On the third night of her stay in Chinon, with the early dusk settling slowly into a purple sky, Victoria is apparently not taking the time to check on things back in the states as she otherwise might. Instead, she is enjoying the stained glass of the reknowned windows as the last rays of light are reflected onto the floor long in pictures created with deep hues.
     Walking at the tips of the images, she spends a length of time at each one, taking in the artisans work and the subjects they portray. Dressed casually to most likely go out to visit the shops once the sun is fully set again, the white sweater over her shoulders sometimes catches the edges colour as she walks through the diffused sunlight.

     In the room, the shadows shift slightly, affected by the slow setting of the lowering fall sun. The colors of the stained glass windows deepen, scattering kaleidescope patterns across the stone and wood floors of the great hall.

     "Plans for this evening?" comes Ian's voice, still and even. He's been in the room the whole time, silent and perfectly still. Non-existent.
     "The early risers have gone," he observes, visible in one of the central sitting areas of the Logis. A twist causes the sofa to make a soft noise, which gives his position away. Dressed in a beige linen shirt and trousers, he should have been visible in the gently lit space.

     Turning towards the voice somewhat sudden, Victoria's expression shifts from thoughtful contemplation into a smile, "Evening."
     She turns to look at the windows again briefly in the short space of time that she's able to see them illuminated properly before looking to Ian once again, "I was going to go into town and enjoy some of the art demonstrations, and the different vendors that are still up and running." She starts to make her way back across the hall over to the chairs, and the now embodied voice, "Do you and William have plans?"

     "Not immediately," Ian explains, his white-blonde hair tied by a scrap of dark leather. "A host's job is never done," he adds, smiling as he crosses his legs. The leather sofa complains slightly, but after so many years, there's little for it to gripe about.
     "Have you enjoyed the weekend?" he asks, his voice even and measured. Grey eyes are bright though, and Ian exhibits a quietude that's seems to come from a place of emptiness, not from his legendary self-control. No sublmiated rage appears present, nothing restrained. For now, there's really nothing there. And he, a human face on empty space.

     "Oh, very much." Victoria smiles, "Thank you both for having me, the castle's marvelous. I can definitely understand why William is so proud of all the work that's gone into it."
     She remains standing for the moment, tucking her hands in the pockets of her slacks, "And the festival's been great. I don't know what exactly I was expecting, but it's been a lot larger than I was thinking it would be. I've gotten to catch up with a couple of the people Maximilian wanted me to be sure and see who've come by. And see some others that I haven't gotten to talk to as much as I'd like."

     There's a nod from Ian, who gives a sudden smile. In fact, he smiles regularly. "Duty, duty, always duty," he sing-songs, shaking his head. "Personally, if Maximilian wanted to touch base with a few people, I'd tell him that he should do it and not you."
     "But, then, I am not you."
     "Maybe he should get out a bit more," Ian surmises, "...so you don't have to do it for him."

     "But then what would he have me around for anymore?" Victoria asks with some humor. She shrugs slightly, still smiling, hands still in her pockets, "I don't mind, really. Well. Most of the time. It's the price you pay for having a bloodline. Family obligations of sorts."
     "And it isn't all bad. Some of the people he sends me out to meet are pretty interesting." She says, "I had a pretty interesting discussion the other night about the importance of gifts to a Frankish lord who seems to have some trouble with his modern French."

     He thinks otherwise, but Ian gives a lift and fall of his brows. If you say so. He grins again and sits back against the sofa. "What's next for you? More seeing of the continent?" Strange way of putting it.

     Victoria shakes her head slightly, though she seems somewhat disappointed about it, "Unfortunately, the duty part of clan business is rearing it's ugly head again. I've got to get back to the States. But, my plan is to come back for Christmas and get to enjoy Switzerland for a little while. Davydd says I should stop through Wales, so I might do that."
     She goes over to the server and pours herself some coffee from a carafe, adding, "I'm going to go through Tours first on my way out though. It'll probably be a briefer stop than here."

     "What's keeping you in the States?" Ian asks directly. He looks at his lap, where his hands twist and fold over each other. With his chin down at his chest, Ian takes a deep breath, then exhales it slowly. "And Wales is nice," Ian adds. "I am sure that Davydd and Miss Jorgenson make excellent hosts."

     She turns back and grins a little at the question, "Well, I'm running some financial interests for this Scottish business magnate. Which while not impossible, is easier with proximity." She comes back over and shrugs a bit once more, "And I've got the Primogen seat to manage too. Which is an important position, so it'd be hard to just step away from without causing problems."

     There's a smirk. "The Scottish business magnate," he hasn't heard himself called such in ages, "...will not go broke if his Oregon concerns are delayed. In fact," Ian looks over, as if he's looking over eyeglasses, "...the Scottish business magnate is considering selling those particular concerns. In more of a fact, it's probably going to happen, unless he's given reasons otherwise."

     Eyebrows arch again, this time in curious interest, "Really?" That doesn't seem like the sound of a disappointed manager, at all. Victoria takes a sip of her coffee and then frowns, "They're not doing badly compared to your others are they? I've thought they were doing pretty well. The stockholders on the open ones have been happy. And the share values have been going up."

     "They're not doing badly. The winery continues its losses -- no surprise for a winery -- and the real estate market on that and the shopping centre are fine." Ian shrugs. "Silverleith is a major investment...and I'm considering selling it outright to Keith."
     "There's little reason for me to keep investing in the Portland area." The truth of it.
     "I'd only created those things so that...I could do what I needed. I'm done there," Ian says, hands clasping each other as he looks ahead to a painting on the wood walls.
     "Keith will have Silverleith. I'll have the cash. I can find a buyer for the winery and the shopping center. A local developer might care about the center. That's it. Rhian Shipping and Lendsarme," both which make in the billions, "...are handled as always." Out of Seattle by their CEOs, and then through Midlothian West, run by Ciardin MacInveray.
     "The monies from a mall, a winery?" Ian waves his hand. They're inconsequential.

     "Oh." Victoria says with a little surprise. Apparently it's already figured out.
     "Ui might buy the winery, he's gotten to be pretty fond of it. If you were looking for a buyer who already had some insight into how it's run. The mall is in a good area, it'll probably sell better as real estate with the trends of individual buildings. I've had a theater chain asking around and you could probably sell the whole property to them at a pretty good profit without much trouble. They might even just add on to it and keep the rest of the mall for the revenue."

     Ian nods, turning to see the young woman. "If Ui wants the winery, sell it to him," Ian says. "If you are interested in the other items, then," Ian nods, "...they're yours. I'm fine with the loss on the books. Just let Padraig know." Patrick MacKinnon, Strathfayr accountant. "If you want to sell to the theatre," Ian nods, "...that's your call too. Whatever you do, make sure," Ian says such matter-of-factly, "...that you're paid 40 of the gross sale. Not even net. He will be taking losses, albeit tiny, in the scheme of things.
     "Actually," Ian murmurs, looking at his wringing hands, "...take 100. Send the statements to Padraig."

     Victoria still seems a little surprised by the whole exchange, nodding, "I'll ask him, he's got some patents that are bringing in enough money he should be able to buy it without much of a loss on the books, and I can always help him set up a mortgage on it, he's been doing a lot of the day to day management anyway in his spare time."
     "I'm not really interested in them personally, honestly. It's been interesting running them and I'm glad that you trusted me with them, but aside from the winery." She shrugs. At the change in amount she comes around the sofa that Ian occupies with her coffee in hand to give Ian a more curious look directly, "Are you sure? Really, it's not a problem to make arrangements for selling them."

     "If he wants the winery," Ian says softly, "...its his. I'm sure you'll see to the arrangments. As for the other two, sell. Take the gross," Ian reiterates. "I'll...let Keith know that his investors want a buyout. It shouldn't be a problem for him."
     In his lap, Ian's fingers now form a steeple. He looks down at it, slowly changing the shape to something new.

     Victoria nods, "Sure, I'll work it out. The whole thing shouldn't tame more than a couple of weeks to settle out with all of them, I'll check with the accounting firm and make sure it all goes off without any problems. Ui will appreciate it I'm sure."
     She takes another drink of coffee and gives Ian a more thorough examination, "Ian... it's fine, really." She sits down on one of the chairs nearer to the couch and sets her cup off on a table beside her, asking, "What's the matter?"

     "The matter?" Ian looks up, brows tightening. "Nothing's the matter," he says. Then the smile returns, "What makes you think that? There's just things that need to be done. I'm out of Newport," he says, "...and that's it. You've done a good job," Ian nods, changing his smile to a grin, "...and so you should benefit. That's all."
     Ian stands up and twists about. "I need a drink," he decides, and walks over to the bar to pour himself a scotch.

     There is activity sounding from the main entrance of the Logis Royeaux. Such sounds often serve as portents, do they not? Predictors of arrivals. It is not a ruckus so much as it is the quality of Silence being Interrupted...
     William Plantagenet (Guillaume d'Angevin is he is known these days) left the castle for the ville, to drinks at the Orangerie (he can't give all of his money to the Trente Ans) with Davydd and a few other lingering guests and associates. But now it would seem that William has returned...
     Who else could arrive at the Chateau and cause such a stir?

     Victoria nods a bit, "Okay... if you're sure..." She picks up her coffee again and takes a drink, "I'll send everything over to Mr. MacKinnon when it's finished."
     At the entrance of William in the hall she waves a hand slightly and smiles. Somebody who seems to be behaving normally and getting drunk, finally, "Evening." She's dressed casually with a white sweater and slacks, apparently not jumping out of the castle as early as some of the other guests, "You were quite the sacrifice last night."

     Ian serves himself at the bar. He opens a bottle of melted gold, pouring himself a healthy glass full of scotch. There's a grin at the arriving William, followed by a stare at his glass and the liquor pouring forth.

     He has had plenty to drink. Every night. He wakes with it, walks with it, even bathed in it -- twice! -- and down in the streets again. It is not a matter of being inebrieted. It's a matter now of not remember what sobriety ever was. This is the third night in a row...
     It took two washings to get the cabernet out of the short black hair, and several dunkings in hot water to get the smell of it out of his skin. Well, it is still lingering on him a little -- but maybe that is because he won't stop drinking!
     The smile is wide and warm, the look (and the air around him) electric. The first look is to Ian, a kiss blown until he can get there (and space is becoming 'folded' by the vampire prince, even though the look of the stride is slow, languid even drunk), and then he turns to Victoria, "Thank you, I had fun. I thought of doing an encore performance tonight..." He laughs.
     But maybe that will just be private...
     "Bonsoir, amours," he murmurs to Ian, and -- yes -- there is a kiss. He is touchy-feely anyway. When he is drunk, he has five arms and...well... you get the point. "Midnight... you and me... the Rue Voltaire..." Dancing. William turns to take them both in his attention. "So... how has your evening been?"

     Dancing on the Rue Voltaire? Not likely. Ian grimaces and shaks his head. He hasn't been off the castle property the entire festival, he's not likely to start now.
     "Fine," comes Ian's voice. "Just discussing getting rid of crap," he explains simply.

     Victoria smiles over to William from her chair, obviously not drunk though that's no surprise. Coffee seeming to be the drink of choice at present. "They could probably rig up another vat for you if you really wanted."
     She looks over to Ian with a bit of a grin and then turns back to William and nods, "Ui's probably going to have the winery, the mall's going to get sold off to a theater chain, and Keith's going to have Silverleith." Which he's pretty much been running the whole time anyway.
     "But the evening's been lovely, I got up early enough to see the windows with the sun setting." The windows behind her in the hall, of course, which for her is apparenlty quite the thing.

     Oh, the windows. Right. "You saw the one of me and Mama?" He chuckles at that. "Well, it is probably good that I show some restraint sometime this weekend," William notes. He takes a seat on one of the sofas, looking at Ian as he does so. "Well, that is good," he supposes, though his voice lifts in inflection a little at the end. He doesn't mention the dancing. He'll ask again later. For now, William is spreading out, giving long legs a stretch.
     "Ui's getting the winery?" A pause. "That's interesting..." Huh. Well. Steps can be heard outside the hall. A servant is on the way.

     "If he wants it," Ian reiterates, returning to the sofas with his scotch in hand. The liquor that makes life better. He exhales as he sits next to William, scotch in left hand and William at his right. "I guess Victoria doesn't want it."

     "Well... I love the winery, but it's not something I'd really planned on running myself forever, honestly." The lady shrugs slightly and takes another drink of her coffee, glancing over to Ian again, "I suppose I don't really see myself staying in Portland on a permanent basis. So since Ui does..."
     She turns to William, "And yes, I did, they're lovely, really."

     The crusader's arm comes up and over the back of the couch, resting around Ian comfortably. It looks like he belongs there, doesn't it? William inclines his head, looking at Ian for a moment. You don't seem happy.
     And then he looks between you...
     "From Murano," the glass capital of Venice, "... they had to be recreated. They were destroyed in the Revolution, also when the Abbey was vandalized. But," he turns his head to glance toward them, "...they did a fine job. I do not mind the modernity." He smiles, still warm (still drunk, though he smiles warmly when he's sober). "I don't know... neither of you seem like you are jumping for joy over it." He raises his hands, "Still... none of my business..."
     Oh! That reminds me!
     "Victoria, I met with Raymond early last evening... he left a present for you. I was busy with the wine bathing. I will ask Eros to give them to you tonight."

     Ian looks over to William, then to Victoria. Apparently, he didn't realize the prince had come to visit. "He didn't stay?" Ian asks, "For the rest of the festival?" And there was plenty of room and individuals to visit. But then again, that might have been a deterrent.
     Ian looks to Victoria, to see her response.

     Victoria's expression changes again to one of surprise at the mention of Raymond's visit. Whatever was going on with the selling of the businesses left behind for the moment. Apparently she didn't get to talk to the fair prince of Tours when he came by the castle, "He did?"
     "I'm sorry I missed him." That seems pretty genuine, with a hint of the disappointment peaking through the statement. "He left me something? That was nice of him."

     "He couldn't stay," he answers you both. "I met him for a drink at Aelinor's," he murmurs to Ian. "As he was passing by, he caught me on the street," more or less. "So," he says truly addressing both of you, "....he wanted me to pass them onto you. Remind me later, I will have to see where Eros put them."
     He doesn't linger on the topic...
     William looks over as the servant finally arrives. Anticipating the desire, the servant comes with another selection of bottles. These of various shapes and sizes and largely unmarked.

     There's a look to William, of slight surprise. Ian then looks to Victoria, murmuring though, "Maybe, Will," he suggests, "...she'd like to have her gifts now?" He's slightly sheepish, but grey eyes remain on Victoria, clearly gauging.
     Only then does Ian give his attention to William really, frowning and mouthing, What's wrong with you?

     "Oh, it's fine. If it's convenient I'll get things out of the way, but there's no rush. I'll catch Eros and have them sent up to my room or something." Victoria says with a smile bucking up from her mild disappointment, though it's obvious that the exchange is confusing her just a bit.
     Turning to look at the bottles coming in, she takes another drink from her mug, arching her eyebrows slightly. Apparently there's more tasting of the various products of the local wineries to be had. She's been participating in the tastings by making liberal use of the buckets provided. And generally seeming to enjoy them even without the inebriation.

     What? is mouthed back, eyes narrowing. "I ... can go find them..." he offers slowly. "I do not know where Eros put them, but... I will find out. Eros is with the reporters, follow up questions..." And I was a little busy at the time...
     And why are you both such buzz killers at the moment? Jesus, who died?
     With an exhale, William rises, nodding thanks to the servant as well as giving a dismissal. He'll get to drinking later. He's going to need a few more, clearly. "No, no... I will go find them..." William looks to Victoria, a little apology in his eyes. "I was a little caught up in things last night," and tonight, "...mais oui... so, I will go get them..." Somewhere.
     And another drink...

     Ian smiles at Victoria, then nods at William. "Thanks, laird," he offers.
     "Now," Ian states, taking a swallow from his glass, "...next topic, hmm?" Things were getting kinda buzzkillish. Newport. Missing suitors.
     Ian looks left and right. He doesn't seem to have another topic.

     William doesn't offer anything else. He takes a bottle with him and he goes. Significantly less buzzy than before, thankyouverymuch. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was sober. He'll have to start all over again for all the joy that was just sucked right out.
     Are we all too dead to have fun? Was it not a marvelous time? A great night? It's not as if it rained...

     Smiling to William as he goes she's not really sure if she should tell him not to worry about it or if that would be adding insult to injury.
     "So... Christmas?" Victoria says, hoping apparently that that's a happy thing. Christmas is still good, right?
     "I'm thinking about taking advantage of the challet? I haven't gotten to spend any time there yet with everything going on, so I'm making sure to work it out to get to this year."

     "Oh, Yule," Ian nods. "Well," scotch cradled in his lap, "...we will be at Strathfayr, I think. As usual. And I guess you can take advantage of the chalet," Ian smirks, "...don't you own it?"

     "Well... yes. But I haven't been able to make it away from Portland to enjoy it." Victoria says. More coffee. Maybe that'll help. Getting up she goes over to refill her mug once again.
     "I've been having the things I've picked up on my trip so far sent there, actually, rather than back to the States. I'm thinking about moving the whole collection over, there's not enough space in my apartment."

     Ian looks left and right again. Is there someone else here? Is it imagination? Why is there a large, white elephant in the corner? Does it play the flute?
     "Instead of having the collection moved, why don't you simply move?" Ian frowns, as if to say 'd'oh.'
     "The things in Oregon are not worth your while. They were trinkets. I want them sold - sell them - and no one has any excuse and we can all stop talking about the place, hmm?" There. Ian sits back in his seat, jaw slightly tight. And that self-control?
     "You can move to Europe, if you like. Stay here. Stay in Strathfayr. Stay in Switzerland. I don't care. Just...do something. Choose. If you like it here, stay. Who cares about the rest." Whatever that is.

     Somebody's been wanting to say that for a while it sounds like. There's a pause. Victoria pours her coffee. And comes back to sit down again. "Um."
     "Well." She takes a drink of that coffee, "I suppose... I've thought about it. Davydd mentioned it the other night, actually. But, there's the Primogen seat... And it would probably piss my sire off a good deal for me to just leave it."
     She seems to think about that a moment. That's not -necessarily- such a bad idea maybe then. "Er. So, I suppose I could just hand it over to someone else, the lady working as my whip currently is more qualified than I am for the post, really. But... it'd look bad?" Wouldn't it?

     "Of course, it'd look bad," Ian says drolly. He shrugs. "Who cares?"
     Yes, that is Ian Dunross.
     "Do you have plans to go back to America? To have a seat? If so, stay there. If not, who cares."

     "Well... I care..." Victoria says with a blink. "You've done a lot already to be recognized for, when you decide to change positions or houses or whatever changes you decide to make, nobody is going to say anything about it."
     "I have plans to go back, I don't know that I have plans to stay indfinitely, but it'd be a little shortsighted to just give up a powerful position to... come sit in my challet and stare at things? Which, sounds more appealing most of the time, but still."
     She takes another drink of her coffee, "I don't have to visit again if you'd rather I not if I go back..." This is an entirely bizarre conversation. Ventrue who just... give up things?

     "I don't care," Ian says after a languid blink, "...what you do."
     Ian blinks at his comment, then closes his eyes to take a deep inhale. A rapid second. An exhale.
     "Just...I mean...that's not what I meant. I mean, do whatever..."

     There's a panic setting in from somewhere in the house. Ian.
     No, no, this isn't what I meant to happen...
     William, help...
     No, no, I said it all wrong...

     He was somewhere upstairs, going through his room, maybe, getting a drink, cooling off -- the temper is hot and easy to set off. The more 'lubricated' the machine, the faster it goes, ne c'est pas?
     But something interrupted him. A thought. A feeling. He turned a 360 in Eros' chamber, box in his hand, his eyes looking in the direction of the hall. The thought. The feeling.
     Moments later, there is the sound of feet from above, a shortcut taken, a private staircase leading the servants' quarter and then the kitchens. A few moments move before William is visible again.
     Entering the great hall from a different angle than before. "Found it," he announces, hand holding the box easily, gesturing with it. "Sorry..." And he looks to Ian as he approaches.
     What is going on, amours...? There is something wrong.

     That earns a blink from her as well, with a momentary hurt expression on her features before she sets down her coffee which didn't seem to help things at all.
     "Well I'm not at liberty to just decide to give up Primogen seats and stay in Europe." Victoria says after a moment. "I've got obligations and I'm going to see to them. I don't have someone else to pass them off to yet when I'm done with them."
     When William comes in she looks back over, obviously less than happy but she's got that polished 'non-expression' that seems to have been inherited from somewhere. Reaching up to tuck her hair back behind her ear again, she includes both lords in her next statement, "Thanks for letting me come stay for the festival, I'm going to go get ready to go."

     Ian jumps up as William enters, looking wide-eyed at him. He twists to see Victoria again, then William.
     Do something, do something, do something!
     "William..." Ian says, as if asking him to interject.
     Fix it, fix it! I didn't mean it, I swear. It's not what I meant, I'm sorry...
     Panic is turning into doubts and embarrassment. Paralysis.
     I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, it came out that way. I don't know what I mean sometimes...

     "No one's going anywhere. You, sit," he says to Victoria. He sets the box on the table near the sofa. He smiles though. "We have not had a chance to visit and ... I am sorry... but you are going to have to indulge me." William pivots, looking to Ian. The look softens a little and his mouth twists. "That goes for you, too. Now, everyone, please..." He gestures to the seats.
     "The only happy person in this room right now is me, and this is not good. So, will someone like to tell me what is going on? Because I am in a really good mood," he murrs, "...and I would just as soon stay that way, yes?"

     I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't feel well, I want to leave. Tell her I'm sorry, but...I'm not sorry too. I mean both. What's wrong with me?
"I want to stand," Ian whispers, his scotch grasped by both hands now.

     It will be alright... just relax, amours. There is humor and there is gentleness, even though... yes... he was upset earlier. But he doesn't let it ruin a fine evening. He moves on these nights. What do you mean, you don't feel well....?

     An exhale. Ian's expression of panic remains, though it becomes slightly less immediate. He twists a little, not sure what to do with himself.

     Now that's a pickle. Victoria sits down in the chair next to the table where she set her coffee, though she doesn't settle in. Deciding against being rude, and looking like a petulant teenager storming out. Dammit.
     "It's nothing important." She glances over to Ian, either not sure entirely how to explain or not entirely sure what exactly was going on. Which are probably both true, "I should probably just be getting back to the States."

     I upset her. I was mean, I think. But...
     Righteous indignation swells, like a proud defender.
     I'm right. I'm right. She should choose. There's nothing in America. Why is she so stupid?
     See, see? Something's wrong. I shouldn't have said it. I don't care what she does. I care what she does. I don't care!
     Then...
     Just fix it, fix it, William...help...

     "Standing is okay too," William says quietly to Ian with a nod. Just no leaving. William looks to Victoria then. "Sometimes, we can be speaking the same language but... not really speaking the same language," William murmurs to her. He sits forward, the inebriation of earlier appearing all but gone. The indigo eyes are very clear, very bright, and his expression, while placid, carries a concise, no-nonsense aspect. All hail the crusading commander. "I think this is a challenge you both have with one another. Victoria... Ian..." He speaks to both of you.
     "I think it is important. Both of you are upset. Ian is upset that he upset you and you are upset. What I think the issue is, and I've been running off at the mouth lately, I apologize in advance but..." He waves. Alcohol makes him loquacious. That's a word for it. "You want to prove yourself," he says to Victoria. "Perhaps you look to us to provide approval. I do not know, it would be natural if you did. Perhaps to earn the reputation that Maximilian imposes upon you. I don't know that either. This is just my observation. It could be a load of manure. You," he looks to Ian, "...want her to achieve, to be able to make decisions for herself and don't really want to give validation because ...well... she's not your childe. That's understandable, too. Both of you," William emphasizes, hands gesticulating as he speaks, "want the same things from one another but are unable to vocalize it. Words misunderstood, feelings hurt, and suddenly a festival becomes a dirge and no one's having a good time. I'm sorry if this comes off like I am preaching to both of you. I do not want to give that impression." William exhales and smiles at both of you. "I think we would all agree that it would be better right now if we were all laughing with drinks in our hands and talking about the a tour of Fontevraud, Tours or St. Radegonde's..."
     Amours... you are right, she should choose. But it is her choice. She needs to make them. We can't make her make the choices we want for her. Who knows if we are right? For her...

     That's it, laird. That's what...I wanted to say. It's better now...I feel it...

     I know... I know because I know you, yes? And love you... but now... you owe me a dance, yes? A smile moves over the inward voice. Non, I do not do blackmail and boons. But... I do want to dance with you... Since when has William ever wanted to dance?

     Ian frowns a little, but his stance eases. The scotch held onto with a grip ceases its slight wobble. Ian glances at Victoria, then looks at William. Then, a look to the young vampire again. His bottom lip pulls left, and Ian exhales. He sways slightly, then takes a drink from his glass, gaze falling into it once the glass comes upright again.

     Victoria looks between William and Ian as William talks, finally reaching over and getting her briefly abandoned coffee for a drink. "I don't know."
     She frowns a little at the way that sounds and says instead, "I'm sure that some of that is true, I'm not sure to what extent." She takes another drink of coffee to give herslf something to do before saying anything else. "I don't want to be an imposition, the two of you have enough things to see to yourselves without having to worry about me, certainly. So I suppose I didn't mean to... force myself in on things and make an obligation of myself."

     Ian turns to face Victoria, though he keeps his position. There's a stare at William, then a look at the younger vampire again.
     That's not it. That's not true. She's not an obligation, she's just...
     Ian seems to deflate, realizing what he's about to feel and think.
     She's just not controlling things. She thinks she is, but she's not. Maybe, that's not her...

     William shakes his head, "You didn't. We," he motions between himself and his spouse, "want you to do well. Sometimes," a little smile, "... we want you to do well too much. We have to remember that we can only offer a way. It is up to you to decide to take it, or not. And either is fine with us," a roll of his shoulders. "As I say, we want you to succeed, to be happy. The choices on how you get there, if you get there, or whether or not you're already there, those are not ours to make. Those belong with you. So, stay in Europe or return to America, be a vintner entrepreneur or sell Mary Kay, it doesn't matter. It only matters that you choose. You see?" His smile is a bit wider now, still as warm as it was when he first entered.
     "You are not an imposition. And certainly are not our obligation. We need to make sure we ... do not take that onto ourselves too much. It is hard for us, yes? We want to do for you," he chuckles. Even find you a boyfriend! Dieu!
     William looks between the two of you again. "Do we all understand now? Do you understand, Victoria?"

     Too passive. She's too passive. She hasn't done anything with what I handed her. She doesn't even act as if she owns it! I gave her a chateau and she says she might 'take the opportunity!' What does that mean? If she doesn't want to stay in America, sell and take the money! That's why I gave it to you! So you were NOT obligated to anyone!
     Ian keeps his council. A finger comes to his lips, and he bites his fingernail. He sighs a little, then puts his chin in the cup of his hand.

     For you, amours, yes.... she is too passive. She's a woman. It is part of the condition of being so. But... even if she were a man, she still would not be you. You can only open the door. She still has to choose to walk through it. Does this mean you should not have or should not continue to open doors? Of course not... opportunity... this is what you can offer. You can't make her take them...

     Victoria looks back and forth between William and Ian. And then back to Ian again, who gets an appraising look at the somewhat strange nervous behavior. Maybe something broke him.
     Turning back to William again she still looks fairly confused, "So... being a Primogen isn't... doing well?" She doesn't seem to be judgemental, but obviously curious. Since... she kind of thought that she was doing what she was supposed to be doing.
     "I know that I made a mess of things with Ui." Breaking the Traditions and all that. "But he's doing well on his own now. Mostly. So, that's pretty much fixed?" She thinks? "And I thought I was doing alright running the various interests Ian had left me with. Since, for the most part, they're turning a profit." Winery aside. "So... you don't want me to do those things now?"

     "It's not about what we want," William shakes his head, smile still there. He chuckles, "It's about what you want, Victoria..."

     Ian looks pained. "No, no, no! That's not it..." he laments, walking forward. "Those are nothing. What do you want to do or be?" He seems almost pleading, sorrowful.

     William looks to Ian, he looks to Victoria, and he takes a moment to settle back. Oh, that's right, alcohol was brought to me. Leaning over, he takes an arabic shaped bottle full of violet liquid and uncorks it with a tug. Plum brandy.

     Victoria blinks a little. As though she finds that an entirely odd question, particularly coming from Ian. Sometimes it's just not fair that someone can't drink.
     "Ah..." More coffee? She takes a sip, looking between both of the other Ventrue, "Well... I wanted to be a psychiatrist. But, that obviously won't work." What with the whole being dead element. As Ian's explained many times. "So... I guess I hadn't really thought about it? I figured I should go on to do Primogen things."
     She looks over to Ian again and asides, "Which are generally really boring by the way, Portland isn't a terribly interesting city. Maybe if I were more concerned about boats. But, in any case, I'm not."
     She shrugs, "And the winery was interesting but, I coudln't particularly... enjoy it." Again with the not drinking. She adds quickly, to keep Ian from being even more upset, "But, there have been things about it that have been good, too."

     "I am not going to give you advice." A pause. "Okay... not much. But I am going to say this: find what you love, find what interests you, do it. Politics happen and positions may come and go, but you're not going to be as successful doing them if you haven't taken the time to figure out who you are and what you want to do with yourself. And that really needs to come from you. We can offer you options, and have," the chalet, the businesses, "...those are choices, options. If none of them work for you, then decide to do something else. Do not do something simply because you think we might think about it a certain way. You can't be a psychologist anymore. True. Find something else."
     He pauses, glancing to the box briefly before returning his attention to Victoria. "You love glass, I understand... you have a passion for things. Let that lead you, Victoria." William pauses and smirks, "Okay, so...that was a lot of advice. But you see what I am getting at, what Ian was trying to get you to see?"

     He didn't do a particularly good job of it. Ian's grey eyes slide between the two present, and then he moves to take a seat on the sofa, exhaling as he does. Much calmer now, he finishes off the last of his scotch, then sets the old-fashioned glass on the table ahead of him.
     "I am sorry I made you primogen," Ian says softly, pursing his lips. "If you do not enjoy it, you should not do it."

     Victoria shrugs a bit at Ian's observation, "I enjoy some of it. I don't like Portland much. It's been interesting to learn about the different things that go into doing things, certianly. But the city isn't... I don't know. I'm glad that I've been doing it while I have."
     Taking another drink from her coffee mug, "But wouldn't just... not doing it be pretty much shooting myself in the foot? And you, for that matter? Being the one who recommended a 62-year-old for the position in the first place?"

     William laughs at that, sitting back with his drink. He takes a drink now -- glory be to god in the highest, I needed that -- and glances to Ian. She's so young and cute.
     "Um.. how can I say this," William mulls out, accent elongating his English, partially for effect. "No." And then he grins broadly.

     To truly look at Ian blinds. A screaming set of confused colors, mottled and shifting, swirl around him in a fashion too random to pin. The colors are not so distinct, as if every aspect of the spectrum exists at the same time -- and not. Oranges and purples spill into pinks. Deep red of desire bleeds into the crimson, blazing orange and grey of despair. There's the occasional effect, like a single sparkle, that bursts and explodes in the panoply, and a ribbon of white and blazing yellow that twin like a helix. A gold thread with suffused rose pulses, and while a white sparkle occasionally appeared, there's a great preponderance of myriad sparkles here and there. A hint of green and silver pushes out to make an appearance, but quickly sink and vanish.

     "No," Ian says after William, not smiling, but not as agitated as he was a few minutes ago. "I can defend myself, if I have to." A quirk. Maybe that's not what he meant.
     "You do what you need, just as I do."
     No, no, that wasn't right either. I meant...it's not for a childe to be responsible for me. I don't need you. No, no, I mean, I don't need you to help defend me...laird, I'm tired...I can't get this right...

     I know. It's just... all so unimportant. As if a 62 year old vampire's success will disrupt anything for you? For us? I do not think so. That is laughable. So... I laughed. Warmth extends from him to you. It's alright... and.... what am I if not a hand in your defense? That is what a husband is supposed to do. So... do not worry. You seem so agitated, amours. It will be alright...

     Victoria frowns a little, "It just seems like it would look like I wasn't ready for it and backed out." Which... wouldn't entirely be untrue.
     "Well, that makes life difficult." She says half pouting as she takes another drink from her coffee mug, looking between the two men, though there's an element of good natured humor there, "That means I have to figure something out to spend the rest of eternity doing."

     "No," Ian says suddenly, looking at William. "I meant her, not -you-. She...doesn't need to do that..."

     Arching an eyebrow she turns to look over at William. Apparently Victoria missed something interesting in the not being telepathic.

     "I have to go," Ian says softly, as abruptly as his last comment. "I...I...need to...I will...be in my room. For a little bit." His linen shirt and slack fall as he stands again, unwrinkled. "I will be there, if you need me."
     Ian blinks, then steps slowly from the sofa, headed towards one of the doors.
     "I'm fine," he says to William, again, out of nowhere. But a smile comes. "I beat you to it." As if answering a question before he's asked.

     So it is true. Silent conversations do run constantly between them. William looks to Ian, nodding. He looks back to Victoria. "I have walked away from three cities, Victoria Gifford. Do I appear to suffer?" An eyebrow lifts. Yes? No? No...
     "How it may or may not appear to others is not... the point we were... I was," a little smile, "...trying to make...."
     But his point is interrupted as Ian rises. William appears surprised by that a little, but he nods, standing also. "Alright," but first his hand reaches out, Ian's hand taken, and William leans in for a brief kiss upon Ian's temple. He lets his hand go free.
     "We are not suggesting that you leave. In fact, we're not suggesting anything at all. If you like your role and the city and you enjoy what you are bringing to the Clan there, then stay. If not, then determine your own path and leave. If there is any stigma attached, trust me, you have a long life ahead of you. And if I can fuck up as much as I have and still stand," he spreads his arms with a magnanimous smile, "...there is hope for everyone."

     "Don't stay there, in that stupid place," Ian comments, "...because you think you have to, because someone would think," he physically recoils at the idea, his nose turning up, "...less of you. Life is long. Who cares?"
     "Be a politico because you want to, even if you think it will get you some place later. But it is because -you wish it-. No other reason. Not us, not Maximilian, not any unseen...pressure."
     William's hand is taken and Ian smiles as his temple is kissed.
     "I am," Ian looks to Victoria, "...not always like this." Really. Ian swallows, looking back at William. Maybe he can explain.
     "I will see you both later," he whispers, walking towards the doors with slow steps.

     Soft words move between them as Ian begins to step away. An earthy dialect of French.... perhaps... it is all fire and smooth honey. A lot of 'z' sounds and rolling vowels. "Rest, hmm?" William follows that in English suddenly, accented strangely. We will forget about the dancing tonight...
     William remains standing and he will watch Ian go until Ian is no longer visible....

     "Well, you do have the benefit of a sire who actually likes you." Victoria says with a smile to William. When Ian gets up, she gives him a smile of his own, genuine in accompaniment of a nod at his mention of going upstairs, teasing slightly in illustration that things are alright, "But you don't care what I do."
     "I'll see you later. Or tomorrow night. Either way." So, she's not leaving. And she thinks she mostly understands some of the point, at least. Maybe most of it. Even if Ian's being terribly un-Ian-like. Which she did notice.

     Ian lifts his hand in a wave, having heard both. He opens the turret door and slips inside, pulling it closed behind him.

     William sits with his bottle of plum brandy -- like he's going to drink the whole thing -- and relaxes on the sofa. There is one last indigo glance for the trailing effects of Ian's departure.

     Victoria waits until Ian's up the stairs before she turns to William again and arches an eyebrow. The obvious question, of course, being, 'So what's with him?'

     It is the obvious question. Unfortunately, there is not an obvious answer. Sometimes, Ian simply suffers from too much emotion. Varied, interchanging, conflicting. But William cannot and will not reveal so much as that. But he is thinking. You can see that...
     How to explain it? What can be said?
     "My mate has been on this planet for a long time," William begins. He nods. The mirth of Earlier Moments is gone, but some lingering warmth of it remains on his features. He pauses again, hands looking to the violet liquid in his hands, and then lifting, placing their attention upon Victoria like a hand beneath her chin. "He has, sometimes, a lot on his mind." Like reacquainting himself with his own emotions. "I know that he did not wish to offend you or to confuse you. He was simply having a hard time getting all his feelings expressed as he wished them to be."

     Victoria smiles, nodding, and going to get herself more coffee, "Mostly, he was trying not to express them much too hard, I think, was the problem." She pours more, takes another drink and leans against one hand on the server, "He can say what he wants to say when he wants to say it. I think in this case, he didn't want to say it. So, then what he did say, didn't come across the way he wanted it to."
     She grins and takes another sip from her cup half covering it, "Not that I know what that's like at all."

     You do pay attention, don't you. William lifts an eyebrow then glosses right over that with the tilt of a smile. "I am not about to put words in his mouth. I am happily married, I want to stay that way. My bed is warm, full and comfortable. I don't want to have to sleep on the floor." As if he ever gets kicked out of bed.
     William glances to the bottle on his lap, then twists, hand reaching for a glass. I should be civilized. He pours a healthy snifter full of the liquid and then sets the odd-shaped bottle aside. "And I am guilty of it myself," he admits quietly. "I tell you things, I butt in. I really have no business making so much noise. I am overprotective and sometimes overbearing. It is okay, I admit it, yes?"

     "You aren't always like that?" Victoria asks with mock surprise. Coming back over to the seat where she was sitting before she shrugs a little, "I think that's one of the things that made me confused earlier. I'm so used to Ian telling me what he thinks that I figured he must mean it when he said the things he did."
     She takes another drink from her coffee and adds, "I never had an older brother. Or a brother of any kind, actually. But... I guess that's kind of what it seems like." She takes another drink, "He certainly bosses me around and criticizes me enough normally."

     William smirks a little. "He pushes because he cares. If he did not care you would either not be here or you'd be dead. He doesn't waste time, or efforts, on the unworthy. Maybe he has expectations for you that you are not fulfilling. You're not his servant, you're not supposed to just do whatever he says. Whatever I say. We make suggestions, offer advice, some of which is unsolicited, but we're not the Jehovah to your Eve," he chuckles. "I am only going to suggest this: that you think about what he has said in the past, think about what we have said tonight and then," William grins, leaning into her, "... make up your own mind."

     "And here I thought he pushed because he didn't know how to do anything else." Victoria says again in the same teasing voice.
     Taking another drink of her coffee she smiles with a more serious bent to her expression, "But I understand what you're saying. Now, looking back on things, I can't imagine that the two of you didn't." She wrinkles her nose, and then frowns a little. "But, I suppose the trick is, I've never made my own decisions before. Not on anything important at any rate. Well." She amends, "I do with the city all the time, I suppose. But not about myself. Or, when I do, things tend to go horribly badly."

     "I should not have made you embrace so young," William apologizes with that. "That penalty was too severe, the consequences too great. A heavy load for young shoulders." A pause. "I thought you were older than sixty-two. Not by much, perhaps, but older. Nearly a century." Decisions were made for you, thinking that you were older. That you should have known more.
     "The decisions about your life, about yourself -- those are the most important, Victoria. Cities and politics will come and go, and you may decide upon a political career or you may not. You will find, I think, that when you make those personal decisions for yourself that your decisions for your city or community will be better, stronger, and more lasting. I don't say this to be like the old Ventrue wise man on the mountain. It's a lesson that I have learned recently myself. I became all manners of things to please the Clan, to spite the Clan, because certain individuals thought that a Plantagenet should be or do this or that. I decided to change that, and I walked away from a successful princedom of an albeit small town and then set about to ...unhook the fate of Poitiers and Tours from my cart. And I have not looked back. And I have never been more content."

     Victoria shrugs a little, "Well, mostly, I shouldn't have screwed up so it was even an issue." She takes another drink of coffee, leaning over on the arm of the chair and swinging her legs around the side on the floor, "And it turned out much better than it could've." Everybody 'lived', divorce or no divorce.
     "And I'm sure you're right. I know I'd make better decisions if I had any kind of attachment at all to the city. I fake my way through it but..." She shrugs a little and takes another drink from her coffee mug, "I don't really even like it. There's no... history. No connection. At least to me, anyway."
     "Dimitria loves it there. She would be a very good Primogen I think." She takes another sip, considering out loud, "She's been running things for me in my position while I've been gone, and she has handled things pretty well, I think."

     "You will find your way," William offers quietly. He lifts his glass for a drink, holds the brandy on the tongue for a moment and then swallows. Another swallow taken for good measure. Indigo eyes widen slightly. Holy shit, this is a strong drink.
     William settles back, a smile smoothening against his mouth again. The heavy thoughts and conversation seem to be easing now. He's glad for that, personally. He shouldn't be so inebrieted and so serious all at once. It usually makes for ruin.
     "Did you want to see Fontevraud Abbey while you were here? I can arrange to go with you tomorrow, if you like..."

     "Sure?" Victoria says with interest, moving easily onto the topics of being a tourist rather than life decisions, "That would be great."
     "I'm planning on spending a night or two in Tours on my way out, but I haven't nailed down when that is. I probably shouldn't stay too much longer than three maybe four days. I'm planning on coming back for Christmas though? Like I was saying when I talked to you before I got here."

     "Very good then, it is a date. I will take you to see mama, papa and my many brothers and sisters. We will head out tomorrow night..."
     He doesn't say anything about Tours, he only nods to the rest of your plans. William rises, raising his glass after. "To snow in Strathfayr," he toasts and just like that, the downs the brandy.

Posted by rowan at November 08, 2003 11:55 PM