#fangsanddaggers 𓆩⟡𓆪 01

[ithuriel]

𖤍 Contradictions do not delight him as paradoxes do. The latter, at least, hides kernels of truth in seemingly nonsense statements: less is more, change is constant, expect the unexpected, et al. The former only highlights failures in logic, or some sort of hidden flaw: for example, the scent of blood he's sure he's picking up in the air even though he sees none within sight.

It's also broad daylight—hardly a time for unfortunate murders—yet something prickles at the edge of Aurelius' senses just the same. Eyes skim curiously through the crowds before zeroing in on one rare, well-dressed soul passing close by.

If conversation was inevitable, at least let his partner be someone with taste. The angel weaves through the mob, careful to avoid touching most people in the process, and somehow ends up following his target to a more secluded corner between two buildings.

"Excuse me." Aurelius closes the final distance himself, using his taller frame to form a temporary buffer against the noisy plaza behind them. It occurs to him then that he has no idea how to phrase his question. Eyebrows furrowing, he decides to simply spit it out.

"I'm wondering whether you've noticed any suspicious occurrences in this square."

@fangsanddaggers ໒꒱

[ithuriel]

𖤍 Having just arrived, Aurelius has only the vaguest impressions of the world and its rules. He assumes Astarion has his reasons for sounding as carefree as he did, though it was still unexpected.

"You're very flippant about it all." His words echo his thoughts exactly, "to be so calm over the threat of death."

"I don't know whether to praise your grit or fret for your safety. Others may not be as forthcoming as I with my suspicions."

If they bided their time and waited before deciding to act, that would be far more insidious. Though there was something distinctly nostalgic about the idea of getting closer to someone on purpose while acting incognito...

Abruptly, he laughed. "This might be all baseless worry. You speak well enough to charm your foes, I trust."

The other preached of a singular god far too much for it to be an accident. Did he only believe in one? That none other existed? Perhaps in his world there was only one, it wouldn't be a wild stretch of mind. Though his somewhat delicate distain for humanity earned from the spawn a soft laugh.

"Humans are a fickle bunch. Never know where they'll go." He agrees, though he has to pause, thinking it over. "I'd suggest a perfume, but it won't truly cover the tang of blood. Usually I lie and say I was injured." He shrugged as, technically, someone was injured in the process.

Then again, they'd be able to tell the different bloods if they could smell it on his form, worse so his breath.

"It's quite alright. I'm sure they'll get quite the fright if I come back the next day after being staked to death and ask them if they want a round two." He chuckles, truly hoping Legato was right about the 'unable to die' thing. If he really could die, it'd be a pain in the ass.

[ithuriel]

𖤍 Of course it was humans. Troublesome, willful creatures they were, apt to run rampant and make a mess of things even when given clear rules and expectations.

"If mortals are to blame, then it's perfectly understandable. There is no other species quite so skilled at turning itself blind and deaf to different perspectives."

"But God's grace has always extended to all creatures, great and small. I'm afraid the human heart is sometimes too petty to understand that."

It was a statement as much gracious as it was judgmental. His kind watched over mortals, but had no right to control them. And so they guided or stood by as hapless souls stumbled through life led by their desires and prejudices.

"My world has no concept of 'vampires,'" Aurelius went on. "At worst, we've only dealt with demons, which are assuredly malicious. Though I would not personally partake of blood myself, I am not you, and I cannot condemn a soul forced by circumstances to resort to unusual means."

He paused after that, and suggested gently, "Perhaps there are better means to hide the scent of blood against those with sharper senses like myself."

Astarion shifted his head, looking aside in silent agreement. It's not often he's ever found reason to drop his own barriers. But he focuses back on those stunning golds, reminded of another.

Perhaps Legato was touched with celestial heritage.

The praise didn't go unnoticed, back handed compliment as it could be taken, and found pride. A celestial liked him, that was a new experience for sure, even was afforded space from those inspecting eyes. The name was long winded and beautiful, just as he'd read of in books, though the only other Celestial he knew had turned to an aberration he couldn't have much to go off.

The question catches him almost off guard. Was the other so far up the chain of feathered friends that he knew nothing of vampirism? Or how most mortals reacted to it?

"Ah, well you see. Mortals don't take too well to my kind, quite the... Stab in the heart with a stake first, wonder about questions after I've died kind of reaction most give. Assuring I'm a safe being also ensures my continued survival. A life I've come to quite like in it's sudden and relative freedom." Now that he was free at least.

And boy, was that a strange concept even now.

[ithuriel]

𖤍 There is something remarkably docile about the man before him despite his open manners. He neither shies away nor challenges Aurelius' scrutiny, which the angel takes full advantage of by continuing to admire him with serene golden eyes. Still, that last statement earns a raised brow.

"Barriers exist for a reason. I've hardly felt a need to remove mine." He speaks it as a statement of fact, the culmination of a lifetime lording above Man and angels alike. "You seem to know my kind, but still addressed me thus..."

"What a strange being you are, Astarion Ancunin, to turn impertinence into endearment."

It was more praise than censure, since Aurelius had no intention to fault the speech of someone who only spoke pleasant things. He even straightened up to give the vampire some space, though he was in no hurry to leave just yet.

"I am Aurelius Vane-Tempest—indeed an angel, though that matters little here."

No powers, no prestige, forced to walk on his own two feet like any other mortal—if it weren't for the occasional interesting soul he happened across, Aurelius would be languishing in boredom by now. Even without their strange conversation, something about Astarion stirs his curiosity.

"I do wonder, however, why you insist on being safe. You'll pardon me for the observation if I say your fangs hardly seem to warrant a threat."

They were sharp, but tiny like all teeth. Coupled with the way the man purred his sentences, it only made him resemble a pretty little cat.

"I'm a clean eater." Astarion chuckles, tipping his head slightly as the other neared, sniffing the other back on some buried animal instinct.

Sweet, alluring, like a fine wine. The pulse, the blood sang of the heavens, sickly in it's tang, like a divine and over indulgent pastry that'll have him sick from just a taste. He almost wanted to ask to try, but he held his tongue, careful to keep himself peaceful. He had just eaten after all, he shouldn't be craving desert, no matter how much the other's veins sang to him.

Lips curled as the other remained close, red eyes shimmering with curiosity. Each line of the other's face, every thread of golden locks radiated with a beauty beholden only to the divine. He wondered idly if he was being judged, if those eyes would bear down on his soul and witness his sins, sentencing him to an afterlife in Avernus.

"Well, angel, you have yet to give me a name to use. Mine is Astarion Ancunin." Still, that familiar purr rolled his name out, even if his last name felt foreign to him, it slipped free, like a lost memory he'd finally recalled.

Was it really his last name, or was it one he'd just picked up along the way? He was sure it was his, it felt familiar on his tongue, warm and sweet, like a kiss of home breathed into his lungs. Wherever it came from, he reclaimed it as his own in this moment, softening the cant of his lips into something open and raw.

"Besides. Whilst unnecessary, it is an easy way to remove barriers between strangers, an ice breaker if you will." It's why he found himself using them, even if he'd held nothing to another.

Legato was... Different.

[ithuriel]

𖤍 The last thing Aurelius expects is for his own aesthetics to lead him to the target of his hunt. Some of Astarion's words are frankly undecipherable, but it doesn't stop the angel from sweeping careful eyes over his figure.

"You cleaned it up very well," he said a moment later. "I don't see traces of blood anywhere." As for the scent...he leaned forward, stopping just short of the other's personal space, to experimentally sniff the air.

There? A familiar hint of rust, but impressively faint.

It occurs to Aurelius then that getting so close to a stranger who's just shown you his fangs was probably impulsive. Yet judging from his personality, Astarion was someone easy to talk to—or at least a man who could be happily occupied with monologuing instead of asking for an extra bite. Working on that assumption, Aurelius stays put, taking the chance to marvel at the other's fine features up close.

"If you speak the truth, then I have no need to continue my search."

"Don't apologize for trying to stay alive."

At this distance, the so-called vampire is almost ethereal to behold. He can't understand where the man finds inspiration to call himself spawn of anything, much less—

"Calling me nicknames is wholly unnecessary as well."

Elegance. This man exudes it, like he was made of it. Royalty then, Lordship of some sort at the very least. A higher up Celestial.

Wonderful.

He's alert, though calm around the man. He couldn't lower his guard, but he notes everything he can. The way he seems surprised at his wording, the touch to his ear - nervous tick or to reclaim focus perhaps - his impeccable posture.

He'd look amazing in a hand embroidered suit with spider lily decals ever so subtly on his dress shirt, perhaps a silvered edge, a soft sweep of chains from one crisp-

The other was talking. He's pulled from his idle thoughts he'd found himself in rather often these days, and focused again. Ah, sharp senses picking up the tang of blood. Did he know it clung to him? Does he smell the hint of death on him?

To be honest? Or to lie. Few have been cruel so far. And if something happens, he'd just come back, his willingness to make connections would mean many would avenge him.

Many choices hung before him, but he eased.

"That would be my fault, apologies." He flashed a smile, his fangs on display, to which he pointed towards. "I was beginning to get dazed and my friend had offered to allow me to feed from him. Blood is what keeps me alive, though I do not take without consent and try not to kill animals these days." Unless they were tiny things like rats, which he only turned to out of desperation, something he no longer felt.

"I am a vampire spawn, completely safe to be around. I have to prevent myself from collapsing else my client's clothes become late on their due date." And he was anything if a man who fails on punctuation. "Forgive me, darling, if the scent startled you."

[ithuriel]

𖤍 It's very easy for Aurelius to accept Astarion's act, especially when he has no assumptions of guilt for the other party. Instead, he's caught off-guard by how flawless the other looks with his fine pale skin and eyes that gleam like jewels. Were mortals usually so perfect without effort?

The pointed ears draw his attention too, but it isn't until the man speaks that Aurelius finds himself truly floored.

"...I beg your pardon?"

The outpour of blatant affection from Astarion isn't unwelcome, but startling in its warmth. The angel wonders whether he's been caught in a case of mistaken identity, but it's clear that this man sees them as strangers. Perhaps he'd simply misheard...in which case, better to disregard the darling and move on.

Absently brushing his ear (how strange it was to hear someone so expertly imitate a cat), Aurelius cleared his throat and tried again. "Perhaps I was too vague."

"I mean to say that I've smelled blood, but am still pinpointing its source. It's not a scent one expects to find in these surroundings—unless I'm missing some knowledge about the local customs."

The other had mentioned he was new as well, but surely a few months trumped less than day's worth of experiences.

Eyes.

Astarion was used to eyes finding his form, his hand embroidered clothing a fine display of his personal craftsmanship, something he takes pride in. However, these eyes feel different. They make the hairs on his neck stand on edge, a hunter of sorts, something dangerous even.

So he moves, threading through the crowd, a new direction in mind but nothing about his figure changed. Had they seen him bite Knives? No, no they would have lunged at him then and there, not waited.

He slips into the fine alley, knowing it was clean, fresh and less populated. He wasn't eager to fight, but he wanted there to be no innocent casualties if there was. And if he wasn't being followed, then this was a shortcut home all the same.

The voice is polite, warm, not challenging, not vicious, not commanding. Curious, peaceful almost, with a spark of elegance that spoke of a life in the high realms. The feeling of radiant warmth hits him when the other closes in and, of course it's a celestial.

Just his luck.

However, he turns at the call for attention, feigning surprise he'd been called upon which only became genuine when the other hesitated, looking unsure. Was he deciding if asking if he was a vampire was kind or perhaps asking his clothes but worried he'd sound creepy?

Neither, it seems.

A hip slips out without his thought, a hand resting on it lightly, his position slipping into the calm, confident and smooth figure. He felt it, but it was also instinctive.

"Strange beyond a beautiful soul such as yourself stepping from the tower surrounded by people in a world not his own?" He asked casually, assessing with a glance he was another pulled here. "Beyond that, darling, I'm not sure. I've only been here a few months, it's all quite new to me still. Another otherworlder such as yourself." he purrs sweetly, keeping everything about him relaxed, even as he mentally noted that he had been sure to be clean with the bite and that he'd cleaned his face up prior to exiting the alley.

[ithuriel]

𖤍 A part of Aurelius wonders if it's really wise for Astarion to drop him a hint about how to actually kill him, but he supposes it's a show of good faith from the hum—excuse him, vampire.

In any case, he becomes preoccupied with other matters when it's obvious that his affectionate nickname is here to stay. Although the angel is no stranger to devotion, this way of speaking feels as flippantly nonchalant as the rest of Astarion, leaving him at a loss. He has only been utterly feared or worshipped with fanatical adoration, after all, not viewed as something more...mundane.

It reminds him vaguely of Anghelescu, but even that man had never been so intimate with his words in his memory.

"Then I'm glad you have things in order," he finally replies after a while. "Yes, I've only arrived recently—although something tells me this isn't the first time I've been spirited to a different place."

"I can't remember much of the last time, however." Fortunately, he's not overly concerned with those details. Aurelius pauses, then decides to tackle the issue directly.

"I'm sorry, but is 'darling' a common greeting used by vampires? Would it not suggest to others—excuse the presumption—that you are more enamored with me than you actually are?"

"When you've lived with this... Affliction for over two hundred years, you get quite accustomed to the dangers of living." Astarion chuckled warmly, at ease around the celestial, something he found surprising, but he'd shown no need to harm the spawn, so where was the danger?

The other's near worry makes him snicker, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at the other.

"I have it on good authority I'll be back come sunrise. And if someone wants to kill me properly, they'll need to get up close and personal with a specialized weapon." Or lop off his head, but he flashed his fangs. "Though I do take pride on my charisma, as you point out. However, I'm not against a darling like you worrying over little ol' me." He purrs sweetly, eyes warm with mirth.

He'd love to see someone try to strike him, barely five seconds after the fangs sink in and he knows he'll win the battle. A limp form for feeding, murder was not his pleasure, but if he's in danger then so be it.

"Enough about me, darling. I take it you're fresh from that cult-like greeting at one of those towers?" He focuses now on the man before him, feeling at ease where he stood, confident that he'd charmed the man enough not to despise him.