The Shady Truth [Lancaster]
Posted: 13 Jul 2018, 06:38
Amalea
Nearly a month had passed since someone, or something, had attempted to attack her and fueled her curiosity with a mystery. When she had contacted the person who had seemed to be the culprit, he had replied that it hadn't been him, but rather his shade. A separate entity that he claimed was a side effect of the cure that had once been held in Longslade facility, but when she had asked around no one appeared to know anything about such things. Suggestions had been made to track down the male and see if his claim of being human held up. The red-head supposed she could have done that, but she had never heard of or seen him before so even that wouldn't have been proof that he had once been a vampire. There was one she knew of that had been cured which is what brought her to the pub he owned in hopes that he'd be willing to talk. It was a quaint place, she decided as she got her first look at it; no detail seemed to be overlooked. Now she just had to see if the owner was in.
Lancaster
Lancaster often idly wondered if he was cheating. Staring into the mirror, shirtless (something he had to get used to being able to do, again, without witnessing his own corpse), he watched as the long gash that had once caused him pain knitted itself up, leaving only a pale pink line where once there was a gaping wound. Soon, that thin scar would disappear, too, as if it had never been there. He was human again, with all the perks like sunlight and aging, normalcy, but he'd sought greater power, too. Sorcery. A normal life was completely out of his grasp, a conclusion he'd not yet fully accepted. But he had to go on with things regardless, rage as he might at the unfairness of the world. The bloodied shirt he'd been wearing was tossed in the bin, a new one gathered from the closet. It was plaid, its long sleeves pushed up to the elbows, paired with denim jeans and scuffed leather shoes. His hair was long-ish and hung foppishly, needing to be pushed from his eyes as he clattered down the stairs to the main pub. The commotion over, the shade gone, the customers stared at him as if staring at a ghost. He smiled at them, assured them everything would be fine. He preferred it when there were witnesses. At least he could also assure himself he was not insane.
Amalea
The blood thief couldn't help but sense that she had just missed something. The animated, but quiet, whispers between patrons at most tables was a good indication of that, she had found. The real tell, though, had been the way most had stared at the pub's owner as he descended from the upper floor. It only served to add a new layer of curiosity and mystery to the red-head's mission. As she waited for him to finish with the established customers, she idly wondered if he would remember her from the brief time he and another had run the Necropolis. Seeing an opening, Amalea slid off her seat, absently smoothing her skirt down to ensure there wasn't a wardrobe malfunction to be had. Approaching the man, she tried to be as nonthreatening as possible. If the story of the shade was true, she was certain that some of the city's other inhabitants wouldn't have taken kindly to being attacked by it. "Lancaster," she greeted him, "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was hoping I could bother you for a moment or two of your time?"
Lancaster
A feminine voice uttered his name and Lancaster turned, curious. The greeting was followed by those dreaded words -- I'm not sure if you remember me. Lancaster had issues with his memory. It was as if it had a mind of its own, some monkey in his brain choosing what he would remember and what he wouldn't. Plenty of things had come back to him, others not. "Yeah, sure," he said, glancing toward the bar to make sure the staff there had it under control, and gestured to one of the nearby booths. Somewhere he could see the bar, in case it got busy and they needed back-up. "I guess you could say I suffered some head trauma," he said. Truth was, he couldn't remember whether he had or not. His stint in the sewers could have done more harm than he realised. "My memory is shoddy these days, but it'll come back to me. What's your name?" he asked. Honesty, though he agreed it was morally correct, was something he couldn't quite help.
Amalea
Amalea half-expected to be ignored; it was something she had become accustomed to as of late. There was a small sigh of relief as he not only acknowledged her presence but also agreed to her request. The red-head was happy to follow him to his choice of booths. The admission that his memory was spotty due to head trauma was surprising yet at the same time really wasn't. They lived in a dangerous city where anything could happen and people tended to drive like maniacs at the best of times. Though, she couldn't help but wonder if memory loss was another side effect of the mysterious cure. "Amalea," she supplied with a smile. "I was a Blood Doll at the Necropolis when you owned it." The additional information couldn't hurt given it was things he would normally had known.
Lancaster
The name -- of both the red-head and the place that he had supposedly owned -- still evaded him. Sometimes things dropped into place easily, like a puzzle finally coming together. Sometimes it took a while, and required more of a visual than just a verbal. He nodded regardless. Who was he to deny what was probably true? "What can I do for you, Amalea?" he asked. He wondered if she was looking for a job. He didn't have any blood dolls on staff. It wasn't that kind of establishment. But if it was just bar work, he could probably hook her up.
Amalea
The nod didn't really tell the woman if the information had jogged his memory. if it had, wonderful. More likely, it hadn't, which wasn't a great loss. It wasn't as if they had had some sort of long-lasting interaction anyway. If the name didn't ring a bell, then it also meant he either was unaware of her part in the ancient being released or he had forgotten about it. Either was fine by her; it was one less possible complication. "I was hoping you might be amenable to discussing the cure that seems to make vampires human again," she replied quietly, mindful of the other patrons.
Lancaster
Ah, the cure. Lancaster cringed, wanting to check Amalea for wounds but unable to do so properly now they were sitting down. "It didn't... I mean it wasn't me, but I apologise if you were hurt," he said. Technically, it wasn't him. He couldn't remember attacking anyone, though he did feel responsible. Seeking the cure now felt utterly selfish. "It doesn't seem to make vampires human again, it does. Though with the consequences, I wouldn't recommend it."
Amalea
The cringe caught her attention and she had her suspicions as to why. They were easily confirmed when he next spoke. "It wasn't you," she reassured him hastily. "Another did attempt to attack me a bit ago. When I reached out to find out why, I got the most curious reply back. A claim that something called a shade had been the culprit and it was a side effect of taking the cure. I had never met him before so I had no way of knowing if he had truly taken it or if he was hiding behind it as an excuse for attacking." She paused a moment, taking the time to collect her thoughts. "It's why I wanted to seek you out, really. You're the only one I know that I can say for certain has been cured. Based on your reaction, I'd assume that the shade is a real thing?"
Lancaster
"Mm, it's a real thing," he said. He'd not heard of too many people going on rampages, though, so had hoped and nearly believed that no one else had taken it. "It was a man called Gideon Barnes who stole the cure from Longslade and offered it to me. I told him about the shade," Lancaster said, fist clenching and unclenching on the table-top. Would someone be so stupid as to continue to hand out something that was worse for the city, rather than better? He sighed, tried to release the anger. "It's real. It's kinda like someone's sliced out the vampire and let it loose. And it's full of rage. And there's no way to kill it, or get rid of it," he said.
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This thread was submitted via a live roleplay chat in the Lancaster`s area. Participants and rewards were: Amalea earned 1188 RPP. Lancaster earned 1072 RPP.
Nearly a month had passed since someone, or something, had attempted to attack her and fueled her curiosity with a mystery. When she had contacted the person who had seemed to be the culprit, he had replied that it hadn't been him, but rather his shade. A separate entity that he claimed was a side effect of the cure that had once been held in Longslade facility, but when she had asked around no one appeared to know anything about such things. Suggestions had been made to track down the male and see if his claim of being human held up. The red-head supposed she could have done that, but she had never heard of or seen him before so even that wouldn't have been proof that he had once been a vampire. There was one she knew of that had been cured which is what brought her to the pub he owned in hopes that he'd be willing to talk. It was a quaint place, she decided as she got her first look at it; no detail seemed to be overlooked. Now she just had to see if the owner was in.
Lancaster
Lancaster often idly wondered if he was cheating. Staring into the mirror, shirtless (something he had to get used to being able to do, again, without witnessing his own corpse), he watched as the long gash that had once caused him pain knitted itself up, leaving only a pale pink line where once there was a gaping wound. Soon, that thin scar would disappear, too, as if it had never been there. He was human again, with all the perks like sunlight and aging, normalcy, but he'd sought greater power, too. Sorcery. A normal life was completely out of his grasp, a conclusion he'd not yet fully accepted. But he had to go on with things regardless, rage as he might at the unfairness of the world. The bloodied shirt he'd been wearing was tossed in the bin, a new one gathered from the closet. It was plaid, its long sleeves pushed up to the elbows, paired with denim jeans and scuffed leather shoes. His hair was long-ish and hung foppishly, needing to be pushed from his eyes as he clattered down the stairs to the main pub. The commotion over, the shade gone, the customers stared at him as if staring at a ghost. He smiled at them, assured them everything would be fine. He preferred it when there were witnesses. At least he could also assure himself he was not insane.
Amalea
The blood thief couldn't help but sense that she had just missed something. The animated, but quiet, whispers between patrons at most tables was a good indication of that, she had found. The real tell, though, had been the way most had stared at the pub's owner as he descended from the upper floor. It only served to add a new layer of curiosity and mystery to the red-head's mission. As she waited for him to finish with the established customers, she idly wondered if he would remember her from the brief time he and another had run the Necropolis. Seeing an opening, Amalea slid off her seat, absently smoothing her skirt down to ensure there wasn't a wardrobe malfunction to be had. Approaching the man, she tried to be as nonthreatening as possible. If the story of the shade was true, she was certain that some of the city's other inhabitants wouldn't have taken kindly to being attacked by it. "Lancaster," she greeted him, "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was hoping I could bother you for a moment or two of your time?"
Lancaster
A feminine voice uttered his name and Lancaster turned, curious. The greeting was followed by those dreaded words -- I'm not sure if you remember me. Lancaster had issues with his memory. It was as if it had a mind of its own, some monkey in his brain choosing what he would remember and what he wouldn't. Plenty of things had come back to him, others not. "Yeah, sure," he said, glancing toward the bar to make sure the staff there had it under control, and gestured to one of the nearby booths. Somewhere he could see the bar, in case it got busy and they needed back-up. "I guess you could say I suffered some head trauma," he said. Truth was, he couldn't remember whether he had or not. His stint in the sewers could have done more harm than he realised. "My memory is shoddy these days, but it'll come back to me. What's your name?" he asked. Honesty, though he agreed it was morally correct, was something he couldn't quite help.
Amalea
Amalea half-expected to be ignored; it was something she had become accustomed to as of late. There was a small sigh of relief as he not only acknowledged her presence but also agreed to her request. The red-head was happy to follow him to his choice of booths. The admission that his memory was spotty due to head trauma was surprising yet at the same time really wasn't. They lived in a dangerous city where anything could happen and people tended to drive like maniacs at the best of times. Though, she couldn't help but wonder if memory loss was another side effect of the mysterious cure. "Amalea," she supplied with a smile. "I was a Blood Doll at the Necropolis when you owned it." The additional information couldn't hurt given it was things he would normally had known.
Lancaster
The name -- of both the red-head and the place that he had supposedly owned -- still evaded him. Sometimes things dropped into place easily, like a puzzle finally coming together. Sometimes it took a while, and required more of a visual than just a verbal. He nodded regardless. Who was he to deny what was probably true? "What can I do for you, Amalea?" he asked. He wondered if she was looking for a job. He didn't have any blood dolls on staff. It wasn't that kind of establishment. But if it was just bar work, he could probably hook her up.
Amalea
The nod didn't really tell the woman if the information had jogged his memory. if it had, wonderful. More likely, it hadn't, which wasn't a great loss. It wasn't as if they had had some sort of long-lasting interaction anyway. If the name didn't ring a bell, then it also meant he either was unaware of her part in the ancient being released or he had forgotten about it. Either was fine by her; it was one less possible complication. "I was hoping you might be amenable to discussing the cure that seems to make vampires human again," she replied quietly, mindful of the other patrons.
Lancaster
Ah, the cure. Lancaster cringed, wanting to check Amalea for wounds but unable to do so properly now they were sitting down. "It didn't... I mean it wasn't me, but I apologise if you were hurt," he said. Technically, it wasn't him. He couldn't remember attacking anyone, though he did feel responsible. Seeking the cure now felt utterly selfish. "It doesn't seem to make vampires human again, it does. Though with the consequences, I wouldn't recommend it."
Amalea
The cringe caught her attention and she had her suspicions as to why. They were easily confirmed when he next spoke. "It wasn't you," she reassured him hastily. "Another did attempt to attack me a bit ago. When I reached out to find out why, I got the most curious reply back. A claim that something called a shade had been the culprit and it was a side effect of taking the cure. I had never met him before so I had no way of knowing if he had truly taken it or if he was hiding behind it as an excuse for attacking." She paused a moment, taking the time to collect her thoughts. "It's why I wanted to seek you out, really. You're the only one I know that I can say for certain has been cured. Based on your reaction, I'd assume that the shade is a real thing?"
Lancaster
"Mm, it's a real thing," he said. He'd not heard of too many people going on rampages, though, so had hoped and nearly believed that no one else had taken it. "It was a man called Gideon Barnes who stole the cure from Longslade and offered it to me. I told him about the shade," Lancaster said, fist clenching and unclenching on the table-top. Would someone be so stupid as to continue to hand out something that was worse for the city, rather than better? He sighed, tried to release the anger. "It's real. It's kinda like someone's sliced out the vampire and let it loose. And it's full of rage. And there's no way to kill it, or get rid of it," he said.
------------------------------
This thread was submitted via a live roleplay chat in the Lancaster`s area. Participants and rewards were: Amalea earned 1188 RPP. Lancaster earned 1072 RPP.