Path of the Vampire forum

Once Skylar was inside, he closed the door behind her; nodding and smiling at her remark. To be in Harper Rock was to be cursed at times. Hell, he felt cursed most nights and he was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Forgetting about his sins, the least he could admit to was breaking a few mirrors in his time. With each costing you seven years of luck, was it really any surprise that misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he would go? Some would say that these superstitions were only as powerful as the investment of belief, meaning that if you didn’t acknowledge that breaking a mirror would actually give you seven years of bad luck then you wouldn’t experience seven years of bad luck. That’s not to say you weren’t cursed though, others would say, and rather that you would just associate this misfortune as innocuous events; the chair I was sitting in broke because it was old, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when that bird flew overhead, and I guess the car had to breakdown sometime.

Myk himself was a bit of an agnostic and had been even before his turning. For some Vampires, the siring process changes their perspective of how the world works in fundamental ways. Sometimes it’s seen as proof of the supernatural, that if Vampires really exist that fairies and goblins and maybe even God truly exists too. Myk’s perspective hadn’t really changed all that much, actually. Being agnostic, there was always a curiosity for the potential of these things to exist and that it might not be possible to ever learn the truth about them. As annoying as it was to his rather scientific mind – a mind that wanted to investigate and measure – he had to come to accept that you might never know why things happen. Some forces of nature had yet to be understood and as optimistic as he was for Human kind to unravel the mysteries of the universe, he wasn’t wholly sold on their ability to do so. After all, with scientists knowing more about the moon than the deep levels of the ocean, it’s hardly surprising that their potential could find its ceiling before the unfathomable mechanics of the universe are explored. It was acceptances such as these that allowed his mind to shut off and relax, else he’d stress himself to death – which he supposed was still possible even as a Vampire.

Pewter eyes watched the Allurist make a beeline for the jewellery. He chuckled a little under his breath, a thought about magpies tickling his ribcage. He wouldn’t say it though, not after the way she’d taken his comment on vanilla. He, meanwhile, looked through the garments hung neatly and tightly on the spiral clothes rack, which still reminded him of a reconditioned spiral staircase. As he thumbed through band t-shirts, Victorian shirts, corsets and various other garments, he considered her question. He’d shrugged immediately at the time because it was the truth of the matter. He didn’t have anything specific in mind and was going to buy whatever appealed to him at the time. He looked over at Skylar from time to time, but he felt a little awkward about talking out loud, disturbing the young store owner and her cat whilst they were dreaming away to some dark pulsing music in the background. By the look of her wide pupils, she seemed like she was probably high on something. As a result, Myk dropped his head and thought to communicate telepathically. It seemed like a bright idea right up until it occurred to him that to respond, Skylar would have to talk. This might have been a bit questionable. Myk sighed and bit the bullet.

“So… you’re married,” he began because he’d noticed her fiddling with her ring a few times now. “How long for?” While he’d asked, he expected the answer to be a short space of time. She was young after all and he suspected that the ring might either be new to her or she fiddled with it because she was mentally uncomfortable about her marriage. Or, it could be both, which would be fun in its own way.

A smile crossed the clown’s lips as Skylar explained, one that was perhaps a little ghastly. One could be forgiven for mistaking that grin which spread wide across his face as a moniker for salacious intent, but that wasn’t entirely true. Myk wasn’t smiling because her short marriage seemed to be in jeopardy, more that he was right to recognise the small movements and twitches of body language to mean what they did. Myk was usually quite awful in distinguishing emotions or meanings behind feelings, or at least he felt so. As cultured as he was, his experience with people in general was lacking – as much as a conundrum as it was. Plus, life was a learning process and he loved to find out that he had studied something through to success. It was only a small thing, looking at Skylar’s twitching and fiddling and determining the cause, but even small victories were worth celebrating. He let the smile go as she continued to explain, in case it might seem rude, he also turned to look back at the clothes on the rail. He might have had something to say about marriage and even some encouraging words, but she caught him off guard with a question about his own marital status. Myk turned back to her – mid cackle – and after seeing she was busy looking at jewellery, he calmed himself and shrugged his shoulders.

“Dear God no,” he said in a dark tone. “I doubt I’m the marrying type. And besides that, the pool of fish we swim in seems rather… small.”

He hoped she would understand his meaning without having to explain it telepathically. It was obvious to him that if he ever chose a mate, as it were, they would have to be of his ilk. Myk wasn’t exactly looking to settle down, least of all marry, but Humans were nevertheless off the menu for any kind of romantic involvement – whether they knew of Vampires or not. It would only end in difficulty and he never really did like the idea of bringing people over to the dark side. He had mixed feelings about being a Vampire, and about other Vampires entirely. Whether it was because the change made a dramatic difference to the person’s psyche, or whether the change only occurred to those with major psychological and emotional difficulties. In other words, Vampires were – as he’d learned – typically raging, hostile, warring creatures who wanted nothing but power and the servitude of everyone else. And for what purpose? Warring with their own kind was futile now that the Rift was in play and being unable to die left the city as a whole bitter and cynical. They retreated into their own to plot or complain or whatever else it was that got them through the nights, and they would wait for something new. Because that’s what being a Vampire seemed to be about – waiting. Whether it was waiting for the end or the beginning, Myk had no idea, but it was a boring, lonesome experience nevertheless.

Sighing at the thought, the Telepath turned to the bookcase with the ‘spells’. He had never been much of a witch, or was that a warlock in his case? He didn’t know, hadn’t done enough research. Most of the spells, written on small pieces of card in fancy ink and decorated with vines and flowers, were harmless little encouraging spells. There were ones to clear your mind, bring you peace, help you solve a problem, or grant you luck. Myk supposed these were what were called ‘white magic’. As interesting as they were, Myk had no purpose for them so his attention moved on to the jewellery section that Skylar was eyeing up. He stood beside her, his head down looking at the individual pieces which for the most part seemed hand-made. They weren’t crude, but not as perfect and polished as the manufactured sort. Silver, wire, copper, elastic, beads, gems and charms made up the most of what was on display. Myk looked across to Skylar behind thick, feathery eyelashes and asked in a low tone.

“Does this type of thing interest you then?”

The flood of information that came his way was a little overwhelming, but Myk held on and gritted his teeth behind his perfectly painted lips. Skylar sure did like to talk and her favourite topic seemed to be herself and her husband, Ric. Myk smirked as the thought to roll his eyes invaded him. He kept his pewter eyes in place. It was amusing how people in relationships were so consumed with their lover, their bubble, that they didn’t realise the rest of the world couldn’t give two fucks about it. The rest of the world wasn’t invited inside your bubble and so talking about things of this nature, intimate things, deep personal things, made those not privy to giving a **** want to roll their eyes. Perhaps it was unfair to feel that way, but people were selfish creatures. Being a Vampire didn’t strip you of your Human compulsions after all and in fact, it could be argued that the Vampire condition actually made you more of yourself. Some personality traits are often heightened in the change; the angry become more aggressive, the keen become more passionate, and the crazy become particularly insane. Myk could vouch for the last one personally.

As Skylar carried on about the Auctions as a way to meet people, one dark eyebrow on his white face was raised. He had read about the Auctions, but, there was little information to be grasped from a simple surface search. Myk also didn’t like the idea of delving in deeper, especially not first-hand because he didn’t like the tone of the Auctions. It seemed a little sordid and while sordid and lewd could be all well and good, there was something dark and ominous under it all that made Myk fret. Perhaps he was just reading too far into it, sensing danger where there was none, or perhaps he felt this foreboding on account of his perception of the Vampire populace as a whole. Myk didn’t trust anyone much, but, these strangers were worrisome. The only thing he really knew about them were that they were a warmongering race. They had to posture about, beat their chests and prove they were the biggest bad-asses on the streets for some reason and it made Myk want to avoid them. He was a little insane and it worried him enough to think what he was capable, these people were likely more than lacking just a marble. This must have been what it was like to be in prison and it wasn’t half an accurate way of describing Harper Rock. They were, after all, stuck to one another and bound here for an eternity. You make your impressions early or you never make them at all; Myk preferred the latter.

Eventually, Myk’s thoughts returned to Skylar and the present when she joked about bumping into people at train stations. Of course he had to assume it was a joke because she’d grinned at him. Naturally, he had to return the smile, as brief as it was, before pewter eyes found themselves being dragged to a tray of sparkling gems. It was obvious to him that even though Skylar had never said it, that she liked shiny things. Most people liked shiny things, Myk thought, and how could they not? What was wrong with shiny, beautiful things? Nothing, that’s what.

“So, where are you from?” Myk asked her, his tone light and barely there as he fiddled with a couple of gem stones which had been carved into shapes of animals. He didn’t like how some of them had fallen over, so he worked on setting each one on its ‘feet’ and lining them up.

Myk was observant enough to see the pout at his question, causing dark brows to furrow lightly. He had to wonder why it was something of a sore topic, that maybe something tragic had happened in her past. As Skylar explained, his frown deepened ever so slightly. She said she was born here, meaning Harper Rock from what he could tell and then she proceeded to tell him that it was uninteresting. Myk found that to be an odd thing to say because he had always wondered what it was like for those born in this city to grow up here. What would they know about the supernatural, what would they do about everyday living? Myk had barely been in this city 24 hours before he met Temperance, but then the rest of that night was foggy. He simply remembered the night after and the incident with his aunt. He couldn’t remember the exact details of what had happened, but, he did feel guilty – a gut-wrenching guilt which signalled some kind of unconscious knowing. He had probably been the cause of the incident, but he never did want to think of that too much.

Black-tipped nails ran down the cold coat of a rabbit carved out of serpentine and he sighed at her invading question. The reason Myk hated conversations like these was because they forced him to talk about himself. As much of a chatterbox that Myk could be, he went silent on the subject of his life, his past. Though Skylar’s question was fairly innocuous as it was and he could answer and quickly deflect the subject before it became too much of a focus on him, too much of a struggle to talk about. He had a silver tongue, he could talk his way out of many an awkward situation and Myk had also found that saying nothing at all was usually a very diplomatic approach as well. Of course, it was easier with Humans, who were often so less perceptive and lacking in supernatural foresight. His kind were often more determined and paranoid, though no less asinine. Sometimes they just liked to meddle in other people’s affairs, regardless of how harmless any matter of secrecy may be.

“I like a lot of things,” Myk began idly as he ensnared that tiny green rabbit and began to balance it in his palm. “Of course, I lean toward the strange. I like clowns… if you haven’t noticed… Comes from my French heritage I imagine. That, and I rather love Cirque du Soleil. Been to see them quite a number of times in my youth.” Myk paused to breathe, even if he didn’t necessarily need to. “My family is a strange one. I have a part French father and a part Italian mother, but they have the UK in common, so I am what you might call a mix breed.”

He giggled then, this soft and curious thing that tumbled out of him. His mind had him comparing himself with a Poodle mixed with a Bulldog and a Maltese. In his head it came out looking like a short and fluffy white dog with a particularly generous mane; fairly cute and all, but most definitely strange. What with his accent being anomalous, it was no wonder people were confused about his origins; in fact, Myk could confuse himself as well. Sometimes he could sound quite Canadian, quite French, and sometimes very British. It was rare that his Italian colours shone through, but then, he wasn’t very close with his mother and his Italian was rough, rusty.

“But I wonder more about what it must have been like to grow up here,” he said, turning his pewter eyes on her. “I would think that was far more interesting than you’d think… to an outsider like me.”

Rather than respond right away, it seemed that Myk had left enough room for Skylar’s mind to wander. At a break in the sound, Skylar called out to the teller who was still sitting spaced on the foot of the staircase. Pewter eyes followed the direction to the stoned female, watching her head turn slowly now that Skylar was calling out to her. They probably could have looted this entire store and gotten away with it with no one but the moggy making any kind of complaint. As it was, however, Skylar seemed perfectly willing to pay for everything, even buying him a gift that seemed unnecessary as far as Myk was concerned. Not being the type to shun a gift though – regardless of what it might have been – Myk smiled and bowed his head graciously.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he purred quietly. “But thank you.”

A small, cold, pale hand curled around the little bunny in his hand, protective over it before slipping it into the pocket of his shorts. It would be safe there, at least unless someone decided to rob him; Harper Rock was full of pick-pockets and thieves – him included. He might never admit it, but Myk often used his dexterous hands for removing items out of other people’s pockets, including cash and jewellery. Really he had no rights to bellyache if someone stole from him in return. It was that thought alone that made the Telepath hesitant about naming the small green rabbit, but the name Sage had already found a warm pocket in his heart. As he was slipping his hand out of his shorts, Myk found that Skylar had begun to comment at last. Pewter eyes met blue and he smiled generously, listening to her explain and watching her hand a few coins to the shopkeeper. So she had the awareness enough to take cash, go figure.

“Politicians and governments can be quite persuasive,” he offered, keeping with the subject. “And I think that’s often the case when we hope to trust in them knowing better and doing what they must for the sanctity of all else. I wonder, if I was living here at the time, would I have bothered to question it either. It might seem strange to those looking in, but when you’re living in the moment of the storm, you don’t question why the wind is blowing and look instead to seek shelter. So… I guess what I mean is, it’s perfectly understandable… Not really all that mad.”

Myk gave a smirk, neglecting to finish his thoughts aloud for if anyone was a judge of what was mad, it might not be him and he didn’t want her to know that. They say the first sign of madness is not being able to admit and realise that you are crazy, well, that rather left him at a conundrum. In certain cases, the white-haired man could admit that he was perhaps not acting rationally, but in other instances he might fail to see his psychosis. Besides all that, these were theories for Humans living in a rational world, in a world without Fae and Zombies and Vampires. You could just as easily argue that those people in the asylums talking to the walls are in fact haunted by spirits and not actually insane, so Myk felt like he had some kind of justification for his oddities. It could be that he wasn’t all that crazy after all and was in fact plagued by Fae or Wraiths or some other supernatural force that had yet to be identified. These lapses in time, in memory, could they possibly have some cause beyond himself? It wasn’t a theory to be sniffed at as far as the Telepath was concerned.