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nosnet · 1 month ago

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Dead and Dead Again: Pyat’ (5) - Reunions

by J. D. Dennis

Time Period: Greensboro, end of 2025

Perspective: Vyxen

Rating: PG-13

Content Warnings: deep sad stuff, lots of flirting, body modifications

Word Count: 15,497

Comments: Dead and Dead again hits its fifth chapter, where we rejoin the last of the paramours and Donnie makes a new friend. Donnie’s scene will be posted by C. Todd when it’s finished~

“No, Vyxen, I do understand what the concept of an aesthetic is; I was there when they coined the current use of the phrase. What I don’t understand is why you continue to gravitate towards giving yourself a genetic mutation, and not a particularly common one at that, and then tell me it’s either have differently colored eyes, or die. This is where my confusion lies, Vyxen.”

Vyx had been in Greensboro all of a week before they’d found themselves shuffled off to attend a party that their new boss, Molly, was throwing. This wasn’t really a surprise – she was a party person, and the fact was, her secretary had been texting with questions about dress sizes and other clothing related sundries almost since they’d arrived, so hearing that it would actually be that first Saturday didn’t come as a shock. Vyx’s attendance was not optional, though they took no issue with it, considering Donnie’s attendance was also not optional; they were going and he needed to stick with them, and that brought them some measure of comfort. They figured out, mostly from Claire, that the party wasn’t going to be particularly small – they’d rented out a floor of the nearby Koury Convention Center just for the night – but that was also apparently their fault. See, the party was a way of celebrating the fact that there were many people who had, successfully, survived the end of the world, and honoring those that hadn’t, and the numbers that had participated and survived weren’t small. The numbers for those that hadn’t made it weren’t small, either, but they knew that already.

No one minded that it wasn’t on the right date and, in fact, several months late. Schedules were hard.

The party had started just after nine, and they’d arrived a little early, determined to find a good space to park Donnie’s bike before everyone’s cars took every other parking space. It wasn’t a glitz and glamor kind of thing, unfortunately, so they had toned down the dress on Claire’s recommendation – they wore a short, red dress with spaghetti straps and a pink, long-sleeve shirt underneath, tights and boots and pigtails rounding out the look – though they worried they’d still be under-dressed all the same. Kindred didn’t do many things in half measures, and looks were one of them. Donnie had matched, a dark leather vest and dark pants and a debonair, almost scoundrel like aesthetic, driving boots and a jacket to keep the wind out and a knife tucked squarely in his boot. He didn’t need it – his fists did plenty – but there was never harm in having a spare knife around.

People had flooded in after they’d arrived, and Vyx somehow managed to find a back corner by the drinks and avoid greeting most of them. It wasn’t that they were on bad terms with many, of course – there were a few they weren’t exactly jazzed about seeing, some because they hadn’t been friendly during the war and others because they hadn’t exactly been friendly after – but it was a little overwhelming. Especially watching Molly do all the greeting, flitting back and forth between parties of people with pleasantries and deference and directions to people they might already know. It was exhausting, and Vyx was still trying to figure out how much they liked large groups of people and didn’t exactly want to waste all their time and energy on random pleasantries. Especially for people they hadn’t spoken to in nearly eight years, who hadn’t even bothered to try and reach out to them. It wasn’t like their coming back was a secret.

Luckily, they weren’t the only ones who had the idea, and within an hour of the party’s proper start, they’d found their presence graced not only by Molly’s husband, Konrad Varnhagen, but also Flidais. Konrad had found them, first, likely due to the fact that he was hoping to snag the space and do the exact same thing. Clearly, large groups of people weren’t his ideal, either, though he was a stoic enough man that it wasn’t visible that he minded. It was odd, considering he was in a position of power that would require such meetings, but it also made sense – he had pissed off most of the people in the room, Vince included, when he’d tried to raise Cain and eat him, kidnapping Flidais in the process and siring her away from her original ghouled clan of Malkavian.

Honestly, the fact that Flidais was willing to engage in conversation with him at all said how much he’d grown on people. He wasn’t an unkind man, just an odd duck with no filter, no capacity to joke, and no reason to try to make either work anyway. Though, the fact that they’d spent several years sharing the same body meant they’d grown much closer than probably anyone anticipated they would.

“At least they’re only changing their face. I remember when I’d tried to bend my leg back; you gave me quite a talking to.” Flidais said, standing next to Konrad, watching the crowd with the rest of them. Both were luckily dressed more down than Vyx had expected, though Flidais still wore a vest over a white shirt, with grey capri slacks and tall boots; Konrad had a suit jacket, of course, but it was over a turtleneck, giving him more of a well-dressed hipster vibe instead of something formal. Flidais hadn’t been so well dressed, before, so clearly, being around the man had rubbed off some.

“Oh no, I’ve done that too. Did he tut tut at you when he found out?” Vyx asked, sitting backwards in a chair next to Flidais, a glass of blood wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. They hadn’t asked if they could smoke inside, but the windows had been opened, so clearly, someone had expected people to smoke anyway. Flidais chuckled – she was such a cold person, after her siring, that what would even count as pure delight only registered as mild amusement – cutting her eyes to Konrad as though to say yes, he did. Konrad, for his credit, scoffed at the commentary.

“I did not tut, but you did leave half a city block of gravel in your legs. I will not have my name associated with sub-par vicissitude.” He grumbled, but Vyx only gave him a big smile, like that wasn’t really a big deal at all. From the outside, it was a weird interaction – Konrad wasn’t a particularly friendly looking man, all hard lines and strong jaw and a sense of sharpness that made him look like every part of his body was a knife edge; the fact was, being a Tzimisce, it was not unlikely that any one part of him could become a knife, if needed. Donnie watched him talk, the way he was relaxed but not necessarily smiling, the way he leaned like he was trying to be a statue and succeeding, or the way he held his glass of wine in his fingers like the glass was just part of his hand, and privately decided that he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. Sure, he’d been told the stories, but the longer he hung around the man, the less true they seemed. Before, he’d been the worst person any of them knew, and Vyx had admittedly freely to that – but this was not a man who Donnie thought capable of inspiring dislike, let alone rage.

“Honestly, Konrad,” Donnie started, looking the man up and down, Vyx turning to face him like they were surprised he was socializing. He hadn’t said much after Flidais had arrived, as the conversation between the three of them had been mostly about body modifications, how Vyx was getting on with the changes Konrad had made, how the three of them were all capable of minor adjustments on their own and how Flidais had found his taste in perfection to be too uncanny for her; it was a whole lot of nothing that Donnie hadn’t been remotely interested in participating in. But hearing the man talk, the way Vyx was so affectionate, had a thought forming, and he couldn’t leave it behind. “Ray told me, once, that people didn’t like you, and the more you talk, the less I can see why.”

“Oh, don’t rule out what you understand based on your current observations, Donnie.” Konrad said, with no smile and no hint of joking, even though something in Donnie said he was attempting to be lighthearted and maybe a bit funny. He wasn’t particularly good at it, but Donnie was starting to realize when he was trying. “I have given everyone in this room plenty of reason to dislike me, some more than others. It is bewildering to me, still, that you people have decided to remain in my company.” He shrugged, taking a sip from his wine, looking at Vyx and Flidais with an expression that said they were specifically the you people he was talking the most about. “Considering what I did to Vincent, and you, Flidais, I would not have been surprised if you’d tried to kill me every chance you had. I don’t believe you capable of succeeding, but I have yet to see any kind of effort and I do not understand why.” He paused again, taking another long sip and uttering his last line into his glass, “I would have at least made more of an effort, if someone did to me what I had done to you.”

“Konrad,” Flidais shook her head, giving him a weary look, “I ripped your throat out with my teeth, ate you, and then got stuck living with you in our shared body for nearly two years. If you can’t understand how we’re past being angry at each other for that, I don’t know if I can help you.” She shrugged, but she did flash the smallest of smiles, mostly at Donnie, who balked at the words. He’d been a Kindred for a while, sure, but the casual air by which she was discussing diablerie was not something he was used to. Especially considering she was talking to the victim. Donnie wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of anyone making it out the other side of having their soul consumed.

“And I don’t know if you could have actually hurt Vince enough to make him hate you.” Vyx added, with a shrug. “He was really bad at hating people. But I think it’s ‘cause he saw all of these idiots and went that’s a family and decided that, even if people fucked up, tough love was the way to fix them. I’m not gonna linger on the irony that he got shot for exactly that, but.” They shrugged again, draining their own glass of blood wine and looking to the table to get more. “But unfortunately for him, Q.B., he’s kind of right. You don’t get to be the bad guy in the story and not leave behind a legacy of bullshit. But hey, if you hadn’t fucked around and tried to raise and eat Cain, we probably wouldn’t have noticed Pip was trying the same ritual. Your fuckup actually helped a lot.”

“I did succeed at the ritual; I did not fuck up.” Konrad added, like he needed to correct the record. “Marcello failed to complete the ritual at all, thanks to the intervention of Malkav, if my understanding of the situation is correct. I do not wish for his failures to be compared to my successes, even if Cain didn’t appear before us, regardless.” Konrad’s sneer was deep, almost hurt, and Donnie could tell even he hated the Nosferatu from everyone’s nightmares – apparently Pip was a nickname - as much as everyone else. “He was neither intelligent enough to see through his own hubris, or politically savvy enough to not have to dominate his allies to his assistance. His only success was in uniting everyone against his cause.”

“If you succeeded, why didn’t Cain appear?” Donnie asked, confused. That actually received a smile from Konrad – and oh, no, that was probably the reason people found him strange, as his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and made him look almost manic rather than anything like kind – and a softer, sweeter smile from Flidais; it was like Donnie had asked about some private joke that everyone else knew about but didn’t want to spoil.

“Well, as far as I understand it, the ritual Konrad was doing was meant to take someone who was dead and bring them back, right?” Vyx started, and there was mirth there, something really funny about this whole situation that he hadn’t quite caught yet. “But the thing is, if someone isn’t dead, it doesn’t do jack shit even if everything works right. You can’t just raise non-dead people from the dead, after all.” They paused, letting the concept wash over Donnie a little at a time, and the other frowned.

“Wait, Cain’s not dead?” He asked, like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, but the smiles he got in return – and maybe it was better if Konrad didn’t smile, honestly – told him he was, in fact, right. “No way. Cain’s not dead?” He asked, again, like he needed to hear it. Vyx snickered.

“Driving taxis in L.A. If you can find… Martha? I think Martha succeeded, right? Martha and… someone said that one Gangrel from West Virginia, Molly’s old friend, the short one, she also apparently met him but Vince was kinda dead by that point so that’s anecdotal, not to mention she’s a hard bitch to pin down so fuck if it matters, right?” They shrugged. “But if you can find either of them, I’d ask. I know Martha caught his cab, once, for sure. She can tell you all about it.” Vyx chuckled, and Donnie made a quick note that he should both find Martha but also to take the whole concept with a grain of salt. He was being told to ask either a Malkavian or a phantom no one really ever saw for their account of meeting Cain.

“I still count the ritual as a success. No one would have been able to guess that Cain had remained alive all this time.” Konrad shrugged, finishing his glass of wine with a tilt of the head. “And I did retain several childer from the situation, plus you all did eliminate several of my… ah, coworkers, I imagine is the most correct term, and while it was frustrating at the time, I think we are better off without them. Especially Leslie. I did not particularly care for her take on the blood, but her use of fire was needed.”

“Hey, we kept the pretty ones. Like Luis – speaking of, do you know where he might have gone? And did you ever give him that jaw back?” Vyx asked, and Donnie realized the tangent was starting off on a path he didn’t recognize – Vyx had only tangentially mentioned a Lasombra called Luis, whom they had hit with a car several times – and pushed himself up from the lean he’d settled into.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. Need anything?” Donnie asked, and Vyx offered up their glass as a way of asking for a refill. “Got it. I’ll be back.” He paused, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Vyx’s head, before heading away from the conversations he didn’t really need to be a part of.

“That was disgustingly sweet. Please don’t do that again.” He heard Konrad say, and it brought a chuckle to Donnie’s lips as he made his way away from the group he’d found and into the party at large.

It was a strange experience, honestly, being part of a party for an event that hadn’t happened in his undead lifetime. Donnie had heard stories, of course, but there simply wasn’t anything like living through a situation, and of the people in the room, he was one of the only ones who hadn’t been there firsthand, and it meant that no one really recognized him much. He was used to that, of course – he wasn’t exactly famous in New York, after all – but it was still such a strange experience to watch everyone else in the room hug and talk and reminisce. He was on the outside of a glass box looking in, watching the animals in the zoo, who had all met years previously for a breakout he hadn’t been a part of. The weirdest part, however, was that he didn’t feel isolated from the rest, even if he didn’t exactly know anyone and no one seemed to want to get to know him. He was just someone’s plus one at a party, and that was all.

He approached the drink table, quickly noting that the wine situation was getting low and taking a moment to rectify that situation before someone got into a fight over the last drops in a bottle. He was deft with a corkscrew, and quickly popped several new bottles open, knowing they needed to breathe, before filling his glass and his partner’s with the last of one of the old bottles. It wasn’t much, but he felt good being useful, and he turned, glasses in hand, with a smile on his face that said that, if nothing else, he’d made some kind of impact.

His eyes caught sight of a young woman across the room, and the definition of impact suddenly changed.

The woman was tall, though likely due to the fact that she’d been convinced to wear heels for the party, with dyed blue hair and rosy cheeks and a bright smile. Her dress was black, the skirt half-way down her calves, the top buttoned across like a military coat, and she held herself against the back wall in a way that said that she, too, didn’t quite feel like she was in the right place. Donnie watched her, watched the way her fingers wrapped around a glass of wine – she was Kindred, that was good to know, or at least she was good at pretending like she was – watched the way she laughed at nearby conversation and he felt his stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Vyx had wandered into his life, and their time together was enjoyable, but they hadn’t produced butterflies like this woman did. The concept of talking to them didn’t make Donnie wildly nervous.

“Did one of the corks get stuck---?” Vyx’s voice brought Donnie from whatever trance he’d found himself in, staring at this woman across the room like he was trying to memorize the look of her lips in red lipstick or the way the eyeliner made her eyes look round and dark, and they followed his gaze until they caught sight of who he was staring at. “Oh hey, that’s April! Haven’t seen her in ages. Glad she lived.”

“She was part of this?” Donnie asked, glancing at Vyx for only a second, enough to register their presence and their words before he was drawn back to staring at her. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, honestly, but something about looking her way felt comforting. She was cute, and she looked kind, and Vyx hadn’t immediately said anything of concern besides the fact that she was apparently involved in the mess from 2018.

“Q.B, everyone here was a part of this in some capacity. You’re at the therapy ‘cause you were part of that shit party.” They chuckled, watching him not look at them the second time, watching the way he gripped the glasses in his hands like he was trying not to shatter them but if he stopped thinking about it for more than a few seconds he would, and the realization came over them in a wave, lighting them up from the inside and making them grin. “Oohhhhh, you like her!”

“What?” Donnie finally had his attention pulled away – and something in him protested, like he was scared he would look back and she would be gone, a mirage in a sea of weird that would have saved him from the rest – and finally handed Vyx the glass he said he’d get them. “I just saw her.”

“And you were immediately infatuated, my good dude.” Vyx took the glass, taking a long drink, having been deprived for longer than necessary. “I literally came over here ‘cause you hadn’t come back and I was starting to worry someone had started shit with you.” They grinned over the edge of the glass, like they knew a secret Donnie didn’t want them to know, and if he hadn’t needed to blush voluntarily, he would have been red to the ears. “You have a crush.”

“Shut up.” Donnie replied. He didn’t want to tell them no, he didn’t, because yes, he did, and it felt like some school-yard nonsense to be talking about crushes, especially considering they were all undead, immortal beings from the beginnings of time – some of them, literally. “She’s… pretty.”

“Oh yeah she is.” Vyx agreed, and it was a little jarring, hearing the person Donnie was actively dating agree that someone he thought was pretty was, in fact, pretty. She was more than pretty, of course, but Donnie didn’t have anywhere near the kind of literary degrees to have the words to describe her any further – she was beyond description, almost a beacon of light in their darkened world, a brightness against the black evening sky. But Donnie rolled with it, because he knew being polyamourous was already on the table and it did extend both ways, and if Vyx was agreeing then they wouldn’t mind anything further. Of course, that would take the courage to go talk to her, but he’d get there. Maybe by next party. “Go talk to her.”

“What?” Donnie was surprised at the words and almost jumped at the suddenness of them, because he’d just mentally determined that she was too pretty and he was too nervous and he’d need to make at least another pass at trying to talk to someone less jarringly pretty before he’d consider going over to her, and yet, he’d already been thwarted. Vyx’s tone said they weren’t going to let a no stand between them and getting Donnie a new partner, though he knew they wouldn’t actually ruin anything, at least on purpose. “Vyx, I don’t know her. I can’t just---“

“The fact that you don’t is exactly the reason you should introduce yourself to her. Everyone else here remembers her as the skittish hacker chick that ran us through the wringer back in Richmond. You know her as the girl with hair that probably smells really good.” Vyx leaned in, the idea of the smell of her hair lingering in Donnie’s mind, and he wasn’t sure if he should grumpy that they were planting those kinds of thoughts in his head or if he should lean into it and let his imagination wander. It didn’t help that Vyx kind of had a point. “Talk to her. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I don’t know, she could punch me in the face.” Donnie shrugged, taking a long swig from his own wine to try and distract him from the fact that, unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly put off from the worst case scenario. He’d been punched fairly hard by people he liked, and while it would absolutely signal that she wasn’t into him, he wasn’t wholeheartedly against the idea of being punched. It was a consequence of his vampiric upbringing – he just spent a lot of time around guys who broke each other’s noses as a way to say I love you.

“That sounds like a grand time, Donnie. Why avoid it?” The voice that joined them had Donnie nearly jumping out of his skin, because Sven had not been part of the conversation the first time and for some reason, Donnie hadn’t believed that a man that tall or that wide could be as quiet as he was. He was, unfortunately for the Brujah, an incredibly quiet man when he wanted to be, and had snuck up on them a little while they were talking. Vyx turned, face split with delight on seeing him, before they scanned the area to either side of him and realized he was missing an uppity Tremere. Damon Wellington was not with him.

“Eyyy, Sven. How’s things? Where’s the ding-dong?” Vyx asked, making a bit of a show of peering around behind him, pausing only once to give Donnie a look – one Sven couldn’t see, as they were behind him – that said this was only delaying the inevitable conversation. Donnie pursed his lips, pointedly ignoring the look, because she was pretty and he didn’t want to ruin a good thing by bringing his stupid mouth into it, but he knew he could only get away with that for so long. “You’re down a wizard, I think.”

“Damon… elected to stay at home.” Sven said, pulling a flask from his belt and taking a long draw. Donnie could smell it from the moment it opened, and it smelled like paint thinner and copper. “After our previous meeting, we both believed it was better that I attend this function… alone.” Sven nodded, like that was all he wanted to say about that, turning to Donnie, who didn’t like having the eyes all focus on him again. “But enough about my troubles! Who is it that is to punch you in the face?”

“He saw April and went heart eyes and almost swooned. It’s adorable. Sven, tell him he needs to talk to her.” Vyx explained, much to Donnie’s chagrin; he didn’t need to get teamed up on by both of them, but alas, that was the crux of making friends. Sven laughed, a deep belly laugh of a thing, which actually drew April’s attention for just a moment; in that moment, Donnie looked over, and they briefly caught eyes, and—was that a blush, or her makeup? He wasn’t sure, but he knew she saw him, and she smiled – a polite thing, maybe, or something more, he couldn’t tell – and she tucked her hair behind her ear, briefly, before averting her eyes again. If Donnie’s heart worked, it would have launched itself from his chest, because he couldn’t tell if that was something reciprocated or if he was just dreaming. A large hand landed on his shoulder and brought him back down to Earth before he floated away into space.

“Donnie, I have never been failed by daring to speak to someone I found attractive.” Sven advised, leaning down so his head was more level with Donnie’s. He was a tall man. “And fear not! She was a Brujah, when she was a ghoul. Punching someone in the face is an act of love for many clans! Hells, I once punched Damon in the face when he requested it, and the next thing I recall, we were dating! Though I am not a Brujah.” He chuckled, giving Donnie a clap on the back as though to encourage him to go over there. “I would be careful, however. Kana was not one to let Ghouls run amok, so she was asked to be sired before the decade changed and now she is a Lasombra. I do not believe she lost the desire to punch, however.” He pulled himself back up, shaking his head. “Speaking of, Vyxen – Al actually asked about you.”

“He what?” Vyx found that they also had a moment where the record scratched in their brain, frozen briefly with their glass halfway to their mouth. They knew Al was likely there – he wasn’t exactly on the right side, but they knew Molly wouldn’t let him skip. This was her penance for their role in things, and that meant it had to be his. But asking about them, considering he’d rejected them outside, had something in them fluttering. They recalled Al, from back in the day. He wasn’t the most palpable, but Vince had seen sides of Al that no one had and those sides were worth more than their weight in his love. Donnie saw the opportunity and quickly turned the tables.

“He’s the guy that rejected you, right?” He asked, giving Vyx a sly smile that said they were in for the same treatment and he hoped they’d buckled up. “I think he’s figured out the error of his ways. You think you want to forgive him?” Donnie asked, raising an eyebrow, and Vyx’s sour face almost threatened to smack him – which he laughed at. Sven was right; punching was a way to say I love you in Brujah.

“Why did he talk to you?” Vyx asked, turning back to something more concrete to ask about, avoiding Donnie’s question with ease. Sven rolled his eyes, like he knew what Vyx was doing but he couldn’t avoid answering, because it was a valid question.

“He noticed that Damon had not arrived with me and was concerned. I informed him that Damon was alive, but unfortunately, my patience with his actions was not infinite, and it has come to light that he has meddled in a way that I cannot forgive easily. He was, of course, disappointed – I believe he finds something normal about antagonizing my husband, considering – but he’d also heard you and I had spoken and was curious.” Sven shrugged, trying to avoid the awkward conversation about Damon; Vyx already knew why, of course. They were part of the cause. “He wanted to know if you were anything like Vincent. I told him that I could not judge that for him, and that he’d have to talk to you and learn that for himself. He did not seem… disinterested.”

“Oh.” Vyx paused, their own vision caught in the middle distance, weighing the situation. On one hand, Al was asking about them, and about them and not about Vince, and that was something. On the other, he’d done a number on their psyche, and while they’d come out better for it, rejecting them outright was still kind of painful. They bounced from leg to leg, like they couldn’t make a decision. “Oh.” They said, again, instead. Donnie stepped in to meet them, putting a hand on their arm and bringing them from the spiraling headspace they’d gotten into. He could recognize when they were beginning to drift off elsewhere.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” Donnie said, catching Vyx’s eyes, and they nodded, unsure what he was getting to but willing to roll with it. “You go talk to Al. I’ll go talk to April. We reconvene back here in, what, a half hour? Hour?”

“More than two and I’ll assume you got a room somewhere.” Vyx nodded, as a way of agreeing to the deal. Sure, talking with Al was going to be something interesting, but they’d determined that they needed to take a page from Vince’s book – the man wasn’t going to get forgiven by anyone else until they themselves made the move to do it, and while Al was an asshole, he wasn’t that bad. Besides, they kind of liked when he was shitty, just only when it was to other people. “Sven? Hold us to it?”

“Having witnessed this agreement, I will make sure it is observed.” He chuckled, putting his glass down and putting a hand on both Vyx’s and Donnie’s shoulders. Vyx stuck out a hand, and Donnie took it, shaking on the agreement. It felt weird, but also right, and Donnie knew it would be good for Vyx in the long run; how it would turn out for him, well, he could manage regardless. “Now go forth, and have fun.” Sven wished them well, all but pushing them off into the crowd, Vyx heading towards the other half of the room where they were sure Al would be, Donnie heading off to the edge where April stood, leaving Sven alone. He sighed, picking up his wine glass and leaning against the nearby wall. He could see Donnie, at least.

It was hard, witnessing young love when his own love life was in the shitter, but at least he could be happy for them. As long as it went well, anyway.

~*~

They found him on a balcony.

They weren’t even aware there was an upstairs, honestly, but that’s what they got for not exploring the space more. There was, however, a small upper floor, the space a double the height of a normal floor, with a balcony overlooking the main room with further chairs and tables taking up that space, and while it was mostly empty, they found Al leaning against the railing, watching the crowd. He didn’t see them immediately, and it gave them a moment to give him a good look over; they’d expected he’d look bad, honestly, but he didn’t look that bad. He didn’t look all that different, just a little more ragged. He was still short, as short as they were, now, and still blond, though his hair was shaggier, more unkempt, but in a way that tried to look like he meant it to look like that. The fresh-out-of-bed look, except it was likely he was fresh out of bed and just pretending like he’d spent three hours styling it that way. He was gaunter around the face, paler and ashier, more dead – Sven had said something about Kana not keeping ghouls around and used that to get to Al, so it was likely he’d been sired, too, though by who Vyx wasn’t sure – and he had a beard, an unkempt layer of scruff that could have been handsome had he not looked more like a mountaineer. He was at least kind of well dressed, a half-open floral shirt and matching pants and a bag across his chest that he left open, clearly containing his vape supplies. Honestly, for how they’d seen him before, he looked alright, if tired and maybe a little harried. But there was nothing about him that screamed leave in a way they’d hoped; they weren’t sure what that might have been, but they’d hoped there might have been something they could use to justify turning around and walking away before they were hurt again. Hell, even the blood was giving them a respite, refusing to see him as anything other than the man Vince had married. Sometimes, they found, the blood was kind and let them see the world as it was – maybe it was that, sometimes, their perceptions were too strong. Or, they realized, watching him take a hit off the vape and expel the cloud over the railing like he was making an attempt to be annoying but didn’t have the energy to do much more than vape, maybe the blood just knew they were seeing Al at his most truthful, anyway, and didn’t think any other layer would matter.

Vyx fixed their dress with their hands. It was now or never.

“Hey,” They tried to purr, to flirt, to sound enticing, and they knew they were bad at it but they honestly didn’t care. They were almost nervous, because, well, this was Al. The risk of things going very poorly was higher than most, and they didn’t want to try twice and wind up fucked over twice. Al was very good at wounding them directly at their core, where it hurt the most, which – wasn’t that love? Just done poorly? They weren’t sure. But they had to try – it was Al. They’d seen Al at his absolute worst, through Vince’s eyes, and they didn’t hate him then, so nothing would really turn that off; the only thing that could stop them would have been his second rejection. And even that would be only for so long. “Can I take a picture of you real quick? I wanna make sure Santa knows what to put under the tree this year.” Vyx tried the line, terrible though it was, and Al look up as they slid over to him with… a smile on his face. It was a sad, little thing, the hint of a smirk from a man too far gone in his sadness to really feel joy but who couldn’t resist the horror of the pickup line they’d tried. The smile was more than they’d gotten before, and that was something.

“Where the hell did you get that line?” Al asked, and it was a little judgmental, sure – they’d brought it on themselves, the line was awful – but it also had a little bit of a laugh in it, and that sparked something in Vyx that said keep going. That his chuckle was a crack in the levee and that the flood waters were rising and maybe, with the right application of force and tension and leverage, they’d burst that sucker right open. It was something, at least. Better than a swing and a miss.

“Well, there was this cute guy, that I kinda dated; I mean, technically, my twin brother married him but I got to watch the whole exchange from the sidelines so it was kinda like we dated? And he always had the worst pickup lines, but I’ve always been a sucker for a really bad one, y’know? Sometimes y’just gotta say something stupid.” Vyx laughed, and they leaned on the railing next to Al, only a couple hands away, enough distance that they wouldn’t touch but not so much they couldn’t have a private conversation. It wasn’t like anyone was up there with them, but they figured it better to not shout. “He was good about that, back when they dated. Saying stupid stuff to make the hard shit seem less hard. Like, damn, they went through the end of the world and I don’t know if I would have noticed ‘cause he was so good at trying to keep things light. Even when he fucked up.”

“Sounds like he fucked up a lot.” Al tried, taking a long hit off his vape, the self-deprecation oozing out of him like a dark sludge. Vyx half-scoffed, half snorted, like the idea that he fucked up a lot was absurd, not because he didn’t but because it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be.

“I dunno, I think everyone fucked up a lot, back then. Like Dan? You remember Dan Nelson, right? If I recall correctly, Varnhagen gave him these six bullets as a present, and Dan proceeded to give every cool ally we had one as a like, oh look dragon’s blood bullets, very fancy, very powerful. What we all found out later was that they were tracking bullets so he just happened to put a vampiric Air Tag on everyone we ever loved.” Vyx relayed the story, pausing only to let the chuckle escape from Al’s lips at the tale. He’d known the results, he’d been there, but he hadn’t recalled the moment until they spoke, considering it had been nearly a decade. “Dan almost got everyone we were friends with killed, and that was one of the light ones. Don’t get me started on some of the fuckups that didn’t make it, like Damien Shadow. Weirdo and a creep that got ghouled by Glamis only to antagonize Varnhagen in an Elysium and got his head and spine ripped out for the trouble.” They paused, fishing for a cigarette, which they had stored in the top of their dress; they didn’t have much to make a pocket from, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t still store a pack of Donnie’s cigarettes and a lighter there all the same. “We all fucked up, a lot. I think things would have been much simpler if any of us were capable of basic competence. But if we were, I also don’t think we would have gotten anything done, ‘cause they were pretty good at anticipating people who were competent ahead of time.”

“At least they didn’t chase away everyone they loved.” Al added, and it was clear he was trying to be distant, to be closed off, to keep them at arm’s length by using his mistakes as a block between them, but he was having trouble with it. Maybe it was the way Vyx leaned against the railing like Vince would, cigarette, now lit, dangling from their lips like letting go of it was the biggest mistake they could make. Maybe it was that they had talked him up, and the flattery was getting somewhere. It was hard to tell, but the façade was cracking.

“Well, the guy I know only thinks he did that.” Vyx shrugged, not playing into his self-inflicted misery. “See, the guy my twin married? He’s always had a hard time being humble and admitting people do fuck up sometimes. Like, yeah, he’s really good at what he does – and fuck, he’s good at a lot. Man’s a wizard with C4 and good on a computer and quick with a joke and quicker with an SMG, right?” They paused, leaning over to press an elbow, lightly, into Al’s side, a physical ribbing that he didn’t shy away from. They used the movement to slip a little closer. “But he also pushes people away when he thinks he doesn’t deserve them. He’s self-deprecating, and I think he thinks he deserves to be friendless and alone because he fucked up. I think he thinks that, because people have sort of stepped away from him, that they’re leaving him because he’s a mess, but they’re only leaving because he won’t let them get close.”

“What do you want, Vyx?” Al asked, and like that, the game was over and the real conversation was starting. His tone was tired, exhausted even, like he wanted them to get whatever the fuck they had to say out so he could go back to brooding on the balcony in peace. Vyx sighed, exhaling the smoke out from their lungs in a long stream, collecting their thoughts. Greensboro was, surprisingly, quiet on a Network level, at least as long as they ignored the sounds of the Palladium. It helped that most of their Malkavians were dead, or didn’t fuck much with the Network.

“I want to talk, Al.” They said, softly, turning to him with a smile that was all Vince wrapped up in lips that were maybe a bit too pink and eyes that weren’t quite right and dark pink hair that was too bright. “Like… look, I get it.” They finally hit on the thing they’d been trying to strike at all night, and Al could tell, the way their shoulders hunched and the way they picked up the pace when they started off, like they couldn’t stop speaking if they wanted to. For everything they were, and weren’t, there were parts of them that were so Vince it was almost painful to watch. “I’m not Vince.” They said, and for a moment it was a hard statement to believe, but reality always had a habit of focusing and Vyx really wasn’t Vince under the microscope. They didn’t let the weird look Al had stop them, however. “I’ve been told that over, and over, and over again, ever since I came back up to the real world. I am the walking embodiment of disappointment.” They inhaled, deeply, only cutting their eyes a little to see Al’s expression – and it was one of sadness, like he’d never wished that on them and he didn’t mean for them to feel that way, but it was yet one more way he’d fucked up. He was trying to take blame for actions he wasn’t even around to cause. That wasn’t where they were going, but they were glad, at least, he was aware that his initial meeting with them was kind of rough, even if he’d kind of swung it too far in the wrong direction. “But I’m also not trying to replace Vince. He’s in here, rattling around somewhere. And as long as he’s not trapped trying to solve some kind of SAW-escque, post death puzzle that he can’t get out of, he’ll wake back up, and I figure when he does you and he have a long conversation ahead of you. But until then, I’m here and I don’t want him getting in between us if that’s a thing we think is good.” They said, and they finally looked at Al, who was staring at the middle distance like a thing he’d been tossing around in his head for ages had finally settled into something more concrete.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking.” He said, not looking at anyone or anything in particular, “I think… I don’t know if I actually want Vince back.” He paused, looking at Vyx for a second like he was calculating something, before reaching out a hand. They offered him the cigarette he clearly was asking for – and something sparked, just a little, as their fingers touched, the fact that they knew him so well as to know when he was asking for a smoke without him uttering a word something that stood out to them both – and he lit it with their lighter, letting it take the edge off. He’d replaced his coil, of course, but there wasn’t anything like the real deal. “I love the man, I do. I don’t regret getting married, and I’d even say I miss his stupid smile and the way he couldn’t hold a grudge to save his life. But… we weren’t… he was just so…” Al paused, snarled, a Gangrel holdover, unable to put the words to his thoughts. Vyx nodded, anyway.

“You and he brought out the worst in each other. I get it, I watched, I was there.” Vyx shrugged, the truth obvious – they were, in fact, there – as they took another long draw. It wasn’t an incorrect statement; Vince had been, as far as they’d seen, callous and uncaring and made quite a lot of decisions that would have been labeled terrible ideas had he thought about them for more than fifteen seconds. But Al hadn’t encouraged Vince to be better and had honestly only encouraged everyone to be just a little worse, mostly by acting like an asshole or lying to the group as a whole, and making Vince defend him without remorse. “He fucked you over a lot because he was an idiot who thought about very little before he did it. He got better, of course, but it did take the world ending before he realized he needed to think through his actions. Meanwhile, you lied to his face for months and never questioned your loyalties ‘cause you felt like Pip claimed you first.” Vyx paused, letting the words settle, and from the tension in Al’s shoulders, they could tell they were right and he wasn’t comfortable with it. They’d called him out as much as they’d called Vince out. “So, are you saying you don’t want Vince back? Like, ever?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Al said, the truest thing he could say, leaning on the railing and letting his head dip, briefly, as he did so. It was hard, being in love with a dead guy, especially when the dead guy’s cute twin was standing right there. Was that even weird? He had no idea and honestly, he had to fight down the urge to avoid it entirely. He’d pushed them away enough, and they kept coming back, and he had realized they were really the only one who did and he couldn’t, in good conscience, push everyone away. He had been without someone to talk to in so long, he couldn’t bring himself to reject them. “I think, if he comes back, we’ll need to… to talk a bit. I don’t know where to go from there, but it won’t be where we were before.” He nodded, a little resolute.

“So then… why push me away?” Vyx asked, softly, a real hurt to their voice, and Al, for all he was worth, only could shrug. He knew it was a disappointing reaction, but it was all he had.

“I dunno, I just… Vince had a way with people. For some reason, that idiot could walk into a room and everyone would eventually think he was a good enough friend, even if he didn’t do anything other than bother them all night. He was charismatic, even if he wasn’t great with words, and he just had a way of making people feel safe being soft. I guess I’d… I’d put a lot of faith in the idea that, if I just had him, people wouldn’t hate me as much. And even if they did, I’d still be with the one guy who didn’t hate me at all. But you weren’t… you weren’t going to save me from the me everyone knew, and it felt like that was… it. I wasn’t anything without Vince to cover my ass, and I wasn’t going to dig myself out of the hole I’d dug myself into without him.” Al shrugged. Vyx sighed, tucking the still lit cigarette behind their ear and turning so they were facing Al entirely, leaning with one arm on the railing.

“People don’t hate you.” Vyx said, firmly, giving Al a withered glare that said he could say that again if he wanted but it wouldn’t make it true. “You think people hate you, because that’s comfortable. Being hated isn’t a great place to be, no, but at least you’re sure how people feel about you. You don’t have to change anything because you know that, if they already hate you, you’re not going to be able to change that. But it isn’t true, and you know it.” They paused, letting that settle on his shoulders, and they got a glare in return, which was expected. No one was forcibly broken from a depressive state without some protest. “The fact is, you didn’t even do anything. You were the pawn in a game played by a dead guy, just like Molly. And yeah, sure, some people had to lash out at someone and that someone wasn’t always her and it couldn’t be Pip, but I think this party is the sign that people are getting over it. Molly’s throwing a shindig with every conceivable person would could blame her, or you, and no one’s dead yet. Like, has anyone come over to yell at you tonight?”

“No, but Damon’s not here, so maybe that’s why.” Al shrugged, but Vyx reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, which brought his gaze back around to them. He was cold, under their hands, but they were cold, too. One of the many issues of being undead.

“Damon aside, no one’s come over here to yell at you because people don’t hate you. Trust me, we both know how people around here behave when they hate you and I know you’re not seeing it from them because you’re not dead. Hell, Kana? I know she’s here, I saw Nakamura recently and they’re attached at the hip and the ring now, right? If anyone was going to come over here and give you an earful, it’s her. You remember, she didn’t even have a good reason to dislike you, she just did. But even she decided to stay her hand, and she’s the Prince. Talk about motive and means.” They pulled their hand back, the length of contact only just long enough to make a point and not so long as to make Al uncomfortable, and he actually seemed disappointed that their hand had left. “I think the issue is, you didn’t have any control over the situation. Trust me, I was there for all of it, I know. You were a pawn just like everyone else, and if Molly had no control, you sure as shit didn’t. And I don’t think any of us know how to work around an apology for something no one here did, and especially since the guy we could actually blame is a pile of ash in the gutter somewhere. Which, nice shot by the way.”

“Yeah, that was satisfying.” Al actually laughed, something really joyous, the first time all night where the smile he had wasn’t a little sad. Vyx understood – it’s not every day you get to look at your abuser in the face and then hit him with an RPG.

“So yeah, it kinda sucks. It’s been a shitty couple of years. But people are starting to realize the bad guy’s dead and blame is for losers and it’s not like they can fault you, y’know? Like, you could have totally put on an evil cape and done the whole evil cackle and gone full bad-guy mode, but you haven’t. The only person who still thinks you’re hanging out in Pip’s shadow is you, Al. Everyone else has noticed that the sun is out and there’s nothing blocking the view. Metaphorically, of course.” They added, like they had to, even though they both knew that the sun being out would probably have killed them.

“I wish I could believe that.” Al sighed, the heart of things laid bare, clearly wearing on him. “But I’ve spent this whole party up here, alone. I even tried talking to Sven, but he didn’t stay. If people are as willing to forgive me as you say, they should be coming over here, or at least letting me talk to them without leaving.” He said, softly, and Vyx let out a loud, ridiculous sigh, half flopping over the railing. This seemed to catch Al off guard, and he perked up, like he wasn’t sure what exactly they were doing but he was confused by it.

“My god, Al, stop trying to give Vince the brain-cell, he’s dead and I’ve got one on loan.” They groaned, and Al couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face, even if the words were technically dunking on him. They were starting to grow on him, a little at a time – sure, they weren’t Vince. They were more animated, more spirited, more vocal, with less hesitance and less seriousness about them. But that was also what Al wished he’d gotten more of, from Vince – someone who would meet Al in the middle with his persona, his ridiculousness, his façade. Vince was too much of a straight-man to Al’s terminally online persona and only served to highlight how shitty Al was to people. This felt like someone who would highlight his kindnesses alongside everything else, by being almost a little shittier. “Look, you made yourself out to be a complete piece of shit, right? That was a whole thing.”

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re surprised that maybe you were too good at the persona?” Vyx asked, and that seemed to unlock something in Al’s brain that hadn’t been unlocked before. “If people think the real you is an asshole, even if they don’t blame you for what you did, they’re not going to try and be buddy-buddy with you, either. You didn’t exactly make yourself a peach, y’know? Like, I love it, right, but also Vince got to see you at night when you took the costume off, and that means I got to see the man without the mask, too. But you didn’t really take that mask off, ever. So yeah, people are gonna think you’re an asshole and not wanna come say hi.” They shrugged, and Al paused, turning around to lean against the railing backwards, his elbows on the metal bar and the cigarette between his teeth.

“If that’s the way people see me, I don’t know if I can change that, Vyx. Where would I even start?” He looked to them, and they furrowed their brow, like that was a legitimate question – until the answer hit them and they brightened. Al couldn’t help but smile – the way they brightened, both in their expression but also physically, their whole body lifting onto their toes as the realization came over them, was simply too neat to witness.

“Well, how about me?” They asked, excited, extending a hand with an emphasis that said they didn’t know how to only kind of lean in to a situation. “Hi. My name is Vyxen Mia Riveria, I use she/they pronouns. I think I’m in my twenties, but honestly, fuck if I know, right, ‘cause Konrad made this meat suit for me and I definitely didn’t have a life before my unlife so I’m ballparking.” They waited, patiently, and eventually, he stuck his hand out, and they shook, like they were meeting for the first time. “Now you.”

“This is stupid.” He said, but they didn’t let go of his hand, effectively holding him hostage until he did as they asked. He sighed – but he sighed in a way that was enjoying the moment and he was simply trying to pretend he didn’t. “Hi, Vyxen.”

“Vyx. I like it like I like my boyfriends, short and sweet and to the point.” Vyx chuckled, and that had Al actually laughing, because it was just so stupid but he hadn’t had fun like that in years. “Admittedly, I’ve got one under the belt right now and he’s not that short, but his sweetness makes up for it. Now I’m in the market for someone who’s a bit shorter but maybe a bit spicy.” They rolled the word through their lips, and Al felt something just… click into place. It was a feeling of comfort, of sliding into something that felt like home, of opening the door after a long day and knowing there was food in the fridge and a robe to change into. It was like taking one’s boots off after a long trip, and he couldn’t define exactly what it was, but he felt it when they leaned in and he knew there was something here that wasn’t just bound by nostalgia and memory.

“Hi, Vyx.” Al corrected. He liked the way their name sounded in his mouth, and it was a weird sensation. “I’m Alphonse Renato, he/him, and I’m in my eighties, but I know, I know, I don’t look a day over twenty.” He chuckled, and they shook their hands together, again, like it was specific and important that they shake after introductions, before they let his hand go. “So, Vyx, what do you do for fun?” He asked, and it felt like they were still playing the bit, but also he was asking seriously, and they paused, taking a drink off a passing tray. Some of the drinks were more than blood wine, with ice and little umbrellas and all sorts of colors. They tucked the umbrella into their hair, and Al snickered.

“Well, I’ve been traveling a lot, lately, but I think it’s time I settled down in the city again. I like riding, mostly my motorbike, but that’s not the only thing I ride.” They gave Al a wink, the kind he would have given them, and he grinned in a way that said he understood. “I like finding hot people to date. I’ve got the one – his name’s Donnie, by the way, he’s over talking to April. He thinks she’s cute, so I’m rooting for him.”

“He’s lucky, she’s been single since the war, as far as I know.” Al nodded, like he approved of Donnie’s choice – he’d been on the receiving end of April’s hacking skills, and he fondly remembered her as a giant pain in his ass. He didn’t know Donnie for beans, but if Vyx liked him, he figured April was headed towards something good enough. “Does he know about this, by the way? I’m not fixing to get punched in the face tonight.”

“Oh, he knows. Sven said you were asking after me, and he wanted me to come talk to you, which, hey, good news, that’s two people who don’t hate you! Donnie doesn’t even know you well enough to hate you.” Vyx grinned, shaking their head and fishing around in their drink, pulling a piece of ice from the top and popping it into their mouth. “Anyway, besides motorbikes and hot people, I like spicy food, black coffee, shitty Mexican takeout, leaning in to whatever’s happening around me, and…” They paused, and Al watched their brain work through the motions one at a time. Glass, full of ice. Balcony, with people below them. Including at least one, well dressed, uppity Tremere. They weren’t really identifiable from the balcony, but the stiff shoulders and the stiffer suit said Tremere Magister. Al watched the three details merge in their head, a smile slowly crossing their face that said they had a bad idea, and the gleam in their eye said they weren’t going to stay their hand. “And I like doing this.”

They hardly hesitated, tossing one cube of ice over the balcony. It plonked, wetly, off the head of Elnora Winston, a Tremere in attendance from London; they were right about the title, but maybe a little reckless in the choice. She spun, trying to find the source of the ice, but Vyx had immediately turned to pretend like they had done no such thing, and Al had followed their lead. What she couldn’t see were the snickers from the both of them, hidden by their backs, Al reaching out to awkwardly flap at Vyx until he had a hand on their arm, like he could prevent them from doing it again. It wasn’t that he wasn’t against the moment – he liked being annoying, and clearly, they did, too. He’d made a whole business out of it – but he also learned how to pick his targets and they clearly didn’t care.

“Vyx, I swear to god,” He started, watching them watch him. He liked watching them think, because he could predict every move that came from them, even if he was unable to stop them. It was like watching a cat – sure, he could tell from the gleam in their eye and the wicked smile on their face and the fact that they were watching him laugh, their shoulders shaking with their own giggles, and they clearly seemed to like watching him laugh, that they were going to do it again, but he didn’t know how to stop them. Even as they raised their arm, slowly, ice in hand, their eyes entirely on Al, not on Elnora, who had turned back to her conversation with her hackles up, Al could tell they were waiting for his go ahead. That if he really and truly didn’t want to get up to the mischief they were offering, he could stop them and they would, in fact, back down. If he didn’t want to commit to the bit and have a little fun, they’d step away.

He didn’t stop them. The thing that clicked into place locked in. They were a matched set, whether he liked it or not.

They tossed the ice cube. This time, instead of plinking off Elnora’s head, it caught just behind her collar, and she shrieked the kind of shriek that said there would be blood split that night. She spun, and this time, neither Vyx nor Al were prepared for her speed, and she caught sight of them watching her, a glass in Vyx’s hand and their other raised like they’d just lobbed a piece. Vyx bristled, hair standing on end, because Elnora was mad and while they’d never met her personally, they recalled her power and whether it was worth crossing her – it wasn’t – and realized that maybe, just maybe, they’d fucked up. They looked to Al, their smile still in place but maybe a bit tempered by the fear of the moment, and he looked to them with a panic hiding beneath the smile on his face; they both realized quickly they were in fact sharing the brain-cell, because they both knew they had the same idea.

Run.

Al found that, while he was fast, Vyx was just as fast, and they kept pace as they turned and all but booked it for a nearby hallway. There were doors enough – mostly employee only doors, nothing fancy – that they had no problem finding something to duck through, trying to put as much distance and as many walls between them and Elnora as they could. Fighting her was right out; getting an earful wasn’t a pleasant end, either, and they both wanted to avoid that. The door led to a hall, which led to a bunch of different conference and ballrooms, all filled with tables and chairs and nowhere fun to hide. Eventually, however, Al opened a door and found it was a storage closet, with a big dresser at the back of the room and full of boxes. He leaned out of the room long enough to get Vyx’s attention, summoning them into the room and helping them step over the piles of boxes towards the back. With all the stuff in between them and the door, he hoped Elnora would see the room and give up without searching.

The dresser was cramped, empty but small; luckily, Vyx was small and so was Al, so they managed to fit. It wasn’t the best fit, but he knew they’d manage, closing the door and trapping them inside. Vyx shifted, and eventually they settled, his knee between their legs, their head nearly on his chest, pressed so close that they could have shared a mutual heartbeat had either of them had one. Furious footsteps raced down the hallway after them, only a few moments after the door closed, and Al had to remind himself that he didn’t need to hold his breath anymore, considering he didn’t breathe. He braced one hand against the cool metal and the other found its way around Vyx’s torso, and they bit back a sharp intake of breathe they didn’t need at the sudden touch, but not in a way that said they disliked it.

The door outside opened, and there was silence.

Silence ticked by, moment by moment, breath by breath.

And then the door outside closed, leaving the room behind as the furious footsteps started off and faded into the distance.

Al waited until they’d been gone for long enough that he knew Elnora wasn’t sulking around outside before he let out a breath, a thing meant to help him relax, letting himself lose the tension keeping him pressed against the wall. Without that tension, he found Vyx was closer than they had been before, all but sitting on his knee, their leg between his, their feet tangled, one hand pressed to the wall behind him and the other now settling on his chest. Their fingers laced, gently, through the floral collar that he’d left mostly open, the devil-may-care attitude a staple of his wardrobe, and he looked away from the door to find their face was so close they could smell that the drink with the ice had been something with gin and orange. They were close, and they were cold, but that hadn’t mattered before, and they were grinning madly like they hadn’t ever had that much fun, and there was something irresistible about it all.

Neither were particularly sure who actually moved first, but the gaps between them were quickly dashed. Hands, before so purposefully placed away from the other, kept distance, were no longer restrained, finding arms and sides and jawlines to cradle and press against and hold; their tangle of legs only got more tangled as they shifted their weight, unsure who exactly was holding them upright as they all but crashed together, their make-out furious as though to make up for lost time. Al could tell Vyx smelled like gin, and orange, and natural cigarettes and someone else’s detergent and what he thought was shotgun oil; they found he smelled a little like the sewer and a little like the detergent he always bought from the Dollar Tree, ‘cause it was never worth putting money into cleaning when you lived in a sewer, and the same brand of gun oil that Donnie used and the acrid bite of burnt cotton and the sickly sweetness of a vape juice they couldn’t identify the flavor of.

They would have stayed like that, locked in a perpetual meeting of lips and hands and teeth and legs and too much emotion contained after too much time passing, had they not been quite so furious about it, limbs trying to take up space they didn’t have. As it was, their fumbling in the enclosed space had the door opening on them, and after only a few minutes in the dresser, they tumbled back out of it, falling onto the pile of boxes and storage, tangled in each other, the empty boxes flying up from under them as they landed, hard.

Al laughed. He hadn’t felt that good in years.

“Well,” Vyx said, pushing themselves up from being splayed over a box, running a hand over their hair and finding that Al’s wandering hands had turned it into a mess they couldn’t fix without a brush. They giggled, letting themselves get flushed – it was worth the blood – watching Al, who remained supine, laying against a bigger box and laughing. They found the laughter bubbled up from somewhere in them as well, and they fought it back, just enough to be able to talk, the laugh still in their voice, “That happened.” They said, and that only had the laughter redoubling, because describing the situation like that only made it funnier.

“Yeah, that did.” Al nodded, staring at the ceiling, a series of white tiles that looked like every other convention center ceiling in the world. Vyx appeared in his vision, bending over him, offering a hand, and he used it to right himself, brushing off his shirt and pants from the layer of dust that had gathered. No one had been in that room in ages. “Since we’re there, you wanna grab a drink?” Al asked, like he was working backwards – making out first, drinks second – and Vyx giggled, delighted with the turn of events.

“Sure. Maybe a party drink? I should be checking back in with Donnie soon. He’ll think I ditched him to fuck you and while I am so here for us right now, I don’t know if I want to be the kind of person who has sex in the back room of a convention center. Like, I’m still finding me, but I think me has some standards.” They chuckled, and Al shrugged – he wasn’t planning on anything, so he couldn’t be disappointed – offering an arm for them to hold, like a gentleman. Vyx took his arm, letting him lead as they picked their way around the boxes under their feet.

“Before we go out there,” Al said, pausing in the hallway, happy to be surefooted and not in a pile of random cleaning supplies. Vyx paused with him, taking the moment to brush the dust from their skirts. It hadn’t been a well-used room, after all. “Can I ask why you threw that ice cube? Was that a Malk thing, like… Elnora needed to not be in the room or something?” Al asked, fumbling the example a little. He wasn’t a Malkavian and he hadn’t really ever indulged in the blood, so he wasn’t entirely sure how to spitball a Malkavian’s vision. Vyx shook their head, taking Al’s hands in both of their own, something sweet about the gesture.

“You laughed.” Vyx said, simply, watching Al’s face with an expression that was hopeful, and sweet, and loving, and kind, and almost hurt Al to witness. He’d pushed them away without giving them even a chance, and yet, they were still right there, trying to make him laugh just because they could. “You haven’t laughed since Vince died. I can just… I can tell. And I’ve done a lot of learning over the past couple of years. I’ve learned I don’t like having total control over things, but I don’t like being helpless either, and I don’t like assholes who are actually bad people, but I do like making people I date happy and I do like seeing people smile and you were due a giggle, I think.” They swung their hands back and forth, and Al couldn’t help but smile. He was lucky, they were good at what they did.

“Well, then, Vyxen Riveria, can I get you a drink? I think I’d like to start this meeting over.” Al asked, offering his arm again but this time in a show of affection, like he was asking them out properly, and Vyx grabbed his arm, laughing at the over the top display.

That was the Al they missed.

“Let’s start with that drink. Oh, and Donnie. You need to meet Donnie.”

~*~

Donnie was over at Sven first, but that was only because he’d only gone a few steps away, and he returned, beaming, holding his phone out like if he put it away, he’d find the number had vanished when he wasn’t looking. It was almost surreal, and he was still reeling from the moment. Sven didn’t say anything, giving him a clap on the back that was congratulatory, mostly because he could see the others returning through the crowd and he knew whatever conversation he was about to start, he wouldn’t get to finish it. Instead, he raised a hand, and Donnie could see Vyx’s small hand appear above the crowd in a returned wave. At least they were alive. He was a bit concerned, for a moment.

“I see you both have had success in your endeavors!” Sven said, once Vyx got close enough to hear him, and they approached with Al, his arm slung over their shoulder and a new drink in hand. Donnie found himself drug out of his brief moment of pure bliss by the fact that Vyx was clearly… rumpled, though it wasn’t so noticeable that anyone else would have clocked it. Their dress was wrinkled, dusty, and they’d clearly attempted to smooth it down; their hair was a mess, and they looked a little flushed, which he knew would only have happened had they really been in the moment. Donnie wasn’t entirely sure what happened – well, he kind of knew, but not to what degree - but he could tell something did, and while he briefly had to wrestle with the image in his head and prevent any negative feelings, he got away from the moment feeling happy for them. He knew from the start that he wouldn’t be their one and only, and while he had to take a second to process his first attempt at sharing, he made it out the other side intact.

“Oh yeah, we definitely didn’t get almost murdered by an angry Tremere, total success.” Vyx cackled, detangling themselves from Al’s arm so they could drink from their own drink, even though it had a straw. “But I think I need to stay out of London for a while.”

“Vyx, what did you do?” Donnie asked, and they gave him a sheepish smile, like they knew the answer was going to get them in more trouble – or at least, it should. Donnie simply wasn’t the kind to enforce rules; this was why Brujah were valuable bodyguards as much as boyfriends.

“Do you mean before or after they threw an ice cube down the back of Elnora Winston’s shirt?” Al replied with a laugh – and while Donnie didn’t know who that was enough to care, Sven sure as shit looked like they’d just threatened a world power with a nuclear bomb - stepping forward, now that he’d been freed, and extending a hand. “Alphonse Renato. I married Vince, back in the day. Maybe made a mess of everything after. I hope this one has told you about me?” He paused, this one referencing Vyx, like he was waiting for Donnie to tell him no and ruin the high he was clearly riding. Donnie nodded – much to Al’s relief – and reached out to shake hands; for a moment, they were equals, and there was an understanding. It didn’t matter if Donnie had only heard the bad parts, or if Al really was an asshole, or anything else they did, they were equal partners in love and that meant that, no matter what else, they weren’t going to kill each other. It was a promise they’d yet to put into practice, but it was, at least, a promise. Donnie was still wary of the man – he had hurt Vyx fairly badly, and that wasn’t easily forgiven.

“Donnie Lawrence. Vyx found me up in New York. They said they had an ex who had pushed them away; I figure that’s behind us now?” He gestured to the two of them, and Vyx nodded, reaching for Al’s hand and swinging it.

“We’re in the process. He owes me dinner.” Vyx said, inclining their head over to Al, who shrugged. He was easy enough with it, though it was clear the dinner bit hadn’t yet been discussed. “But, enough about me, Sven said you also had success? Did you kiss her?” They asked, and Donnie found himself trying not to turn red anyway; the blood really did fight back, sometimes. “You have lipstick on your cheek.” They added, nodding, like that explained how they just knew. Donnie reached up, a hand on his cheek like he wasn’t sure if he should wipe the lipstick off of just leave it, like if he removed it he’d remove her affections from him, but Sven only put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You are unmarked, Donnie.” He said, referencing the fact that apparently, the lipstick was only in Vyx’s eyes. That made him feel at least a little better.

“She kissed me, on the cheek. But I got her number.” Donnie said, holding up his phone, the proof of the words in the fact that her number was saved. Al gave Donnie a thumb’s up; clearly, the man was a little more drunk now that they’d reconnected, having clearly downed a drink between their escapades and returning, but not in a way that was depressed and more in a way that was celebrating. There was, as far as Donnie could tell, something about Al’s persona that was off putting; it was easy to see how people just didn’t find themselves attached to Al in any way, because even with the congratulations, it felt almost shitty. Donnie knew it was a persona, but it still rubbed him the wrong way, even if he was trying to make it not.

“Lemme guess, she put it in your phone for you?” Al asked, and Donnie squinted at him, like he wasn’t sure how Al knew that but he didn’t like it. Al raised both hands, a clear sign that he wanted no punches, affectionate or otherwise. “She’s a hacker, I’m a hacker; hacking someone’s phone is the number one way to tell someone you’re into them. It’s what I would have done. And Sven can probably attest, it’s what Damon would have done.” He shrugged, and Vyx shook their head, stepping over to Donnie and putting both of their hands on his cheeks. It was a weird angle, as they were shorter than he was, but he didn’t mind.

“Hear that, Q.B.?” They asked, only sort of pressing on his cheeks, clearly an affectionate thing rather than anything else. “Someone else thinks you’re important. I told you.” They grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, wrapping their arms around his neck after, and Donnie was able to see Al’s face beyond their shoulder and confirm that they, in fact, weren’t going to kill each other. It was one thing to make the promise, but Donnie could see in Al’s easy shoulders and relaxed demeanor that he had absolutely no problem with Vyx doling out their affection elsewhere. Donnie relaxed; he wasn’t going to get clawed in the back later. Vyx didn’t notice – or if they did, they didn’t acknowledge it – pulling away from Donnie and turning to Sven with their arms wide open. “And of course, I gotta hug my favorite Gangrel!”

“Hey now.” Al jokingly tried to chide them for the comment, even as Sven accepted the hug and wrapped them up tightly. He was so much taller than they were that his commitment to the hug meant they were lifted in the air, feet off the ground and arms around his neck. “Am I not your favorite Gangrel? Damn.”

“Al, you know as well as I do that you’re not a Gangrel anymore.” Vyx said, as Sven put them back down. They turned to Al with this hands on their hips, elbows out in a parental kind of stance. “Just ‘cause you haven’t told me who sired you, yet, doesn’t mean I know you’ve been sired and I can tell it’s not Gangrel. You don’t smell faintly like wet dog anymore.” They inclined their head, like that was proof of the matter. Sven frowned, concerned.

“Do I smell like wet dog?” He asked, concerned, and it was Al that jumped in to help ease his fears.

“No, that was just me. It was a Pip thing. He might have used Gangrel blood to ghoul me, but I guess you can’t scrub the Nosferatu entirely out.” He shrugged, giving Sven a reassuring smile. “Trust me, Big Guy, Damon would not have married you if you smelled like wet dog. He’s way too specific about looking and smelling nice.”

“Speaking of,” Vyx jumped in, turning back to Sven with something like an apology on their face. “I am sorry I yelled at Damon. And also threw a bottle. Did he deserve it? Kinda yeah. But there’s enough of me that’s still Vince and that part of me feels kinda bad.” They said, crossing their arms. Donnie instinctively put his arm around their shoulders, and he watched Al do the calculations, figuring out where he fit in the equation between bodyguard and partner. But the conversation was too distracting, and Al mentally abandoned the numbers when he’d processed Vyx’s words, knowing that the answer to his calculations were all pointing to not getting between them anyway.

“Wait, threw a bottle? What the fuck did Damon do?” He asked, looking first to Vyx and then to Sven, like he expected one of them to explain. Sven frowned, debated the conversation, saw that Vyx was gearing up to say something anyway – and the accuracy of their words might have been on point, but the intensity not so much, and Sven was still trying to save some face – and decided it was best if he just told it.

“I imagine you are aware of Damon’s roll in restoring part of Vince’s memory, should he have lacked any.” Sven started, making sure Al knew the context; as far as he knew, Al was there, so he should have known. Al nodded, clearly ready to hear what the fuck that had to do with anything. “Damon admitted to having altered a few of the memories in question in order to improve his image in Vince’s mind.” He stated, plainly. Al balked, shook his head like that had to be a joke, took a drink from a passing plate and drained half of it, before turning back to Sven and finding that the whole thing wasn’t just a joke he’d misunderstood. The shock returned tenfold at the realization. “Notably, a memory where he was very angry at Vince for not turning you in to the party before you’d betrayed them. Vince had, as far as I understood, realized you weren’t entirely honest with us, but hadn’t mentioned it for fear of being wrong. Kana and Damon saw that he could have prevented your betrayal and were angry he hadn’t.” Sven added, as though to make it real, and Al laughed, only for the laughter to die when he realized it really wasn’t a joke and he was the only one trying to make it one.

“Wait, he really did that?” Al asked, looking between Vyx and Sven, both of him looked dour enough to say it was right. “Is that why he’s not here?” He asked, turning to Sven, who sighed.

“Damon and I had a… long conversation. After, I believed it was best that I take some time to my own and reassess my place in things.” Sven said, and it was a diplomatic way of saying that Damon was very much in the dog house – which would have been hilarious, considering Sven was a Gangrel but his husband was the one in the dog house, had it not been terrible – and Al finished the drink, shaking off the alcohol bite in a way that still screamed Gangrel just as much.

“I yelled at him for it. Threw a bottle, though not at him, and it was empty. Also it was my bottle and my bar.” Vyx shrugged, leaning back into Donnie’s protective arm like they could fend off the bad memories if they were just close enough. “Like, I don’t… it’s not my memories, right? I just happen to have noticed the bait and switch because I already have memories of the conversation, and I’m not entirely sure Vince will be missing that bit in the first place, so it may not even matter.”

“It’s still a shitty thing to do to a person, and that’s coming from me. King of Being Shitty to People.” Al sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Of course Damon would be so self-serving as to try and make himself a hero after the fact, the asshole. Not to mention, it’s not just a shitty thing to do, it’s a shitty thing to do to Vince. I’m not gonna say he was the best of us all or something hokey like that, but the man rarely deserved all the shit he got, and the few times he did he got more than his fair share in return.” Al sighed, pulling out his vape and taking a quick hit off of it, like he was trying to process a thought that almost everyone else was also feeling. “God, I miss that idiot.” He chuckled. “Donnie, you’d have liked him.” He added, and Donnie tried not to frown, because it felt like a weird statement coming from Al, like he was insinuating that Donnie was Vince’s replacement. He was sure Al didn’t mean it like that, but he was just too hard to read.

“Vince would have forgiven Damon immediately, which is the stupidest part. I’m trying to figure out where he got the monk like patience. Something about a weird sound behind a thousand different doors?” Vyx shook their head, clearly having tried to search through Vince’s memories and come up empty. “Nope, no idea. Trying to root through his memories is like trying to sort out someone else’s storage unit and he didn’t label the shoeboxes.” They sighed. “But I know he wouldn’t be mad. He’d be disappointed, but only in the idea that Damon would think the memory would matter in how Vince saw their friendship.”

“He was, in fact, the best of us all.” Sven said, softly, and for a moment, it was quiet. It was quiet, like the whole group had realized, all at once, they missed Vince. That the heartbreak of having someone ripped away from them unceremoniously was just, briefly, too much for one person to bear, and so they were all sharing the load. Even Donnie, who hadn’t ever met Vince, missed him; he missed the opportunities he hadn’t gotten to have with Vince, the potential moments just as precious as the ones that had, already, happened, because he could feel the hurt, palpably. Losing vampires wasn’t an uncommon thing; people died in horrible, awful ways, as Kindred. Being eaten by their own childer, being eaten by their own sires, getting caught up in a scuffle between people more powerful than they could have hoped; not to mention Hunters or Werewolves or the Fae. Being Kindred was difficult, and for a group that was more immortal than most, keeping themselves alive was just hard.

Vyx pulled themselves from Donnie’s arm, snagging a glass from a tray and finding a nearby table, pulling themselves up onto the top. Luckily, no one was sitting at the table, though it was set as though it should have been. They wobbled, just a little – it wasn’t a great table and clearly unbalanced – before holding the glass up and, in lieu of a knife, tapping a sharpened finger against the glass. It was effective, as the conversation around them stilled, all eyes turning to Vyx. Vyx, the analog for the man that wasn’t there, the not quite right specter of his loss. They cleared their throat.

“I know Molly holds these parties for those of us who made it through to the other side of the war. I know this is meant to celebrate the people who stuck with us, through it all, across continents and state lines; the people who could put aside differences, like Clan disputes or political affiliations, just to make sure the world didn’t end. But I want to take a moment, just a moment, and think about the people who didn’t make it.” They paused, looking at all of the faces around them – the ones they knew, and the ones they didn’t, and the ones they knew but who didn’t know them in return – and they inhaled, slowly, an unnecessary thing. “I might not have been there, in the flesh, myself, but I know their names. Dodge Guilford. Lady Celia. Buck. Indesha. Bella. Glamis. Duncan. Vince.” They paused, feeling themselves choking on their words even though they were fairly sure crying was a voluntary action. “The people who make the biggest impact on us are the ones that burn themselves out just as fast. So, if… if we can, I’d like to have just… one moment of silence. For them. And for everyone else who can’t be here.”

They paused, and the room didn’t return to conversation. Everyone there understood what Vyx was talking about, and there was no disagreement. They’d lost, and lost, and lost, and while it was good to reconnect with old friends and see faces they hadn’t seen in years, there were people that wouldn’t ever get that chance, and those people deserved to be recognized. Vyx hadn’t even touched the breadth of the list, not really, but they didn’t need to. For a moment, the room was dead silent, not even a breath, the kind of quiet one would find in a grave, and for a moment, all thoughts turned to the dead. To the dead Sheriffs and the sires and the friends; to the ones who died as people and the ones who died as Kindred and the ones who hadn’t so much died as been lost to the hells of time itself.

They nearly jumped when Al climbed onto a chair next to the table, not quite as tall as they were but tall enough, lifting a new glass of blood wine into the air like he was calling for a toast and wrapping one hand around Vyx’s waist, mostly to steady himself. All eyes turned to him, as his movement had been loud in the silence, but he didn’t care. He was starting over, and this was his first good act. “To Vince. A man who could look at a group of blood sucking, murderous, supernatural monsters and think maybe, just maybe, we’re not all that bad.”

“To Vince!”

It was a chorus of voices, every person in attendance with the ability to speak raising a glass in front of them and intoning his name, because Al was right – if it hadn’t been for Vince, the party wouldn’t have happened. Kana was good at being a leader, but she’d been demure to start with; Dan never cared enough to work without being pressed into it. Vince had been the only one from the beginning that had ever had the kindness and the forgiveness to do what he’d done – hell, the whole thing honestly started due to one act of sheer kindness towards a random homeless woman he’d seen one time. And it had been that kindness that had Tremere not fighting with Salubri; it had been that kindness that had roused allies from London, and Paris, and the States. It had been that kindness that had heard someone call Kindred a net bad and had put its foot down to say no dice. Without it, and without him, Kindred wouldn’t have made it.

And somewhere, deep in Vyx’s guts, they felt something stir.

It wouldn’t be long, now.

#vtm #ttrpg #vampire the masquerade #fiction #j. d. dennis #vyxen rivera #malkavian #brujah #gangrel #kiasyd

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