dorian & godric

[brushoff]

Christ, how Dorian hated Texas.

It was the best and worst of America. There still was so much space, plenty of towns barely hanging on, hardscrabble little places that were trying to make their move, the drive and determination and chutzpah that Dorian adored of the America in the past. America in the 1920s was great. A feisty nation, determined to prove itself on the world's stage, bright and brilliant and ready to take on the challenge.

But the Texas cities? The cities were horrible. Large, ugly things almost crushed under the weight of their own self-importance and overpasses. Forgotten centers where all residents fled to cookie-cutter nigh identical houses set in towns created solely for the purpose of commuting. People didn't thrive in places like that, with their subdivisions and big box stores and fucking Targets. You lived there, but you didn't thrive. And Dorian Gray was always looking for something new, something bright and breathing and alive.

Granted, a shitty little dive bar wasn't exactly what most people thought of when they thought of 'alive.' But Dorian had been lingering around Dallas long enough that a few things had gained his interest. The coming out of the closet, so to speak, of vampires had been the big one. Idly, he wondered what Toby would have thought of it all—he felt so alone for so long. Would vampire advocacy groups or these cute little pamphlets have changed anything? Or would the Sunday morning cable news services about how all vampires are damned have made things worse? There's no way of knowing. But Dorian wanted to learn more about this himself.

Try as he may to fit in, it's obvious that Dorian is here for something. He flirts with the waitress and casually asks a few questions about vampire activity in the area. He loses a game of pool but presses his competition whenever they bring up 'fangs.' This is the third day in a row he's made some not-so-subtle inquiries about vampires, something's got to give eventually. He's British as hell, the accent is a dead giveaway, so might as well lean into the obviousness and see what happens.

And as he slips out of the back door of the dive bar, stepping outside to light up a cigarette, Dorian's certain that something will happen. What precisely? He doesn't know.

Comments

[brushoff]

"I'm a nice person!" laughs the man who knows he is not a nice person. "It's good to check."

And so he starts to talk. Dorian talks about how he met a woman named Pamela. A bright girl, the life of a party. But during one of these parties, just for fun, a mystic decided to start a seance. Pamela was possessed by something and tried to kill everyone in the house. Dorian solved that problem by pushing Pamela out of a window.

Notably, at no point in the story does he explain his immortality or talk about it more. It's just a story of possession.

[loveisall]

Godric sits back, listening to the story with rapt attention, though he doesn't look art him at all.

"And what happened to her?"

[brushoff]

"She died."

It's said bluntly, without any care or subtlety.

[loveisall]

He nods. "I assume so. But you didn't save her from possession then, did you?"

[brushoff]

"No." Which Dorian hates to admit.

"I'm a man of many skills. Magic isn't one of them. I thought it was better to die than to live like that. I don't regret my choice. But it was just that: my choice."

[loveisall]

"It was." He stands up, his hands behind his back. "How much of your history do you know?"

[brushoff]

"I remember everything," said with a little shrug. That's a lie. Dorian remembers everything except the memories he traded away to keep Toby safe, to save him from that succubus. But Godric doesn't need to know that.

[loveisall]

"As do I," he says. "How many years do you remember?"

Because that's a strange way to answer the question. No one talks about their own history that way.

[brushoff]

"Around a hundred and fifty? It got...odd, for a bit. I'm not sure how to count those."

Nobody talks about their own history that way as well, buddy

[loveisall]

"You are old for a human," he points out but there's a smile on his face. Just a hint of it.

"How about I trade a story for yours?" he wonders. "Will that hold your interest in between your bouts of sex and hedonism?"

[brushoff]

"I'm all ears," said with a little nod. He's always up for a story.

[loveisall]

"I was born a Gaul. My village was destroyed by Julius Caesar," he explains. "There was a great battle, though it was likely nothing compared to what the Romans had experienced. They had iron weapons. We had copper."

He glances back towards his room. "You've seen the replicas of the sword I carried in there."

[brushoff]

"I was wondering what era those were," Dorian lightly muses. But he keeps quiet: he'll let Godric continue his story.

[loveisall]

He leans back. "I was only twelve at the time, but I was still a warrior." He pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal the torq along his collarbone. "That is the story of this. I was willing to fight for my people. I had this for protection. We ultimately lost the fight, but it wasn't without many casualties on their side."

[brushoff]

Idly, Dorian steps forward. Given the choice, he lightly rests his fingers on Godric's torq, tracing it.

"Obviously you were turned later. When was that?"

[loveisall]

He lets him touch but he doesn't answer the question. He can't.

"Perhaps that is a story I will tell you another night," he says gently. "You should go. My council will be here soon."

[brushoff]

"Not letting me meet them?" Dorian idly asks. "Or are you going to gossip about me instead?"

[loveisall]

"We talk about politics. No humans allowed," he says and gives him a gentle push.

[brushoff]

"I can be politics! I'll just have to be more of a pain and expand my drug kingpin empire."

This is Dorian being a shit just to be a shit. However, he will let Godric push him out.

[loveisall]

"Be a good boy, Dorian, and I will tell you about another one of my marks tomorrow," he promises as he closes the door.

[brushoff]

Dorian sighs dramatically before he gets pushed out of the house. He spends the rest of the day putting in request for a few apartment viewings. He's apparently living in Texas now! Living in Texas and being a deliberate pain in the ass to the vampire community.

The next day, Dorian shows up at around the same time: 10pm. Though when Godric lets him in, Dorian is frantically texting.

"Give me a moment. I need to settle this transaction, then I'm all yours."

[loveisall]

Godric just sighs as he sits down. "What are you doing?" he wonders, not bothering to greet him.

"And why are you looking for apartments?"

[brushoff]

"Texting." It's not an answer and they both know it. Truthfully, Dorian is texting some young vampire, a brash stupid thing that he's certain he can coax into the fun and exciting world of drug dealing. It probably isn't nice to set someone up for ruin solely to piss Godric off, but Dorian never said he was nice to begin with.

"And I'm looking for apartments because I'm staying in Dallas. Don't you remember our wager? Until you find out how to kill me, I'm not going to leave you alone."

[loveisall]

"I don't believe I agreed to it. But if you want to stay, I have a few places in mind," he offers. "If you would like the names of them."

They are owned by Godric, which means he can enter and exit freely...but that isn't something he cares to explain right now.

Dorian brings out the worst part of him, but Godric almost longs for it at this point.

[brushoff]

"Nope, I think you agreed to it," says the man who absolutely knows Godric didn't agree to it. "But I'll take a few suggestions- though I have a specific list of criteria. Penthouse suite, bath as well as a shower, at least one room with no windows when I have friends over."

Friends, one night stands, same thing.