| ilthok | Date: Wednesday, 23-Oct-2013, 1:36 PM | Message # 1 |
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| Luther stood rigidly and attentively, hands clasped behind his back, adorned in yet another of his black evening suits as he waited for his guest to arrive from shopping. The workshop above his gallery was immaculately clean, every attention paid to the smallest detail that would make even the obsessive cringe. His suit was perfectly pressed, his expression a practiced serenity, his genial demeanor frozen upon his expression.
And yet...
His skin pinpricked from distant memories of the hot iron that had once singed it for an unkempt suit. His hair felt oddly out of place ever since she had ripped it out by handfuls for being improperly touseled. Even his workshop and its contents were alien to him, having been burned when she found their presentation out of place. His jawset moved weirdly in his mouth from a cross expression he once gave her resulting in its dislocation.
Her...
She had arrived earlier in the night, unexpectedly. His sire, the one who had given him eternal life. The Once-His Natalie...now parading about her new ghoul under his nose. With little more than a greeting, Natalie took her Delilah to see the clubs and rate them. They might be on their way back, or they might have taken to each other in a fit of passion in some dark corner of a club. But he had played this game with Natalie before and earned a staking for the night when he had not properly attended her return for the night. Years had passed, and all the impulses and protocols had woven together finely into procedural perfection. For a time, even her exacting ways had born no reason to chastise him. But now, with a new protege in tow, she had regained some lost determination to find him wanting.
For a brief moment, his heart sank at the thought. A heart she had crushed many a time, always somehow managing to bring him back to her with a choicely timed word or sentiment. He craved such gestures, perhaps even more because for their rarity.
Was he always like this? It seemed an eternity already since he had been immortalized, brought before the Prince and trained to be a "proper Rose". His mind swam from Samantha's words...his training had not been normal, apparently. This was not the way all Roses had been oriented. Was that better or worse? Procedures ran through his mind from moment to moment, his how-to for unlife. Was this Natalie? She never really seemed to behave the way she expected him to. He felt the lure of the blood to her, but that was an impulse that drove him and only strengthened the enforced etiquette branded to his soul.
For a moment, he pondered her presence. He was trying to find his own path, and although Natalie was upset, there was little she could do. After all, he was acknowledged. But despite her angst, she had moved on and even dismissed him to be with her new prize. He saw that smile once reserved for him, that kiss they shared on dark nights, that companionship that seemed more like a fairytale romance...when she wasn't angry at him. But that was through another's eyes now. What was she doing here?
The Toreador's revelry melted away, immediately alerted to the sounds two women entering the gallery.Added (23-Oct-2013, 1:36 PM)
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"...so the verdict is out, sweet--the entirety of her work was offal warmed over," Natalie quipped in that lightly-inflected French accent. "I've no clue how she even remains in business." She and Delilah shared an effite titter between them, striding in arm-in-arm. "OH, we did find the right place, didn't we?"
A lump formed in Luther's throat as he stepped forward, offering a hand to the other Toreador, palm up. "Welcome back, both of you. Have I mentioned you both look radiant this evening?" he parroted, a set of expected protocols and words spoken a thousand times. In truth, a small measure of disgust for them had begun to well up, followed by carefully cultivated guilt in considering such lamely negative thoughts for these people. "I hope St. Louis has proven to your liking."
A practiced look of displeasure at the very sight of her childe had already creeped across her expression as she reluctantly slipped her hand into his. "Tawdry, Zed. Tawdry. Whatever lead you to this place, perhaps you'll grow out of it. And what of this gallery? It's...stale. You've stagnated in your work, Zed."
Luther bowed and kissed the air above her knuckles, wincing internally from the memory of the time his sire took a ballpin hammer and pick to his lips and teeth for daring to raise her hand to kiss it. He waited with practiced precision for her to remove her hand from his in a smooth, simple motion before stepping over to Delilah and completing the same exchange.
"You are ever my muse, Ms. Sonnet. What might I do to improve--?" Luther asked.
"Do better," Natalie cut him off with an angry tone that dropped the practiced smiles of the other two in the room. "I did not preserve your art just so you can make timepieces out of trees and little dancing tarts. I expect you to think outside the box, to improve on a quantum level. Not these little trinkets. You were supposed to be a master, Luther Zero! What the hell happened to you?"
Standing in stoic and attentive silence, Luther felt her words shred him into pieces again. He nodded as he listened, his mind briefly pondering the praises of countless other Roses and kine art critics. It was easy to forget in the wake of her singular disapproval cutting him down to size.
"All of it, Luther. Do not make me truly regret making you. This city is a hazard, your accomodations are paltry and your work has never progressed. Del and I will stay somewhere else for the evening. We're headed back to Denver, beginning of tomorrow evening," Natalie prattled. "Find your muse again, or let it die with the rest of you."
"I am sorry, Ms. Sonnet," Luther pleaded, head bowed. "All of this...this was meant to have been for you." He gestured at the framework of the intricately complex clockwork forest that he had been working on since he relocated. It somehow shrank and lost its luster in much the same way he did from her scathing remarks. "I will endeavor to--"
Without missing a beat, Natalie's nails raked against her childe's face and raised crimson welts that darkened with hints of liquid. Spinning on her heel with Delilah, who was now staring at her owner with an expression of shock, they strode out of the workshop and down the aisle of the gallery. In a final gesture of insult, the senior Toreador shoved aside a precariously balanced framework under construction. After a moment, much of the forest framework collapsed like dominos, sending a shower of pieces into the air as Luther slowly followed the pair into the disaster.
He looked up at the shower of brass forlornly, his eyes seeming to shine like the metal of his creations. His eyebrows slowly raised as realization sank him into his creative mind. Showers of brass, skies and environs...all above a clockwork forest.
"There's always time to reverse the curve," Luther murmured to himself as Natalie and Delilah slammed the gallery door behind them, already enjoying a peal of laughter with one another. He turned and stepped back to his workshop, schematics already forming in his head and screaming to be recorded into his books.
The scars on his face, for the moment, lingered on his otherwise perfect skin, forgotten.
Message edited by ilthok - Wednesday, 23-Oct-2013, 1:35 PM |
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