A call for Ms. Summer Barrett following an eclipse and a dark night where the chains of the curse are loosened, allow even the less humane night-claimed darlings more freedom of movement wake so easily wake so early, from one Toreador Anarch, ring, ring, ring.
Summer BarrettThe phone call is immediately picked up and the male voice that Lux knows as Roderick is on the other line. "Good evening, Miss Lux," he says, his voice warm and engulfed in a friendly, polite coating. "I hope you're doing well tonight. If you give me just a moment, I have instructions to put you directly through to Summer. Please hold."
The quickness of his words and the way that he runs through it and goes straight into the transfer without conversation suggests that he is well-aware of this strange turn of events in regard to the evening. He doesn't wish to waste any of the Toreador's valuable time, because all time is valuable in situations like this.
She goes on hold (no music) for a couple moments and then it rings through to Summer. She picks up and from the sounds of it, she's somewhere outside. The sounds of cars can be heard, albeit distantly.
"Lux. Good evening."
Lux"Hi, Summer!" Lux is not somewhere outside, judging by ambient noise. Sharper ears might pick out music, vinyl, a record playing, something classical, something from one of the romantic ballets: moonlight and stage-setting. Lux sounds interested; she usually sounds interested, if sometimes that interest is offhand. It isn't offhand now. "Did you wake up early? Everybody's doing it. Curious, huh?"
Summer BarrettIf anything could possibly interest Summer, it would be something like this. This is clearly outside of the norm and everyone who walks around without a pulse has to have some sort of opinion on it. And let's not make a mistake; it does interest the Malkavian. You could hardly tell if from her tone though, ever flat and passionless.
"I did. My quick consensus seems to be that all Kindred here did. I have a phone call into an ally in Los Angeles, in order to see how far it extends. Whether it is a local occurance or something more encompassing."
A pause. "It appears to be driving the war to new heights." It's an observation, nothing more.
Lux"What else are you going to do with more time to do something with yourself, I suppose. Given the -- aw, Hell, Summer. Are you busy? Why don't we meet up for a tête-à-tête?"
Summer Barrett"I am not extraordinarily busy, no," comes the clipped response. "Merely keeping an eye on a couple locations. It is not anything which requires immediacy.
"Where would you like to meet?"
LuxQuiet for a moment, because she is considering time. That's where it gets tricky for Kindred; finding public places open late enough for them to mingle, without seeming to be targets - two Anarchs on the streets with the war kicking up, they're easy targets (no), who'd care except perhaps the rest of the rabble? Quiet for a moment because she is considering, and checking something; the music playing in the background is briefly louder.
"Why don't we meet at the library. Woodbury Branch, it's down in Federal by Sloan's Lake, ah, Highland Park. They've got some kind of 'do tonight and they're open late."
So that's where they'll meet.
The Woodbury Branch library is small, situated right across (in fact) from Highland Park. The yard is large, unfenced; the building brick, Renaissance Italian-style, large arching windows, paned and with a sense of age, of solidity, of places that will last forever. An edifice that will not crumble. The windows glow with light.
Lux is hanging out at the bicycle rack a little ways from the front entrance when Summer arrives, looking down at her phone and texting.
Summer BarrettThe woman doesn't just walk up; she drives up to the location. You can say one thing about the assasin business; apparently it pays moderately well (shocker, right?), because Summer has a nice little car. It's a 2013 Hyundai Sonata, harbor grey. The well-tuned vehicle stops at the curb near Lux and kills the engine before slipping out. She's wearing a grey turtleneck (it actually matches the car almost perfectly) underneath a suit jacket and slacks, her hair back over her shoulders but falling free.
The location is not one that is familiar to Summer, but much of the city still has to be learned. She can't know everything. The vicinity gets a cursory glance and then she's walking up to Lux, giving her a slight nod.
"I received word. It is not just local."
LuxThe Hyundai Sonata (lovely) stops at the kerb; Lux is more attentive than she looks, sharper than she seems, knife's edge in her eyes, sheathed weapon of a creature, all the nights since Winter 2012 a whettstone for her senses, paranoia, paranoia, which is all to say.
Lux doesn't look very attentive, slouching with that careless grace of hers (callous grace, too; it doesn't care who it might hurt or if gravity gets the better of it one night) on the bicycle rack, but she is, so there isn't a great delay between Summer getting out of the car and approaching and Lux putting her phone away, looking up with a flick of her eyes, mouth compressing in a surprisingly firm fashion before one corner snicks up.
Lux is on her feet. Fluid; quick. Doesn't reach over to give Summer a hug or kiss her cheek, but does go to touch her arm briefly in hello, before canting her head toward the library. Inside's better than out.
"Do you think it's something to do with the eclipse?"
Summer Barrett"I do not know," she answers to the question. She looks down at where Lux touched her arm, but does not seem perturbed by the contact. It simply is what it is, and she nods as the Toreado gestures toward the library proper. Inside would indeed be better than out.
"I think that speculating is useless without some way to prove it or some evidence to support it," she says as she walks along at Lux's side. "There are any number of possibilities. The moon is one. This earthquake that happened last night is another. I have heard word about a member of my clan who talked about the ground itself trying to swallow her."
She looks over at Lux, as if curious to what she might say to that.
Lux"Oh speculation is never useless, Summer, not if you're speculating with somebody. How else should you think in ways that you'd never think? How else are you going to get a different perspective and discover what you might not have otherwise?"
Lux opens the door for Summer. The interior of the library has that same sense of an edifice that will not crumble of age and tradition and learning. The library is not very large and there is a conference room toward the back where the 'do' is going on. A poetry reading, a night for the arts. Literary snobs. One bored library page on the computer reading up on the latest comic books turned movie news who gives the newcomers a look.
Lingers, the look, but not because of suspicion, because of a sudden hook-hope in the heart, an impulse. Lux leads Summer over to a desk that's against the wall between the stacks by one of the windows, a good view to be had by all. Pulls out a chair; sits on the desk, then back into a slouch.
"Though I do respect not wishing to open your mouth until you know what's going to come out've it is diamond-true," elbows on her knees. The creature's forehead is creased in consternation, a sharp line between her brows. Camarilla gossip: why, of course she listens to it. Of course. Especially now. But - ah.
"Why, sometime last year wasn't it? There was something about - " and Nathan was involved, Lux is remembering now; Nathan and Bo and Geese " - a lake turning to blood. I recall somebody laughing about it down at - oh, that's not important. But later I did get confirmation. Bloody lakes, earthquakes, eclipses: but why would we be waking up early?"
Summer Barrett"Well, yes," she acknowledges, walking alongside the Toreador. She slips inside of the place when Lux holds the door, stepping to the right so the other can come in as well while still taking in the lay of the land. Summer reads, of course. She does not have the same level of appreciation for the creative spark behind fiction that others might, but there is value in understanding the cultural impact. With an inability to relate to others through emotional connection, reading allows her to grasp the meaning behind so many things that would be otherwise inscrutable to her.
Once Lux is walking, Summer is back to moving along with her. She stands there near Lux where she sits, positioned so that she has a good look at the vicinity. Like most assassins, the Malkavian does not like having her back to much.
"Speculation has its value when there is some context to speculate on. It is the questioning of the event as an isolated incident which I find useless. If lightning strikes someone, it is not necessary to suspect that they may be cursed or were wearing too much metallic content. If lighting strikes them two or three times, there is reason to wonder." An odd choice of analogy perhaps, but it is what came to her.
She listens as Lux explains about past portents, and she shows as much reaction as ever. There's a slight nod of acknowledgement; something she has trained herself to do in order for people to understand that she is following them in the conversation. "Theoretically? If it is on a worldwide level, it would suggest something world-affecting of course. Among our kind, that is rarely a good thing. I would imagine something cataclysmic could conceivably be looked at. But as to what..." She shrugs. "I am not a scholar in our apocryphal history."
LuxLux is dressed in blue jeans tonight. Blue jeans tonight and dark boots and a jacket that's a call-back to some archaic military full of gentlemen and gamblers, and the jacket's loosened, left unbuttoned, one fold reaching toward the desk when she adjusts her body so instead of slouching forward she's in fact leaning back weight braced on the palm of one hand, legs crossed, one boot firm on the chair's seat.
Summer's lightning analogy makes Lux's mouth curve, shadow of a smile suggestion of an expression, and she knows that Summer feels nothing (claims to feel nothing [ice-carved, ice-queen]), but there's the suggestion of a smile anyway, shadow though it is, and a certain intentness in her eyes.
She is paying attention to Summer; she does wish to hear how she thinks about the world. Useful, perhaps.
"Neither am I. There's something I suppose the Sword's good for, although I can't help but feel they're all beating their chests over a lot of bloody-minded fiction instead of fact."
"Your clan," she begins. "They're beset by visions given by the blood of Caine; is that not so? I've always heard that you might be oracles every seven times you're not. Have you ever felt that? Have you recently felt that if you ever have?"
The word 'felt.' It's hard to speak to a creature that feels nothing.
Summer BarrettShe nods at Lux's assessment of the Sabbat. "The Sword spends all their time shouting to the world how they are monsters as if they are scared not to be. They play-act as much, if not more, than the Tower. I have learned never to automatically trust one side over the other simply because they claim to be the more honest party."
And then Lux is asking about the line of Malkav, and of visions. Summer listens, her attention sliding briefly over to the rest of the library before dropping back onto the Toreador. She practices at doing things that indicate that she is listening but some niceties end up lost to her. She doesn't understand why someone needs to be looking at someone to show they are listening when ears, not eyes, do the hearing. And she is more than capable of multi-tasking in that manner.
"We all have our gifts within my lineage," she says when Lux asks. "Insight is a varied thing that can take many forms. I have not had visions like others within my line, but I know of some who have. The visions are often difficult to separate from fiction, but of course it does not make them less true because of how they are couched."
LuxVampires aren't meerkats. They're definitely not meerkats. There's something rather meerkat-esque about Summer and Lux right now; Lux, sitting as she is on the table, staying aware of her surroundings but her gaze not wandering over-much, Summer standing, intent, attentive, giving the whole of the library a look now and then, the watcher, the guardian. And where's their little meerkat hole? Vampires aren't meerkats.
Lux crinkles her nose, considering the Sword, monsters, scariness; the likelihood that they'll continue running mad with an eclipse to bolster their silly fanatical fires and all those politicians to stoke them.
"Mm." Agreement. "Well if you do think that perhaps you have some sort of ... Vision or dream or hunch or," another casual, careless gesture, "insight into this strangeness - bloody lake, earthquake, blood moon eclipse - do let me know."
Lux sounds sincere. She has not made a point of her unlife, the seeking out of reasons for her state, the exploration of occult mysteries. She is not uninterested in them; she is not uninterested in German literature, but she hasn't read a lot of that either.
Now it might be actually touching her and her interest is a little more active. Besides, she'd like to hear a vision as explained by Summer Barrett one of these nights.
"I don't suppose you're planning on hanging out very often at Richthofen?"
Summer Barrett"In that hypothetical situation, I will be certain to do so." She doesn't sound particularly inclined to believe it will happen, but she certainly doesn't discount the possiblity. Anything is possible, after all, within reason. In truth, the occult is not something that has overly interested Summer either; she has read a bit here and there, but has never taken a serious interest in it for the same reason Lux hasn't. She doesn't feel as if she has been particularly affected by it. (You know, beyond the whole vampire thing.)
Her gaze moves back to Lux when she asks about Elysium. That brings a bit of a nod, the blonde hair rustling around her shoulders as she does. "For the time being, I do. I am generally disinclined to hire my services to one organization or another, but the members of the Tower often have little tasks that they wish to have done. Nothing unsanctioned against our own, obviously." Summer may not dissemble and pretend to be normal, but she also wouldn't be so stupid as to suggest she takes contracts out on Kindred in violation of the Traditions. "But those in the Tower generally do not like to get their hands dirty when dealing with those outside of our kind. Those contracts, if properly vetted to ensure that I am not getting involved in a blood dispute between two Tower members, I have no compuntions about."
"In addition," she adds, "it is easier to deal with clients who already know the limitations we all face." Such as the not going out in daylight thing.
LuxLux asked the question about Richthofen for a purpose. A leading question - all questions are leading (conversationalist [shark]), they want to find a conclusion. But instead her mind went to -
"You haven't spoken to or seen hanging around that Mr. Kingsmith asshole lately, have you? Speaking of little tasks."
Summer Barrett"Mmm." She shakes her head in response. "Kingsmith has been remarkably low-key as of late. I have not seen him since our first meeting, but I am certain that we have all felt the effects of his work."
See, Summer can hint at things, too. She turns her attention back to Lux, raises an eyebrow (a practiced gesture, for effect). "Why do you ask?"
Lux"Because I am tired of him being alive," Lux replies. "And I continue to hope Narcisa will send one of her hounds after him."
"Do you know, that smug bastard has attempted to recruit one of my favourite mortals," Molly isn't hers, or anywhere near one of her 'favourites,' but Molly's actions cause Nate to go to Flood, so for the purposes of this cold-hearted seethe the point is moot, "into his little army of independent bug-eaters.
"I hear that's something he's been doing a lot of. And his most recent act," a pause. Lux knows that Kingsmith did the car; she called him and asked. "I did speak to him, briefly. He was just bored, you know, and now he's got all these little innocent fingers trying to poke themselves into things they shouldn't.
"If you do see him - "
A gesture; speaking. Let me know. Kill him and claim a favor from the tower. Let me know. Be wary. All of the above.
Let's follow it with a connected but not entirely separate thought: "Have you met anybody interesting since we hung out?"
Summer Barrett"He was bored." It's a rote repeating of the phrase. Among most other people, this might be followed with a snort of digust. But Summer does not snort, simply moved on. "Those within our line of work do not commit acts of violence because he was bored. He is either much smarter than he is pretending to be, more far stupider. Either way, if I see him."
And like Lux, she leaves it off there. No need to explain further what she might have intended.
Lux asks if she has met anyone interesting, and that's an interesting question in and of itself. The Malkavian finally moves to take a seat on the table, one leg coming up and folding underneath her while the other hangs free. It's a surprisingly casual (and could even be considered girlish) way of sitting for someone as formal as Summer.
"That depends on your definition. There was one girl who I found of interest. A young woman who had found herself in the middle of a gang shootout, had stabbed one of the gang members in an alleyway. I provided cleaning services in exchange for information. Her name is Bo."
Lux"Bo? Was this on Colfax or there-abouts? A girl with green witching eyes and a slangy way of expressing herself?"
There could be more than one Bo who'd get involved in a gang shootout. Not terribly, terribly likely; but there could be.
Summer BarrettThere is a quick look back to Lux at this point, focused in. It seems to be a strange coincidence that they would both know this person, but then their world is a small one. It does certainly happen.
"That is her. She was...extremely talkative. But very informative, as well."
LuxThis: kissing curl of a grin; compass-needle impulse, a center-point of gravity. Lux has not shifted very much once she got comfortable. Lux and Summer: they both look young, they're both pretty, they're both using the furniture as it shouldn't be used, conspiratorial in that at least. The sound of gentle applause comes from the room with the closed door; the page is typing quickly on the computer but not paying them much mind, and she's got headphones on as well.
"Extremely talkative; if she ever has a grave, I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear her voice in the wind." Serious, now, "She's a thrall; perhaps you've heard of Kali?"
Lux's eyes get lighter when they're touched by query, as they are now, like some sharp metal just caught a gleam.
"Deceiver, and an absolute darling, sharp tongue and sharp mind, but oh, she likes strong walls, even if they do come with chains."
Summer BarrettSummer hasn't had a lot of experience with Ravnos, but she has come across them from time to time. How she feels about them...well. She doesn't say, and she does have the ultimate poker face. She simply nods a little. "I have heard of her in vague terms. Drug dealer. Bo is hers, then."
It isn't a disappointed tone (though it wouldn't be even if she was); it comes across more a note to herself. That's filed away and done with, and she moves on. It helps that the applause sounds in the other room, which draws her attention. Causes a break in the conversation as she looks the door over and then looks back.
"You are not a fan of people being thralled, then." It's an educated guess, the way she has spoken of Kragen. Mentions of chains. That sort of thing.
LuxIs Lux a fan of people being thralled?
That is a curious way to put it, and the dark-haired creature does not know precisely how the Malkavian means it. Her intent, lucent gaze stays sharp, stays considering, pensive even - it's all shadows-caught-in-water, no-bottom-here - even as she cants her head to the side, resting heavily on one arm rather than the other, letting her body bend.
"I don't like it," she says. "It's so inescapable. It's so complete. And it's often so unfair." Often, not always. "What's there to be a fan of?"
Curious. "Have you ever been - ?"
Summer BarrettIt is, admittedly, a strange way for the Malkavian to put it. It's even oddly colloquial, considering the woman's usually formal, nearly robotic choices in words. But she has her habits, and they are what they are. No one is truly a robot, after all. And so she listens to Lux explain, doesn't offer judgment or commentary. And when Lux asks her if she has ever been so bonded, she shakes her head.
"Only that initial drink from my progenitor. He did not, fortunately, believe that such chains were good for those whose minds were clearly meant to wander freely."
She pauses there and then adds, as if she thought it needed to be made clear. "I believe he meant that particular wording in humor."
Lux"Sounds like a funny guy, your progenitor," Lux replies, the corner of her mouth snicking up, sharp. Her pony-tail bounces when uncrosses her legs and rests the edge of her boot on the table, curling one arm around it. Another muted tidal ebb and flow of applause from the room where they're doing whatever it is they do: shadows against blinds and now the fall of conversation, people milling around in there. So different from the slab of silence the rest of the library is, darkness falling through the windows which are opaque with light now that they're inside.
"If you're often on Colfax," and there's no reason Summer would be more often on Colfax than anywhere else, but talk of Bo, of the Anarch Sect, of the Sword and the Tower using these extra hours as an excuse to murder each other with more fervor than before, "there's someone you might run into."
Though: that isn't true. Amber was chased away from Colfax.
"Her name's Amber and she's beautiful. She looks like a satyress or a golem. She's also a thrall but she belongs to someone with the Sword. Another swell character. He used to be quite sympathetic to our cause. He's the kind of bloodthirsty fanatic you can really get along with, if he's alone, you know?"
"And if you ever run into a Nathan Marszalek, scruffy guy with big eyes and a weary edge, please don't eat him; he's mine."
Lux: the edge of her smile returns, and it's lovely. And it's too bad. "I didn't mean this to turn into talk of people; what do you think of the blood-bond, Summer? Are you curious about it?"
Because: Summer doesn't feel. Surely the blood would make her feel.
Summer BarrettShe takes in these names, the descriptions in the case of the Sabbat ghoul, and she nods a little bit. More names to remember, identities to keep in mind. She is collecting quite the database of them in that stainless steel trap of a mind of hers. "I will not. I am always cognizant of those who belong to others; I have no desire to engender bad blood with others based on ignorance or misunderstanding."
Lux asks her about the bond, and whether she is curious. It is a question that she has pondered before, of course. What vampire doesn't? This is why Summer's response doesn't require any pause to consider her words; she knows where she stands on this issue quite well.
"Emotion and passion are foreign to me; I do not understand them and I do not particularly wish to. The bond is a tool in the hands of some; a cage. I use it with Roderick, as he would not be disposed toward me otherwise. But he has the capacity to feel these things, at least in certain ways. And he is fully aware of its effects.
"The bond could be used to attempt to make me act like something that I am not. That is what I desire least in this world. I have no use for its effects as they might exert themselves on me."
Lux"How precise you are," Lux says once Summer has finished speaking. "I believe that would be your adjective; precise. Maybe 'neat.' Can you think of a better one?"
The door to the other room opens and a couple comes out. They're dressed nicely, but not formally. Literary events bring all sorts, and Lux glances in that direction. When she does, her pony-tail does not bounce, but sweeps across her shoulders, catching shadow and dragging it.
Lux taps her index finger against her mouth; her finger's curled, thoughtful: there's a ring on it, something metal, something with a vicious spike, a thorn, something that looks poisonous.
Then: "Let's go; they'll be closing shop soon."
Summer BarrettPrecise, neat. It's difficult to tell how Summer truly feels about those words to describe her. She considers a moment, weighing each of them and throwing her own ideas into the mix inside that organized, spotless mind. Finally, she responds.
"Exacting, I think, would be a good choice."
And then there are people up and out of the other oom. She follows the Toreador's gaze in that direction, then looks back and nods. "I think we should."
And with that, she is slipping off the desk with the leg that was folded underneath her uncurling to support her alongside its twin.
"That ring. Was it created for what I believe it was?" She's an assassin. Of course potential assassination tools interest her.
LuxThat ring.
Lux looks down at the ring; gives Summer this side-long glance, something that dredges laughter up out've nowhere, a vibrant sort-of gleam.
The laughter's in her eyes, on the surface of them, like a reflection; d'you see? But it doesn't curve her mouth and it isn't in her voice when she responds:
"Scratching?" she says. "A thin-line, a blood-prick, and then swoon, oh no, fare-well? Mm." Lux; she looks at Summer's fingers, pulls the ring off her own and hands it to Summer, like, go on, see if it fits: "This one was not created to actually do any of those things.
This one - " - and they're heading to the door, see? Summer, who's such a golden, bright-seeming thing, but so cold; Lux, who's so gloom-loved, suggestive of shadow, but doesn't think she is cold (yet) - " - was just created to look awesome, but it took from history."
"Exacting, I think, is a good adjective. What'cha think mine would be? Don't say 'talkative,' that one's no fun."
Lux cuts a glance to the page as they leave, because one should ignore no one; she'll reach for the door first, hold it open for Summer, and they'll vanish into the night.
A long night for the kindred, for Cainites. A longer than usual night: and why? Earthquakes and blood moons and bloody lakes oh my.
Summer BarrettSummer considers for a long moment as they walk out, these two Anarchs that are so desperately different. In the end, with a lot of consideration she just goes with the first one that came to mind anyway.
"Intriguing." And then they're off into the night.
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