder, and he’d never seen the need to ‘fit in’. But he’d slowly grown accustomed to the casual attire, and even grew to like it.

His plan, tonight, was to head to the abandoned sewers that he’d discovered one night while taking to the park for refuge. Sometimes he took the train to random stations to try to get to know the city a little better, and some nights he overestimated his ability to handle the various, numerous sensory sensations that bombarded him in the city. On the night that he’d discovered the sewers it had been far too early, and it was a Friday. He’d not known the significance of a Friday, but the train had slowly filled until the bodies were packed like sardines, young men and women (the latter so scantily dressed) on their way to or from certain clubs or pubs or parties. Their bodies were hot to the touch, their skin dressed in scents too strong for the sensitive elder, their voices and shrill laughter far too loud. He’d stumbled from the carriage and onto the Westwall platform, his feet carrying him to the greenery of the trees and the almost-hush of the large park, which led down to the lake. He’d wandered the space for a good long while as he waited for his senses to regain themselves; that was when he’d found the entrance to the sewers. And, upon exploring their innards, it was when he’d discovered a treasure trove of weapon parts that he knew Louvel could use.

And now he had come back again, dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans, boots on his feet and a leather jacket over his shoulders. He almost looked like he belonged in this city, and in this time. He knew that there were other vampires in here, and creatures that could be vicious and violent. And sometimes, the elder liked to let loose and let go some of his pent-up frustrations, those he did not share with his kin, by slaying the creatures that looked too grotesque to be allowed to live. So this time, he brought his weapons with him, preferring the sword to the gun. Over his shoulder was slung a deep bag, within which he could accumulate the parts that he would hand over to Louvel.

The sword in his hand was not exactly clean when he rounded the corner not to be met with a monster, but instead with a woman. A radiant woman, dressed in white. Clean, and proper. A woman Alaric had met before – family, albeit in a different way to the family he’d grown fond of at the Estate.

”Elizabeth,” he greeted with half a bow. Suddenly, even in this dire, glum cavern, he felt underdressed.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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A glint of sword had Elizabeth slowing down as she came upon a corner. Hopeful eyes grew in size, wondering if she had been fortunate enough to come across the one in which she was looking for. The blonde woman veered away from the corner a little, as to not talk into the sword, or to take the other by surprise. Her name was spoken, followed by a bow, Elizabeth's blue eyes on the back of the male's head. Dark hair-which narrowed it down little.

When he stood, only then did Elizabeth recognize who it was. "Alaric." She dipped her head politely to the other elder, before looking down at his sword. "Hunting?" She asked curiously, before offering a tight smile. What, exactly was he hunting? Elizabeth kept the question to herself, before glancing away from the sword and looking at how Alaric was dressed.

If he had not spoken her name, it was likely she would have bypassed him. When they met for the first time, he had been dressed in a suit. Now, he looked as any other kindred from modern nights, which brought a raise of her brow. It seemed he had come far in less than a year-he was certainly stronger and strove to fit in. "It is so good to see thee again." She commented, because it was. So few elders remained within the city, or if they remained, they were hidden for whatever reason. Did they know of an impending danger and had fled, or was she excluded from things the other elders conversed about and took part in? It was difficult to tell, but Elizabeth mostly went with the latter train of thought. "You have adjusted...well." It was a compliment, covered with slight disbelief on many fronts.

With pleasantries aside, the woman canted her head at him curiously, then sucked in some stale air within the forgotten sewers that housed the followers of Crow, before asking him a question. "Has one seen the Crow's prophet? It would save me a great deal of time and trouble, if you have and could point me to his area." In truth, what was time to vampires, especially ones as old as they?
Why are you taking me through troubled waters, I asked? Because your enemies cannot swim, he replied.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

Post by Alaric von der Marck »

The glance at the sword had Alaric instantly sheathing the weapon. He didn’t think it would be good manners to stand there in front of a lady like Elizabeth with a weapon in his hand. Since the last time that he had seen her, he had learned the English language, fully, comprehensively. The elder had not been idle.

Elizabeth had made her place in this city. Alaric thought of her every now and again, wanting but failing to seek her out. Now that he was standing in front of her he regretted that he had not done so. A thirst was aroused within him, questions for knowledge he did not have. It shamed him, that he could have lived for so long and yet still did not have the wisdom that he ought to have. His family sought his wisdom, looked up to him, hoped that he would enlighten them. And yet…

”I have adjusted,” he agreed. ”When one can only move forward, there is no choice but to adjust. To fight against it would be imprudent,” he said. Now that he was standing in front of her, Alaric promised himself that he would seek the other elder out more. There was a sad, silent loneliness that lived in his soul, a fear that he would live out eternity alone, forever to watch those he cared about live and die and be reborn again. It was a beautiful thing to watch, to be sure, and he would never regret the continuation of his line. But there was something missing…

”I do not know what a crow’s… prophet looks like,” he said, shaking his head. ”I am here only to find swords and metal,” he said. He did not say who for, unaware that Elizabeth and Louvel were acquainted. ”I will help you to look?” he asked, gesturing to the hall from whence he had just come. There was no one down there – but it led to other tunnels that he had not yet explored.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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Alaric's English, from what Elizabeth could hear and see, was pretty much impeccable. A lot had changed within the last year; from his attire, to the way he conversed. Elizabeth could only smile, pleased to see he had come a long way. "This is certainly true." Elizabeth nodded, agreeing with his thoughts on things. There were only two choices, do as he and she had, or put one's foot down deep into the earth and refuse to move them, no matter who or what dragged them.

The sword was put away, Elizabeth curious as to whether Louvel had made it for him, or if Alaric were a crafter himself. Things she could ask later, should they have the time. "Your English-you speak it very well." She complimented the other elder, pleased that she would never have to speak French again, unless it was absolutely required of her. "That would be very kind of thee." She accepted the invitation to help her search for the male-perhaps the only male (or two) that followed the Crow and her teachings.

The last time Elizabeth had encountered the group to pass her territories on to them, she had noticed how many women were among the males. It wasn't hard to take note of it, and almost solidify Elizabeth's belief that the Crow was in fact a woman and this was a coven of female vampire followers. "It should not be difficult to find him." Elizabeth informed Alaric as they began towards the area with other tunnels. "He wore black jeans with large pockets, a tighter t-shirt, and some bracelets of sorts. With green hair that reached for the skies." Elizabeth raised an arm to indicate how tall the hair on the male's head stood, before she laughed. "He made quite the statement in his presentation." He was eclectic, Elizabeth summed him up as, finding it intriguing as well as startling.

"You are trained in the skill-set of sword crafting? Is that what has been keeping thee busy, these nights?" Elizabeth asked as they came to a section of tunnels, the sound of whispers bouncing off the wall, along with some altercations down another tunnel. It was fascinating to her-the idea of crafting metal under heat, but nothing she had ever learned. In her early years, Elizabeth had focused her abilities on tracking, and picking locks; these nights she was no where near the tracker, or thief she had once been. How time changed things.
Why are you taking me through troubled waters, I asked? Because your enemies cannot swim, he replied.
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Alaric von der Marck
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

Post by Alaric von der Marck »

Alaric trailed along beside Elizabeth, his sword sheathed and, though he kept his eyes groundward in search for bits and pieces of metal and weaponry he mostly kept his attention upon the woman at his side. It was how it should be, when a man walked beside a woman. His attention should not be split. At least, in Alaric’s estimation of gallantry, that is how the world should work.

”Nein – I have many interests, many things that keep me busy. To learn English, is one of them. Much of my night is spent indoors, reading, or at the estate. But I do like to go outside. What is the point of being alive again if I do not make the most of it?” he pondered. He would criticise himself on how well he’d done. It was often far too overwhelming to go very far or to do very much, and he clung mostly to the outskirts of the city – or quiet places like this. But he was slowly getting better, even taking trips into the malls when he was feeling particularly adventurous.

”The metal I am collecting for one of my descendants – Louvel. He is very good with them,” Alaric said, then frowned thoughtfully. ”He is always handing completed swords back to me. I have a collection. I do not know what I will do with them, but they are there. If needed,” he said. He had to remember that he and Elizabeth were looking for two completely different things – his was an inanimate, stationary object and hers was a moving target. The elder cleared his throat.

”This… prophet. Those that live in these sewers, they are violent toward our kind, ja? Is it safe, to be seeking this prophet…?” he asked. He did not know the story of those who lived here, why they lived here or what their purpose was. He could have been completely wrong. But he was not above asking the questions.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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It was noticeable to Elizabeth that most the time his attention was upon her and what Elizabeth had to say. It was appreciated, and something that wasn't seen a lot when Elizabeth spoke to people outside her family. People today had their attention split on many things at one time. Dinner, work, laundry, cellular devices, and so many other things. "Indeed." The blonde telepath woman nodded her head in agreement at Alaric's question. "What is it that one likes to read? When I returned, I found myself within the city library north of my estate, reading about things suggested to me by others. Historical events, mostly. What has been missed these last two hundred years or so." There had been a lot going on from the 1920's to the 1940's-and not just on the war side of things. Progressive movements had been made at a much later time than Elizabeth anticipated when she were younger and human.

"Over time, swords lose their finesse and sometimes break." Elizabeth offered in regards to Louvel, before adding on, "I have met him a few times. He does business with me. Sells me fruits for my bakery. He is....different." Elizabeth said quietly, before offering Alaric a smile. He could take that as being human, but Elizabeth had learned there was more to him than what met the eye. "You must be proud of him." Elizabeth stated with a singular nod of her head.

Elizabeth paused when Alaric mentioned the prophet, wondering where he was going with it, before Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. "I do not think so, no." She stated, before seeing a glint of metal to the side of where she would be walking soon. Her steps picked up the pace for a few walking strides, before she knelt down, picked it up and offered it to Alaric. "Well, perhaps. But for good reason, I believe. If it is they fighting, who could blame them? This is their home, or at least the place in which they conduct business. Would you like someone barging into your home and taking your things?" A sideways glance was given to him, before she went on with her thoughts.

"They are the followers of Crow. They believe in her, as does Isabella, Staus, and even myself. She led the elders here, yes? How could they be dangerous or violent by nature?"
She glanced straight ahead, hearing steps approaching them from the dark distance. "You do not need to be afraid. I am friends with these people. Allies, perhaps would be the better word. We have a history, and will continue to do so." Elizabeth would do everything within her power to keep the followers of the Crow within the city, ever hopeful for her return one evening.
Why are you taking me through troubled waters, I asked? Because your enemies cannot swim, he replied.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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Alaric nodded, easily.

”Ja, is the same for me,” he said in regards to the things that he liked to read. ”The history novels – the wars,” he said, frowning, disliking the way Germany was painted since the modern wars. The atrocities committed, the things that all modern humans must think, whenever they think about Germany. And yet, Alaric was still loyal to his home; what he had come to realise in all his centuries of life was that war, it was inevitable. There would never be world peace – not unless there was an alien threat. Even then, could humanity be trusted to work together?

”But I do not read only the true books. I read the novels, the new authors – I like to learn how humanity changed, not only in their technology, but in their thinking. Their philosophy,” he said. They, because he had long since discounted himself as part of the human race. A smile stretched Alaric’s lips as Elizabeth spoke of his Louvel, and he nodded.

”Louvel is everything that I hoped that this family would become,” he said. They were all in their different ways a testament to the von der Marck lineage. Louvel was a titan, level-headed and reasonable – he had a good head on his shoulders, and Alaric could never doubt the man’s loyalty. Ever. ”I offered him immortality,” Alaric admitted. There was something about Elizabeth, something in the warmth of her demeanour that had him opening up without any provocation. ”He would do it, if I told him he had to. He is… he is the sun. You can see it, can you not? Do you think that immortality would steal that from him?” Alaric asked. He could not be surprised that the two knew each other. The world was small. He then shook his head.

”I have not spoken with Isabella in some time, and she had not told me all of her history. I did not know that she led the elders here. Or why,” he said. Now he knew. ”I would like to learn, however. If you will allow me to join you.”
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

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Elizabeth had not read a lot of modern novelists, but Alaric had an interesting and different perspective on why she very well might pick up something from this century. The blonde haired telepath remained silent while listening to Alaric, her mind working as she did this. Her mind brushed against and into the one she was searching for down here, hopeful he was here and that they could a brief, but needed conversation.

Alaric's praises about Louvel came to no surprise to Elizabeth, and she could only smile more. The human had a lot going on for him. His own business, his affinity to and over the earth, and other pleasing physical characteristics. Elizabeth stilled her steps when Alaric confessed to offering Louvel what it was they already head. "Oh." She said, thoughts about the matter disappearing. It was not her place to have an opinion or thought. It was Louvel's and Alaric's. Yet, Alaric was asking for her thoughts and so, Elizabeth continued moving again.

"I believe we both know the answer to that. But, perhaps not. There are a few lucky of us that are capable of retaining our characteristics many of years later. " She stopped to turn and face Alaric, curious on a few matters. "Would you force him to take the gift of immortality?" Elizabeth had forced sired once in her life time and he had not made it past the first stages. A lesson learned to her.

"One moment. Surge is approaching." Elizabeth stated, the silent conversation between her and him having not disrupted most of the thoughts shared by Alaric or her own. It was a second nature to the woman; to speak within one's mind while doing other tasks. "I do apologize for the interruption, but I must take care of this before my trip." Elizabeth said softly and somewhat apologetically to Alaric as the male with green hair crawled out of the dark depths of a sewer system off to the right. "Good evening, Surge." Elizabeth dipped her head cordially to the male as her eyes landed upon him, then looked towards Alaric. "He is my companion, and a friend." Elizabeth informed Surge, he gave Alaric a once over before he snorted a little bit. "I don't know him. Only doing business with you."

"Of course. Two minutes." Elizabeth cast a glance in Alaric's way before she moved down the same darkened sewer system Surge had emerged from, Surge taking the lead. The conversation was short, and quiet, but not in such a way that Alaric wouldn't be able to pick up most of the conversation with words such as 'Coastside,' 'offering' 'payment,' 'Disciples of Crow.' The exchange took just a little over two minutes, as Elizabeth desired nothing in return for what it was she was offering the group, and she returned, as promised, alone.

"I can only share with thee what I know. I know not how she managed to bring the others here, but I know why." Elizabeth offered, before following up with, "When would one like to discuss such things? I am leaving soon for a fortnight...so it will have to be soon, or there after. It is the best I can do on short notice."
Why are you taking me through troubled waters, I asked? Because your enemies cannot swim, he replied.
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Re: Of Prophets (Closed)

Post by Alaric von der Marck »

The thought horrified Alaric – that anyone should think that he would force this change on any he cared for. The words were not able to pass his lips before Elizabeth cut him off, before the person they had been looking for emerged from the shadows. With green hair, just as Elizabeth had described. Alaric could not help but stare. Green hair! Oh, how the world had changed. And yet, it did not bother Elizabeth in the least, who spoke with this miscreant – for he looked like a miscreant to the elder von der Marck – as if they were old friends. And, from the way Elizabeth had spoken, they may as well have been old friends.

The green-haired miscreant did not trust Alaric, which affronted the elder, but not enough for him to argue against it. The elder could not say that he trusted Surge, either – and though he stayed out of their conversation, Alaric made sure to keep an eye on Elizabeth while she conducted her business.

Elizabeth soon returned, and the green-haired Surge disappeared. Alaric was brought back to their conversation – a different one to the one she’d left him with, those awful imaginings of how things would turn out if he were to force immortality on anyone. Elizabeth reminded him that he was leaving soon for a fortnight, and it made him think of how he so wished to visit Germany again. It had been decided by Leonie and Louvel that the logistics of taking a vampire with them would not allow it, though Alaric did not understand why. He had made it to this new world over three hundred years ago. Surely transportation in this day and age would be far better, far easier? He had been confined to the bottom galley of a trading ship. The captain was made to believe his sons that their father had died, and wished to be buried in Canada. He’d remained in that coffin for the duration of the trip, consuming only the rats that accompanied them. Was it the same, now? Did they wish not to subject Alaric to such conditions again? No, he merely assumed they wished to spend some time to themselves. And who could blame them, with how he teased them so, about how he could see their dreams and read their thoughts? He had not pushed. One day, when he had adjusted to modernity, he would go.

”I am not busy,” he said. ”If you are, we can wait. We have nothing but time. They are not answers that I have had for centuries. They can wait another month,” he said with a smile. A sad smile, for reasons unknown. But a smile nonetheless.
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