Path of the Vampire forum

Antiques crowd the stuffy little shop, a glorious hotch-potch of cultures and fashions through the ages. There is everything from ancient China to early Islam here on display. There are English teapots and Russian dolls, all of them covered in a fine layer of dust. At the desk at the very back of the store sits an old man, his till also antique, the keys clunky like an aging typewriter. Nathan nods his head in the guy's direction and gets a grumble in response so he continues to browse.

Though many items have lost their lustre in the store, they stand in their dusty cabinets with all glory and pride intact. Coats of patina embrace stone and copper sculptures like the varnish of age and wisdom. As Nathan slides his hand on the baroque dining table, feeling the ornate carvings radiate the maker's emotions, he takes in the mellow aroma of oak that has never evaporated. The table is heavily ornate with the most exquisite carving. It had the Chippendale look with its cabriole legs. The claw-and-ball feet suggests that it had been American made. Its wood was the deep rich mahogany that all of the more expensive pieces were made from.

In the corner of the small store is a mirror half hung from the ceiling. The mirror is framed with what look like golden leaves from a weeping willow. At the top of the mirror, also in gold, is a cherubic face meant to be an angel. Above the angel's head is a crown with many points. The mirror itself is tarnished, perhaps it has been polished a few times too many, or maybe that's just what happens with age but Nathan can still make out the reflection of a moving curtain behind the store keeper. He watches it carefully and withdraws a small token he received earlier in the evening from some crazed peddler on the street. The bald man had sold him the copper coin along with the advice to head to this store and “see what treasures awaited within!”

Nathan isn't sure if this was some trick the natives used on all tourists to lure them into a den of thieves, but he lived for this brand of excitement and wasn't about to pass this opportunity up.

The store is wedged between two taller buildings. It looks squeezed, as if the neighbours were closing in and trying to pop it like a pimple. The sign scrawled on the window was old, some letters had become illegible in the peeling paint. But the window itself is clean and the artifacts on display were clearly antique. There is no theme to them or colour coordination and they are crammed together rather than artistically arranged. On the surface there is nothing sinister to suspect but behind that curtain was the chance to discover the unusual.

Nathan approaches the old guy dressed in tweed and cigar smoke and presents the token.

“Say, is this the key I need to get me to... pay attention to what's behind the curtain?”

He laughs at his own joke but the old man stares through him. Nathan sighs and puts the token down on the table. It clatters loudly enough to make the curtains flicker and for a hand to reach out. Nathan looks the clawed paw over with interest, he eyes the older gentleman to see if he's about to move, and reaches around to place the token in the upturned palm. It closes tight like a clam and he would leap out of his skin if he wasn't being grabbed by the wrist and pulled inside.

Thick mauve curtains wash over him as he's being dragged into the back of the store reminding him of another more malevolent fairy tale. The white rabbit leads him down a set of metal stairs and they move so quickly down that spiral that their footsteps sound like crashing thunder and he's dizzy in seconds. When they reached the bottom he is overwhelmed by how still everything becomes.

The hard grip on his wrist floats away and the echo of their footfalls melt. There is something in the darkness that is like a promise, like the world before dawn. It is a room as a canvas rather than a finished work of art, and to him, it is all the more exciting. With each movement something new came to his eyes; a tiny fragment more of the furniture and antique ornaments took form, as if they were waiting for him to make them real. Before long he can hear voices and cheering and… bidding?

Somehow, Nathan Break - renowned historian and professor - has found himself in the heart of a black market auction house.

Eirik like most had been on the outskirts of the city with Andrew his faithful friend and sidekick for a long time digging up things. As it went they where now at the black market auction. With his Sire no where in sight for how ever many years he only had Andrew around and that man made a great sidekick/part-time lover. He was also good for a pair of eyes. "You know what to look for Andy. Don't fudge it up this time."

Andrew nodded his head. Both where in business suits, but Andrew was watching the Items as Eirik was listening to the descriptions of the items. He would nudge Andrew wen he wanted him to bid on something and shack his head when he did not. He also listened to the bidders around him and would make his bid last on some items making it the highest bid to outbid people. It paid to be a rich blind man though most did not know he was blind.

He was the CEO of a company and he liked that. Nothing was stoping him from doing his job and getting his company in high gear.

“Remind me again why you’re getting all dressed up?” Lita asked her mistress as she watched the red-head get ready for an evening out. She couldn’t recall her getting this dolled up for the last auction she attended but she wisely said nothing on the matter.

”Because my dearest brother said to do so,” Amalea lightly rolled her eyes at her thrall as she lightly twisted her hair before securing it up with a clip. Fanning the strands over the top of the clip so they cascaded down, she looked at Lita in the mirror, ”Is there something wrong with doing so?”

“I guess not,” the woman replied in a tone that indicated that there was an issue. Under the red-head’s glare, “I don’t see the point of it all? Who cares what you show up in?”

The blood-thief shook her head lightly, ”Sometimes it’s just for fun. Tonight, it’s because Azraeth specifically requested it. Given he knows the venue and the event which I do not, he would be the best reference as to the dress code.” In truth, she appreciated the requirement as it made choosing what to wear less stressful. Of course, given the invitation and entry token had been sent in the mail, she would have dressed up anyway; that just spoke of the night being formal (or at least, that Az dictated it so).

Amalea hummed to herself as she slipped her feet into the black ballet flats she had set out earlier. She could sense the woman behind her was shaking her head at the red-head, but she didn’t really care. Just as she didn’t care what some would be rather put out that the event was being held with the current city conditions. Life didn’t stop just because of zombies on the loose and there was no better way to show that than to actually lead by example. She did recognize that some didn’t feel the same way, especially other humans, which is why she had quietly set up a trust fund to help the victims and future city restoration. There were other things she was doing behind the scenes as well. Tonight, though, was about family and friends.

Having slipped the entry token and invitation into her clutch, she said a quick good-bye to Lita. Concentrating on her destination, she arrived at the venue in a blink of the eye. Entering the building and clearing security, she looked around. She easily spotted Azraeth amongst the crowd; Valdimar was a bit harder to spot given she had only met the man once - their speed date from the event in February. She had had a nice time, but her heart hadn’t been into it given the events that had occurred a couple weeks earlier. A mental note was made to stop and chat with the dragon at some point in the evening. For now, she quietly slipped through the crowd to approach her brother. While still a couple feet away, she gently caressed his mind, You cleaned up nice, dearest brother. Thank you for tonight.

When he moves further into the room, he realises that as well as being in a den of illegal merchants and dealers, he’s about as out-gunned and underdressed as you can be. The crazy guy on the street didn’t said anything about this being a black tie underground event. Nathan looks down at his leather jacket, his grubby gray shirt, his jeans, and his brown shoes with embarassment like he’s suddenly become that guy: the idiot who turns up in fancy dress when everyone else is in an evening gown and penguin suit. He makes a wide step to his right and tucks himself away by the greek styled columns and even more velvet cutains - keen to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible. Most people have their eyes glued to the front of the room, so they barely notice him there, but the security which is made up of ten men who average 6.5 feet tall and 4 feet wide are looking at him like he’s the only one here who will put his hand in the cookie jar. Nathan smiles nervously at everyone he looks at.

It is a handsome room in the Italian mode of the Empire period. Faded tapestry panels and some ormolu furniture and other things mixed in make it rather conglomerate, but pleasing, all the more pleasing. The room was big.The air inside smells of mothballs, furniture wax, and champagne. Rows and rows of white-paint chairs fill the floor in front of the auctioneer’s pedestal so that it looks like church is in session. He’s firing off numbers so quickly that Nathan barely recognises them as English or numbers at all and more like a baby babbling before the whack of the hammer. There’s a pretty girl beside him showing off the item like she’s at a gameshow so maybe her acting gig fell through and this is where she landed at. Her smile is so big and full of white teeth that her skinny, elongated body and bleached blonde hair are just extensions of that. And because there’s a bum on nearly every seat, all Nathan can do is stare from afar.

As he’s looking across the room, he spots a very interesting picture hung up on the far wall in a gilded frame. The tone of the painting is muted, the style reminiscent of Monet. Each stroke has a smudging quality that renders the image watery, like a reflection in a rippled puddle. The scene is a street, London he thinks, the umbrella bearing pedestrians battle against rain and the red double-deckers and black cabs rumble by. It reminds him of Oxford Street, looking out of a rain-splattered window at the rivers of people that move in each direction. Like in this painting they moved so randomly, pushing against one another, flowing, like water. Perhaps to this artist that's what people are, small drops in a sky full of rain, each one looking out and saying to ourselves: “Wow, that sure is a lot of rain.”

I am SO SO SO sorry this is coming so late. I had no clue the OP had posted again. >.< I have no excuse <3 <3

Having spotted the dragons in the room, the red-head was free to take a moment to appreciate the architectural details of the venue. To most it was rather large given its status as a black market auction house but to her it was no different from a hidden speakeasy from the yesteryear. It was Italian in origin and design for certain though her practiced eyes could pick out the subtle influences of the French. The tapestries, though faded, added further texture and warmth to the room while being unique works of art in their own rights. A mental note was made to wander around after the conclusion of the auction to take in the finer details of the textiles.

The architecture itself was worth the trip this evening if truth be told. Amalea had studied it in college; it was a large part of her degree work. After coming to the city though, her passion for it was buried first by the need to find a job to survive and later her desire to help vampires. It was only recently that she rediscovered that she love for the subject hadn’t faded as well as the benefits of focusing on something she loved. It had been part of a hard lesson to learn, though she couldn’t deny that the experience had her stronger as well as helped her form stronger bonds with those who cared about her.

Mainly, she was attending tonight’s auction at the invitation of her brother. It wasn’t something she’d attend otherwise, typically. She didn’t have the interest in most of the items that were usually auctioned off on these nights. The value of the lots being bid on was largely lost on the red-head. Her eye was for design not hidden purpose. If one was to lay a magical, but plain plate beside a colorfully patterned one, she would tend toward the designed plate without a second thought. It was only once the significance of a plain item such as that was explained or discovered that she could see the beauty in it.

Sister. The word whispered into her mind caused Amalea to smile. She recognized the gentle touch anywhere and, even if she hadn’t, only one person in the city dared referred to her as such. He was also one of the few that had stood unwavering in his support of her these past couple months; showing her not only that true family existed but that family didn’t necessarily have anything to do with genetics. Somedays, it was still an overwhelming revelation particularly when she also considered that Amara also viewed her as family, Flynn was pretty much family and Every miswell be given all the pair had been through together.

The red-head had been a bit surprised to receive an invitation for tonight at first. After all, it wasn’t her usual thing. Perhaps it was for that reason he had chosen her and here. There were too many memories attached to her usual haunts. Memories she was trying to put in her past and out of her mind. Experiences marred by recent times. He knew this; they all did. It was one of the reasons their bonds had strengthened exponentially. Slowly, with their help, her therapy and time, she was beginning to rise again. A phoenixesque dragon in the making.

The raised hand drew Amalea much like a moth to a flame; though she knew there was no burning at the end for her. Feet traced a path through the gathered crowd as her eyes remained on Azraeth. She couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed to gravitate towards a man that seemed to look a bit out of place among the finery. Both seemed to have an interest in the painting hung on a far wall. It was a piece she had seen on her way in. A rainy day in a busy English city, it was well painted and she could appreciate the beauty of it, but it wasn’t a subject matter or style that interested her. She tended towards brighter pieces with more life to them.

If she was surprised by the introduction the vampire gave the man as she drew near, Amalea gave no indication of it; though she did make a note to use said name should she need to this evening. Smiling, she waited till the greeting was acknowledged in some form before she brushed her lips lightly across Az’s cheek. ”Evening, gentlemen.” Turning towards the man she could tell was human, she offered her hand as well, ”Amalea. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Sorry about the delayed reply!