Path of the Vampire forum

Pi nodded quietly as if she understood. She didn’t really, not about missing parents or about the logistics of any parental unit coming into this sphere, although it wasn’t that big of a stretch to imagine that any parent, loved or otherwise, would not be a welcome addition to this dynamic. What would a mother do if she found out her child was a vampire? How would a father consider the future of the same child? There wasn’t much she could imagine worse than having to deal with either scenario.

“I guess you are right. Parents, even ones that are wanted and missed… they wouldn’t do quite… so well here.”

Turning her full attention to Charlotte Pi considered her answer carefully, pulling it out and examining it before she spoke slowly, and with consideration. “I don’t believe… it is a good idea, for the rest of the world to know what we are, where we are. Neither do Tytonidae. I doubt, that there is a simple solution to ensure we are safe… and humanity is safe, but rather a very.. thin balance between who knows. And who doesn’t.”

The words flowed easily once she decided what was relevant to express. Her belief in the work of Tytonidae hadn’t changed, despite the fact she hadn’t been admitted, despite the fact Elliot was on cloud nine she hadn’t made it in.

“Everyone has a family and a history that must be dealt with. Whether that is a fake death or a visit once in a while to placate a family into placid ignorance. That will never change as long as new vampires are created. But what, I think, is more important… is that more … official types are kept as ignorant as we can keep them. And through willful disobedience, or ignorance, many of our own kind flaunt this necessity and I believe it can… and will cause, our destruction.”

Turning her head to look towards the stage, her gaze sliding away as she finished her statement. “I agree with Tytonidae to enforce simple rules that will keep us safe. And I don’t mind sending those that don’t agree to the fade if that is what it takes.”

Invariably her opinion on this topic was rarely received well, not by lay people at any rate; actually, truth be told, not by many at all. Not by those, like Elliot who kept a rather tight hold of their human empathy. The matter of extreme measures to ensure secrecy were usually met with a raised eyebrow or outright suspicion. Pi considered the woman in front of her and wondered where she leaned but wasn’t left to linger on the thought before she got her answer. A good match for Elliot then, Pi thought before nodding. The few words Charlie said were an answer, a censure and an opinion tightly rolled into a pithy sentence that judged, trialed and found Pi guilty of untold crimes with a single swoop. Pi slid her gaze away, choosing, if possible, to avoid a confrontation on the issue.

“Oui.” She replied, choosing to veer away from any deeper conversation about the topic, choosing instead to leave it at that.

Little good came from expressing ideas of the sort she did and she wasn’t keen to get into a debate about either topic. Her yes, which could be taken either way acknowledged the comparison, and agreed with it, but probably not in the way Charlie intended it. Justice could be genocide, could be murder, could be a slap on the wrist or a kiss on the cheek. Pi’s thoughts on what she thought were appropriate didn’t measure the same as others, but she doubted many lay people had her rather unique background. She she didn’t sweat it.

Instead she looked towards the stage and smiled towards the man who stood there.

“So what do you do with yourself now Charlie?” Pi asked, purposely changing the subject, much like politics and religion, this was obviously one to avoid. It usually was but Pi, when asked directly, rarely prevaricated from what she believed. Thankfully, very few actually asked her.

Pi gave the woman a long look, her expression curious but neutral. Charlie didn’t seem that young, maybe a couple years younger than Pi, not much really when it comes down to the minutes, hours, days or years in age that separated them, but for a moment Pi felt eons older, age sitting on her shoulders heavy like granite weighing her down. It was the pressure of thinking she needed to have all the answers followed closely by the sure knowledge that she didn’t. But one thing she did agree on, Elliot was one of the people Charlie could and should rely on and someone a person could count on if needed. Pi knew it to be true, because it was true for her as well.

“He is easy to trust.. and the trust is not misplaced.” Pi agreed quietly, letting the sincerity of the statement show in her how starkly she agreed.

At the mention of helping the family Pi’s smile widened and she nodded. “That would be good Charlie… and appreciated.” Settling into her position at the bar she stayed where she was, leaning against the wood, her body relaxed. “The family is quiet, people doing their own thing or just… absent. But those who are around, if they need anything, they will put their hands up to take what you have made. Same is true, if you need anything, just swing it onto the family crow and someone… will pipe up eventually to help.”

Pi didn’t need to know what ‘awful place’ Charlie was talking about, she had been there too, had experienced the out of body spiritual disconnection between her body and her soul. A part of her drifted aimlessly, her mind wandering as if lost in the ether of the Shadow Realm until something called her back. Yes, Pi knew what Charlie referred to and she agreed that it wouldn’t be the first place she’d choose to return to herself.

“I haven’t yet… seen any of our family die for the cause. I’m … I would prefer none of us did. Not for something … like that.” She replied after considering the answer. She didn’t want to see the family turn into a potential war party that tried to right the wrongs of the city by riding out to kill and maim those who did them wrong. Although, she wanted them prepared enough that they could if they needed to. Instead, she preferred to see what was created as a place anyone could come to find others who could help and support them. Except, maybe that is exactly what Charlie was referring to. In the event they had to, she would and could. And maybe, that’s exactly what was needed.

Pi nodded in acknowledgement of this.

But the last statement had Pi stumped. She opened her mouth to reply to the last but had nothing good to add. It had been nearly three years since she had drink or something to eat, and that part Pi could understand. But drugs. Pi had never indulged, not even as a youth curious . Drugs meant losing control, giving it up to a substance that could lead a person to selling their daughter and dying in a drugged out haze on the couch in a burning building and not having enough wherewithal to get themselves to safety.

“I… miss eating. I … cook.” She revealed, her voice a bit embarrassed as if the revelation was a window to her rather normal soul “It would be nice to be… able to taste what I create.” She finished. “But I’ve never.. liked, …. Herbage.” She finished with a smile. The truth was, she hadn’t tried any sort of drug… but she didn’t feel like that was a necessary thing to share.

“If it wasn’t for… things like this happening in my life to make me different. I think, I would be a very boring old soul pottering around a kitchen, happily feeding the world, one muffin at a time.” She said with a wide grin.

Pi nodded and her smile widened “I do.. feed the world. It.. when I am stressed, I bake and I bake and I… bake more. It’s harder to know if what I’m baking is worth eating and poor Elliot is my guinea pig taster for my efforts but he can’t eat everything I create so I give the rest… to a shelter.” She finished with another embarrassed shuffle of her feet.

It seemed a bit at odds with what she had become to admit to a hobby that eventuated at a service to the community where she donated her goods to a Methodist Church soup kitchen. It wasn’t like she was a person who normally did good works as a rule, and hadn’t when she was human, but she was more a person who couldn’t abide waste and if she couldn’t feed those she loved (or in the case of Elliot, over feed) then the next best avenue for what she made, was to give it to people who would appreciate it.

“I think, it would be nice to have someone else to cook for.” She offered, liking the idea of having both Charlotte and Elliot over for dinner, the table set, and food preparation consuming an enjoyable night where they could eat, drink and converse, like friends would after a long day at work on a Friday evening. Something so inherently normal. The more she thought about the idea, the more it appealed to her.

She could imagine it, she would cook, Elliot (and now Charlotte too) could eat and despite the fact she couldn’t join them, the idea of feeding them appealed to her on a very visceral level. Maybe, at her very core, Pi was a nurturer. Ironic really, considering how well Pi could kill, and how much she enjoyed that part of her nature. It was a part of growing into her own skin that she was learning to embrace both disparate parts of what she was.

“Oui.” She responded, as if answering a question no one had asked. “I like the idea of that… maybe a dinner, just us, maybe others.. it would be nice I think. What do you think?”

Pi wasn’t sure what others she was talking about. Her best friend in the city was one of the leaders of the best killers in the city. Pi couldn’t imagine Velveteen at a dinner party where food was served sitting around drinking bloodwine around a table loaded with food only a few of them could eat. Would it be awkward or weirdly comforting. Pi being an optimist strolled down the possibility in her mind that it could be exactly as she hoped, a nice night. Except, Elliot wouldn’t be comfortable with Velveteen and since Pi’s failed attempt at joining Tytonidae, she wasn’t sure she was ready to give that much to trying.

But there were others she’d known since her first time in this city. Others she hadn’t caught up with in a while that she thought would be nice to connect with again. For now though, since the germ of the idea was barely budding, just the three of them would be a nice way to start.

Maybe, if it worked, it could grow into something.. better. More.

“Good, then we will organize something, invite a few people.” Pi offered, liking the idea the more she thought about it. “I think I would like that … a lot.”

“Croissant.” She answered easily, remembering the close streets of Paris and the early morning walks to the Patissier, being greeted with the overwhelming scent of freshly baked breads, baguette, croissants in every flavour you could imagine. She would picked up a baguette, a croissant if she was treating herself. Now that she thought about it, her favourite might have been the baguette, the breakfast of her youth, simple bread with preserves, sliced thickly and slathered generously. “Or maybe the baguette.” She qualified with a rueful grin.

It had been so long since she thought of food and what she had loved. Being raised in Paris (and poor) had given her a greater appreciation of what good food was. The rich body of an espresso, brewed from freshly crushed beans in the café. Sitting in close quarters with other Parisian, together but inherently distanced by the tiny tables an individual cramped space their culture loved, much like their architecture which crowded the streets, towering over the space with ancient architraves and stone edifice. For a moment, a poignant homesickness overwhelmed her.

There would be no more Paris for her, not in any way she remembered. She couldn’t travel anyway, not as herself, not any significant way. Harper Rock would become her home, and in its way, her prison and she hadn’t thought about what that would mean, if it meant, forever.

Dispelling the morbid thoughts her smile stayed, because the memories were sweet, despite the detour they had taken. She still thought fondly of the city she’d grown up in, despite her awful beginnings and if she had the chance, she would have liked to go back.

Directing her gaze to the stage she shook her head, her expression indulgent. “I think he’s forgotten about us.” She commented, nodding towards the man who looked like he had settled in for the duration on stage, the guitar slung across his shoulder and his expression tightly focused on the strings of his guitar and only lifting so he could sing into the microphone.

“What are you going to do with the rest of the night?” Pi asked, figuring the woman had probably intended to do something else with her time.