#;; 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖙 — (para)

[valentinstjohn]

location: private lab in valentin's estate

with: @bellamychevalier

The room is bright and clean, recently scrubbed by a dutiful and adept hand that was not his own for he had better things to do with his time than scrub at porcelain tiles and silver instruments. High at the center of the ceiling resides a large iron cage, within which many small orbs of glowing white light illuminate the room. There are no candles here, no obstructions of wax or smoke to tar the room and affect his sense of smell, the room is kept bright by the use of pixies, entrapped within iron, unable to rest without landing upon the iron which burns their flesh and so they continue to fly endlessly until fatigue renders them useless and are then replaced.

Upon tables and every surface there is some sort of glass vial or cauldron, tinctures with written labels in a scrawling but neat hand and everything organized in a particular fashion so that he knows exactly where everything is. At the center of the room is a table and beneath this table is a drain and beside the table is a chair and it is here that Valentin is seated, a tray of silver instruments beside him. "Would you like to take something to ease your pain?" He asked without looking at her, his focus for the moment on the tray of silver instruments and the notebook resting atop his knee. Typically he did not care if the one he was experimenting on felt any pain and often times marked the pain as a factor so it was important not to muddle it, but at least for now and for her, pain was not an important element and so it did not matter if it was abated. What did matter, the only thing which did, was what resided within the meat of her bones.

An errant strand of hair fell from the crown of his head to curl by his brow and was soon pushed back with his hand, smoothed down and returned to its natural place, hand quick to return to the pages of his notebook before gravity moved them for the pages were so often kept open at different places for long periods of time that it was frequent the pages wanted to return to those places despite him needing a different section. "I have something which can numb you to the sensation of touch in a small area," he carried on to explain, "It is extracted from white willow bark or I have a poison that would induce you to sleep." He lifted his unbalanced gaze to her now, unbalanced in that where normally both of his eyes appear blue now only one has his natural hue and the other is black as pitch entirely absenting any whiteness. It is not the eye he was born with but the eye he obtained, a faerie's eye.

[valentinstjohn]

Every press of her lips to his skin a blessing, a reminder, a silent promise of affection that he wanted to linger within and so he allowed his eyes to slip shut to better revel in these brief pecks of feeling against his cheek interspersed between her words. She was reassuring him and it brought the touch of a smile to his features that she was so sweet to do so even though his feelings did not need to be tended to so carefully, she still made the effort to think of him tenderly and this made him smile, warming a long dead heart. Her tenderness despite all the darkness she’d faced was but one of the reasons he adored her so. He shifted then to wrap his arms tighter around her figure, opening his eyes to take in the bright beam of her smiling features up at him. “Your desire for more pleasurable acts and thoughts will be fulfilled now that we are together once more,” he angled his face down to press his lips to the edge of her smiling lips, to feel their upward curl against him. “Rest easy. The only one capable of drawing me in for a stroll and a kiss beneath the moonlight shall be you and you alone. No other variables.” 

He pinched the point of her chin gently between her fingers, thumb stroking the line of her jaw before fingers slid to behind the back of her pale neck while his lips sought to find hers for a more complete and tender kiss but without lips parted, at least for the moment. “Dawn will soon break,” he muttered against her, stroking down the back of her smooth hair from the crest of her head to the tops of her shoulders where they fell. “Shall we read something until you sleep? And when you wake,” for he did not often sleep and when he did it was only lightly and in short intervals more akin to a deep meditation than actual sleep, “and night has fallen, we can pack up our things and continue onto the town. My butler is settling matters for my estate there and there is a place for you. You may choose to refuse, but I would be pleased to share it with you, if you wish to join me.”

As her own face shifted with the wind his own was far more challenging to read. Micro adjustments in moments, some actions she presumed specifically done to indicate something to her, rather than because emotion dictated the gesture as her own could overwhelm her own adjustments at times. Certainly he was watching her but Bella couldn't fathom with what thoughts, the only solid indication of how he was taking her words that he had not rescinded his hands from her own.

His unblinking response felt as unknown in purpose as his studying of her, Bella trying to recall in his moment of silence between sentences what he had looked like when he had studied her more literally, when notes had been taken on her temperature and the changes to her form that had come from death. It did not seem to her the same sort of studying. His gaze shifting to their gesture seemed a sign of that. Was he...concerned for her? For them? The thought alone showed on her face, so perhaps it was good he was not looking at her, brows tight as she felt his hand squeeze her own.

"I...," Bella began, only for a quietness to overtake her, drawing their entwined hands near her core, lace likely creating shifts of softness against the side of his hands. For all she had imagined the ease of the situation if he told he 'no, you must put those feelings away,' she had known what she would do all along if Valentin arrived and cared for her. It had simply been emotional exhaustion, or maybe even fear he would not come, that had not allowed for her to acknowledge the truth. "I wish to explore our feelings together, mon âmes seuors, without variables."

Leaning up to him Bella placed a kiss to the height of his cheekbones that sat above a hollowness where slender skin hid deadly teeth. "I could not imagine either of us sharing one another at this stage of eternity," she insisted with a second kiss lower, feeling the grooves of his teeth through his skin before drawing herself down once more. "Unaltered feelings don't mean unharmed," Bella observed of his own choice of words, her closeness to him lingering even as she had lowered. "I feel I am too vulnerable to share you in this moment. Or share myself. You are older, perhaps less vulnerable to envy," she smiled at him, unsure if this was true or just a gesture he was willing to make for their feelings. One day she imagined envy would not envelope her with him, but Bella knew it could now.

With the belief his study of her had been some sort of worry, she allowed the smile on her face to linger, to focus on the relief there was no longer any hidden truths between them and she might just get to enjoy him now. "I think it might consume me to see you with another," she insisted, fingers now tickling beneath his palms as she leaned to him. "The amount of nights I worried you had found some new experiment to pull you barefoot from your chambers for a midnight stroll. That you were kissing someone beneath the moon," Bella still smiled as she said it, the worry for these actions having left her the moment he had confessed his own feelings, and so they felt silly now, but...silly in a way that hopefully meant if he would have been hurt, hopefully he could sense that would have been okay, because if anything hurt him she wouldn't have done it, even if his hurt didn't lessen his attachment.

"I wish for more pleasurable thoughts and acts to consume me now that you are here," she beamed with hope at the man she had longed for and now had.

[valentinstjohn]

appearing to be 38, this 541 year old true vampire is a well educated alchemist and scholar. he is the founder and head of a private invitation only club of vampires called the caliburn club, whose mission statement is for the betterment of vampires. he strives to create a viable substitute for blood so that vampires are no longer restricted in their diet and can walk through daylight unharmed.

​🇵​​🇪​​🇳​​🇳​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇧​​🇾​ ​🇰​​🇮​​🇲​ . . ​🇵​​🇸​​🇹​ . .

       𝓫 𝓲 𝓸 … 

TW: War, Non-Sexual Non-Consent, Fire, Body Mutilation.

The life he had as a human is but a distant memory for Valentin, whose only claim to it remains in the form the name he was given at his birth, Fionnan Malone, which he has long since stopped using. His becoming a vampire was a result of the 40 Seasons War that raged between the different kingdoms and while he does not recall most of his life as a human, the way in which he became a vampire is a memory he can’t forget, nor the way he had been unable to stave off the ravenous hunger for blood. It made him flee his once human life, too afraid to inadvertently kill any he had once cared for. 

He didn’t know his sire well, mostly knowing them as a voice in his head issuing demands and various tasks that he couldn’t deny. For years he’d been ravaging towns, preying on innocents, a shadow in the dark that stole lives and was hunted for it simply because he needed to feed in order to survive and for years he’d let himself believe that it needed to remain as such, but no more. 

Valentin turned to science, to educating himself on the anatomy of his fellow vampires, learning everything that he could about their species and their unique abilities and conducting experiments. He discovered his own innate powers, if well fed he could control and manipulate his own blood, change its properties, alter its cell structure to make it dense and hard like crystal or steel or turn it to vapor. The vampire who had turned him now made her grand reappearance into his life, perhaps she believed she could use his abilities to her advantage. She turned him into a true vampire with the belief his powers might grow and once he was freed of her influence, he never again followed a single one of her commands. Upset with the loss of a potentially great ally, she left, spiteful. With his age, he was no longer burdened by his thirst for blood and could manage his abilities and emotions masterfully as an artist and precise as a surgeon. 

After the end of the war, he spent the better part of the next two centuries conducting various experiments and formulating a club of other elite vampires with  shared interests as his own. His research and acclaim brought him to the various kingdoms and courts across the continent where he was ever in search for more scientific and alchemical advancements. Test subjects were easy enough to come by, often they would seek him out once his reputation reached their ears, for the promise of further enhanced abilities drew out the power hungry, and existing vampires seeking respite from the daylight or their bloodlust brought the desperate to his doors. Most were unremarkable and then one day, an aasimar approached him with an offer and she was remarkable. Something about the components of her blood and the way in which he had turned her had worked. She was the first vampire he’d spawned through his experiments who didn’t face insatiable bloodlust in her new life. This was a breakthrough, however, the promise of turning her had come with a stipulation, to find a way to restore the once aasimar now turned vampire with her wings which had been tainted. 

This was a scientific mystery to the vampire and he spent countless days locked in his lab running test after test, trying to find a way to restore the wings to their once radiant celestial glory and more importantly, allow the woman to not be poisoned or killed by the transplant. She was his first major success and his first major defeat at once and she found a way into his heart in a way he could not have anticipated. Out of everything he had created or done, she would always and forever be, his masterpiece. Even when she, in her emotional despair at seeing him experimenting on her wings – something which he had tried to prevent her from witnessing for he had seen the desperation in her eyes when she spoke of the restoration of her wings and knew without a shadow of a doubt she could not tolerate the sight of them being experimented on – destroyed his work and his lab and his estate, he did not fault her for it, nor did he hold any resentment. 

The fire she had started nearly destroyed everything but he had managed to save a few key notebooks that held some of his more important calculations and also her wings. He did not, however, come out unscathed. Despite his regenerative powers, a mixture of various chemicals and elements exploded in his face during the fire and he forever lost his left eye. The scientist in him only upset that he did not know the exact mixture of this solution that had rendered his regenerative powers unable to restore his lost eye, but this also only incited his interest to recreate it and noted this down as a future experiment to perform on another. A replacement of his eye came from a fae and provided him with a new form of sight, now able to see through fae glamour and other secrets. 

The loss of his estate not great for he had many residences across the continent and he needed only remove himself to the next one but the loss of his more recent work set him back a few decades and he needed to regain what he had lost. He attempted to seek her out but found that something magical was blocking him, this however did not prevent him from continuing to try and restore her wings, nor did he stop seeking her out. 

       𝓼 𝓽 𝓪 𝓽 𝓼 …

NAME: valentin st john AGE: 541 GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him SPECIES: true vampire FACE CLAIM: cillian murphy

HEIGHT: 5'10" HAIR COLOR: brown EYE COLOR: blue (right), black (left) WEAKNESSES: direct sunlight, blood lust, needs to be invited into private and holy residences, pure silver, his grave dirt STRENGTHS: immortality, regeneration, enhanced senses, can control and manipulate his own blood, can see through fae glamour or secrets with his left eye PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: he has fangs which he can retract and descend at will, otherwise he has a generally average looking build and features save for his left eye which the iris is black in color as opposed to his natural blue. it is the eye of a faerie which he plucked out and made his own. ADDITIONAL INFO: his ability to see through fae glamour is linked exclusively to his left eye, if removed this is no longer an ability he has. he smokes a tobacco blend of his own making that is infused with crushed fae bones which allows him to glamour his left eye so that it can appear to match his natural color. he gets many of his volunteers for his experiments through making a deal, fulfilling their desires in exchange for their becoming a test subject for his latest alchemical or scientific interest.

[valentinstjohn]

"Is that too much?" Inquired Valentin, "It is no more than what an average mortal being would consume at a tavern such as this," he had personally witnessed many beings imbibe more than a single pint of ale, surely a pint of spit would be no different. "I trust half a pint would be agreeable then," Alex hadn't seemed to oppose the concept of drinking the spit after all, the offense was in the volume.

Alex's brows raised slightly, expecting him to go on and elaborate. When that didn't happen, he noticeably slouched back into his chair. "Oh." He didn't think he was smart enough to come up with something so sophisticated... or had the patience for something like that. He'd give up or forget his own secret code and then he'd really be screwed. Alex tucked that nugget of knowledge away though - he did love puzzles.

"I'm almost offended," he said, as he resumed eating. "No longer held your interest - sheesh." Alex was always happy to be something of an attention hog, but when it was taken away from him so abruptly he shook his head and tsked his tongue in exaggerated disapproval. Mid bite, he looked back up at the other vampire incredulously, at the suggestion. "I'm sorry-- a pint? Of someone's spit? Are you mad? That's a lot!"

[valentinstjohn]

Her request seemed entirely reasonable to the vampire and so when the container was offered before him, he crossed the space between them and proceeded to set a few gold coins down, enough for what he assumed was the value of such knowledge and then listened. Every ounce of knowledge was valuable and one of the reasons Valentin often traveled was to acquire more knowledge from different parts of the world because each individual in every realm across the entire known world had their own methods and reasonings for doing things. It was in this way that there was a seemingly endless font of knowledge contained within the world and it was likely an impossible feat to learn it all and yet it was something that occupied a bulk of Valentin’s existence. If he closed himself off within his mind and refused to travel and expand his level of education beyond the boundaries of his known location and associates then he would never truly learn anything, the only way in which he believed to truly and effectively learn was to broaden one’s horizons wherever possible and never presume to know everything for there may always be someone out there with more knowledge than he had on any particular subject. 

What she explained was genuinely inspiring and after she had concluded and prompted once more to sell him on it, his reply came by setting more gold pieces down. A purchase made. “I do not sleep,” he said to her, taking up the open container for himself now that he had purchased it so he could bring it up closer to inspect more thoroughly. He could smell the floral hint of the hydrangeas and the octopi blood along with other more subtle scents, some of which he could readily place and others were more obscure and would need further testing to discern. He reached into the container to lightly dab at the cream inside to feel its texture, rubbing it between fingertips until it warmed and melted smoothly into his skin. He seemed to consider something else before setting down another few pieces of gold coin to purchase a second pot; one for himself so he could test it and one for Bellamy, perhaps she might find a use or interest in this sort of cream. 

“You are not only a witch but a chemist. This,” his finger tapped the side of the container, “is clever. I have an interest in reading any notes you may have regarding its formulation."

Zaya's gaze on him remained, it was not what she was selling. It wasn't wrong in her mind for him to want to know, but she made gold for what she sold, gold that in this land she needed. It would have been nice to not need it, she would give her knowledge and her creams easily if she got knowledge and goods as easily in turn, but she didn't. "You wish to know, you pay to know," she responded, not assuming this would be offensive since it was this place's custom, tapping her container down on the counter for him to place gold on it.

His description of his studies, that more was needed to be absorbed, made her face scrunch up. "What a waste," she insisted of his notion. Trying to determine where was the best place for her to start. He stated 'beyond magical abilities,' and she hoped he meant beyond her own because there was no getting around the innate magical abilities of ones body. Even her own held some, while they did not keep her young or make her less susceptible to injury they allowed for her body to connect to that of her bonded soul.

"You have studied," she repeated of his admission. "So you felt - or saw - a body wanting the blood but it not working, yes?" she asked for clarification but also did not wait for it. "Cravings probably increased," Zaya continued, like being in the coean when you were thirsty, you couldn't drink the water, it would make you sick, but it increased your bodies awareness of it's need, she imagined for vampires this was even worse because they did not just need blood for their physical survival but to feed whatever magics they had.

"More than cravings, more it's just uh...," she tried to think of a way to explain it. "Putting out mouse traps when you have a fox in your barn." Solving a problem that doesn't exist, and wondering why the one that does hasn't been solved. "Your interest is that I am using so little to prevent desiccation," Zaya followed, making sure she was focusing her words on what he wanted, while still giving a short enough reasoning to her process so if he did not understand he could ask, not wanting to find herself off on tangents of things he knew. "So you know the issue isn't that you need more, it's that it can't get in. It's too thick and the skin is protective, so unless you cut them open, even if you can allow for the skin to let anything in, blood is far too thick to be good."

"What I have," Zaya tapped the top of the container. "Needs to be good for skin to have, for dead being, to be taken in it had to match skin acid of the dead. So oils taken from high acid plants like, what I picked - blue hydrangeas." Zaya did not know the term for pH, she didn't know that when she said high acid, she meant low ph.

"I also need blood, that is what is sustaining your magicks keeping you from desiccating but blood is hard, it's so thick. You know it's easy to know what parts of it you don't need. You don't use it for air, you don't breath. You don't use it for iron because, at least for most of you, beings of fed magic rather than transfer beings like me, maybe have a natural aversion to it. You don't need it for hardened blood wounds because you don't pump blood. So blood offers nothing to you that it would to me. You need what feeds your magicks," she continued, at least at this point explaining her thoughts so he could follow how she had come to her choices. "Most magicks are feed on nature and nature loves balance. What in blood would balance your nature? A life without life? A part of the blood that I would grow ill without, but that if the other components were removed and it was all I had would certainly kill me."

Plasma, she didn't know the word. "The element you need won't go through your skin, it is still too thick, so I looked at other species. Insects were the best option, the part of them that offers the same natural balance is very very thin, perfect, but harvesting it without the proper tools or, more importantly, the amount of insects, would be near impossible, and I'm not fighting one of those scary big ones in the woods. So...," Zaya opened the lid, the clear navy blue cream within exposed. "Octopi. It's thicker but not so thick as the blood of humanoids, easy to fish for octopo. Not separated from the creature the blood would be, ai, horrible to drink," she noted, scrunching her nose like she knew biting one would be grotesque, not sure if he'd ever tried to drink blood from a being without the same transport system humans had. "But removed it's possible to be absorbed with the right aids."

With the lid opened she wondered how many of the other elements within he could smell beyond that of the octopi and the hydrangeas. "You are right it would not be enough to work on you asleep, but you don't use all of your magicks when you sleep, your body will try and take it in as if you were because your magic is not innate but fed. So you need to trick it, lie it is innate and absorb only as much as you need to stay pretty, no strength and speed and your other gifts. Many beasts in the woods hibernate and their magicks hibernate with them, so oil, from the skin of a Stranielle Azmyths that have been brought here, they hibernate in the summer months, unable to handle the light," she concluded, the creature a bat like being from the regions underlife in Withermore, often pets of Drow and Duergar.

"You want to buy it now? Even if you don't take a long sleep, go to bed each morning? Best sleep of your life, all that magick energy still strong as when you put the lid on," Zaya pushed the cream toward him, a hope he would pay for it as well as for the information, and implying thoughtlessly he slept in a coffin.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin's scathingly perceptive gaze fell back to the young man, the young being, for Valentin not only recognized the scent of the creature from which the feather made its birth but he could also trace it back to its origin, which just so happened to now be standing before him eluding the point for why he now desired the vampire's help. "You request help and yet you continue to waste my time," it was interesting, to say the least, that a slaugh would come to him of their own free will and offer up pieces of itself. It would be fruitful to have a dedicated source of slaugh blood at his disposal, something the vampire was far more interested compared to a feather, but as was his way, he would not reveal as such.

"Why do you need my help?" Valentin couldn't believe he was needing to squeeze this out of the other man. "Anyone of sound mind and body is capable of aiding others. Why do you," being very specific here as he laid the harshness of his eyes upon the other, "need me? What," he loathed repeating himself but his expression remained bored and unchanged, "do you need?"

It was absolutely, damnably impossible to tell if St. John had any notion of what he held, at all. Perhaps it was just the terror of that - of even a scholar of the strange being entirely and uselessly unfamiliar with any detail of this curse Tig was so desperate to shed - that shot a shiver down the length of his backbone, quick and sharp as a crossbow's bolt. Or maybe it was simply the sight of the thing, a piece of, if not him, some dreaded part of him, in the hands of a man with such a reputation as this undead alchemist, here.

Either way, Tig stiffened his spine and set his jaw, biting down on his own tongue so he could think a moment. Order things. Not let hope get the best of good sense, when dealing with - whatever he was dealing with, here. Gods, on high and below and between the trees. How did you make a deal with a thing like Valentin St. John?

"Help," he answered, leaning in against the din of the... show, still wailing away back there. "Consider that," Tig dropped a pointed look to the feather, "a token of good faith? Or a, a deposit, if you'd rather." This was hardly his language; the talk of knights he overheard more often than he'd ever spoken to. On account of how little interest wealthy knights, the sort who made deposits on things, had in the likes of him. But St. John seemed interested enough, at least. For now. The rest tumbled out of him in a rush, desperate to hold that attention. "Keep it, with the promise of as much... related matter as you can make use of, and every possibility to, ah, further your studies, as you might find - within reason - in the course of our work together. But I need your discretion, and your help," he repeated, in a fretful rasp.

[valentinstjohn]

There was a shift of his languid pale blue gaze away from the djinn before him when he carried on speaking, declaring his reasoning for approaching and subsequently this official introduction. The reasoning for it seemed to Valentin to be dull, uninspired friendliness that so many seemed to insist upon and the pairing with a thank you almost resulted in a break in the vampire's relaxed expression. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes at the interruption and the forward pretense of being thanked by someone who had not been party to the event in question.

Following the question, Valentin in his usual manner, did not deign to reply quickly. He always took time at his own leisure, with a life eternal he had no need to hurriedly respond in the way mortals did without hardly a break or pause for thought and so it came to be that everything that Valentin did decide to speak had been well considered.

Valentin decidedly opted not to respond to the question nor even acknowledge it, it was boring and would only confirm what was evidently already known and so ultimately unnecessary. "You can drop the platitudes and pleasantries," came his reply, "I abhor small talk," his attention now directed to producing a small metal tin box from his inner coat pocket and from it drawing out a pre-rolled cigarette which was then placed between his lips and ignited by touching the tip to what appeared to be a small pebble that glowed orange. The tin box with the rest of his cigarettes and pebble were returned to his pocket as thin smoke was exhaled, appearing to almost shimmer before it was filtered away by the light breeze. As a vampire, naturally he did not need to breathe and only did so in this moment for the purpose of smoking as so many things he did or took part in had meaning and if there was no viable purpose then he simply did not do it, simple things like miming human life were therefore forgone, such as feigning to breath or blinking; his gaze constant and unrelenting, reprieve from it only found when he decided to look away.

"I also do not care to propagate an acquaintance simply because we share a companion. If that is your only motive for your attempt to converse with me then you may please cease in your attempt. Otherwise, tell me, what need have you for a scientist?"

You are the Djinn.

It was not the reaction he was expecting but it was not incorrect. The the suggested he was a Djinn of some importance and he smiled a little smile to himself at the thing of Bella talking of him. That must be why he was recognised and named as the Djinn.

He nodded. “Indeed I am,” he admitted, not the least thrown off by it taking Valentin a moment before being able to adress him. He’d been in the employ of many masters and some did so purely because they could, while others truly did need a moment of self reflection before being able to draw their attention away from what was at that moment occupying their time. What little Notelaih knew of Bella’s maker did explain the latter.

“I know not if Bella would appreciate me attempting to converse with you,” he said. “But I thought it just to at least have an introduction, I have heard little of yourself, but Bella did tell me that you saved her wings from the flame, and I’d like to thank you for that.” Her wings were important, he had seen the raw hurt when they had spoken of them. Valentin had made a choice to save them instead of his precious work, which made Notelaih respect his heart.

“If I am correct you are a scientist of sorts, are you not?”

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin had long since adapted his body to be able to sustain itself on little rest so that he could devote more hours of his eternal life to study and experimentation which often required countless hours of observation, a task he did not often entrust to others for their priorities were not as astute as his own. It was why he also often did things himself when he had the time for it despite having the capacity and staff to do menial tasks such as go to the store to pick up an order he had placed for a specific ingredient he needed, but this was something he wanted to do himself because he wanted to inspect the product beforehand to ensure the quality was as good as it had been promised. The only issue he encountered was this shops operating hours which were exclusively during the day, troublesome for a vampire such as himself to be out in sunlight, but it was something he could deal with with a shaded carriage and the use of an umbrella and once inside, the sun would no longer pose an issue, as long as he avoided any rays of light that would filter through the dingy window.

"Have you under estimated my eyesight?" Spoke the vampire, his tone flat and his gaze lazy as he looked at the shop owner from across the counter. Between them laid across the table on a velvet scrap of fabric were a few gleaming white bones. "Or have I overestimated your ability to procure the items I've requested?" The shop owner floundered, their mouth flailing open with the beginning of some undoubtedly lame excuse but all that came out were various sounds before they sputtered uselessly, unable to come up with a retort to save themself.

"Pardon me," the vampire turned his attention now to the other customer in the store, a brunette witch, as far as he could determine, "It seems I am in need of a second opinion," Valentin made a gesture to the table where the bones laid. "If you would please, tell me what you see."

Should they choose to inspect the bones on the table, even if they could not determine what animal the bones might belong to, it was evident there was some glitter dust across them that had been added. The effect being a very crude and shoddy display of fake 'pixie' bones.

Starter Type: open Location: a shop within the Trade District

Corvina typically tried to avoid lingering in town when she didn't need to work, preferring to get anything they needed from the forest surrounding her home or from the Laras, Asharran, or Rocheilles districts. But on this occasion, there was a shop in the Trade district that did have something that they needed. A type of seed that when crushed would make the material she was working with more supple.

As she looked through the various tinctures, they felt a pair of eyes on them. The shadow witch was accustomed to eyes on her, having heard a tale or two of their exploits through the decades told in dark corners whilst none were the wiser to her presence. But they elected to ignore it, figuring it was some other customer or the owner themselves. She knew better than to speak when not spoken to.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin gave a slight inclination of his head when she mentioned garments made for him, a subtle gesture that was meant to be express his appreciation for the effort she had made. He'd not yet seen these garments mentioned but was certain she would reveal them in due time. "You have been keeping busy," he appraised thoughtfully as she continued and as the two settled comfortably together upon the bedspread, he paid careful attention to her as she spoke.

Her voice was a blessing he had long missed and now hearing it again for the first time in so long was something he was not going to take lightly. He paid attention to every word, every pause as their fingers danced together in an idle affection. "I am glad you made a study of that which you enjoyed," regarding her newfound occupation and hobby of sewing. It was his own intense passion for science and knowledge that was the driving force behind his work and was glad she too had now found her own source of passion.

The pale blue of his gaze landed to her as she carried on, briefly recalling previously expressed emotions before she paused and redirected her words. Then came her smile and suddenly this dimly lit tent in the darkness of the forest seemed a little bit brighter but it was not long lasting. Her words turned then to explain of a budding affection for another, a romance, an intimacy unfulfilled but no less desired. Valentin continued to observe her, a side effect of his work that he could no more stop himself from doing just the same as he could not stop his desire for blood, so he observed her, not with intense scrutiny but as casual as he could manage with his keen perception, watching the shift of her expressions as she spoke. She always was so expressive in contrast to his own muted emotions, him showing too little and her showing so much. He could imagine that he could discern all of her emotions solely through the expressions of her face, even the subtle ones that came with but a glance.

"Djinn are inherently magical beings," Valentin commented, eyes unblinking as he now turned his sight to their hands which remained entwined. He was not surprised to hear that a Djinn was the catalyst for her feelings. The very air around such a magically charged being often invoked strange sensations in those around them, at least this was the result of some of his own study on the species. "Be assured, Belle, you have not spoiled anything. What I feel for you is not so easily tempered." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You and I have an eternity. If you wish to explore your feelings, know that my own for you will not be altered."

Could the young woman's cheeks flush, they would have, instead her gaze temporarily averted itself at the notion of his playful request, smile lingering as his response brought her joy. Bella was not sure she had ever held resentment, she had certainly felt fear for some time, and hurt because she could not understand what she had seen, maybe there was a resentment to that, coupled with embarrassment when she felt she had potentially trusted someone unworthy of it. Certainly no resentment existed now, no embarrassment, or fear. Guilt maybe sat beneath her happiness, that she had kept him at bay for so long, but his touch and his words assuaged so much of it.

With the expression of one flushed she looked back up to him, listening as his fingers touched at her palm and then with tender affection stroked back down her fingers. "When I prepared to leave I suspect I was too focused on...on making sure you saw how, despite the charm I had to hide, I did long for you," Bella admitted of there being a lacking in things for herself. "I attempted your novels," the key word in that response very obvious. "And I made perfectionist revisions to garments I have made for you over the years."

With his movement her own fingers drew up between his own, locking their connection. It was hard to know she had missed these quiet gestures for years and yet Bella felt unable to regret how much she had discovered of herself while alone. When she had run from his home she had only been able to mend holes or add the occasional embroidered flower to a mundane dress. Now she wore a piece she had sewn herself, even able to make her own lace when she gave herself the time to do so.

Bella answered him, in part, by sitting in said dress, the side of her thigh against his own, knees touching through dark fabrics that covered each of them. "I took up as a seamstress, to make money," she began, her locked grip unlocking but not parting from his, seeking their fingers playing as they had before. "Once I found a joy in it, that was practically all I did, worked all evenings in which I did not feed. I monitored myself as best I could remember you doing, but in truth I found myself focused on seeking what brought me pleasure. Sewing, hunting, caring for the beasts in the woods." Bella's fingers rest against his own, Valentin's hand much larger, remembering it against her palm or shoulder when they had danced, considering how now he might draw her near the moment their feet took to the floor. "The further I got from running, the more at home I felt in myself, and the harder it was to break the charm I'd had to hide myself from the rage I imagined you had at destroying your work. I missed you but I was afraid even if you -" Bella cut herself off. She had already explained to him. "I missed you. I desired you to be proud of me. Mostly I loved you, and without you here I expressed it in buying books, making you garments, in journals far more vulgar than The Paladin's Handkerchief," the young woman looked to him with a smile of adoration that had lived in her since she had witnessed his skills. "I should have known I was ready to break the charm."

But that had not been enough and Bella's smile fell as a notion of guilt returned. "I should have known but I - I did not realise whatever fears had me react without thought that day had changed until I met someone." Internally she felt undeserving of his touch but yearned to keep it, a strange sort of conflicting emotion because she did not wish to hurt him with affection. She allowed her fingers against his to remain, light enough he could remove himself if her words caused him pain. "A djinn who saw my talent before my face. I had lived in my feelings for you for so long the notion I could feel romantically or intimately for anyone else was unexpected and as it intensified I realised whatever hurt is in me still is no longer so overwhelming it controls me. I knew I couldn't keep hiding on behalf of a girl who was afraid of being used or hurt because I'm - I'm strong enough now," or she hoped she was.

Bella did not believe she had broken the charm as a way to have Notelaih, she truly did think that what she had felt for him allowed her to see something in her she had not noticed before. That did not lessen her guilt and Bella faintly yearned to protect the affection he had offered. "To be a woman who could reciprocate your kiss is all I could have wanted from breaking the charm that hid me. I hope I have not spoiled that."

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin cast a glance toward her as she said the books laid out were for him and returned his gaze to them as she continued speaking, reading the titles as he could see them from here. He would have gone closer, would have picked up each book and trailed his fingers across them to fully appreciate the thoughtfulness she had exhibited in their collection for him but instead her fingers occupied his hand and that was far more important for him to keep hold of. Instead of his fingers appreciating the books there, his fingers appreciated hers, sliding cold digits along the smooth planes of her own, into the divots and bends of her fingers, along the creases of her palms, along the tips and crevices of her hard fingernails, a light and traveling touch of meandering affection.

The title of the book she claimed to have attempted to read brought a tilt of amusement to his lip, "The author is an interesting necromancer," he said interesting because the author themselves was unique and naturally someone that Valentin had the acquaintance of.

"If those texts are of interest to you, then I would be pleased to share them with you. If you'd do me the honor of reading to me," Valentin replied to her playfulness with a touch of his own, more muted and tempered but it was there, visible in a subtle glint of his pale blue eyes that met her smile. Any previous unsettled feelings he might have had began to fall away the longer they remained in their presence and the more assured he felt that she truly did not harbor any resentment for him. He had none for her and could only now feel a relief with their mutual declarations revealed.

"I've a particular interest in this Paladin's Handkerchief," continued Valentin, drawing his fingers back into the center of her palm before extending them again out to each digit, "A novel whose sole purpose is to detail a normally uninteresting item must be intriguing. Have you only brought books for me and none for yourself? How have you been occupying your time without The Paladin's Handkerchief?" For him, his time had been wholly occupied with traveling here, but she had been waiting this whole time. He was curious to know what she'd been doing. Valentin moved closer to the bedding and the books, his hand still in hers if she decided to maintain the contact, with him leading her closer. "Will you sit with me? And tell me all that you've done?" There was so much to know, so much to learn and catch up on.

The wolves remained in place as he took her words in, their calmness in part a representation of Bella's ease and in part their own exhaustion. Perhaps if they'd come across him alone they'd have been more reactionary to what he was, but even being in the city as often as they had with Bella they had become more accustomed to the surroundings of various species that were more inclined to the actions of a predator. Certainly Bella attempted to drag them everywhere with her, for protection in many ways, but often they remained by the docks, or ventured to the woods without her. They knew their way home.

Bella's eyes lifted as he said the sun was some time away. She could sense it but had, as she said, readily lost focus on it with him so close, only now consciously placing it's distance from them as being further away. In the past few days that distance had felt endless and only now did it seem as though it might rush up on her. Like there was not enough time to do and say everything she needed with him. Hopefully that would fade.

For now it did not, certainly not as Valentin, for the first time since their joining established some distance between them literally, her own matched need to be near causing her steps to move without conscious decision, keeping by his side as he looked at what had been left there. "They are for you," she answered, the titles of the bound books, some cheaper without formalised binding, while others were properly bound and clearly printed. Most titles were quite formalised and not all of them were in the common tongue, most were but a few were in languages distinct to the courts. "I know you do not need sleep half as much as me, and I, over time, have made possession of things that made me think of you." Her fingers slipped within his own as she stood by him, a soft attempt at rekindled touch, unsure of how much to act on her desire to be near him. In her mind, even in fantasies of his arrival where he did care for her as he had confirmed, she did not fathom the volume of his affection. It seemed impossible.

"I did attempt to read them as something to do while I waited for your arrival but I am not sure 'An Alchemical Study on Degradation Comparative to Amelioration of the Heart and Venous System Across the Undead' was ever going to make much sense to me. Even the title was tenuous of my understanding," she noted, not necessarily to insult herself but for clarification that her understanding of his work had not improved with his absence. "Typically if I read anything it is of the trade I acquired on arrival, or fictitious novels of romance and death. I did not think Stitches for Foundational Garment Structure across the Continent or The Paladin's Handkerchief would amuse you much while I slept," she smiled to him, a pulling to one side and amusement in her gaze. It was a sort of excitement that filled them, a readiness to be soft with him, even if there were still other matters she knew she needed to tend to. Of the man she had been writing letters with.

"If I am wrong though I will remedy that as soon as I am capable," she continued to smile, a playfulness he surely remembered returning to her actions, not wholly dramatic and longing.

[valentinstjohn]

"It is a cypher," replied Valentin, once again in a brief manner but despite his brief responses and otherwise indifferent expression and behavior, he generally commended and welcomed a curious person. It meant they wanted to expand their intelligence in some way and that was always beneficial and a trait that Valentin regarded as positive. However, a curiosity in this, his own specific cypher for his own secrets which he did not want known publicly, was not welcome and so he replied simply and did not care to elaborate.

"I was," the vampire confirmed once more, "and now I am not," as evidenced by the fact that he had now put the notebook and his blood drawing pen away. "You have supplied me with my next experiment and then no longer held my interest. It is as you say, behavior typical to a spawn. Your sire tells you eating food for mortals will make you ill and so it does. A trick of the mind. If it had been ogre saliva that would have been more interesting, which I will delve further into with a future experiment to determine whether or not it would be possible and if so, how much ogre saliva would be needed to induce ailment and which species would be affected. Perhaps, if you are willing, you can participate. Let's say we begin small. What would you say to imbibing a pint of ogre spittle?"

"Well then what is it?" he asked. Alex had been alive awhile, aged beyond what his appearance would suggest, but there were few things about him that never seemed to leave him, despite everything. The desire for mischief, the fact that he never seemed to stop talking, and a childish wonder and curiosity about the world around him. Alex was always prone to daydreaming and wandering, and now his attention was fixated on the writing across from him, seeing if he could decipher it despite clearly not being fluent in it and it being upside down to him.

He frowned and looked down below at his tavern meal. "Yes," he nodded, and took another bite for certainty. "I think I know why, though. My master used to make a point to say that I could never eat mortal food, that it would make me sick, and I never questioned it because blood was pretty good. But he's an ass, and probably didn't want me eating anything but what he made me... I think it's a spawn thing, cause I never saw him even look interested in anything else." Alex paused, only to take a sip of his drink. "Are you taking notes on me or something?"

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin would not have desired their hands to part so readily followed close to her while maintaining their touch, long absent and so dearly missed. He listened as she introduced the wolves one by one. Named aptly and uniquely in a way that only he would have felt she was capable. "Then I will not," he replied at the suggestion he could pat either of the wolves. Most animals did not seem to enjoy his presence, perhaps keen senses of smell were disturbed at the heavy odor of death that clung to him over the course of his long life, or they simply found him uneasy to be around. It was typically the more simple minded creatures that seemed to tolerate him the best, but he also wasn't keen on having creatures as companions as she was. This did not mean it was not unwelcomed, he would certainly give the wolves their pats in due time, but for the moment, his time was hers and so walked with her to the tent's opening.

"It is some time away," he commented on the sun, the ever constant threat of sunlight a forever burden which their kind must endure, a failing he was also keen to correct. If they as a species could overcome their dependency to blood and the restriction of sunlight, they would become a superior species.

Upon entering the tent, the first thing which drew his attention was the bed laid upon the floor and the second were the books. As she would know, he had a rather extensive library of books, a majority of which were on various subjections of mathematics and chemistry, theoretical formulations and reports from other alchemists and their studies and took great joy in reading as often as he could. As he drew closer to inspect their titles, he inquired, "What have you been reading?"

The whispered words stilled her expression, like she had perhaps imagined them and the reality of the world would soon catch up and he would insist upon a need for his work to be drawn down beneath the soil with them so he might not abandon his work entirely. It did not though, rather soft lips tinted with blood continued to leave kisses of purposeful affection at her cheek. The world kept moving and soft elements of his nature she had only gleaned in their time together started to show a greater depth.

Each action of his lips momentarily distracted Bellamy from his mental engagement with her still, and she had to choose to focus on the words he said because so much of her was simply ready to curl up against him and sink into the soil as she had suggested prior. In her experience he was patient however, Bella able to leave breath him in, to leave a kiss of her own against the edge of his jawline as she reheard his words in her mind.

Pressing her lower stomach and hips against him, so he knew she was content to be within the hold of his palm, she nodded, licking blood off her lips. "I cannot communicate with them like I might have were I still aasimar but I've found it is hard to forget how to put them at ease," she answered, her own free hand coming up to brush the dark length of her hair over her shoulder with the back of her fingers, strands falling against her back as the wind laid it against her. "They protected me when I left," she informed him, not releasing his fingers from hers as if stepped forwards the wolves, trying to remain close enough to him that either hand would not abandon their hold on her.

"I have called them Silk," she spoke of the one still resting peacefully, stoic with her dark fur sleek and shining beneath the light of the moon and the flickering of flames. "And Quilt," she continued of the one that had sneezed, the coarse brown wolf wriggling his nose as he tried to get himself back to sleep but the piece of grass was still moving against it. "They can be protective, but they sense why we came," she assured him as Quilt began to tear at the grass that was tickling his nose with the nails on his paws, frustration until he had made a small hole in the dirt and immediately attempted resting his head again. "You might pat them if you desire, though they may not settle again if you do," Bella smiled, speaking both from how she knew the wolves to be and how Val's affections were affecting herself. She would not settle for hours.

"I can summon them to rest inside with us," she offered, her own steps suggesting leading them closer to the opening of the tent. "I would not enjoy the sun rising because I had become so lost in you."

[valentinstjohn]

When Alex commented that it had been his first time consuming the food of the living since his turning, the scrawling pen tip paused mid-stroke as if considering this new addition before continuing onward. The rest of the note was finished quickly as the other inquired after the language in which he wrote. "It is not a language," he replied simply, fingers pressing gently against the textured pages as he waited momentarily for the ink which was made of his blood to dry before he closed the notebook to return it and the pen back to his breast pocket. Not because he wanted to conceal his notes for they were well concealed already due to his cyphered writing, but simply because he had concluded and determined that Alex's upset after eating food had simply been due to the fact that he hadn't had it since his turning just as he had said, it was a common occasion that the dead could not stomach the food of the living. He could only consume typical food if it were raw and fresh and full of blood. Still, the concept of the saliva was interesting and would feature in his next experiment.

"Have you tried eating anything since then?" Valentin questioned casually, drawing the finger he had pricked to his tongue for a quick lick as if he were simply wetting the surface before turning the page of a book. The skin had already closed and healed, all that remained was a small droplet of his blood which held no nutritional value to himself as it was his own and tasted of cold metal.

"Oh, at least, he says!" Alex remarked, amused at the cavalier attitude to the question. It shouldn't shock him - his own master was pushing two-hundred for certain. He wasn't sure if he himself wanted to stick around for that long, but time would tell. That was assuming he was smart enough to stay alive for that long, and the odds weren't in his favor if that was the case. He hadn't said anything about the man pricking his finger to write with his own blood - his mouth had opened, then shut. It was self explanatory, in a way, but that didn't mean it didn't surprise him to see.

"I guess a little," he said. "Well... maybe not. It was one of the first times I had eaten real food instead of blood in fifteen years, so it could have just been that?" His voice raised, as if pondering the question alongside the other. Alex still wasn't totally sure the extent of what had changed - there was so much he hadn't been able to do since he'd been turned, and eating many of his favorite foods had been one of them. That's not to mention any powers he didn't know about, either.

He was too nosy, and he peered up and over the glasses at what the other was writing. "What language is that?"

[valentinstjohn]

With every kiss came the welcome taste of blood, a mixture of their own combining as tongues slid together and sharp teeth unable to prevent harm from the encouragement of passion. The cuts made were shallow, superficial, just enough to tease the taste of blood but not enough to be an overwhelming flow but still he swallowed the taste of her until the passage of time was meaningless. He would have disregarded the interruption that came in the form of one of the wolves sneezing but allowed their lips to part, his own glistening with the hint of saliva, the pale of his eyes locked to hers and the smile that now graced them.

Her lips pressed to his cheek and his eyes shut to relish in the tender affection, their fingers still entwined together and bodies still close. If he could manage to bring their bodies even closer he would do so, turning his face at an incline to mirror a kiss to her cheek as well as he replied in a whispered tone beside the shell of her ear, "It would be time well spent." He would not mind centuries buried with her beneath the earth, away from the rest of the world, perhaps centuries undistracted with her would be enough to quell some of the feelings he had stored within.

"I am pleased that your connection with the wilds has remained strong," Valentin uttered, still supplanting soft kisses along the side of her cheek, slow and gentle he took his time to press his lips to her skin fully before raising them to another piece of flesh that did not yet know his touch. The hand which did not have fingers entwined with hers wrapped around her now, pressing against the small of her back, "Who are your companions?" Another soft press of his lips, to the corner of her eyes, to the space between her brows. "Introduce me."

Just as he was not sure when his affection had grown, Bella was not sure when she had noticed it. For a time her sorrow had consumed her, and for a time beyond that she had simply sought purpose, he had allowed her to explore both while he studied her, and, though perhaps for the simple sake of his experiment, had aided her process. When expressions like the mere hint of a smile on his lips finally did feel common place she couldn't have placed their origins, only appreciated that they were there, as she did now.

Truly she appreciated all conscious and unconscious actions he made for, or in reaction to, her. Valentin's slow gesture to move her fingers away from his lips, his audible sigh despite the fact she almost never saw him breath, and finally his kiss. Tender. Bella had never been kissed tenderly, never felt intimate affection like it surpassed the stained fruit between the creases in her lips and grazed whatever blood vessels were within them that found their way directly to her heart. It ached with affection, heart filling and expanding metaphorically in her chest as his cool lips sought purpose around her upper lip.

For a moment she did not move, so focused on how generous his actions were, but when she felt his fingers entwine with her own just as softly, absorbing what such gentleness could be, she finally allowed herself not to just be kissed but to kiss, the feeling of her cupid's bow shifting as she tasted his plush lower lip in turn, fingers curling around his. When he did part his lips she was ready to meet the gesture, the staining on her lips pushing across the pallid skin above his lip and staining his flesh red, something he was no doubt accustomed to by other means.

When his tongue finally sought her own Bella felt the sharpness of her teeth graze the edges of hers, sluggish blood flow illuminating her taste buds. She had not kissed anyone as a vampire and the momentary sharp pain was unexpected, however logical it should have been. It did not slow her actions, truthfully it helped steady them, keeping her mind in the now with sensations unaccustomed to her. Pleasant ones that made Bella's tongue caress his own and though gestures repeated, the movement of their lips, the touching of their tongues, none of it seemed to waiver in enjoyment for the youthful vampiress.

She was truly not sure how long such actions continued, time so different for the pair. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. All that ended up drawing her from him being the sneeze from one of her wolves as grass flicked at Quilt's nose, the huff as they readjusted themselves to sleep, while Bella's lips withdrew, smile pulled into her cheeks as it always had when she had been gifted time where he let his focus become whatever joy she desired to share with him, sure his mind was still working in the background. "I should bury us deep within the Earth and do that for centuries," she complimented, lips kissing his cheek softly and quickly, excited to freely gift him expressions of her heart.

[valentinstjohn]

Her gentle plea paired with the soft encouraging touch of her finger to the edge of his lip caused the corner she touched to uplift ever so slightly, the vaguest sense of a reaction pulled taut into a half smirk that only she may be able to notice in her proximity, the muscle moving in such a miniscule way that it would seem like a phantom to anyone else whose eyes were not so adept at reading his features. Exactly when he had begun to develop warm feelings towards her he could not recall for they had come on so slowly that even he had not noticed it until the next time he spent time in her presence and observed her as she went about her daily life's routine and felt himself do a similar sort of smile, small and just for her. Before he would have never dared to cross this boundary, erected for her care and consideration but now she welcomed it, invited him in with a kiss and Valentin was all too ready to accept this invitation.

What little gap remained between them diminished to nothing as he both stepped in closer and pulled her in, brushing their hands away as his lips sought hers and finally, finally, with a sigh, landed on her own. Tender and long he wanted to kiss her, to feel the plush softness of her cold lips against his own after memorizing their shape with his eyes he could now do so with the touch of his own, learning the taste of her cupid's bow. His hand that had held hers loosely now moved to entwine their fingers while the other hand at the side of her neck pushed his thumb in a gentle caress along the underside of her chin. Affectionate, the kiss would begin, until gradually growing more with devotion as his lips parted, seeking tongue and teeth.

Gentle movements between them felt like their bond wrapped around their touch, like cashmere thread followed his fingers entwining with her own and softly guided her touch to his lips where she felt only a graze of a kiss alongside his revelation. ‘I had not dared to hope.’ Her heart ached as her large eyes watched his tender affections. It did not ache at what she had missed for years, that pain had existed in a part of her for so long now, but at what she had caused him to miss hiding away.

The soul was not up for debate for Bellamy. The woman had seen those without souls, how you could see the emptiness inside of them, feel it on their skin like they were hollow. He was not hollow. Her eyes unable to depart from his gaze, both cool and warm like a summer evenings breeze - slowly becoming more cognizant that one had suffered - and his touch drawing her in until she felt her hips against his own and her throat caught whatever mortal intention of a breath she hadn't needed, chest stilling. She had thought of the ways he might touch her, her own hands seeking flesh in moments hidden away in her coffin that were far more crass than this, and yet the intimacy was unrivalled because it was not her own touch imitating want, it was him. At last.

Beyond soul, to Valentin, however, she knew that mind mattered more than the rest. His mind was him, all other parts of him secondary, accessories to it or ways to utilize it. His mind was what drew her in, his words and actions always chosen rather than spilled or rushed. This nature of his having a way of allowing her own to slow down as well at times. To be more thoughtful. It would have been easy to insist he shouldn't have, that the gesture was too much, but in truth she wanted it, and why pretend as though she didn't? It was the very action that had caused her heart to shift in her time with him. Valentin wanted something for himself, worked constantly for his purpose and still he had chosen her wings, delayed his own want to save a part of her. Delayed it further to leave where ever he had been to come to her. Stood wastefully in the forest as he had wasted time wandering the gardens of his Withermore estate with her.

"Kiss me," Bella requested, her index finger on the hand he held caressing the edge of his lips, thinking of their shape and how it might feel against her own. "Please." A word not to beg, not even for politeness sake, but to add context. Bella had never wanted any physical advances that had been laid on her but in this moment she did, from him. Just as the word could denote her own autonomy it hopefully also contextualised an understanding for his. It was not a demand. If he were not ready her heart would not ache.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin listened as Alex described the sensation though he may not appear to be listening, his eyes unfocused and looking casually elsewhere in a seemingly distracted manner, and it wasn't until he moved to withdraw the cigarette that his gaze trailed back to the vampire spawn before him. "When I was younger, perhaps, after eating someone unsavoury," precise specifics he could not recall. A long life did not automatically mean his memory was infallible. It was interesting, however, to note that saliva or spittle could cause such an upset stomach. Valentin shifted to produce a small leather bound notebook from his breast pocket and a pen of his own making which worked not with ink, but with his own blood. In this way, he did not need to bring with him an ink pot and could instead simply prick the tip of his finger with the sharp end of the pen until a small bead of blood was produced to fill the carved tip with 'ink' so that he could jot down this note. Something he would attempt to recreate in his personal experiments and expand upon.

He was unphased by the question of his age, it was only natural to wonder at the age of one like him who had existed in this world for so long. "At least five centuries," he replied while he wrote, the pen tip scrawling in a seemingly foreign script. As with all of his notes, Valentin did not write in the common tongue. He prized the secrecy of his notes and had devised a unique cypher known only to himself in which to write all of his notes and alchemical formulae so that if someone ever stole them for their own use, the papers would be useless and refuse to give up their secrets.

"Was the taste of your food altered?" He questioned for more specifics, for there was a possibility that it hadn't been spit and had instead been some sort of poison that couldn't kill a vampire but could make them feel unwell.

Alex shrugged. "Just felt like a bad stomach ache, is all," he said, not-so-fondly remembering how walking home that evening felt like something was churning in his guts like it shouldn't have been. He didn't remember feeling feverish or anything like that, but like there was something in his system that should not have been there. That wasn't something he'd felt since he'd been human, and that was quite awhile ago now. "When you're about to be sick, but the purge never actually happens. Like that. It's not like I get hungover anymore, so surely it wasn't that."

Though in his afterlife, he could think of more than a few times he had pissed somebody off and could have left himself open to any potential anti-vampire retaliation. "Nothing like that ever happened to you? How long have you been alive? Sorry, I feel like there's no impolite way to ask that question sometimes."