Well, now, that's strange. As the archway suddenly clears, another figure appears...in more traditional form.
Edward glances around, a bit confused. "Wasn't that the Fashion Gestapo?" he wonders loudly, in Franco-English. "Fucker disappeared. Bah." He shrugs and notes you both, shrugging as he wanders into the garden.
"Seen Will?" he asks, the air of departure upon him. A smile is given to Tori as for the first time, Edward Meurelle gets a good look.
Ice-blue eyes blink once as the newcomer appears. Ah, no, wait... she met this one last night, did she not? This is a busy place right now, it seems.
Hearing the question, Tori shakes her head. Raven-black locks wave about her at the motion. "No, I fear I have not.. I am sorry."
Yes, at least now, the woman is not freaked out, frenzied and covered in her Sire's blood.
"Cool, that's alright," Edward says, slipping into English. He continues to look at you, he dressed in black slacks, grey shirt. A dapper, urban look. Short black hair is closely cropped. Rather urban, in fact.
"So, how goes, chicky? Guess all's well in bells now?"
The look you give her is not shied from or avoided. In fact, it just seems to feed her ego a bit, giving her more confidence. Her Clan thrives on attention, afterall.
"Yes... things are much better now, thank you... Edward, was it?" she asks, holding her barely touched glass of wine. Her own gaze flickers over your form for a moment, taking in the sight of you.
He nods, sable-brown eyes sparkling. A smirk forming at his lips. Despite the GQ-casual look, beneath the silk shirt and linen slacks is a fighter. Shoulders and thighs tell that, along with the hands. Edward smiles and looks over to the drink, deciding to wander that way.
"That's good then," his cockney-laced words spill in tortured syllables shaded by enlongated vowels. If he's all cockney, boys from the East Side certainly have learned some flair. "Nothing worse than havin' a bit of flesh under your fingernails, hmm? Bitch and a fuckin' half to get out," he notes for the record. Doesn't everyone know that?
Breeze in the courtyard causes Edward's grey silk shirt to shimmer across his muscular form. He sniffs the carafe skeptically, brows and face wincing to sort out the drink of the night. Oh well. His exprssion opens and he shrugs it away, deciding to pour anyway. At some level, it really doesn't matter.
"If ya don't mind me askin'..." he turns around, leaning against the table where the drinks were placed, "...what in fuck all was that about?" Ankles cross as he stands, drink in one hand and hand back upon the table to prop him up.
Well, there's something to be said for being blunt, isn't there?
Taking her glass with her, Tori moves back over toward the fountain, seating herself upon its lip. For a moment, she says nothing, just glancing over at you with that predatory gaze of hers.. yes, she is beginning to come back to herself. That gaze runs along you quickly, taking in note of the build beneath the pretty clothing, causing her lips to curl upward at the corners slightly.
Hearing your question, Tori's shoulders lift for a moment, then drop again. Leaning forward, she places her elbows upon her knees, dangling her hands and the glass before her. "Well, the one I destroyed last night was my Sire. He had gone insane and leagued himself with our Enemies, but was obsessed with me. He slaughtered one of my ghouls in New Port. He'd had me running for over a century. I don't honestly know where you fit into that story, but that's about it from my end," Tori replies, looking up toward you from beneath raven brows.
There is a feeling...
Of shrinking air...
A scent...
Of something like cloves...
No...
It is opium...
And the feeling of shrinking air, of tightening space, increases. Nearing you. And the castle walls feel it. They breathe it.
For the pulse of the heart in the stone is his own...
"Hey, bird, I don't fit anywhere in to that story," Edward snorts, hands lifting up. One with glass, one without. No way, no thanks. It's all trouble. "Sires, unfriendlies..." his English chirps of low-class heritage, "...sounds like you need t' get something better than bone," his fingertips waggling.
"But that's just my reckon, you know?"
Tori glances around for a moment, seeking the entrances of the room. Where is that coming from? Ah, but it's all around, isn't it? She grins, then looks back toward you, replying, "So you just showed up?" Like some knight in shining...silk?
The glass in her hands is noticed again and lifted to her lips. A larger mouthful than the last is taken and swallowed. She closes her eyes for a moment, just willing it to stay down and not upset her usually unused stomach. Shaking her head, she says in a slightly hoarse voice, "I don't need anything of the kind.. except maybe steel. Which I had last night and it proved useless, unfortunately.." At least in her delicate hands it was... against her Sire.
Looking back up now, Tori adds with a chuckle, "But, I appreciate the suggestion." Her voice is normal again as the wine is kept down.
Okay, whatever. His brown eyes widen and relax, shoulders shrugging.
"I gotta call," Edward explains after taking a swallow of his drink, "...my area, I watch it, I go," he says easily enough. "Will was known not to be here, and there was a lotta boxes movin' up and down the Nationale." The cars racing from the airport south. Someone was looking. "I...was on my way home and, well," Edward's voice falls. As if that was all there was. And in some ways, it is, his boxer's form says. You don't fuck with things he's responsible for.
Tori's head bobs up and down briefly as she nods at you. "I understand. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to sound accusatory or anything. I am just not familiar with how things work out here anymore..." she replies. She's been off the continent for far too long.
"So, anyway... thank you for being here. Otherwise, I might not have had the opportunity to be sitting here, speaking with you right now," she adds quietly.
From outside...
The sound and shadow of a horse walking by. One of the spectral Andalusian who are sometimes allowed to roam the milieu and tame the grass of the garden...
But also, the arrival of That Other...
The air tightens until it bursts...
And the door opens...
Through it, Guillaume. Clothed in the lambskin leather... that holds him, supple. It has much to hold. Blatant virility. And decadence that comes from his as blantantly, so recently. A silk shirt was pulled on, but it was left unfastened. He to feel the cool air on his skin. And dangling from sensuous lips, a dark cigarette. Opium and hashish rolled in cinnamon and clove. His black hair draping to half conceal indigo eyes. "A woman," comes the ancient French, 12th Century and pulling, "... accusing Meurelle?" Smooth the smile, equally as languid as his stride, "...this is not a first..."
"No worries, bird," Edward says softly, the years showing on him. They are there, glimpses of them when he ceases to be so bombastic. A turn and he refills his glass, letting the silence and then the sound of the burbling liquid fill the air.
Head turns to see William. Are they not related?
"Hey, cos, better a murdering maiden-rapist than...." he smirks, "...wait. Lemme get back to ya on that one," his brows wiggling in roguish amusement.
"Ach, an gimme one of those? Valan won't let me have one of his...says he doesn't know when he's gonna see a fresh pack. Cheeky bastard."
"William..." Tori murmurs delightedly, glancing up at the threshhold even as he makes his entrance. Hearing his words and looking between him and Edward, her smile slants into a grin. She rises from the fountain now, wine glass in hand... half-finished at that... and moves across the room toward the Lord of the manor.
They are indeed related, though three centuries part them. Cousin, Nephew, Uncle? What does it matter. They are friends.
The hand reaches into a silken pocket, and even as the grin slowly spreads, the pack is airborne. It is a hand-crafted pack -- these are not legal and not prepackaged. But... when an artist smokes opium, he is prone to make... all sorts of things. The cover is Mona Lisa smoking a joint, in paintstaking Da Vincian detail. "Hmm... he is bold, your Valan," comes the Langue d'Oc. Old French tugging against his tongue. Indigo sparkles darkly with a wink. "These are loaded, Edward... forewarned is... forearmed..." And he is on his second.
William wanders in, his eyes slowly lifting to Victoria. Studying moments pass, and then his look softens. "Victoria... that looks a little light for servant's blood..." A nod to her glass.
Half-turning, William glances back to Edward. His hand lifting, opium cigarette taken after a few moments. He breathes incense.
And if he looks like he is dripping in sin... let us say it is... an accurate portrayal. "Where is your golden young man...?" A look to Tori. "Have you met Valan Montague?"
A roll of sable eyes tells the short story. "He's getting snacks from someone in your kitchens." Edward takes the cigarette, then pats William's chest hard in some attempt at a search for the lighter.
His hands land like a book upon a table.
"Where's the flicker?" he says, occupying himself as Tori's talked to.
I'm not sure where I left it, actually...
Laughter rises from him, deep but soft, as he is pounded. But though it is like a book upon a table, solid flesh landing to solid flesh, he is not moved by it, nor wavers, nor is there any sign of feeling it at all. William only grins more widely. "Pat lower... you will find it, cos...here," a hush then, and he reaches into front, leathered pocket. In the large lion paw of a hand is a small silver zippo. It is offered to Edward, even as William slowly pivots toward Victoria.
Chuckling, Tori murmurs quietly, "Blame Antonio for this, William. He is teaching me to drink the stuff again." A pause as she moves closer to stand near William, then she adds, "Goodness, I can see myself getting drunk off of one glass, it's been so long!"
Hearing the question of Valan, she smiles and says, "I met Valan, yes... he is an interesting young man. He kept trying to figure me out. It was cute." A smile becomes a grin as she remembers that conversation, when he wondered if she might have been a ghost.
"Figure you out?" Edward murmurs, snorting evilly at William's notion of 'patting lower'. "I like my hand, cos, thanks," he says, turning about to light the cigarette. A click, flick, and closing click, and the lighter is handed back to William.
"You...don't drink or something?" Edward wonders, looking between you both. Curious girl, this one, his arching brow to William says.
Shaking her head, Tori murmurs quietly, "I haven't had wine in a long time, that is all." She then grins, commenting on Valan, "Oh, I think he thought I was a ghost or something, the way he looked at me. At the time, I was brooding about the events of last night and didn't notice him right away. But while we talked after I spoke with him, he just had this constantly curious demeanor about him. Or is that just his way?"
The zippo disappears. Flickering. Gone. Slipped into the leather again. "She used to have... an aversion to wine... but..." William makes a wave of his hand, his cigarette burning the air as he does so. Like a seraph's sigil of fire. "...Il Gatto..." sensuous the mouth upturns, curving, "...has a way of convincing people to do the... most extraordinary things..."
A pause.
"Most of which ...cannot be spoken," his hand makes another motion. It is too much for the ears.
A thud sounds suddenly. William's large paw of a hand landing squarely on Edward's chest. A spreading grin. A rough pat and he turns to find a seat. "Valan... Montague... is a bold young man. Curious... that is a good word for him. He seems nice. And he fences. I like him..."
Ah, Valan has found his way to the Plantagenet heart. War.
Edward's full features bloom. "He's just like that, the Montague is." Cigarette has a short life, when chain smoked. Edward's in a cloud and reaches for his drink again. "I doubt...he was confused," Edward claims with a knowingly smug smirk.
Pride, that is.
At mention of Il Gatto, Edward's expression breaks into a shuddering grotesque. "Gatto, eh? You should stay away from that one," he smiles, "...if you know what's good for ya, chick. Really. That man's dangerous," and he tosses back most of his glass.
"So... how do you like my wine?" comes the languid baritone. Damn near ethereal.
And it brings attention to him again, laid out upon a sofa. Taking up the whole of it in a lordly, opiate sprawl. Beautifully lewd. It cannot be helped...
"And... Girault... is...an interesting man. I find him... a constant curiosity, though I have known him for ... some six centuries..."
Arching an eyebrow, Tori chuckles and says in wry tone, "If I may be so bold, Edward... I think after what I faced and survived last night, telling me something like that about Antonio is not really going to make me flinch much." Grinning at him for a moment, the woman raises her glass slightly and then takes another mouthful. She only winces slightly this time.
This will take time for her to re-learn. Looking back at William now, she snickers a bit and says apologetically, "William, my dear friend... I have not tasted wine in how long? Let me get accustomed to drinking it again and then I will tell you, hm?"
"She's cheeky, where'd ya find her?" Edward states after looking skeptically at Tori's assessment. But he isn't a naysayer. He finishes his glass and turns back to the table to refresh his drink.
Black hair half veils his gaze, and the smile claims his mouth, warms his expression. He looks so alive... and so otherwordly. So beyond the living. For those who can see it, his aura is alive with the sparks of magic. And now opium. Indigo eyes flicker to Edward. "I do not think that is a compliment to Chinon's vintage, cousin... what think you?" Ancient tongue, ancient inflection. "Hmmm?" Dark eyebrows lift in a sudden arch. "America..." And William chuckles softly.
Land of the free and the... hmm... what was that again?
"Edward Meurelle thinks you're cheeky, Victoria... this is a high compliment."
Edward's lips roll together thinly, he shaking his head at William.
Chuckling, Tori murmurs, "I should chain him up for that, non, William?" She then offers a wink to both of you and moves back over to the fountain. The comment didn't even seem to phase her one bit. Cheeky. She's been called worse.
"As for the wine, William... I am certain it is the finest around... I just have not yet developed the ability to fully enjoy and experience it. Give me time, hmm?" she adds with a grin, sitting upon the lip of the fountain once more.
The cigarette glows orange at the tip, and the scent of opium is pungent. William sits up, fishing the lighter from the leathers. "I have never been chained," William adds in a slow, southern French drawl. "Maybe I am missing something... but..." A shrug of broad shoulders. What can I do? Feet flat upon the floor, powerful leathered thighs outspread. A balance for his forward lean. The second cigarette is quenched. A third is taken. And lit.
"I have a whole cellar full of it. What used to be the dungeons is now a winery cask room. Ingenious... non? A good use of Medieval torture space, I think..." His words begin to roll, the accent thickening. The drawl elongating. The opium is moving through him. I miss my golden lord. And there is a sudden burst of fire that burns the air around him. Just at the thought of him.
Smirking, Tori refrains from commenting. If she goes down that road, there's no returning... taunting the Lord of the manor would not be appropriate. Stretching slightly, she nods and says, "Well, it's the perfect space to keep wine, I would suppose. Somewhere cool and dark and all of that.."
"Now you're talking about domestics, so we're vanishing," Edward states suddenly, cigarette crawling towards the end of life. You two are clearly friends and well, much has happened, and Edward doesn't look to be the standstill type.
To William, he says evenly, "Going north, then across, hmm? I'll be at Dannerly in...maybe catch me in a week?" eyes narrowing. Information conveyed. They have been allies for a while.
"We'll be staying here for a while," William murmurs, turning to Edward. Yes, allies for a while. There is a familiarity there. A closeness there. But little is betrayed in it. "We set sail in the spring for a bit of a ...tour. We are going to ... wait out the rest of the winter here then... get the boat at Gibralter..."
Boat. What boat?
He rises at the end of that, cigarette dangling from his lips again. "But I will come see you," he murmurs. "I should like a romp in London. It has been a while, non? And... I owe you a drink for this..." Saving my home. The old general moves past Edward, another pat left upon his cousin's shoulder. "I did not mean to bore you, Meurelle..." Dark eyes narrow keenly at you, and then William breaks into a grin.
Falling silent to allow the two of you make your plans, Tori drinks more of the wine, just concentrating on tasting it and keeping it down. It's not a bad taste... she just isn't used to drinking it.
Finally, something in the conversation makes her look up from her glass again. "London... It has been so long since I have been there. I hope to go back there soon, myself," she says clearly. Something in her face suggests that she's waited a long time now to go back.
"That's all you do nowdays," Edward says sharply, looking to Tori, "Hey, it was...brilliant t' meet ya," he offers. Yeah. Okay. "Next time...maybe it's in nicer surroundings, you know? Not a French battleground," the sardonic sniping continues.
"And you, cos, you really need to do something about the blokes you let in here." A quip to Tori as he turns, being shown out, "And if yer in the City, call me!"
Once more, she chuckles, watching Edward leave now. "I will," she calls back, shaking her head in amusement. Looking back to William, she adds, "He is an interesting fellow."
"You should go," William offers quietly to Victoria, and then he pauses. Edward's rant interrupting. "The fashion gestapo? Hmm... oui... well... unfortunately, they had to come to retrieve the bodies... what can I do?"
A sigh. Don't remind me, Edward. I wasn't too happy about having my home invaded. It wasn't high on my list of things to do. "That's all I do? Whatever do you mean by that! Ass," a chuckle. A last wave is given to Edward...
...consisting of one upraised finger...
"Hmmm...oui... he is... a relative. You can choose your friends, as they say, but not your relations..."
Indigo sparkles in a wink and he flicks dead ash... somewhere. Upon honeyed stone. The servants will clean it up....
Lowering the glass of wine, nearly finished now, Tori grins and says, "I wondered if you two were related. I hate to say it, William, but I can see the similarities..." She dares to say it. You are offered a devilish grin as she sets the wine glass aside. Shaking her head, she murmurs, "I am tipsy already, William... I have been so outspoken this evening."
A laugh escapes her at this as she looks back at the remaining wine in the glass. Gods, not even a full glass and she is affected. It just has been so long, really.
Dark eyebrows lift and William sighs opium. Why am I standing? There is a moment, he had forgotten moving... and he settles upon a sofa, leathered legs sprawling in a lordly half-sprawl. The third cigarette is tasted. Pulled. Fire breathed and drugged incense released from slightly parted lips. And then his mouth spreads in a smile. "I adore him, he's an ass... but he's a dear friend. Distantly related," he adds, "... his family and my family... intertwined a bit, but we have three hundred years of history between us..." A pause. "Good man. Glad he was handy."
He looks to your glass, your hands and lastly your eyes. "Tipsy... hmm... It takes me many many bottles to be so. Damn my constitution..." And his wealth of fortitude. But opium? Opium is something else...
And he is quite affected...
"Honestly, I don't think you are as glad as I am that he was nearby... William," Tori pauses for a moment, her expression sobering for a moment. "William, I would have been dead once you arrived if Edward hadn't been here," she admits. She was -lucky-. The Persian would have made sure that she met her end even if Morgan did not.
Shuddering slightly, she blinks, then looks back at the wine and grabs the glass. Tilting it back, she downs the contents and winces. "I think I'm going to need this afterall," she murmurs, shaking her head. "Although, if I'm going to wince, I should at least drink something you're supposed to wince with..." she adds with a chuckle, looking back at you.
His laughter echoes softly -- at least to his senses -- and long, dark lashes begin to half lower over his eyes. The natural borne sensuality cannot be helped. It is not worn. It exists, even as he does. "I have had many opportunities in my life... where I have said the same. Buy him a drink sometime, he is a ... great ally to have. We have had many victories together. But none would have been possible without him there..."
Lips pull upon the cigarette and William closes his eyes. The world is exploding with colors. The colors have a life of their own. They all remind me...
"But... I hear the... Council Itself... has come to ... discuss it with you..."
Setting her empty glass aside, Tori nods once and replies with a slight stretch, "Yes... so it did. That was surprising. I also apologized to Christian for blasting him last night. It was unwarranted." But at least he took all that in stride.
"I will buy Edward a drink when I am in London, then," the young Toreador agrees.
She is certainly not drunk. She'd have to drink a few more to get to that point. However, she is at least much more mellow than she has been.
William chuckles, "Hmm... Christian is a big boy. He can take it. That reminds me... I need to see him before he goes..." A slight wave. I will tend to it later. William takes a breath and rises again. "Ian is going to wonder where I am... I ... stepped outside to smoke and get some cool air..." A smirking grin, ".. and then disappeared... shame on me..."
"I will not keep you, dear friend... I will find you again soon enough," Tori says with a murmur. She rises, too, heading in your direction. "Give Ian a hug for me. And, William..." she pauses, stopping just a bit away from you, "..thank you." For letting her stay. For being so supportive. For being her friend.
"I shall," William murmurs. Giving Ian a hug is easily and often done. Whether it be in your name or no. "And... you are welcome," there is something suddenly regal. More so, even than normal. Perhaps it is the bow of his head. Perhaps it is the sudden rush of Noblesse Oblige. "It is... what friends ...do..." And quiet words are edged with a wink.
There is a gentle touch at your arm and then he turns. "You are welcome to stay in Chinon as long as you feel you need to. We will be here... off and on until March...but... there is no rush, Victoria..." William smiles to you past a broad shoulder. No rush.
She merely smiles at you as you give her this wonderful offer. Tori has nowhere else to go at this point in time, so it's greatly appreciated... but she needn't tell you this. So, for now, she says quietly, "I'll see you soon, William," letting you go back to Ian.
You have the benefit of... knowing how he spent his early evening. And perhaps you are a little psychic...
Or maybe you can see it in the colors that swirl around him and the energy that is surging from him...
But if you got the feeling that he was returning to the fray...
... Call yourself clairvoyant...
Posted by rowan at February 10, 2001 11:34 AM
