Dirty Laundry- Habren Ashe

[Kanoa Hahn (DELETED 12488)]

”That is all I have to give you.”

The complimentary dry cleaner pen in Kanoa’s hand ceased the creation of swirls and lines of basic blue ink. All that the mailroom turned editor turned reporter turned news anchor had to go on was what he was watching dry slowly on the paper beneath his eyes. The tip of the pen tapped at the information as if he hit the surface a few more times a little more would magically appear.

“It’s been long enough. Three years for the **** storm to settle. I can get her to talk… or him. They were hooked once. They can be again. Hell, if I do this right I can get both of them. But if I do I want to roll this how I envision. Segments. A series perhaps. Nothing small either. I think it will sell in top brackets. This is a documentary of the century if these two are some of the very first vampires still able to be reached. I’m going in ready to sacrifice my skin to get this story so it’s reasonable. A book was written, people went nuts. Remember that? People literally started shooting at the ******* messenger!” He paused long enough for her to chuckle. “ Yeah, That was then and now it is like visiting a freakish theme park surrounded by circus tents of equally creepy **** in the suburbs. I actually was able to buy blood in a bag from some vendor selling everything from water balloon launchers and sports cars to fishing spots and weapons. And get this…” His voice drops for a second as he looks around to keep from sharing what could be a little known secret. “I walked out soaked. I was in water balls deep getting in there. Did the fastest backstroke getting out. I **** you not. They have sunken places that all these people hang in. And what is in there is off the charts crazy.”

Kanoa settled back and forgot where he was as his mind weaved his thoughts together. His summer tailored loafers popped up secure on his feet and landed on the chair across from him. They remained relatively unseen since they were hidden under the outdoor table he had been claiming for the better of the last five hours. He was far from loitering. As many times as the waitress had strolled by he ordered as many of his tall refreshing vices.

“Hold on a second…”

Kanoa didn’t wait for the confirmation from the person sharing the phone call. He raised the empty glass with the red straw and gave it a shake of his dominant hand so the ice rattled back and forth within. The concoction was rumored to aid in hangovers which is how the love affair between he and the Caesar started when he first arrived. Now it was a daily staple in his diet that had dropped the typical salads and sprouts in favor of poutine, bannock and vodka. Lots of vodka. It was like a shot of calm to his originally frazzled nerves at his first sights of bears, fadebeasts, zombies and underwater beasts, oh my!

“Back. So, I will give this a shot and call you back in a few days and update you.”

The call ended and the fresh glass was raised to inspect the moisture rolling down the side. Drop after cool drop had Kanoa’s attention. His forehead mirrored the drink in his hand. Both Caesar and a tenacious reporter were in the mood to sweat before the sun had set.

“Predators shall meet prey. Not every lion has it’s day.” The red straw bobbed with the movement of his hand coming closer to his face. Just as his lips formed around the straw movement caught his attention. “Excuse me. I am looking for a place called Moon Dark Magic. Any idea where that is at?” A grin found his lips while the waitress took out her pen and a small napkin and began writing where to find it. “You must be an angel or a devil in disguise.” His glass went up with a wink of his eye. “Don’t tell me which. Let it be a surprise.” He always had a habit of playing the wild cards.

[Habren Ashe]

The press release had gone out about a month prior and had generated some attention around the City, much to Habren’s delight. Her newest business endeavour was much like the first one, but a bit less focused on the oddities side and more on the occult. Located all the way across town, it was tucked away in an unassuming little space that opened up into a much larger area that housed many a rare, unusual item for the most discerning of tastes, as well as a space to entertain those who sought her own particular and ancient talents for spellwork and peeks into the future. Most of her customers were like herself - practitioners of what some would call the darker arts - and occasionally required something hard to find or source. But Habren had been around for quite a long time, and knew just where to look for some of those things. It was one of her favorite activities, and it helped transfer the need to hunt onto something a bit more benign and tasteful to the general population than human blood.

Not that it stopped her, but it certainly helped.

For the time being, though, Habren had her face to show around the new storefront and be present for anyone who might arrive with questions for her, or special requests. As a purveyor of the harder to find supplies and trinkets and, lets face it, some seriously taboo items, face time was pretty much the only way to handle such transactions. And so, for any in the know, Habren’s hours varied from night to night, only released at twilight to a few randomly selected token-holders who could spread the word. This not only kept the hype building nicely, but it allowed her a modicum of privacy, as well as anonymity for those who came to see her.

And so, at half past midnight, Habren slipped into the side entrance, unlocked the front door, and set herself up behind the counter to await the first of her guests for the evening, busying herself with invoices and other mundane tasks to keep her mind occupied. The sooner the hours passed, the sooner she would be on her way home to her Mircea.

[Mircea]

Sometimes things change. Sometimes they stay exactly the same.

On this occasion, they had done both. Separated by centuries and by continents, by life and by death, by acceptance and by publicity, Mircea found himself in a perfectly familiar situation, pulling a soft leather hat down low until it cast his face in shadow. They called it an Australian now, but his was older than the nation's name and had its origins in the green of Welsh mountains rather than the red of the Australian outback.

These things stayed the same.

Mircea eased through the unlocked door sometime after the proprietor had opened, moving from the bright lights behind to a quieter, more secret space within. The door closed softly behind him, the noise of the city silenced in its wake before he moved through the space towards the counter, weaving between shelves and patrons alike in silence with a small smile tugging at his mouth until he found his way behind the barrier between shopkeeper and shopper - a designated space to trade coin for knowledge and services.

These things stayed the same. These things changed completely.

"Good evening, my love," Mircea murmured to Habren as he eased behind her at the counter.

[Kanoa Hahn (DELETED 12488)]

Kanoa settled back in the driver's seat once the engine to the car ceased to run. The door to his left eased open when his hand made the minimal effort to pull at the silver handle. With the confirmation of a series of inner workings clicking he pushed it outward a minimal distance from where he was sitting. If only the rest of the evening could be so simple and predictable as getting out of his recently paid for car.

A warmth, courtesy of the watchful moon, greeted the surface of his skin as he exited the canopy of the black Mercedes-Benz E-Class. As the door closed he took a brief glance over his shoulder at his reflection. The deep tint in the custom glass offered him the visual reassurance that he looked casual and acceptable even if, for the most part, a bit out of place given the nature of business he was about to enter into. The moisture that had been accumulating on his scalp was combed out with the slow threading of his lean fingers from crown to nape. The sweat born salt clinging to his upper lip gave up its hold with brush of his tongue. A glistening tip tracing the soft ridge out of nervous habit was abandoned as soon as his loafers paused in the space outside the shop door. A two second exhale whistled through his lips.

“Geckos.” His hand moved the shop door gently so there was no barrier between the inside and him. “No. Rabbits.” What the hell was he even thinking? That was just wrong. Who kills rabbits? His thoughts quickly had him focus. “Rocks. Stones. Yeah, sticking with stones.” Being curious and walking in for the first time would be apparent to who he was looking for. If they could sense how many pints of blood a body had flowing through it and it’s temperature then a quick look at him and his attire would scream virgin to what he was stepping into.

“Excuse me.”

Kanoa stepped to the side as he made room for a dark clothed figure to pass through. Just as he made his way into a section of oddities, by his limited knowledge of the dark arts and rituals, a couple at the counter caught his attention. Enough so that his steps took an instant pause leaving him to stare in near disbelief. They matched the two he was looking for but to see it with his own two eyes was something entirely different. The centuries left little to no marks upon the two.

A soft brush of contact at his left shoulder had him turn briefly to acknowledge the presence. A cool sensation flowed over the back of his neck and curled upward against the back of his ear. In its wake an unexpected shiver traveled down his spine. Unsettled and nearly forgetting his lack of movement, or the fact he was likely standing out like a nosey human in an ancient vampire’s place of business, he cleared his throat lightly. Suddenly he felt compelled to be direct verses the sleazy reporter move to be standing in loafers and looking for some rocks. With that decided he stepped up to make the first move.

“Good…” He wondered if it was a thing to say goodnight in greeting at this hour for several centuries old vampires. Some of the first is how he remembered it. “Night. I hope I am not interrupting…” he glanced around finding things moving about without a care as to who he was or the fact he was standing there. “Things, your business. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kanoa Hahn. I would like to speak with you about a previous interview and see if you are interested in expanding on it.” There. The cat was out of the bag. Of course kittens naturally came to mind and he really hoped nothing cute, soft and tiny started making noise and distracting him.

[Habren Ashe]

A soft smile settled over the witch’s lips, one brow rising slightly as his presence washed over her before she ever did see him. It was always that way, had been that way since the first night, and Habren needed no eyes in her head to know precisely where and how he moved, no matter that his arrival was a most pleasant surprise. And as he settled in behind her, she leaned in against him with such a well-practised and welcomed second nature - one so close to the immediate that it might as well have been so since the stars first graced the midnight sky.

Her head tucked neatly against his shoulder, lingering just a moment before she turned to press a soft, slow kiss to his mouth. “You are up early, my Love,” she murmured quietly, the gentle, teasing laugh clear in her voice, for the sun had only set an hour or so before. “Pray, tell me you have fed some already; I would rather not be facing my Bear of a husband this night.” She nipped at his lower lip, a daring, devilish gleam dancing in her eyes, knowing already she would be picking at his patience if he hadn’t. And that he would be dreaming up some delightful sort of payback later, regardless. “Though I do hope you saved some room to hunt with me later...”

Attention so wrapped up in the only one who could drown out the world around them, Habren did not at first hear the clearing of a human throat somewhere just before them. Instead, her entire focus was trained upon the male who held her and what retort would fall from his lips.

But then the human stepped forward and even the witch, distracted as she was, could not miss the telltale movement out of the corner of her eye. Curiosity threaded through her, though, and she stifled a laugh when he spoke of interrupting; the truth was, he was, but he was interrupting no more than a constant state of being. The couple had never exactly been known for slowing anything down or caring for appearances in the presence of others, delicate sensibilities or no. And so she made no immediate move to disentangle herself, wondering if this particular human had come for a reading, or something more interesting and along the lines of forbidden.

And yet, despite the slight hesitation, he soon was to reveal just what his aims were. A member of the press, and an unknown one, at that. Aside from the shrewd rise of a brow and a glance to her husband, the witch gave nothing else away from behind the calm, placid mask that was the usual set of her features. Back when they had first been discovered in the modern age, she and Mircea had cherry-picked a reputable news outlet to hold an interview, followed by a very small press conference, in an effort to explain and educate, to avoid another holocaust that would take down all they had built and held dear. In the time since then, they had been mostly left in peace, by some small miracle, and had at last let their guard down enough to relax and travel again. It had been blissful anonymity ever since, and they had soaked it up until they decided, somewhere around the same time, it was perhaps a good time to return to the home they had made in the New World.

“That was several years ago, Kanoa Hahn,” Habren said in an even, candid tone graced with the accent of her homeland, sharp indigo gaze settled firmly upon the youthful, handsome face. His words rang with truth, though, and despite the fact she wasn’t so inclined to speak with the press ever again, even she had to admit her curiosity was more than a little piqued.

[Mircea]

"Emilian was bothering Michael," he offered by way of explanation. It seemed to have become a more frequent occurrence since the decision to return to Harper Rock had been made and Mircea wasn't yet sure why, only that it rarely signaled a quiet night at home when the two began to argue so early in the evening and it was that that had driven him into the night so much sooner than he might usually venture out. What had drawn him to this place in particular stood between chest and coiled arm, but her concerns as to his mood, he supposed, were generally well founded. "I have had enough to be in public, though I can not say that I am satisfied," he murmured with a low laugh as his mouth lowered to meet hers for a light kiss.

Generally, Mircea had an idea at most times as to who or what could be found nearby, whether they were human, vampire or some other type of creature that called this place home, but in Habren's presence it tended to exist only as a sort of background noise unless their attention turned upon one or both of them (or theirs turned upon the other). Now, however, there was a human whose attention was very much focused on them and so Mircea lifted his gaze away from Habren to look across the counter at the... Journalist?

Storytellers, he knew, often liked to revisit tales previously told by another, either with an intention to tell the same story differently or else to attempt to glean some new information that might change it in some way. It had been that way for as long as Mircea had been alive and he had no reason to suspect that it had been any different prior to the 17th century.

Their story had been told quite some time ago, Mircea had thought and so he struggled to grasp what this human hoped to gain from revisiting it beyond perhaps fame for themselves and it was, undoubtedly, these suspicions that showed upon his features, being far less inclined or able than Habren often was to school his expression into one of politeness, curiosity or something else more comforting than his tended to show.

"Good evening, Kanoa Hahn," he rumbled, taking care to match the man's pronunciation in his own deep tone. "Why should any of us find gain in returning to that which has been visited already?" He asked, returning Habren's glance with one of his own. He had known she would be curious - she almost always was, after all, about one thing or another and it should come as no surprise that this would be any different. She would, without doubt, be the easier of the two to convince that they should again sit with a story teller for the world to hear of them once more.

[Kanoa Hahn (DELETED 12488)]

“With all due respect, I don’t think the interview did the two of you or the issues both vampires and humans are facing any good. Our worlds are merging alarmingly fast. The reasons why after all these centuries are concerning. Many have been self-serving, dramatic and have done more harm than good. I will be the first to admit until I reviewed the content sent to me I was a bit of a skeptic. I had to come here and see for myself.”

Kanoa glanced to the movement at his right then nearly slid his hands into his pockets before he realized that body language would be a warning to some. Making sure not to send the wrong signals he resisted the comfort of sinking his fingers into his own clothing.

“This world has changed, Sir. Even more than I have been prepared to see. I found an A.T.M underwater in some sunken temple not recorded on any maps created a decade ago. Now such places are reachable by transits. That was all the proof I needed that it is happening. Zombies roam all over like this place is a theme park. They aren’t moving from this area oddly enough. Why?” Kanoa’s expression soon was shaped by the increasing interest in the faces he was conversing with. “I cannot imagine what it must be like for either of you to witness. And that is the reason I have come to seek both of you. I want to know what brought us here crossing paths. Obviously my journey to this point in time is relatively brief. Nothing will mark me being here. Whatever I have experienced in my brief twenty-something years will not be influencing the world like the two of you have already. It has paled in comparison to that of centuries seasoned immortals. You won’t remember me in fifty years or even a hundred. I, however, will remember you until my last day.” Kanoa’s focus shifted to the woman standing with him. “And you as well.” His right hand moved to brush a finger at the edge of the counter between them. “I am curious by nature. I like to know the truth instead of what I read from whoever is paid enough to write it and serve it to me. I investigate. I subject myself to what I am working on. If I can’t do the story justice after all of that, then I won’t put it out there. I think you were short changed. I know I am asking a lot from you. You don’t owe the world anything but I am asking for you to make an impact on me more than you already have.”

He could have pushed more words into the air but he didn’t. He opted to go silent and wait to see what reaction, if any, came from the first two vampires he had met...as far as he was aware of.

[Habren Ashe]

The witch’s expression barely flickered the entire time both Mircea and the human were speaking. As ever, she absorbed so much more than the words from both, as well. With Mircea, it was easier than not to soak up the moods behind the words - he was still a bit surly, she thought, and wary. But, also as ever, perhaps willing to indulge her curiosity once she deemed this... intrigue... to be worthy of her time or energy. If she deemed it.

The human seemed, to her, to come in earnest. To think he might have no personal stake, no potential personal gain, in finessing a story from the pair of them, was naivety, but it did not seem to be the sole driving force behind his taking such a big risk. No, there was a genuine need to know more that rolled from him like a slow, undulating wave. He said all the right words, he was brazen and bold for sure, but perhaps his own curiosity fed that better than simple cockiness.

She drummed her well-manicured finger tips against the cold granite counter-top, her head tilted to one side as she suppressed a cheeky laugh and sized the mortal up once more. Clearly Kanoa Hahn knew he’d better work harder on the male ever at her side than she, the one she gripped a little tighter, surreptitiously, both in the thrill of the intrigue and to keep the heat simmering on the lovely little ideas she’d already attempted to plant in his head. If the acknowledgment of herself, almost as an afterthought, was anything to go by, anyway.

“Rwy'n credu ei fod yn ceisio'ch menyn chi, fy nghariad,” she breathed out softly as she raised a brow at her husband, unable to hold back the grin that tugged at her lips and doing nothing to hide the glint of fangs. What was the point, after all, when the human already knew well what they were?

Her indigo-hued gaze fell back upon the mortal boy once more, the tip of her tongue toying with one sharpened point before she replied. “What makes you say we were short-changed?” She turned slightly, still in Mircea’s grip, but her attention certainly upon what may or may not still be deemed a nuisance or a threat. “We chose the outlets, and the journalists, ourselves. We gave them a list of appropriate questions and topics. Not one bit of that interview or press conference was unscripted or out of our control. They were well aware what - and who - they were working with. As should you be.” Her chin tilted up, slightly, almost defiant. Their sole intent for coming forward was to remove the veil, the questions, the potential for misunderstanding. Judging by the lack of nuclear weaponry and absolute chaos, Habren liked to think they had had at least a small something to do with the tenuous peace between mortal and vampire and... everything else that now roamed the night.

Still...

“What more do you think you can do? We accomplished what we set out to accomplish back those few years ago... at least, I hope we did. But I am uncertain how much more there is to say to the world that has not already been said. What more we could discuss or reveal that would ease the remaining tensions.”

Translation: I do believe he is trying to butter you up, my love.

[Mircea]

Some things, Mircea decided as he listened to what seemed to be an earnest and genuine explanation of curiosity, never changed and one of those was that people new to him - human or otherwise - almost always talked too much for his liking. This one was little different, but he seemed to be amusing Habren at the very least an that was enough to keep Mircea’s patience level for the time being. He huffed out an agreeable laugh at Habren’s words, tilting his head slightly in a nod.

“Atâtea schimbări și totuși oamenii nu fac niciodată, dragostea mea...” he said quietly before listening on as Habren pushed the human for more explanation, asking far more patiently than he could have done what they could possibly achieve by swimming with sharks again. Surely they had already done their part in bringing their existence to the knowledge of the public while maintaining some kind of peaceful coexistence. Of course, there were always going to be those who believed them to be abominations to be destroyed, just as there always had been. Alike, there were those who thought them to be something more, something to be worshipped or adored and it was these who made Mircea the more disconcerted. It was the latter he was beginning to think this human before them may lean towards. Perhaps not outright adoration, but there was something more than idle curiosity there to be sure. How much more was what Mircea hadn’t quite fathomed yet.

His answers to Habren’s questions, he decided, would be the telling thing. He and Habren, he thought, had already done their bit for vampires and humans alike and now simply wanted to return to what had been a quiet, comfortable life. What then, could this mortal say or do to persuade them that another path was the better one to choose and that they should once again step into the proverbial light when it seemed to him that, where the media were involved, almost all of the risk fell upon the vampires telling the story, rather than upon the humans relaying it (at least not on the humans who lived to relay it, anyway).

Translation: So much changes, and yet people never seem to, my love.