Path of the Vampire forum

There were certain things that Elliot didn’t like about owning his own businesses. There were plenty of perks, yes, but plenty of downsides too. Like dealing with incompetent suppliers. Across all four businesses, he didn’t know how he had to deal with stock discrepancies. It seemed to happen on a weekly basis – either they sent him too much or they sent him too little. Sometimes they demanded he pay too much for stock that he hadn’t received, or sometimes they were doing themselves out of a job by charging him far too little for too much. He could have kept the stock, of course, but he wasn’t that kind of guy. And besides which, there was no room. He ordered the amount he did for more reasons than one. It wasn’t just because he had a budget, but because there were space issues, and the food or the milk would go bad.

Worse, still, was when his staff weren’t savvy. It wasn’t really their fault. They shouldn’t expect the suppliers to be incompetent. Or the delivery people, as it was. Sometimes his staff were busy and didn’t have time to go upstairs and count all the boxes to make sure everything was in order. Sometimes they just signed the little slip of paper and got on with their day, not noticing anything was wrong, and it was Elliot who would have to deal with the fallout when he got there just after sunset. By then, it was usually too late to talk to anyone himself. They’d all shut up for the day.

He sat at his desk grumbling, calculator to one side and bills spread out in front of him. He was trying to make the week balance – and the week before that, and the one before that. They were accounts issues that he’d let build up. On the other side, he had open a notebook, within which he was writing dot-point notes for Roxette. At least she did as she was told and if she questioned the boss, she was never afraid to say it to his face. She didn’t gossip, and she was loyal. She’d been working for and with him long enough to take up the responsibility of managing the place during the day, while he was sleeping.

The slight disturbance in the air first alerted Elliot that someone else had arrived in the office. It didn’t surprise him anymore. Skylar often used the portal to get to Lancaster’s, too. The person he was most often greeted with, however, was Pi.

”I need to tell Roxette to count everything that arrives. All of the time,” Elliot said. His mouth was open when he looked up, as if he were about to explain why. Except that he didn’t see Pi, like he had expected to. Instead, it was Aliyah. For a second, he was confused – before he smiled and straightened.

”Hey, sorry. Thought you were Pi…” he said. Elliot wasn’t particularly a private person and he wasn’t concerned about family traipsing in and out of the office. The office door was even half ajar, the busy sound of the crowd and of the juke box and of glasses chinking filtering in to the small space.

He didn’t say anything else. Just assumed that Aliyah was using the portal to Lancaster’s as a gateway to this part of the city, rather than to specifically come to see him. He was expecting her to say a quick hello and leave.

At first Elliot thought Aliyah was being serious; that she and Pi looked alike. Elliot sure didn’t think so. Aliyah had an air of youth, whereas Pi had the grace of maturity. Not that Aliyah didn’t have her own brand of grace. It was hard to define, but maybe it came down to confidence. Here, Aliyah was apologising, and seemed unsure of herself. Whereas he had rarely had the opportunity to see Pi in a similar state of mild distress. Every now and again, yes, but not very often. Her knew her best as the woman who knew exactly what she wanted and would stop at nothing to get it.

Elliot shook his head and pushed the papers away. He dropped the pen into the nearby holder, and gestured to the chair on the other side of the table. Distractions were always welcome. Well, at least when he was doing the paperwork. If he was in the middle of writing a song, distractions might not be so welcome—but when creativity struck, he usually made sure to be out of distraction’s way, holed up in his mausoleum chamber the door to the music room tightly closed.

”It’s probably too loud out there to talk much, if it’s serious,” he said. ”You can interrupt me whenever I’m around to be found,” he said, smiling up at Aliyah graciously, generously. At least he wasn’t looming over her, as was normally the case with… well, almost everyone.

”The portals take some getting used to. I remember the first few times I used them, I wanted to throw up,” Elliot said. It was the sensation of it—because he didn’t understand the way they worked. He didn’t really believe it was magic. He believed it was all just science that no one had explained yet. Which had him believing that every time he stepped into one of those portals, or tomed back to the den, his body was being split into ten million tiny little particles to reform again at the other end. He’d always been afraid that he’d end up with his arms and legs swapped around, or a few extra fingers. But nothing untoward ever happiness, and the queasiness soon went away.

”What’s up?”

Elliot shrugged. It had been a long time since he had thrown anything up, but he assumed vampires could throw up just as much as humans could. Except, well, they’d probably throw up just weird bile and blood. Elliot himself could still eat and drink, so there was a possibility that his vomit would be semi-solid, depending on the day and who he may have been entertaining – he didn’t have a penchant for eating if not in the company of other people who could eat. In that respect he functioned the same as any other human might—he still had to use the toilet, even if what came out the other end was a little different these days, depending on what his body chose to keep and discard.

But he wasn’t about to discuss his bowel movements with Aliyah. That seemed uncouth. So he let the subject slide with just that one shrug.

Anyway, he was quite certain that Aliyah wasn’t here to talk about a vampire’s bodily functions. The nervousness rolled from her in heady waves, and Elliot wondered whether he should be concerned. He remembered a similar scene not too long ago, except it was Skylar and Roderic sitting opposite him; Elliot had found out that Roderic was in Tytonidae, and he hadn’t reacted well. In fact, he’d lost his temper entirely. The man who was usually reasonable, cool, and calm and been none of the above.

If anything, Aliyah’s story only grated Elliot’s nerves because Roderic was involved in it. Some family gathering that normally Elliot wouldn’t give two shits about, except for the fact that it’s Altaire, and he’s not too fond of the bloodline’s matriarch. The mild irritation settled somewhere in the back of Elliot’s mind, however, and he put it aside. It had been some time since Skylar’s revelation, and he’d settled into an uneasy kind of acceptance. He couldn’t dictate who she could or could not date, so he had to let it go. Somehow.

Instead of focusing on those details, Elliot instead focused on the question that Aliyah had come to ask. It seemed an odd thing to be nervous about, and he arched a brow as if waiting for more. When no more was forthcoming, he shook his head.

”I have no idea,” he said, before his brow furrowed. ”Have you guys been hanging out a lot? Maybe she just… considers you a really close friend. Women do that, don’t they? Call each other sisters even if they’re not?” he said. ”Have you asked Skylar about it? Does it bother you?” he asked, trying to get to the bottom of Aliyah’s nerves or her concern.

There was a tension in Elliot’s body that hardened into straight lines as Aliyah brought up Ric again. Biological brother? These kinds of coincidences sometimes had Elliot wondering whether all his scientific beliefs should be thrown entirely out the window; whether he should agree and accept that there was some outside force pushing people together and deciding on the paths that they should take. That no one ever had free will. Everything was preordained. What were the chances that a brother and sister would both come to this city separate from each other, of their own accord, and that both should be turned into creatures of the night?

But then of course, Elliot didn’t know the whole story. Maybe it was Roderic who had lured Aliyah here to begin with. In the end, Elliot didn’t know anything about why Aliyah was here, did he? Maybe it was all just really bad ******* luck.

The reply perched on the tip of Elliot’s tongue. The exact same argument he gave to Skylar. That Roderic belonged to a faction filled with ungrateful asshats with superiority complexes, and who sought to control the city. At least, in Elliot’s opinion, that’s what they did. They tried to be a governing force, and via their violence and their penchant for attacking without asking questions first, they pushed this city into submission. They were a controlling force simply due to their hefty numbers and their cohesion.

But what would be the point? Though he wanted to argue with Aliyah, he didn’t. Instead, he tried placing himself in her shoes; to find a familial connection in this dark chaos had to be a comfort. And, if the two had not ever had a dysfunctional relationship, what reason would there be that she wouldn’t be loyal to her own legitimate actual family? For a long moment, whilst standing in Aliyah’s shoes, Elliot longed to see his own brother. His half-brother. The one whose existence he had dismissed, almost, and taken for granted. They had got along. They hadn’t got to know each other as well as they could have. And now there would be no chance.

If Elliot dwelled, the melancholy could crush him. But, it had least softened his features as he pretended the topic didn’t exist, and brushed past it in order to focus on the other. Aliyah had moved on, and so would Elliot.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows upon the desk. He took a deep breath as he considered his answer. He didn’t want to offend Aliyah, but he could read via the thrum of the emotion in the atmosphere that this was somehow momentous—he had to be careful with how he answered. He couldn’t detect whether this was something she liked or something she didn’t.

”Skylar is very well aware that I do not ever want to be called ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’. When she does call me that, she’s teasing me. She does it relentlessly, simply because she knows I don’t like it,” he explained with a lopsided grin. He took her teasing gracefully.

”I am not old enough to be her father, nor am I old enough to be yours. Maybe it was something I may have wanted, but I’m not about to project some nostalgic longing onto people who are too old to need me in that way. Besides, there’s no fuckin’ way I’m ever going to call Pi my mother, because that would be wrong. In so many ways, that would be wrong,” he said. It was why the distinctions annoyed him so much. It was why he hated it when people called their sires their parents. He sighed.

”I suppose no one’s thought of trying to change the terminology. But the terminology is loose. We call d’Artois a ‘family’ because really, people don’t have to be connected by blood to be considered a family. I am… a sire. A mentor. To me, from my perspective, that is what Skylar is to me. She is… my progeny. Vaguely in the sense that she is a kind-of descendant but mainly in the way that she is a kind-of student. Loosely speaking. She is mine to be responsible for,” he explained. He kept his eyes steadfast on Aliyah’s face, knowing that she had asked more, and that she was waiting for more.

”If you’re asking whether I have taken you under my wing in lieu of your sire’s complete inadequacy, then yes. I suppose that is what I have done. Much the same as I had done for Aidan, and for Charlie. In that way you are all connected. You have that much in common. But you’re not sisters, for crying out loud. To say that would be calling Doc my brother and this whole relationship with Pi an incestual fallacy,” he said, and slumped back in his chair with a real and obvious shudder.

In the grand scheme of things, Elliot was not stressed. The topic was not the usual topic that one would employ themselves in of a night time, but it didn’t stress him out more than it should. There were some residual feelings attached to the idea of family, and yes, Elliot was perhaps a little bit too passionate about how familiar terms were so loosely used by those around them. He had ranted as he had, and had made his views and emotions so well known to Aliyah only because of the way she had instigated the conversation. How nervous she had been. Even now, he wondered to what part of their conversation so far he could attribute her anxiety.

Whatever the case, the anxiety was gone, now. Across the space that divided them, Elliot could only feel a serene calm exuding from the woman. As Aliyah explained herself, he began to understand that perhaps she had been nervous because she didn’t know what his reaction would be to her request. He scoffed, and laughed lightly, the dark hair falling over his eyes in a haphazard manner. In the habitual way that Elliot had, he pushed his long fingers through his hair, pushing it back enough to keep it out of his face for at least five, maybe ten seconds. One of the curses (could it really be considered a curse?) that he had been landed with was the fact that no matter what he may have done to change his appearance, a few hours later, or even the next night, he would physically revert back to the exact way he had looked the night he was sired—right down to the length of the stubble on his jaw.

”That’s… well. Ever since I met you in that lobby at Corvidae and realised you were sleeping on dirt floors, I’ve been your sire. For lack of a better explanation. You never had to ask,” he said. He remained where he was, slumped back in his chair, his smile magnanimous and severely relaxed, in comparison to how he had been only minutes beforehand.

Though, there was something in the way Aliyah looked at him that had Elliot shifting uncomfortably in his chair; not because he was not appreciative of her appreciation but because that kind of scrutiny embarrassed him. He didn’t do what he did for applause. He just did what came natural to him, and required no thanks. He leaned forward, now, with his elbows against the desk.

”Though, you know Pi’s always around too, if I’m ever… out for the count. I think we’re all a bit too dysfunctional to imitate a real family but we do try. And isn’t that how families are supposed to work? Each member contributing something?” he asked, trying to ease the embarrassment just a little.