Eye of the Storm [Lyonel]

[Blaize]

WEARING

It had been some time since Blaize had seen Lyonel; it was miraculous that the dancer hadn’t kicked down his sire’s door a month or two back. It was a testament to the dancer’s willpower, his strength to resist the things that he could not understand – especially if they revealed some weakness in himself. Now that he was back, however, now that he was feeling like his old self again, he felt it was safe to approach the older vampire; it was safe to be in his company without feeling the need to break down and fall at his feet.

There was no other reason for Blaize’s visit except that he missed his sire, and it was through no one’s fault but his own if the two had been distant lately. Blaize did what he always did; he focused so much on his passion, on his dance, that all else fell away. And this time around he’d focused so hard on his dance that everything else would fall away.

It was back at the penthouse that he found himself, feet making no sound as he meandered through the rooms in search of his sire – who might not even be home. Lyonel was a busy man, an important man. It was unlikely that Blaize would stumble across him lounging around in his underwear while indulging in a Netflix binge. Was it?

The dancer paused by the door of the studio, where he’d spent so much of his time. The introduction of Demi had kept Blaize from the penthouse, and even after Breno was sired it was a habit he’d stuck to. He had his own studio. He had his own apartment. He’d not wanted to meet the obnoxious woman but now, as he wandered through the rooms, he wondered whether he might. He was open to it, now. He could handle it, now. Now, he was actually kind of curious to meet her.

Without prying into any of the private rooms, Blaize finally stopped meandering and leaned against the couch as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He composed a short but sweet message, which he then sent to his sire:

Got time to hang out?

With the phone nestled in his hand so that he would feel the vibration, should a new message arrive, he pushed his hands into his pockets and… waited. Still as a statue in the middle of the penthouse, staring into space – calm as the eye of a storm.

[Lyonel]

A t t i r e

“I settled.”

Jolie Sweet was not the type to sit still for any length of time while in her boss’ presence. For one thing he signed her more than generous paychecks. She didn’t have a worry in the world and despite how their arrangement would appear to some she was better off than most her age without the obligations, responsibilities of being tied down. Being bewitched was a wish that just so happened to come true and she never forgot it. Not that she wanted just anyone to grant it. From the first moment her eyes set on him through the shop window of her underrated salon where she was barely making enough to rent her single chair monthly she knew. Something about him said the future was within reach. He was larger than life then and now more so while seated behind the heavy hardwood desk that all but seemed to anchor him in the center of the spacious executive office that surrounded her. The world could be at his fingertips without a whole lot of effort on his part yet there Lyonel sat relaxed as one in his position could possibly be shuffling papers and dealing with the routine like any other hard working businessman.

“I know what you are thinking but really it wasn’t worth the headache.”

The tone of her voice didn’t go without his notice. It was more of sigh than it was a confession that he was right. Of course he was but he would never be the type to say it. Lyonel was so far from the cold killer that he was created to be when he was around her for good reason. Outside family Jolie was the only one who really got what he was about. She didn’t take for granted it wasn’t there. Even in the calm of his office it was present just like the prep-school reject jacket he was wearing. She blinked taking in the clothes he had on that were visible to her from where she sat in the entirely too comfortable oversized office chair. Something was a bit off with the look and it wasn’t like her to let it go without telling him.

“I am sure there has to be some story that goes with that jacket you have on.” The shimmer of her cocoa skin moving beneath the recessed lighting had him looking up.
“You wanted to handle it so I stayed out of it.” The file in his hand disappeared into the right side drawer of his desk. “Right?” The chair beneath him slid back with the shift of his body to stand up.
“Well, yeah.” Her eyes were following the rise of his body until her eyebrows jumped in the realization he was actually taller than the last time she saw him.

Seriously? She had only been gone two weeks tops and he was well over half way to seven feet easily. It would remain unspoken but he would see it in her eyes. They agreed it was one of those things she would take as part of his overall package. Above average height, appearing out of nowhere and strong enough to move her boxed in car with a pull and lift of his hands. She knew more than that about him but she faithfully and loyally kept it under wraps. No matter how much he didn’t want to hear it he was going to. Fashion sense was her responsibility to point out. She ran a upscale salon that everyone who was someone knew he set her up in. The last thing she could afford is having him seen in a tweed prep school jacket over a hoodie.

“Lyonel, what punk did you swipe that jacket from?” She shook her head sending the veil of chocolate ringlets sliding back and forth over her chest.
“My jacket is fine.” His expression was matter of fact and lacking the amusement she could have entertained if she wasn’t the one in the hot seat to start with. “I think you are avoiding the point of our chat.”

He was about to give her his thoughts as he pressed his palms on the surface of his well polished desk. The legal battle with the woman and the salon they co-owned in Veil Tower needed to be a lesson beyond court findings. The litigation with the retiree who claimed that a botched seaweed wrap and eyebrow wax had not only caused her to have long term allergies but left her browless and damaged emotionally could have been handled differently. Not only that it could have turned out in Jolie’s favor with a lot less awarded in the judgment. Unfortunately his private cell phone interrupted his verbal review as the screen blinked to alert him of an incoming message.

“Wow.” She bounced up and out of the seat. “Look at that. Saved by the bell.” She stepped fast towards the door once he picked it up and went about pulling up the message for view. “I will leave you to that.”
“Blaize.” He said the name out loud while reading the invite to hang out. “You and I will discuss this later. Until then try to stay out of trouble.”
“You got it.” She all but disappeared out of the office only to lean her head back in with a last suggestion. “I really think he could rock that jacket. It was made for him.”

Lyonel eyed the jacket on his body once the reply that he was free for the night was sent. Taking the empty office as a perk for disappearing fast he only had to give it simple thought. Just like that he was outside Beta Towers reaching for the door to step into the lobby. Once inside he started pulling the jacket from his shoulders and wiggled his arms free while stepping into the elevator. On the ride up he smoothed it out and folded it to be presentable. A few steps were needed once the door hissed open to reveal the penthouse.

“I got you something.” He announced as he closed the door behind him. Clearing the massive open space of the entry he finally was close enough to give the tweed jacket a toss towards Blaize. “Jolie said it would look better on you. Hell if I know what that means but more than likely I am not doing it justice, I guess.”

He dropped to the nearest seat and settled back like he was relieved to be home, which he was. It had more to do with the fact that the platinum swan wanted to hang out with him outside all the others he had been known to spend his free time with. Lyonel missed him like crazy but he wasn’t about to pressure the one he sired into more time than he wanted to offer on his terms. Lyonel West was patient. Patient and once again in awe as he studied the one that had yet to say anything since he entered the room.

[Blaize]

It can’t have been more than two minutes that Blaize stood there; he wasn’t even done sending the message back to Lyonel to tell him where he was before he was breezing through the front door – like he owned the place. Which… he did, didn’t he? Thinking about it, Blaize couldn’t be certain that Lyonel did own the penthouse, but the way his whole persona filled the space – any space – he owned the whole world.

The first thing that Blaize noticed was the height. How long was it that he’d seen his sire that he could have forgotten how tall he was?! Maybe it was the way Blaize was leaned against the couch that made Lyonel seem taller than he was – even if the dancer was quick to stand, shoulders always straight and erect. Blaize took the jacket, perplexed. If he was the arguing sort, he might have clarified. Lyonel hadn’t bought the jacket for Blaize. He hadn’t done it with Blaize in mind. But it was purely semantics and it didn’t matter – Blaize still took the jacket with appreciation, wasting no time in pulling it over his own hoodie, reaching back to pull the hood out from beneath the collar.

He had no mirror within which he could assess the result, though he did feel as if, given Lyonel’s extra height, it was a little bigger than it should have been. Blaize himself stood at six-foot-two, however, and the difference wasn’t too bad. He held his arms out, meandering around to the front of the couch so that Lyonel could tell him what he thought.

Lyonel’s scent still clung to the cloth and though that shouldn’t have registered with the straight, generally unfeeling vampire, he had to stop himself from breathing it in, revelling in it. Not in front of the man whose scent he wanted to bask in, anyway. That would be far too much.

”Thank you,” he said, eventually. He remained standing, knowing he wanted to sit down right beside Lyonel and resisting. ”I think it would fit you better. Not sure why she thinks it wouldn’t suit…” he added, tugging at the jacket’s lapels. He liked it. It was something that he would have picked out for himself. If Lyonel was sure, Blaize would keep it, and no doubt wear it often.

”How’s things? How’s uhm… Demi?” he asked, managing to keep his tone light.

[Lyonel]

“In general?” He figured ‘things’ covered pretty much anything he wanted to acknowledge with an answer so he delivered it. “Things are good.”

His eyes, of course, were on Blaize while he put on the jacket and held his arms out. The jacket suited him. Jolie was right. He nodded while taking notice that nothing he fit into could be compared to the beauty of the swan beneath the layers of tweed and cotton. Ethereal was the only word that came to the killer’s mind consistently while in the dancers presence. Which he was and for the moment Lyon had to remember to answer what was asked of him instead of becoming lost in thoughts that would only prove far more distracting than useful. He shrugged his arms free of where they found temporary comfort and brought his hands forward palming the open centers so that each could slide slowly against the other.

“Demi Fae happens to be harder to keep tabs on than you.”

Lyonel evolved into a sire that followed in the footsteps of the one who brought him over to the dark side. Wolfgang didn’t chase those he chose to turn like kids let loose and needing constant supervision. Lyonel was an adult as were the other Wests. It was an unspoken expectation that each would act accordingly. Come hell or high water whatever they got into they would either sink or swim. So far Blaize appeared to go with the flow and it all registered. Naturally he expected that Demi Fae, wherever she currently was, would do the same. Of course he could be wrong any second of any given day or night just like anyone else. In that case then he would shift gears to accommodate whatever had to be done to make it work.

“Unless you have something concerning her to add that I don’t know about?”

The two dancers had an interesting chemistry. It was charged with tension among other things. As intuitive as the killer could be he wasn’t sure if this was Blaize’s way of putting out some sort of olive branch and he wanted their shared sire to be there pulling them together or just checking to see if the coast was clear of the woman appearing unexpectedly. Demi had full access to the penthouse just as any other West did so that was always a possibility.

“How are you doing?” His eyes fixed on the one standing taller in front of him than the seating beneath his own body allowed him to sit. Blaize had been rather quiet for some time which gave Lyonel every reason to believe that he had been incredibly focused with whatever consumed his time. “I am curious.”

[Blaize]

”…Demi Fae?” he said. Had that bit got lost in translation? Had he known that was her full name and simply not registered at the time? It was possible. He’d have to check the forum. He hadn’t been in his right state of mind. What even had he said? Nothing to give away his true feelings, he hoped. Lyonel didn’t show any signs of knowing Blaize’s true feelings. Which was how Blaize preferred it. He would remain the cool, calm and collected Swan that Lyonel had agreed to induct into eternity.

Blaize laughed.

”…that’s an unfortunate name. No, I don’t know anything concerning Demi. I’ve never met her,” he said with a shrug. Was Blaize glad that Lyonel seemed not to know where Demi was? Was he glad that she was harder to keep tabs on than himself? Or was he angry, that she should just skip out on their sire? Was Lyonel worried about it? He didn’t seem worried. Should Blaize feel guilty at the suggestion that he was hard to keep tabs on (even if less so than Demi)? Too many questions and he answered none of them. Instead, he gave in to his whim and dropped down onto the couch beside Lyonel. Not too close, mind. Just sitting, legs stretched out in front of him.

It was good to sit. He didn’t sit enough.

”Doing just fine,” Blaize said, without an ounce of a lie. He was, now, doing just fine. ”I sired someone. Darcy. She’s French, strong,” he said. That was the impression he got, that first night. She was a fighter. Someone who took the cards that were dealt to her and made the most of them, for better or worse.

”Aleksandra came back, too. She was in Australia. Her Dad died. We ah… things are good,” he said with a smile and a nod. Plenty had happened, of course. Before Breno, and after Breno, most everything else had gone back to normal. The studio was fine, business was good. He would not mention how Darcy had come about; would not mention that he had not learned his lesson – only told himself that should he be presented with hot, fresh human blood, next time he would not allow himself to lose control.

[Lyonel]

Demi Fae certainly had one of those names that sort of had far more coincidence with the place she was transplanted in than ever planned on. Her parents wouldn’t have had a clue of how the name they fixed to her on legal documents would get the reaction such as the one just witnessed.

“I would consider it more unforgettable than unfortunate given her disposition.” The pint sized firecracker who had the knack for sending the world upside down with little to no provocation was that and more. Unforgettable was a good start. Demi Fae was fitting in his opinion. He looked forward to introducing her to one. “Just wait till she finds out she isn’t the only one that answers to the name.”

Lyonel noted the smile that appeared on Blaize’s face after stating that he and Aleksandra were good. Some would read into it and put the two together but he wasn’t going to go that far. With the time Blaize devoted to his passion for dance he wasn’t sure there was time left for that kind of ‘good’. And if it was that good well then even better for both of them for learning to micromanage their time and fit it in. Perhaps he should ask, show interest but he knew if there was more to be told then Blaize would inform him. What he was told would suffice.

Darcy, however, was an entirely new revelation. A new West addition. That was always good to hear. Now he had to allow the upward pull of the left corner of his mouth to take over. There was nothing wrong with Blaize stretching his wings. Taking his dark gift and paying it forward was sort of how it all worked. He was doing better than the last time he saw him. Much better.

“Où as-tu rencontré Darcy?”

Lyonel’s exposure to the language was still somewhat limited. Over the last few months he had been the recipient of Jolie badgering him to learn it because there was something about the sound of it that appealed to her. That wasn’t his first motivating factor nor was it the last. Lyon was in need of hurdling a few language barriers with the increasing business that had him routinely in and out of Europe. A good friend based in Harper Rock just so happened to have it as their first language. The guy would appreciate Lyon’s ability to carry on a discussion with ease instead of accommodating the West killer with the one language he was known to speak outside survival Spanish. Beyond that Lyon had deeper motives for giving the language program his personal assistant set him up with a wholehearted effort.

“J'ai appris la langue.” He decided to spare the further examples he could offer of his casual and far from proper form of the French language. “I have not mastered it as you can tell.”

[Blaize]

Unforgettable. That was Demi, according to Lyonel. Blaize masked a twitch by chasing a non-existent itch at the back of his head. This was the reason why Blaize wondered if Aleksandra’s attachment – and his more-than-warm regard toward her in return – had anything to do with the blood that ran through their veins. Aleksandra had accused Blaize of acting like a jealous boyfriend. And now here he was with Lyonel, having issues with the way he referred to this Demi Fae. It shouldn’t have mattered if she was unforgettable to Lyonel. It shouldn’t matter if they were sleeping together. Blaize had never been attracted to men, and nor was he now. He kept repeating this to himself.

And he consoled himself, too. What he felt in regards to Lyonel, and in regards to Aleksandra – they were two completely different things. And he felt neither for Breno nor Darcy, and cared little (right now) that he’d not heard from Ayunli. It still didn’t solve the mystery of why.

Lyonel then spoke to Blaize in French and Blaize merely stared, perplexed. When he was done, Blaize shrugged. ”I don’t speak French at all, so you’ve lost me already,” he said, and then laughed. ”Unless you’re cursing me, then I’ll understand,” he said. Darcy had cursed him, that he’d understood. It wasn’t as amusing then as it was now. And even now the laughter was cut short as the full blast of the memory ravaged his mind.

There was another twitch. This one caught him unawares. This one he couldn’t mask as well as he had the other.

”Should we go to the boat?” he asked out of the blue. ”You invited me once and I declined. I’d like to see it, though,” he said. They’d had a gathering once on a boat, and Blaize wondered if it was the same one, whether Lyonel had forgotten that he’d already seen it. The change of subject was on purpose; the suggestion to go see the boat was a suggestion to move. Blaize was unable to sit still, already and again on his feet and moving.

[Lyonel]

“No more French because I can’t imagine losing you.” Coming from anyone else it could sound strangely out of place and borderline needy. Lyonel was just so far from the type it was easy to understand it was a honest expression that said just what he admitted. He was a sire that wouldn’t accept or entertain the possibility of what he had no intention of happening. “VEGAS sounds like a great idea.”

Lyonel was on his feet and heading for the front door with the suggestion. The movement of Blaize had the tall West looking the dancers direction only long enough to retrieve the keys from the small writers desk by the door. His attention pulled to the exposed space of the wood drawer that held a collection of key rings. The give of the hinged fit was accomodating to the light hook of a fingertip to draw it out further. The restored piece was hardly large enough to use for the purpose of extensive writing but it was more than sufficient to store items such as keys to random properties and vehicles that he had sitting around the city that he didn’t use on a daily basis. His level of trust and generosity was a little more than it probably should be given his path that fate chose for him. So far it had not cost him more than he was willing or capable of forgiving and forgetting. The drawer in his grasp stayed open long enough for him to draw Blaize’s attention to it.

“By the way if you ever want to take it out feel free.” Celadon eyes shifted to catch the platinum head in his peripheral field. The movements made played to a rise of strings and passionate chirps of classical inspired keys. The sounds of music in his head had him thinking less of the freedom of water in the current plans and more of air that moved as gracefull and effortlessly as the one he watched. Yes, for longer than he planned. He caught himself before he stood out for it. “The keys are usually in here if it isn’t in use. Family is welcome to anything that is assigned a key inside the drawer. Just try to get them back when you are done with whatever you are using.” The casual lift of the left corner of his mouth lightened the possibility of what could happen if keys were lost, which could easily happen. “Lose a set just give me a call or a text and I can get them replaced. I have back-ups.”

Once the Beta penthouse door was secured they were greeted with the elevator door opening. Lyon stretched the length of his arm to hold the door so that Blaize could enter first. His eyes followed the heels of the shoes ahead of him while they moved. As soon as the one who chose the element of water for the night ahead stood still the celadon orbs bounced from the ground back up. He stepped into the confined space with a slow yet fluid pivot. The pad of his thumb brushed over the circular button that would close out the eighteenth floor they were leaving and deliver them to the ground level and lobby.

“How is business going?”

It was one of those safe conversation starters. Nothing too personal or giving off the vibe that he wanted to dig deeper than he was permitted to. Which he did but he wasn’t going to. There was a fair amount of finesse that went into dealing with those who didn’t generally leave themselves wide open to those around them. For some it was a defense and others it was simple as closing out the unwanted interaction for whatever valid reason they had that required no excuse or explanation. Space and boundaries were to respected as far as the killer was concerned when it came to family. With Blaize silence sometimes said far more than his mouth did. When that happened Lyon listened closely.

[Blaize]

It was a throwaway comment that Blaize should have laughed off. It was a jest. A joke. Lyonel was teasing. People said stuff like that to each other all the time. It wasn’t needy at all but there was this part of Blaize, this weird corner of his heart that had never existed before, that felt foreign and yet so damned natural. It was built into him now, a part of his very essence.

He wanted it to be true. He wanted Lyonel to be needy, to be afraid of losing him. Should it come to it, he wanted his absence to be noticed, to be recognised. He wanted… well. He shook himself out of it. No, he’d never needed someone to realise he was gone, to call him to check on his wellbeing. Because his wellbeing had always been perfect, hadn’t it? Nothing was ever wrong, he lied to himself. There was no way, no reason for him to open up to anyone about his own state of mind or being when he himself failed to acknowledge or accept that anything was wrong.

Of course he had admitted it, once. Drunk on dark emotion and fuelled to put pen to paper, he’d admitted everything. But could it be counted if it was never given away? If the person it was intended for never received it? He only felt shame, now, when he thought about that piece of paper. Where had it ended up? He’d shown it to Aleksandra when there was no other way to verbally explain to her why he’d been such a fucked up and inattentive sire for those long few weeks. Had it gone back into the drawer? He should burn it. He regretted ever showing it to her. If he had any blood in his system at all his ears would burn from the shame of it. But he had no blood. Even less than your regular bloodsucker.

The elevator was gained after short consideration of the keys in the drawer; Blaize kept the information tucked into the back of his mind, though he wondered whether he would ever use the keys. Maybe. Probably not. Maybe.

”Business is fine,” he said. ”It’s good. Not too busy but busy enough to keep me flush,” he said with a small grin. Not that he ever went out and spent extravagant amounts of money. He didn’t see the point.

When they reached the ground floor, Blaize allowed Lyonel to take the lead. He knew where they were going and how far—and whether a car should be used, though Blaize preferred to walk. He preferred to keep moving, if he wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat.

”And yours? Anything new and enlightening happening in your life?” he asked.

[Lyonel]

“It is consistent. Nothing necessarily enlightening or new.” As soon as he admitted that he was aware how boring he had allowed things to get. Not a good thing really. Not for the time he had to make use of and the duration. He needed to work on that. “Business or otherwise.”

He stepped out of the front doors of the lobby and held on to the one to his left leaving room for Blaize to step outside and join him without any extra effort on his part. It was like he missed a memo and Blaize’s offering his own question back to him was the reminder. Yes, it should be more exciting than business going well. He had been at it so long he couldn’t remember his last vacation. That needed some work. Ideas of places to escape floated through his mind while someone exiting a curbside cab managed to rush towards him and reach the opening he provided before he released the door.

“We can walk?”

It appeared so as he stepped away from the building while the sound of the closing lobby door fading behind him. He could use the fresh air. The open water and air was already playing on his mind. It wouldn’t do anything for him physically that it did years back but it would provide a calming effect that he rarely took the opportunity to enjoy. The relaxed long stride had him sinking his hands into his front pockets for extra comfort.

“You finding it easier to sustain yourself?”

Whether or not Blaize felt like discussing it didn't change the fact that it was something that needed to be asked. Small talk would get them nowhere. The weather spoke for itself as the warm night air found the space between them to flow over the killer’s shoulders, against his neck. Business and whatever was current between either of their individual ventures was covered. Both of them were doing well and had no complaints. A woman had found a permanent place in Blaize’s care. That meant that he had taken on all the responsibility that went with being a sire. Only way that could be considered a success is if he was keeping himself strong enough for the job. Strong enough for not only himself but the one who depended on him for protection, guidance and to provide should she face any unfortunate limitations or setbacks. Things happened.

Celadon orbs finally drifted from the path in front of them. Lyonel was patient as always for any answer Blaize would give. While he did that he took a longer inspection of the face, the profile of what perhaps appeared more in need than recognized earlier. While his feet continued to alternate the placement of the soles of his shoes on the concrete beneath he wondered how long it would be before fresh blood would hit the night air.