Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot knew that he was not being his usual reasonable self. Never in his life could he remember feeling so stubborn. It was normally in his nature to step into another person’s shoes, to try his hardest to see everything from someone else’s perspective. He ought to be able to do so now. The conclusion had been reached due to the unending stress that seemed to cause his temper to flare unnecessarily. He didn’t like who he had become, and he realised, underneath it all, that he was the only one who was going to be able to change it. Only he could talk himself into or out of anything.

The truth was, no matter how pissed off he might have been at Pi and her decisions, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every time he tried to sit down and write a new song, no matter what kind of scenery he would try to imagine, propelled onto the darkness of his eyelids, the images would always morph into Pi. In the end, she was always his inspiration, and this extended silence between them was doing him more harm than good. He knew he was being a child. He knew that. He knew that he should call her, should meet her, that he should talk things over with her rationally and reasonably.

He hadn’t yet, though. He intended to, but he wanted to make sure that he was in the right state of mind. He wanted to make sure that he would not overeact. That he would not storm off in a stubborn huff. Had to make sure that he would react like the sane and normal adult that he had once been.

He sat on the couch in the mausoleum chamber—the place he slept most, these days. He wore a pair of jeans. His feet were bare. His t-shirt was plane and grey. On the coffee table was a bottle of whiskey, three quarters full, a heavy tumbler beside it, half empty. Ever since Jia li’s siring, Elliot realised that he now had a weakness to toxins. Alcohol could affect him. He used it now to relax his nerves, his muscles. He sat staring at the TV; the remote control was held loosely in one hand, the other hand flat against the cloth of the couch beneath him. He wasn’t really watching; the news was on. He wasn’t really listening. But it was nice to have background noise, regardless.

Beside him lay his phone. The screen was blank. Every now and again he would glance at it, weighing up his options. And every time he glanced at it, he said he would call her soon. Soon. Another couple of minutes. He changed the channel—some documentary on snakes. He focused, slightly curious. Tried to pay attention.


<Pi d’Artois> She’d been wearing the jeans she had on for two days. Potentially three. They looked alright, if a little worn and saggy at the knees jeans got when you wore them too long and stretched them too much. She’d missed a few nights feedings so she was a little slimmer than usual but she couldn’t summon up the energy to care too much. She wasn’t starving herself. When she remembered she went to the shop, hauled up a few bags of blood and drank them down until she was full. Then promptly ignored the shop for a few more days. Her lack of feeding directly corresponded with the last time she had changed her clothes. Three days.

It was winter, a bitterly cold one and she only wore a tshirt, thin and black and unadorned. It had a high neck and capped sleeves leaving her arms bare. The only jewelry she wore a thin gold chain with a star on it tucked under the collar so gold played peekaboo as she moved. It’s not like she went outside or went anywhere. She had nothing much to consume her hours so she spent them moving from one of her owned buildings to another. She couldn’t even spend time at Lancaster’s because he would be there and he would just walk out on her again. She couldn’t garden because she’d given all the hydroponics to Reilly and well, even if she still had them, they had been housed on the second floor of the pub and well, she couldn’t go there now could she? No.

Her hair was a mess and smelled of chlorine. She had run her hand through the mop so often it had created a cowlick over her right eye, strands on the left tucked behind her hair. If she still wore it short it would be spiked around her head like a porcupine, instead it hung around her face in careless disarray. She was restless and twitchy. Striding out of the library into the game room Pi moved from room to room to room until she stood beside the pool. Her towel lay draped over the recliner, her bathing suit too. She’d exited the pool and shed her suit right there, caring very little about changing out where anyone could find her.

As if anyone came here these days. The rooms Elliot and her had created to house d’Artois lay unused and silent. A quiet testimony to the fact something was going seriously wrong with their group. She wondered if it was her. She wondered if it was just the fact they were vampires. She wondered if she really didn’t know what the hell she was doing anyway.

Standing at the edge of the water she stared into the depths. She couldn’t swing anymore. She’d submerged herself in water so much over the last week she almost expected to grow gills. Her frustration at this situation hadn’t been alleviated by the laps she’d been swimming and she hadn’t really expected them to. She growled and spun on the scuffed brown boots she wore. She’d been wearing those for three days too, pulled them on after her swim and they clipped as she used to her tome to begin the search for the man she couldn’t get out of her mind. Didn’t want to get out of her mind.

It felt cowardly to avoid him just because she didn’t want to give him a chance to turn his back on her again. Yet on the other hand it seemed horrendously masochistic to keep going back and expecting to get a different result. When does endearing tenacity end and not accepting the inevitable begin? With a sigh she tried Lancaster’s first. She didn’t want another scene but it was the most likely place she knew to look for him. She was glad he wasn’t there. Glad because she didn’t want to feel like this was all just a rewind of the last time in this place. She smiled at the staff on, giving them a nod then retreated to the office. She tried his mausoleum apartment next.

She knew he was there the minute the tome dropped her into place; whiskey, cologne or maybe the scent that was uniquely him. Crisp, woodsy and clean. She could imagine his hair, the wavy mass hanging over one eye. She heard the television next, the drone of a newsreader relating the results of the Grammies and paused. Coward. She thought and stayed where she was for a full three seconds before moving. And she was one, a coward because she wasn’t looking forward to talking to him but couldn’t stand another night when she didn’t, not matter what he said to her. Yeah, maybe she was a masochist, the worst kind of one. A masochist in love.

He had his back to her, sitting on the couch, watching the news as condensed clips of young artists played across the screen with the awards they’d won displayed in a running ticker-tape along the bottom of the screen. She wondered if he heard her approach and stopped again. Swallowing hard she spoke softly. “I miss you.”



<Elliot d’Artois> So engrossed was Elliot in the TV that he was immune to everything else. The way he was sprawled, like some kind of drunk stick insect, he was relaxed. He was at home. As far as he knew, no one had any grudge against him. Even though it might be easy for other vampires to come in and lop off his head, he hardly expected them to. They had no reason, though he’d wondered plenty of times whether he ought to give them a reason. Thus far, he had not. He felt safe. And secure. And expected that should any one come knocking they would… in fact, knock.

Thus, when the whispered words came from behind him, he was unprepared. The hairs on the back of his neck instantly flared, like invisible hackles, and he jumped. The remote clattered to the ground. At least he’d already made sure that the coffee table was far enough away from his lanky legs that the bottle and glass did not go flying.

Of course the uttered words shouldn’t have been cause for fright, but it took his mind a few moments to catch up with itself. He turned to face Pi, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Jesus ****. Way to sneak up on a guy…” he said. He wanted to laugh. But didn’t.

She had no way to know if what he said was in any way a welcome. And despite not knowing exactly how he would react she was disappointed with what she got. He jumped, he swore and hadn’t even muttered a hello, or **** off or … well anything. Her already solemn face fell a touch more which annoyed her no end because now she felt like she was just being stupid.


<Pi d’Artois> “Je suis desolete.” She answered. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Words couldn’t hurt (but she was lying to herself by just thinking it) and if she let his few words cut her knees out from under her she might as well just pack it all up and bury herself in the dirt somewhere, cause she was obviously just a useless girl. It was an internal pep talk but she was trying to bolster a flagging enthusiasm for coming back to see him for another round of kick Pi’s heart. That thought helped, a little. Because the truth was, sometimes he made her feel exactly that, weak and bruised. Even when she knew she wasn’t that… codependent. Or was she? She ignored to, the fact he didn’t respond to her statement.

Rolling her shoulders back she stepped forward, closing the distance, but not to invade his space but to take a seat, in the armchair across from the couch. She didn’t sit on it, but leaned against it, her butt settled and she tried to adopt something akin to a casual pose. She also tried for a non-confrontational expression and wondered too if that didn’t just look a bit stiff and formal. But she didn’t feel like smiling. Smiling required you to move your face and she was deathly afraid if she tried to school her expression into something so alien as a smile her lips might break off. And with that hysterical thought she almost smiled anyway, because nerves does that to people. Makes them a bit mental and makes smiling a defense. “How are you?” she asked.


<Elliot d’Artois> When she moved properly into his line of vision, Elliot became completely aware of her current state of being. She looked worse for wear. More than that—she looked as if she were not taking care of herself. At all. The frown puckered over Elliot’s brow as he pulled his feet in, as he sat a little straighter in the couch. At first, he didn’t say anything. He leaned down to pick up the remote control, hit the power button to turn the TV off. The silence lengthened around him. He made no attempt to hide the obvious concern in his eyes as he assessed Pi’s state, from head to toe and back again.

“A lot better than you, by the look of it,” Elliot said. Elliot himself did have full colour. His hair had all the lustre that it ought to have. His blue eyes had their usual healthy gleam. Whether by his own accord, or whether by Reilly’s kindness, he was never without blood. Of course he missed it—could help his gaze lingering just a few seconds longer at the arch of Pi’s neck—but wouldn’t dream of taking anything from her when she already looked so bereft.

“What…why…” he shook his head, tried to think about what he wanted to ask. “Is there something I should know about?”


<Pi d’Artois> Pi shrugged. It was a very French movement, one she employed often when words seemed unnecessary. She really didn’t care how she looked. She wasn’t horrendous and she didn’t smell (unless you counted the build up of chlorine after three days of laps). Her hair probably hung like it did because of that chlorinated build up and still she wasn’t moved to feel embarrassed about it. “I’m fine.” She finally said. “And no.. nothing urgent you should know.” She replied to his question.

And hadn’t he heard what she’d said when she entered, she thought. She hadn’t come here to talk business or people or politics or their lineage. She had come just to… see him and he seemed hell bent on keeping it… professional. She didn’t even know what that meant in terms of them together. Certainly not Lancaster’s, he’d taken the reins of that venture and rarely consulted her about what was going on there. So maybe it was family he was talking about. Their little group of mismatched misfits.

“Messer is … gone.” She replied with a sigh, giving him the only news about family that she had. “I think I’ve lost him to the fade.”

She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t heard from him in ages, not a caustic word or pithy message from him. She’d last talked to him about getting his help for trapping the Den after Tytonidae had broken in and then …. Gone. Nothing. The connect she usually felt for all her childer had been ripped away and what was left was a hole, gaping and black. She’d felt this before, with those that faded and didn’t return and she wasn’t a fool not to know what it meant. He wouldn’t return and he hadn’t made it. Another failure on her part she guessed. Just like everything else.


<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot was moved to stand. He could feel the way she was feeling, even over the distance. They were the only two people in the room. Of course he could feel every emotion as it hummed and vibrated from her, and it broke his heart. He stepped around the coffee table until he was standing right in front of Pi. He knew what it was like, to lose childer. He knew what it was like to feel disconnected from them—as if it was all his fault. It was one of the worst feelings in the world—though it could not be compared to how he felt being kept from Pi.

He wanted to comfort her. But at the same time, as soon as he stood to approach her, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stay away from her for much longer anyway. He started to wonder whether his constant urge to call her had somehow lured her to him. This was fate. He didn’t want to fight with her anymore. His hands fell to her shoulders; he rubbed her upper arms in consolation.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the two words rife with meaning. They were heavy, cracked—he was sorry not only for Messer, but for the incurred distance he’d put between them for so long. “I miss you too. Goddamnit,” he said. He shook his head, before brushing the stiff hair behind Pi’s ear, leaning forward so that, momentarily, his forehead rested against hers.

“I only stayed away because I don’t want to fight. I thought maybe silence would be better,” he said, gazing into her eyes inquisitively.


<Pi d’Artois> Very slowly she let her hands settle on his hips, holding him gently as her eyes closed. She breathed in, clawing in air to her redundant lungs to smell his scent now that he stood so close, his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him, before letting her lashes sweet closed again. If this was weakness then she’d suffer it gladly. If she was a stupid girl because she let a man mean this much then she figured she was just that stupid. Sometimes it didn’t feel stupid at all, it felt strengthening. Except when he stopped speaking to her and the distance yawned over a valley of things unsaid. She had preferred the fight. It’s just how she was built. She hated the silence and the unknowing. The tricks her mind played on her when she was left to her own devices. Demons you didn’t know, couldn’t see, were worse than those that stood in front of you and yelled and screamed.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Pi d’Artois> “I think I’d have preferred the fight.” She answered. “At least having you yell and me let me know you cared. Silence is…. awful.” She finished quietly, finally tucking her nose into the curve between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t want to fight either.” “But I don’t know how to make it right… how to fix it so we aren’t the ones left broken.”

And she didn’t know. If she stopped being who she was then she would change too much of what she thought was right to be what he wanted. And if she asked him to accept this part of her, she wasn’t sure that was exactly the same thing but in reverse. “I just… missed you.”


<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot laughed, then. Not because he was really amused by anything. But it figured, didn’t it? They couldn’t be more opposite, and yet they couldn’t stand to be apart from each other. She preferred the fight. He preferred to keep whatever they had intact, by not fighting. He wrapped his arms around Pi, pulling her away from her perch to hold her close. The hum that followed the laughter was one of satisfaction. They fit together perfectly, regardless of the height difference. She fit, right there against his chest, curled in like Yin and Yang.

“We can get past this. I can… get past this,” he said. Even as he said it he knew it would be possible. He could take steps to accept this part of Pi that wasn’t going to change. He could argue with her now. He could bring up all the worries that he had—that they could past this. He could ignore her involvement in a faction that he hated. Could tell her that by doing so, all the efforts they had made to bring d’Artois together as a family would be lost, because they would be forever divided. Instead, he asked the questions that he needed to ask—requested that she explain to him the things that he needed to know in order to reach his acceptance. In order to argue with a firmer stance—either in support of her, or against her.

“You need to… to me, they are a group of bullies, murdering and slaughtering for fun, for the smallest infraction, masquerading as a force for good. If you can explain to me… if you can prove to me that that’s not what they are… maybe it’ll be easier for me,” he said. This was a conversation that could be had on opposite ends of a table. But he couldn’t let her go.


<Pi d’Artois> She wasn’t sure having him in her arms made this conversation any easier or her answers anymore what he wanted to hear. There was something inherently freeing speaking the words when your lips moved against the skin of another. It gave what she was saying a level of intimacy and secrecy as if she were whispering them into an anonymous ear. But Elliot was anything but that. He was the one who loved her for her, which included this… need to be a part of something he didn’t believe in.

“I can’t answer that, because to some they are, bullies. I know you think so. Just like you said. Some don’t believe humans knowing what we are is all bad. Or would cause the damage Tytonidae believes. But we’ve seen, with the Hunters, Paladins and Agents that there is little room for forgiveness from those and where fear reigns, death follows, ours or theirs. Probably both.”

They’d said this to one another before. Maybe not these exact words, but ones similar, but hopefully the end result would be different. “I just know… to do nothing seems just as… bad as those who hunt us just to kill us because we are what we are. And if we aren’t to wipe all humans from the earth then we need an organized way to maintain our secrecy.” She wrapped her arms around his waist them, holding him as close as he held her. “If I can protect you… and others in our family from humans who would harm us… then .. I will. I’ll do that. But I don’t want to lose you… because I want to try to save us. That’s… not what I want either. What do you need me to do?”


<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot would listen, this time. He told himself that he would listen, even as her words inspired a rebelliousness in his soul. Although he never said anything on the public CrowNet, he did check in every now and again. From what he could see given public outcry, there were those who were killed by Tytonidae for reasons that had nothing to do with the Masquerade. Thus far he had not tried to hear the point of view of anyone from Tytonidae. It was completely unlike him, not to weigh the argument fairly. And thus he refrained from speaking until he had the words lined up, until he could respond without inspiring anger in Pi—so that he would not trigger some kind of defence mechanism.

“From what I’ve ready, they don’t just kill for Masquerade violations. It seems like… if you just bat an eyelash at them the wrong way, they’ll kill you for it. Am I wrong? If it’s so important to you… do it on your own terms. Not on theirs,” he said. He didn’t know what he was saying, not really. He wouldn’t condone starting a rival faction. He finally removed his arms from around Pi. He took a step, and then another back, so that he could sit on the couch, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I get it,” he continued even as he sat down. “If there are vampires out there deliberately wreaking havoc, then yes. Something should be done. If they don’t listen to reason. But are they ever given the chance to listen to reason?” he asked, biting his tongue to keep from continuing.


<Pi d’Artois> “They are the only ones trying Elliot.” She answered. “And in a vacuum what you have in front of you is what you need to use. Doing nothing means we are left with what others dictate, at least getting involved means that you can help change happen.. doing nothing means standing on the outside and letting things happen with no option but to react.”

“There’s no easy answer and I’m not even sure I fit there. Or if they think I fit there. Even my own doubts limit what I can give them and it might not be enough, but I need to try to be a part or just watch as the city turns around us and picking up pieces as they fall. It doesn’t feel right to be… to do … nothing.”

“I tried educating. And that didn’t help. I tried to help those new to our city but rarely did that stop what happened anyway. In the end, this group seems the most likely to at least do something. Even if, sometimes they get it wrong. I just don’t know a better way.” Leaning back, Pi reached up cupping her small palm against his jaw, her thumb moving across his skin. “You didn’t answer me… what do you want me to do?” she asked again, looking up into his eyes.


<Elliot d’Artois> “I’m not going to ask you to do anything. Do you want me to tell you what you can and can’t do? Of course I’d prefer it if you didn’t go near them. You know that already,” Elliot said. He didn’t answer the question, because it wasn’t one that he was able to answer. He wouldn’t tell her what to do. He wanted her to choose of her own accord. And he wanted her to be happy. He sighed, and canted his head to his side.

“Madison was emailing me from the realm, you know?” he said. He wanted to tell Pi this story. Wanted her to know the things that he himself had considered, because doing nothing seemed to be getting him nowhere. “She’s been acting the way she has because she’s sick of their tyranny. She wants to… do something about it,” he said. He could be betraying Madison’s trust—but she hadn’t given him all her trust to begin with. She hadn’t given him all the information. And Elliot was accustomed to telling Pi everything. He wanted to explain himself to her—explain that he understood, and that he himself was suffering a similar dilemma.

“I’m not sure what she has planned, exactly. She wants the same things. She doesn’t want to break the Masquerade. She doesn’t want humans to know about us. But she doesn’t like the way Tytonidae go about their business. And I agree with her. It’s all well and good the things that they want…” he shook his head. He felt like they were talking around in circles. “Thing is, I considered joining her. But it meant, if there was some kind of war, I’d be up against you. I wanted to prove a point. I thought about it. I don’t think I could do it. I want to be in accord with you, Pi, not against you. If we talk about it reasonably, maybe… maybe we can reach some kind of middle ground,” he said.

“I know I can’t just live as if life is normal, like it always was. I have to make some changes, and I haven’t. So maybe I should ask you – what do you want me to do?”


<Pi d’Artois> “Be who you are.” Then she sighed and shrugged again, moving her shoulders still wrapped in his arms, leaning back comfortably so she could look at him. He was tall enough that she needed to make some space between them so she didn’t get a crick in her neck tilting it back but she didn’t want to loosen his hold at all. It was a boon that they’d made it this far and she wasn’t budging out of that hold for anything in the world. They’d work this out if it killed her, somehow. “I can’t ask you to do anything either. I don’t want to be that person either.”

“Ahh Madison. She reminds me of Robert. And I worry that she is going to be to you, what Robert was to me. I died for him too, because I believed him and I was trying to save him from Tytonidae.. and what he’d done. And I felt guilty and he wrapped me around his finger. It was the only time I’ve been to the fade and I… don’t want that for you too. The similarities are … I’m scared of what she thinks is right and what kamikaze effort she is going to go to, to prove it.”

She wondered really where their middle ground was. Would it be in an understanding of what they each believed and in the trust that they were experienced enough to make their own decisions about what was right for them. Which made her then wonder where her middle ground was for Elliot, because being together was always a compromise, something you were willing to give up or change because the other person was worth it. Could she give up Tytonidae, or was there another way. She was telling the truth when she said as much to Elliot. She didn’t have the answer. And although she didn’t really want him to tell her what to do, she would really appreciate it if inspiration would strike, because she was drawing a blank.


<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot smiled. “Madison has nothing to hold over my head. She had no reason to make me feel any more guilty than I already do, for various reasons,” he mumbled the last, before clearing his throat. “I know you have your reasons to be wary, but I’m not going to treat her like she’s another Robert, just because of Robert. That’s not fair on her. She might act the way she does because it’s the only course, when she’s acting by herself,” he said. The frown again graced his brow. He didn’t want to treat someone unfairly because for things that they have not done.

Pi had said nothing about Elliot’s suggestion that he might join Madison in her efforts. That he, in turn, might incur the wrath of the gang Pi had so recently joined. She seemed so dejected, though, so unlike her usual fiery self. And Elliot could only think he was the one to blame. This was not his Pi, his little French firecracker. Maybe a fight would be preferable. He reached out to take her hand, to pull her down to the couch beside him.

“I just want us to go back to the way we were. That’s what I want. It’s probably not going to happen. But I can… I can accept your needs. We can agree to disagree on certain things,” he said, his thumb caressing the skin over Pi’s hand. The skin was thin, due to lack of blood.


<Pi d’Artois> “Yes, lets try that.” She said eventually, the answer taking a while to come as she let herself be pulled down to the couch. She nearly purred as his thumb stroked the back of her neck. If someone were to ask her what was more important she wouldn’t be able to tell you with certainty. If joining Tytonidae created an irrevocable rift in her relationship with Elliot and d’Artois then what did she think she was protecting? It was a catch 22 really and she was stuck for the moment on a hamster wheel of choice. Here or there. Them or us. The thought revolved around her head until it drove her to distraction. “Lets go back to the way we were before.”

Turning to face him she settled sideways, her leg tucked underneath her. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, not with what happened to Madison.. or, what’s… what I did by joining Tytonidae. I know… there are other… things you worry about. About who you are, but this thing. It’s on me.”

And it was, and she dread what was to come of it. It suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea to go to Tytonidae or to fight the good fight. Not at this cost. Not at the cost of d’Artois. Frowning she raised her arm and rubbed the pad of her hand against her eye, first one side, then the other. “I know Madison isn’t Robert. Just.. be careful. God, I’m tired.” And she was, bone deep and achingly exhausted. “I need to wash the chlorine out of my hair and … sleep.”


<Elliot d’Artois> Elliot didn’t want to talk about the things that made him feel guilty. He didn’t want to dwell on them too much. They agreed to disagree. They agreed to at least attempt to go back to the way they were before. Elliot chose only to focus on Pi. The last time they spent this kind of time in each other’s company, he was tending to her wounds. Again, he would play nurse to her; he pulled away his hand and stood, though he didn’t do so before a chastened kiss brushed across her lips. If he had a beating heart, it might have deafened him, the urges that he had to drop everything. To truly, in every aspect of their relationship, go back to the way they were.

But not yet. “Go on. I’ll meet you at the crypt,” he said. Their place. Their shared space. The one that meant the most to them, as a couple. He glanced down at his watch. “There’s still a couple of hours. I’m going to go get you some blood,” he said. The shops would still be open. They always were—for them, anyway. He knew that he would get more blood than was needed. He told himself he was doing so only for Pi’s wellbeing, but he couldn’t deny that small selfish voice in the back of his head, he one that told him he hadn’t tasted her blood for… gods, how long had it been? And he would not feed from her when she was like this.

First and foremost, however, he wanted only to bring he back to her lively self. To make her feel better. He turned toward the door, and the hook that held his jacket, the brown scuffed shoes haphazardly placed nearby, on the ground. He’d go out, he’d purchase the blood while Pi showered. He’d come back. And for the first time in weeks, months maybe, he’d curl up beside her as the sun crept across the sky.