closed

[oversear]

Who: Armand and Carlisle
What: Armand gives Carlisle a late night visit.
Where: Carlisle's house
When: Nov 9
Warnings: Potential blood drinking? Violence?

[ Drinking from that man had been a mistake. It was a moment of supreme weakness and as a result Armand had been backed into a corner, having to admit to more than one person what he was. It was sloppy. If the coven could see him, they would surely laugh. He would not stand for this any longer. The answer was to go and kill this Carlisle and that would be that.

Armand had been stalking him for the better part of a month. Now he knew his patterns, his little habits. He was sure the man was aware that someone was watching him, but he had not fled. Armand could respect that. It was brave. Most definitely suicidal, but still brave.

As soon as night fell Armand went to Carlisle's dwellings and used his Mind Gift to open the door, so quietly. He slipped inside very aware that this special human might be able to tell that he was there. To beat him to the punch, Armand called out. ]

I come peacefully.

[ A bold faced lie, but unless this man was a mind reader he would have no inkling of Armand's true intentions. ]

Comments

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle is no mind reader, unfortunately; however, it's Armand who has mistaken the behaviors of a stubborn recluse for bravery.

Though he'd hoped the vampire had left with the rest of the undead, Carlisle has indeed sensed him since. He'd thought it was his own paranoia kicking in -- it had plagued him throughout his life, making him fear the potential for danger almost as much as actual danger. And then, when danger did rear its head in whatever form (loss of control over his abilities, plagued bears, dragons, aliens with a grudge, etc.), he was already so worked up that he wasn't quite sure how to handle it other than through panicking.

And drinking. Whether it's that he supposedly has some Dwarven blood in his family line, or the fact that he's halfway in the grave, it takes a lot of drinking for him to feel intoxication. Thus, he does a lot of that in private.

Though his senses are undeniably dulled, he still senses Armand when he approaches the house. It's his imagination, he tells himself. Nothing more.

But then, the presence grows stronger, the door opens, and there he is: the vampire he'd been faced with before. And drunk or not, as he grabs his pruning shears from the desk and puts his back to his plants along the wall, Carlisle recognizes him from the network this time.]

Y- you!

[Despite his surprise, he holds the shears before him for defense, as though they'd protect him. He just managed to shake off the last vestiges of his magical exhaustion -- he'd rather not have to do it again.]

[oversear]

[ Armand blinks at the shears pointed in his direction. He laughs softly. Blades could very much hurt him, but he doubts Carlisle will use that when his magic has proven more than effective once before.

What is more interesting is the fact that the accusatory 'you' thrown in his direction has stirred something in his memory. Something about being trapped.

Armand crosses his arms and drops a hip. He looks the very picture of relaxed, although he was ready to flee if this man dared raise his hand against him. ]

Ahh, yes. Now I remember. You have fended off the bear, I see.

[tongueamok]

[At least now Carlisle knows why he was asking about the beast and if he could lead him away. Vampires. Disgusting, blood-drinking fiends. While the one before him doesn't look as monstrous as the kind from his world tend to be, the clergyman knows good and well it's all a facade. He can still picture those teeth glistening in the light of his magic, his own blood dripping from them.

Even he knows those shears won't protect him, but he keeps a hold on them anyway for now.]

What do you want? You cannot possibly think I'm the easiest meal in this place.

[oversear]

I hardly want a meal. I am full at present.

[ Thanks Sato.

He's not going to admit that the only reason he is here is because a certain hedgehog trampled on his ego. And this was some complicated revenge plot. These are things this person doesn't need to know. ]

I am simply curious. And you are drunk.

[ He frowns. This would be an unfair battle, but he can't ignore how advantageous this is to him. ]

[tongueamok]

I'm not drunk.

[Which is pretty much what every inebriated person says when they're accused of being intoxicated. The evidence otherwise litters his entire room -- there's the flask on the nightstand, two bottles on the desk, and another tucked in one of his potted plants, sitting next to the stalk as though he were growing a crop of liquor this year. Despite that, his eyes are more focused than they probably ought to be, even if the rest of him is relatively unsteady.]

What are you here for, then?

[oversear]

[ A secretive, playful smile spread across Armand's lips. ]

If you are not inebriated then I am no vampire.

[ He let his eyes wander around the room. It was certainly odd decor. He reached out and touched a plant doing it just to rile Carlisle up. ]

I am here to demand answer. I want to know how you do the things you do. Why it was so effective against me. Answer me this and perhaps we can come to some sort of truce.

[tongueamok]

[That touch does rile him; he stiffens, visibly gritting his teeth as the vampire makes contact with his beloved plants. He does manage an answer, despite his foul mood.]

I am clergy and you are an abomination of everything that is sacred.

[Not exactly a scientific answer, but he's too busy fuming because his plants are being bothered, his room is being invaded, and yes, he is more than a little drunk.]

[oversear]

[ The answer obviously startles Armand. Clergy? He was of God? Armand's eyebrows knit, looking less like a marble monster and more like the seventeen year old boy he had been all those centuries ago. ]

God does not hurt us. I may enter any worshipping place and touch holy water without consequence. There must be another reason.

[ His beloved God would not allow this. ]

[tongueamok]

Goddess.

[Sharp correction there, Carlisle. He suddenly has another thought.]

Wait, how do I know that once you know all these answers that you won't simply turn on me?

[oversear]

A Goddess give you these powers? Which Goddess?

[ That's confusing. How can a Goddess be holy? ]

Without answers I will definitely turn on you. Your chances of survival are better if you just speak truth.

[ That's a straight up lie. Carlisle could still flatten him in a fight, so the likelihood of him attacking is very small. He hopes fear and alcohol will impair his judgement, however. ]

[tongueamok]

[Unfortunately for Carlisle, fear and alcohol absolutely do impair his judgment -- fear, especially. He gives Armand a look as though trying to read him, but his vision is blurry enough that it makes reading a little difficult.]

The undead are animated through the use of negative eksth'alva, a type of magical energy derived from the very essence of life. What I manipulate is the opposing force. It is not something given to me by my goddess, but it is through her grace that I am skill in my craft.

[Ah, there's the long-winded explanation, all delivered as though Armand should already know this.]

[oversear]

Eksth'alva.

[ Armand repeats the word. The hand that is fiddling with the plant rips a leaf from the stalk. He brings it his mouth and runs the leaf over his lips, thinking. He's vaguely aware this is going to piss Carlisle off even more. ]

I doubt we are from the same world. These words are unfamiliar to me.

[ Story time. ]

The Undead from my world are descended from a queen known as Akasha. A blood demon possessed her and that is how the Blood is given. Nothing but sun and fire may harm us.

These tricks you preform are as much evil as I am. It is the only explanation.

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle twitches as Armand rips a leaf off his paw plant, his knuckles white as he grips those shears even tighter.]

They are not tricks, and they are not evil! And they are certainly not demonic in nature!

[oversear]

[ Armand's eyes are suddenly aflame with a malicious intensity. He intends to wound with words. ]

No? Do your powers not work against humans? Will it not sear the flesh of an innocent? Can you claim that you have never harmed someone who was not deserving?

[tongueamok]

I—!

[There is an instant of doubt that crosses him, and visibly so. Oh no. No, he can't say he hasn't harmed others, and not just with his power over influence, either. He often warns people that his magic will feel like a burning while active, even if it is only a temporary pain. That's the price of mending, the sensation of magical energy flowing through one's body. For most, the sensation is unpleasant, at best.

For most. Others, icy beings like Algidus and Glacius... it is far worse, judging by their reactions. Even Carlisle himself was burned by the overflow of his own energies when he last faced Armand: his arms took nearly the entire month to heal from their exhaustion, patterns of his veins seared into his skin from the inside out.

He stifles that doubt, but it lingers in his brow.]

Such energy heals the living, human or not.

[oversear]

[ Armand steps forwards. He would like to see Carlisle attack him with those shears. What would he do when he found out the wounds would just stitch themselves back together in an instant? He was incredibly resilient to anything but those two weaknesses. He smiles. It is not pretty or kind. ]

And why is that? Why does your Goddess discriminate so? Have the Undead done anything to win her scorn? Or perhaps she jealously guards life and would not see it be cheated. She sounds perfectly terrible!

[ Armand knows how devastating it is to have your very beliefs ripped from you. That is what he fully intended to do. ]

[tongueamok]

[He seethes through his teeth, his fervor for his goddess absolutely evident.]

The undead are a perversion. She would see to it that all souls return to her in the end, but those who are the pawns of necromancy are kept from her. It is not by her will that they do not return from whence they came.

[oversear]

[ Armand feels a flicker of doubt in his chest. He remembers casting himself into the sun to be with God in one of his moments of religious zeal. He understands the impulse to defend all too well. But Carlisle needs not know of his self destructive tendencies. ]

And the Undead that choose a life in death out of love? Are they a perversion? Surely your Goddess understands such a situation?

[tongueamok]

[His conviction is heavy in his tone, those shears still a threat in his hand.]

If they abandon their lives, then they abandon her, as well.

[oversear]

She is not my Goddess, so I will gladly turn my back on such travesty.

[ In a flash Armand moves to grab the shears out of Carlisle's hand. ]

[tongueamok]

[The moment Armand moves, the twitchy clergyman stumbles back, releasing the shears entirely -- they'd hit the ground if Armand didn't grab them. In his hand, he conjures an orb of light instead, much like the one he detonated the last time they met. He's not about to reveal that he'd rather not expel too much magic again, but it's certainly on his mind, loud and clear.]

You don't come from my world, now do you? What would you even know about the Clarity and her path?

[oversear]

[ Luckily Armand's reflexes are supernatural and he snatches the shears from mid air by the handle in one fluid motion. He stops dead when the orb of light appears. He takes a full step backwards, eyeing it with extreme contempt. He is now armed, but it's pretty pathetic compared to Carlisle's resources. ]

I know-- what is the term? Bullshit when I hear it.

[ He snarls the insult out. ]

How dare you speak of abnormality when you stand there with such abominable power.

[tongueamok]

[His nose wrinkles, face screwing with disgust.]

Abominable? YOU. ARE. A VAMPIRE. You are undead, both living and not! Practically the definition of an abomination!

[oversear]

[ This was childish. Armand knew this. Yet...

He inhales, ready to spit out more venom, and then he remembers his encounter with Castiel. According to the angel, Armand was truly damned. Was there any use in arguing the point? But the thought of admitting defeat to this man for a second time has him fuming. ]

You only think that because of your precious goddess who would cower in the presence of a true God. I will not be judge by anyone but Him! Damn you!

[tongueamok]

Damn you!

[A very mature argument from two very mature people.]

You come into my garden and attack me, then you come into my home and insult the Camisou! I have half a mind to rid this place of your foulness right now!

[And yet, he stands there with his orb in hand, yelling at the vampire instead.]