Abrielle gets lost & Duvazl gets a visitor

[vampires violins vibrokinesis]

Abrielle - female human
Oghael - male vampire
Duvazl - male humanoid

Just for fun.

Setting(s): Oghael Manor; Duvazl's Flying Opium Den

Last night, Abrielle had headed straight home after her encounter with Borealis - being careful to pay attention to her surroundings; Borealis' paranoia seemed to have rubbed off on her. After some more heated words with Adrian, she eventually broke down and told him what was going on (after pinning him to the ground by his neck and making him swear to keep his mouth shut). Her parents were a little less than enthused with the story she gave them, but perhaps their own adventurous tendencies kicked into gear. Eventually they relented. And today, day one of her Borealis absence, Abrielle decided to pay a visit to Oggy. Oh, how long had it been? A month or two? Long overdue, true, but.. well. The young lass was clad in one of the very fine dresses he'd sent her - the whitest of white, like the driven snow. It was accentuated in all of the perfect places with tiny, pale rose colored flowers, with lace to match. It was a warm day, and her pale curls were pulled up behind her head, pinned with two sleek ros
rose chopsticks. However, the manor was a ways away.. so even in her dress, Abrielle had taken a horse. Her favorite, a honey colored mare, that she'd given the title Bucephalus (ah, someone had visions of grandeur, didn't they). She was well-trained, and Abrielle hardly had to use commands; relying almost solely on shifting her weight, or subtle movements of her legs. Smart horse. Mile after mile passed, until she reached the white pebbles of the path.. and then, further on, the pure-white stable. Dismounting quite gracefully (for a girl in heels), Abrielle gave the reigns to the eager stable boy with a charming smile. Oghael did employ the cute ones, didn't he.

And the pretty little mare is lead off to join Oghael's many cremello steeds - as that seemed to be the only type of horse he owned - inside the stable, leaving Abrielle to wait alone outside. A sleek, spindly white dog quickly pads 'round the corner of the stable to greet her, the ever-present precurser to the arrival of another. The hound circles 'round Abrielle a few good times, his long tail wagging vigorously, ice-blue eyes glinting happily up at Abrielle's seemingly matching orbs. "Aroo! Aroo!" Bawls the creature as it rears onto its hind legs, attempting to rest his bony forepaws on her chest/shoulder area, as excited dogs often do. It's a good thing the dirt here is almost as white as her dress... "Opus! Down, you lummox!" And the dog obliges and sits, but remains in ront of Abrielle, his tail brushing dust up from the ground as it swings like a macheti from side to side. Squeak-whine, squeak-whine.. Soon, a familiar ivory-clad figure appears from behind the same corner of the building the dog
had, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. "Miss Mg'aidre! Ages it has been, simply ages, yes?" Venturing forward, he stops before her, his own pale hand lifting to scoop up one of hers, lifting it to his lips to plant a soft kiss upon the back of it. He's certainly not the tallest, but he still manages to tower over her by a good four inches or so. As he steps back, A glossy white shoed-foot lifts to push the dog back casually, and Oghael gives a small bow. "How busy you must be, to not visit Oghael for so long. I trust all is well?"

The arrival of the dog surprised her, but didn't put her off in the slightest - if anybody loved dogs, it was Abrielle. In fact, she'd be missing Maestro and Maynard terribly when she left.. As the dog reared, barking happily and shoving his paws onto her, Abrielle broke out into laughter. Both of her hands reached forward to scratch his head, playing roughly with the dog's ears. The familiar voice rang out like crystal, and when she heard it, her pale gaze (that seemed to be a copy of the dog's) raised upwards. As Opus relented, she straightened her posture, hands dusting off that lovely dress as Oghael rounded the corner. And she smiled, a rare smile - genuine? Why, yes! The kiss was, of course, expected - proper etiquette, and all. "Oh, I don't mean for the visits to be so infrequent.." In fact, she did feel.. rather.. guilty. Whatever Oghael's intentions were, he'd still been lovely to her. Breaking that very proper prototype, Abrielle offered him a friendly, however very encompasing hug. "But must
we be so formal?" She still didn't know how she was going to tell him that she was moving.. and how the visits would probably be exponentially more infrequent. Ugh, how would he react to that?

Since when has Oghael been angered by anything Abrielle has done? Even when her parents showed up and made a massacre of his masquerade, he was still unconditionally polite to the girl. Actually, the entire situation was sort of a strange one. Why /was/ he so polite? The stark vampire was, in truth, unnervingly sane (if not a touch eccentric) - almost to the point that said sanity could be considered a mental disorder all its own. No wonder Edictus, who seemed to be Oggy's polar opposite, wanted him dead. And...well, perhaps Oghael was a -little- more aware of this than some would choose to believe. That gentle smile never leaves his ghostly face, a faint chuckle. "If M'lady does not wish it so, then no, I do not suppose we /must/ be.." He shrugs his shoulders, turning away to lead her back along the white stone path, towards the towering manor just up the wooded hill a ways...

The young woman allowed herself to be led with a smile, though she was still trying to formulate the situation into words. 'You helped expose me as a musician, and send me all these lovely dresses, but, hey, I won't really be able to visit you anymore. Seeya!'. Yeah, that wouldn't work. She bites her lower lip gently, not doing very well to hide her uneasiness - not that she's radiating anxiety, or anything, but one of such perceptions as Oghael would probably be able to tell. Abrielle wasn't even sure what their relationship -was-; he'd.. bitten her once, with her permission.. after layering on talk about immortality and preserved youth. So perhaps she did know what he wanted. And, in all honesty, Abrielle had been considering it all day.. in fact, since she realized just how permanent Borealis was, and just how erasable Abrielle would be. "And how -has- Lord Oghael been," She smiles faintly as they walk, casting him a sideway glance.

And indeed, Oghael has noticed, perhaps even as early as when they first made eye contact. And Oghael has no problem putting two and two together: Her recent absence, her uneasy posture and behavior. However, Oghael does an incredible job of seeming not to notice at all, appearing joyfully oblivious to her every woe, or even the slightest possibility that her world might /not/ be as perfect as he makes it out to be. It would seem he does the same thing in regards to his own world. Dead vampires? What dead vampires? He certainly did a good job of covering the whole ordeal up, even if a little more than his nonchalant attitude was involved. Gotta love hidden agendas, eh? "Oh, very much the same as always, love. In high spirits, yes? Prosperous, yes? Yes, very much the same" He ascends the flight of white marble steps leading to the front door, opening it and standing aside for her to enter. Hah. So much for not being formal. As the doors part, the two are immediately greeted by the babbling of a piano,
which resonates from one one of the distant rooms, off the white stone floors and walls, against which every piece of furniture and every doorway in the entire manner blends almost to the point of seeming invisible.

For as often as she used to visit him, Abrielle never did really get to -know- Oghael; though it would quite possibly be impossible to pierce that cool exterior. A smile was offered as he held open the door, and she entered to the tune that echoed almost eeriely throughout the manor. "Oh, I'm sure you've had a few ripples in that perfect ocean." Licking her lips - which now seem all too dry, as does her throat - Abby lets her pale gaze wander the manor for a few long moments, absorbing the details (which were indeed there, in all of the white). It had been quite a while, hadn't it. "I think we need to talk, yes?" As sane as Oghael might have been, she really didn't think he'd let her off the hook that easily when she told him her news. Or maybe he would? Honestly, she didn't quite know how he'd react in -any- given situation. And as guilty as she felt for only visiting him -now-, Abrielle knew it had to be said.. she was not brazen enough to just abandon him altogether. Those icy orbs settle upon Oghae
Oghael's olive pair, looking a tad wary, though mostly inquisitive.

The melodic, yet angry-sounding song could rather easily be identified as one belonging to the ghostly vampire's shadowy counterpart. And angry, the song does indeed sound, like the distant howling or wind and roaring of thunder that sounds just before a storm. "Oh, every rose has its thorns, as they say, but every rose is beautiful.." The music is altogether ignored by Oghael, whose high-spirited mood does not appear at all affected by the dark tune. As the tall doors slam closed, he turns again to Abrielle. "I think you are correct... Yes." He confirms, a slight drop in his tone being the only sign of his acknowledgement that not all is right as rain. And with that he starts forward, down the main corridor and finally up a flight of spiraling stairs, the music growing fainter as they progress. "Please. Go on.."

The song sounded faintly familiar, in its dark sense.. but it wasn't anything Abrielle had heard before. Likely composed by the person pounding out its rhythm on the piano. For a few moments all she wanted to do was search out the player, but then she was drawn back to reality by Oghael's voice, and the slight drop - however hard it may be to notice. "Mhm, yes." She walks with him in silence, the only sound being the song, though it itself was growing faint. And when she could hardly hear it at all, Abrielle began to speak. "Well.. I'm.. moving." The phrase was less than eloquent, and slightly stammered.. but it was out, and only when it was did she try and fix it up a bit. "Really an improptu decision.. not very controllable at all.. and I don't know where I'm headed just yet. It was just decided yesterday.." It was clear that there was guilt in her tone, however faint it might be. "Cutting to the point.. it seems these visits will be quite a bit more.. infrequent.. than they already are.."

Oghael keeps his pale olive eyes set straight forward as they walk, and as Edictus' song fades with the distance, he turns his ears on Abrielle. His expression never falters, even as she explains the...conditions of her departure. Not even the raise of a pale eyebrow in surprise. There is no surprise here. "I see.." Is his only response as she draws to her conclusion. They stop at a familiar door - the only one that ever seems to be open. He pushes the cracked door open completely, stepping into the study-like area. He takes a seat on one of the two overstuffed white chairs in the room. On a wooly white rug - perhaps polar bear skin? - that rests between the two chairs, a snow-white hound is sprawled. The same dog? It's so difficult to tell; they all look identical. "And what, if I may ask, would prompt such a sudden departure, Dearest Miss Mg'aidre.." Settling in a relaxed position, he turns his good natured gaze up to Abrielle, inviting her to do the same.

His quietness itself was almost too unnerving, like she was perched on a wire and waiting for it to snap. In dead silence she follows him into the study, taking a fond note of the hound on the rug - was that the same dog, Opus? My, my, if it was, it had sure made its move fast. As she watches Oghael take a seat, Abrielle tries to ease her own nerves, but when he asks his question, her skin seems to go a tad paler than it already was. Distracting herself by taking a seat across from him, Abrielle tries to formulate her story. After all, she couldn't exactly say she was running away with Borealis.. what if Oghael -knew- him? And even if he didn't, word could surely spread. That would be silly. "A friend," She breathes, as she places her hands on her knees, that gaze searching for his yet again. "I've a friend, dearest Oghael, who needs my help, as well as my company. And I can't say it would be too terrible to travel." A bit of color forms at the apples of her cheeks, and she takes it upon herself to wat
watch that dog sprawled between them. Oh, yes, there was guilt all over her face.. but she didn't know what else she could do..

The vampire turns his head upward slightly, his eyes calmly reading every inch of Abrielle's face, detecting the guilt in her tone of voice.. He reaches into a drawer on the end table beside his seat and pulls out a carved ivory pipe, stuffing some sweet-smelling tobacco from a bag also in the drawer, into the bowl of the pipe. He smiles - not at all an unfriendly smile. Then again, Oghael has the strange tendency to sound and appear friendly, even when he is very much unhappy, or pissed for that matter. "What a noble thing for a friend to do," he notes quietly, lifting the pipe to his mouth and striking a match. He pulls the fire through the pipe with a few small puffs before shaking the match out. Returning his gaze to the girl, he removes the pipe from his mouth. "..Are you in need of ...financial assistance, dear Miss Mg'aidre, or have you merely come to offer your final valedictions.." He casually inquires.

The blonde's entire face turns a pale shade of pink, yet her pride won't let her glance away again. So she watches him, all pretty and guilty and embarrassed. Ah, is that what he thought she wanted? Money? Licking her lips absently, Abrielle allows herself to shake her head. "No, no, that's not at all why I came.." Was she a little.. affronted? Maybe, but not so much.. it was mostly guilt, honestly, for she didn't want to seem like a floozy. And she wasn't! .. was she? "The reason I won't be able to visit as frequently, besides not having the faintest of where I'm going, is that.. it has the potential to be dangerous.. and, well.." She shrugs a bare shoulder, as her words slowly trail off into nothing. For a while, there's silence. "And my concertos.. will probably dwindle, until I'm settled.. but.." Those fingers of hers sat in her lap deathly still, and she was trying her damned best to keep them from fidgeting. "I will make it up to you, Oghael." With that her head tilted upwards, and slightly to the side - a few stray curls escaped her sleek sticks, falling about her face and neck.

Olive eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. Something aboout this entire situation just didn't seem.. well.. quite right in the old vampire's seemingly young eyes. "..Dangerous.." Echoes Oghael, his lips pursing around the tip of his pipe. His tone is very thoughtful, inquisitive.. curious, even. And, at the same time, there is an unmistakibly dark undertone laced in. "Why, Miss Oghael, you are not being forced into this against your own will, are you?" He puffs away a few times, leaning into one one of the chair's arm rests to take a closer look at her, as if scanning her features for something he may have missed; the fine print, if you will. His eyes travel down her cheek, towards her exposed throat, then back up at what he can see of her eyes - if anything. "Stop that. You owe me nothing, Abrielle." He speaks somewhat dryly, for once, actually speaking her first name...for once...

Again she looks to him, her face still blatantly pink, the blood remaining just beneath the skin. "No, no, it's nothing that sordid." Her lips purse for a few moments, as she tries to think of a way to better vocalize the situation. "Just my friend, he needs me to go with him. He's.. in danger, that's all." Ah, and the mention of a 'he'. Surely Oghael would be able to piece a bit more together now. His denial makes her shake her head, those hands finally moving from her lap to rest on either side of her. "No, no.. you've been more than kind to me, and I've rarely returned such kindness. This isn't supposed to sound like some deal made at a brothel," She then adds, with a hint of a smile at her lips. But as she said that, her previous thoughts came back in a rush; the thought of trading in her mortality. Almost subconciously she touched her neck, but let her hand quickly fall, her expression following suit. "But I will make it up to you, regardless."

Oghael had long since put that much together. You don't just give up everything you have, everything that is familiar to you - family, friends, life as you know it - make the ultimate sacrifice - for some casual friend. And though he can't say that he experiences love himself - not anyore, anyhow, not since the loss of his /own/ mortality - he understands the situation well enough. "Be careful, Abrielle.." Is his only advice to her. He empties the ash from his pipe in a small alabaster ashtray on the end table, before replacing it in the drawer. "..I trust you at least know what you're getting yourself into. You're an intelligent girl.." He sits up a bit, clasping his fingers loosely in his lap. "..Just be careful."

"I.." He was actually being.. genuine? Abrielle was so used to the manipulation and the excess, but here he was, being more than civil, and it seemed.. genuine. Now her guilt seems to have tripled, and she has to look down at her lap. "I'm not sure that I do." Oh, yes, she loved Borealis.. to death.. but now, Oghael's words were making her slightly nervous. Sinking her teeth into her lip, Abrielle lifts her head once more, perhaps to give gravity a harder time stealing her tears. With a soft sigh, she shakes the thoughts from her head yet again, a few more curls escaping. "But thank you." Abrielle actually felt like they were having a conversation.. and it was strange.. but rather calming. "If you don't mind my asking.. immortality.. is it.." A small smile sparks at the corners of her lips, an almost sad smile. ".. all it's cracked up to be?"

Oghael is quiet for a long moment. Yes, it is very rare to see him in such a state. But, well, the situation seems to call for it now, desn't it? "Immortality, Abrielle..." He takes in a deep breath, pausing for another thoughtful moment. "..Can be a cursed blessing, or a blessed curse, depending on how you choose to look at it." His eyes, which had wandered to the sleeping dog, seek out her own. "We always want what we cannot have, you see. It is what separates us, both mortals and non-, from the simpler beasts." His pale lips, which were already barely visible against his nearly equally pale skin, become even less visible as they purse softly. He taps the tips of his fingertips, against the fingertips of his opposite hand..

Rather vague, wasn't he.. but he seemed to get the point across regardless. Though Abrielle wasn't sure what she was going to do, she didn't think she had to make that decision this moment.. did she? Once more licking her lips, the young girl sits forward, a bit more decidedly. "Thank you, Oghael, for being so understanding." There was a feeling of melancholy pitted in her stomach now, a feeling she just couldn't quite shake, try as she might. A bit slowly, Abrielle finally stood, smoothing out her dress against her thighs. "MayI ask.. why you're being so kind to me?" And now the smile claiming her lips bore a few barbs of teasing. Trying to lighten her own mood, perhaps? The question, however, was very genuine even in its playfulness. She'd always felt before like he was manipulating her in some way.. yet now, was being right civil - even if it was just short-lived.

Vague, yes. But there was really no this or that on the matter; it was a blessing, it /was/ a curse. The cons only became more apparent with the passing of time, as the pros began to wear out their welcome. As if following suit, Oghael stands also, his response being only a soft, equally vague chuckle. "Oh.." The dog sits up, looking betwixt the two inquisitively as they both stand. She, however, for it is indeed a female dog, and a different one at that, does not feel so inclined as to follow the trend. "..Well, they say I'm a sucker for blondes..yes?" Very vague, indeed, Oghael..

Her gaze drifts down to the dog for a few moments, before once more returning to Oghael. Honestly, Abrielle would probably prefer to be slightly bored over dead.. and if it did wear out its welcome completely, she could always commit a dramatic suicide. Even though Abrielle was about to take her leave, it felt as if they hadn't quite finished yet. "Yes, they do." With a little grin Abby sidesteps the dog, to stand before Oghael and offer him a gentle, affectionate kiss. It was over quick, but it had indeed happened - nothing too scandalous, but nothing she'd be telling Borealis about. "I will keep visiting you, and I'll try my best to make them regular. And if there's not a smidgeon of manipulation in the future, I'll be horribly put down."

Oghael is actually rather surprised by the little kiss, but as he does with all other emotions, he hides the surprise well. "..I havn't the slightest idea what you're talking about," He says, quietly and without the slightest hint of emotion, in regards to the manipulation bit. Like a politician blatantly lying to a reporter. Brushing past Abrielle, he opens the large door that leads into the corridor. "I trust you can find your way out.." He says, in that inquisitive-statement tone of voice. There is, nonetheless, the faintest hint of fondness in his tone.

His response made her smile come back full-fledged; why, there was Oghael. "I'll do my best," She offers him a little curtsy of sorts, before stepping out of his study, and into the large corridor, immediately turning towards her left. That was the right direction, wasn't it? She hardly paid attention as he lead her to the study, so nervous she was about telling him the situation. But before admitting any sort of defeat, Abrielle let's herself walk for a good few minutes through those stark corridors. However, she longer heard any more music.. and after some walking, she seemed to have lost track of whether she went -up- stairs or -down-. How was it that this manor was so bloody confusing? It was like it's own House of Leaves, and she hadn't a clue where she was. There was nothing familiar, because it was all white.. and so, throwing caution to the wind, Abrielle finally opened a door. The moment she did, she lost her entire sense of balance, and when she made herself open her eyes.. she was -not- in bleach-white Kansas anymore......

[vampires violins vibrokinesis]

Duvazl's Flying Opium Den(#12RJ)
A dimly-lit room with lots of sofas. Extravagant velvet curtains hang where the golden-flaked walls meet the low cieling. Should your eyes happen upon one of the small, circular windows, you'll notice the occasional cloud whafting by in an ocean of the deepest azure. A trick of the light? You may choose to believe so - until you try /opening/ one of the windows...

[ Obvious Exits: <Out> to the Staff Room ]
[ Crawl into a huge <vase> in the corner. ]
[ Contents: A kitten with a hatchet growing out of its head. ]


Abrielle has arrived.

The room itself holds a rather... sleepy atmosphere, which is rather difficult to put into words. There is a thin haze in the air, which gives off a flowery, yet smokey odor.. Mm, incense? It was not at all unpleasant. From the low cielings, many strange things hang with thin chains and hooks. Near one of the ...unusual..windows, a small birdgace hangs. Inside, several tiny, pastel-colored...cottonballs? No, fluffy little birds! Hop from branch to branch, twig to twig, water bowl to bar. There must be a half a dozen, one of every color. A few small sculptures, apparently woven from wire and various trinkets, hang here and there. It is very easy to get sidetracked just exploring the room and its surreal little wonders... The door slams shut behind Abrielle, as if a gust of wind had blown past an open window, causing it to do so...

The change in light was what struck her the most, at first - her pupils had a fun time dilating to -that-. Whereas the ceiling she'd just been under was high, this new one was low.. after her eyes readjusted nearly completely, Abrielle just stared infront of her, slightly agape. Where the bloody hell -was- she? This was definitely not a room in Oghael's manor.. oh, no, the -gold- on the walls could testify to that. And look at all of the odd trinkets! The next thing she noticed, with most of her attention, were the strange.. flying.. cottonballs? Unsure of whether she should venture into this new room, Abrielle just stood there for a few moments.. giving a cautious look around her. Well, there didn't seem to be anyone -around-, so.. what could it hurt? Only as she took a few steps inside, did she notice the fragrance floating about her.. it soothed her throat, oddly enough, which had been very dry before. "Mhmm.." Not even paying attention to the door that closed behind her, Abrielle takes a few slow steps towards the birdcage, to better investigate its inhabitants..

It appears to be early morning, as the sun has just begun to rise. The clouds are on fire with hot pinks, oranges, yellows, the sky making a transition from black to pinkish violet.. There is also a faint smell of food lingering in the air, something spicy. Breakfast, perhaps? A few lit candles also aid in keeping the room lit, set on random end tables and coffee tables gathered around the many chairs and sofas. What type of a place is this, anyway? Some sort of bizarre lounge? "..Did someone send you here?" The voice seems to come out of nowhere - er, everywhere. There is an odd resonance to it, an inhuman quality, as if the noise were simply erupting from the very air around her, rather than from a person. Was ...God speaking to Abrielle? f**k no. But there sure didn't appear to be anyone around. The voice was not cold, exactly, but it certainly wasn't very welcoming..

Just as she had leaned closer to the strange cage, Abrielle heard a voice, and nearly jumped out of her skin. Immediately she spun about on her pretty white heels, casting a wide, paranoid look around her. ".. no.. ?" Who the -f**k-? A few more of her curls have fallen from their pinned home behind her head, and so she decides to pull the chopsticks free, letting them fall about her face.. clutching the sticks in one hand as if they'd be a legitimate weapon against any enemy at all. Not knowing whether she should speak again, Abrielle casts a nervous look to the door she entered through.. thinking perhaps she should just run for it. "I went through some door," She decided to add, and in her tone it was obvious that she thought she was going quite insane.. and she hadn't even glanced out the windows yet, to notice that it was not the time that it just was when she'd left Oghael.

There is a long pause, in which only the soft, pip-piping of the tiny cottonball birds could be heard. On the wall ajacent to the one through which Abrielle had just entered, a hand moves to pull the curtains from one side of a narrow walkway - just enough for part of a stubbled face and a single, golden eye to peer out at her. More light erupts from the room behind the curtains. The girl didn't look at all familiar, nor did she act as though she had the slightest clue as to where she was. Oh, great.. Not again. The curtains fall back in their place as the hand withdraws itself from the doorway. "One moment.." The voice rings out again, and this time it is certain that the voice isn't coming from the kitchen. It kind of makes the listener's ear drums vibrate unusually, but not unpleasantly, per se..

As soon as the curtains move, that's where her gaze shot to - it stared, quite surprised, at the half-face of a man. And soon enough he'd closed it again, to leave her standing there, heart pounding like mad. What the bloody hell? Where -was- she? And how come.. despite the fact that she now knows where the man is, how -come- his voice sounds like it's resonating all around her.. almost inside of her? Her feet remain glued to the floor, as if she was physically unable to pry herself away from this strange little room and just head back out the door. And.. maybe she -couldn't-. This place was clearly not one of Oghael's rooms, she knew him well enough to know he'd never allow it.. so.. where the hell -was- she? Had she stepped into some sort of alternate plane? Was this what Bo' was scared of? No, that was silly; why would he be scared of flying cotton balls.

There is a bit of clanking around as burners are turned off, pans moved to keep ..whatever it is the guy's cooking from burning over. He desn't seem to be in much of a hurry to tend to the strange girl in the flying den, though. It's as if Alice had just wandered into wonderland, and she'd just been greeted by some mad hatter-esque man cooking breakfast in his kitchen. And the way he acted would suggest that such a thing wasn't nearly as strange to him as it was to her. Soon enough, though, he emerges from behind the curtains, which block out the light from the room completely as they fall into place behind him. He... /appears/ human. His 6'4" form nearly brushes the cieling with his messy hair, but luckily the cieling is a few inches higher than the top of his head. He's dressed in a dusty old suit, which was no doubt at one time a rather nice, expensive suit. His darkish honey-colored eyes squint at Abrielle, as if trying to place her appearance, perhaps place the style of clothes she wears...

When the man reemerged from the little.. kitchen.. Abrielle found her gaze searching out his own, met with odd, golden honey eyes. Tall.. with Robert Smith hair.. Her eerily pale orbs remain quite wide, and quite confused, as he stares back at her, examining her. She's like a deer caught in the headlights, but too stupid to run away. However, the silence becomes too unbearable after a few more moments, and her tongue, as thick as it may be feeling, starts to move and vocalize her thoughts. "Where.. am.. I? I didn't mean to.. intrude.." All she'd done was -walk through a door-. Her slender, slightly calloused digits entwine infront of her, a small hint of nervousness. He looked like.. one of those people at her concerts. Not the ones with the seats at the front of the stadium, but the ones who snuck in and managed to snag a splintery seat near the very back. Interesting.

Who knows? In truth, the man may have even /been/ to one of her concerts before.. There does seem to be some connection between he and Oghael - after all, their houses seemed to be /connected/ to one another. Whatever the case, he doesn't recognize /her/, and without much regard to her question, he turns towards the door, opening it and leaning forward to peer through... Nothing but blackness awaits him on the other side. "..Where were you just a moment ago?" The strange voice resonates from their surroundings, the strange man's back still turned on the girl as he stares into the blackness..

The young blonde watches as he opens the door, and peers out into simple blackness. Her complexion, already rather pale, seems to turn a few shades more white. "Erh.. a manor.. a man named Oghael's.." Well, this strange man didn't seem to want her dead just yet - sad that now she has to assume every stranger does, isn't it? But, well. Her arms remain hanging at her side, that gaze of hers tempted to stray over the many other things in the room, but remaining upon the man. "I.. really didn't mean to.. you know.." With that she gestures around her, at his quite strange little.. den? Lounge? Either way, she'd just randomly entered.. though she really didn't -try- to.

Oghael.. He turns his head to study her again, taking a second look. Well, she doesn't /look/ like a vampire, but Oghael would explain the dress she's wearing, at least. Very.. superfluous. He closes the door. "Intrude? Yes, you've said that already.." He confirms, turning to face her as he does. Strange - his lips don't even move. Are the words even really coming from /him/? "You're currently drifting two thousand feet in the air," he says, unnervingly casually, finally answering her initial question. "Are you hungry?" He then asks as an afterthought, heading towards the kitchen again...

"Just trying to stay on good terms, so you don't kill me.. and whatnot.." Those words trail off as he turns, and she sees that his lips and their eerie lack of.. you know, -movement-. But she wasn't going to mention anything, lest she be rude.. and so she merely watches him for a moment, though his words reach her ears regardless of where her attention is directed. "Two.. thousand..." Maybe.. Abrielle had fallen, and smashed her head onto some randomly placed statue in Oghael's house. Turning, Abby casts a little look out the window.. and then quickly looks to the man again. ".. yes, a little.." Deciding she'd rather -not- be next to the window, Abrielle takes a few steps towards him, and reaches out her hand - those digits lithe, yes, though they've the callouses of a musician. "I'm Abrielle."

No immediate response is given. There is more audible moving around in the kitchen area, or whatever the room is he just withdrew into. Several minutes later, carrying a tray of.. some sort of food wrapped in a tortilla-like thing, with two glasses of some sort of gingery hot tea. Bypassing Abrielle completely, he sets the tray on one of the short tables. "You'll have to pardon me. I'm not used to.. unexpected visitors..." His strange voice rings from all around them. He is never particularly friendly; his tone portrays a constant indifference. "Vosb." He finally lifts a hand, which is also quite calloused, to shake her own. "Please, sit down, Abrielle.."

She took his disappearance as a moment to gather more about their surroundings. It was like some sort of.. den? Eclectic, and quite eccentric, it seemed. Nothing really matched, yet nothing really -needed- to, and Abrielle was rather fond of the strange place already. Though it was still quite.. an awkward situation.. Oh, quite. When he returns, her pale gaze is drawn immediately towards the plate, and the odd food that must've been the source of the spicy smells permeating, mixing with the incense. "Nice to.. stumble into your acquaintance, Vosb." At his urging she took a seat on one of the plush sofas, feeling all too low to the ground, but not unpleasantly so. "So.. Vosb.." Awkward small-talk time? Perhaps.. Slowly, she reaches for one of the glasses, and pulls it to her lips, taking a sip of the delicious liquid. Mm, tea! "What does a man.. who lives two thousand feet above the earth.." A shaky pause. ".. do?

Duvazl picks up one of the little...tortilla things, absently turning it in his hand before taking a bite. "I travel... and entertain," He replies, quietly chewing as he does. It's rather strange, watching a man speaking as he eats - and not even speaking through his /mouth/.. "For people like your friend, Oghael. The rich and extravogent, mostly.." There is a sense of sarcasm in his last statement, somewhat amused-sounding. His eyes roll upward, lingering 'round the cieling.

The young woman had to watch him eat the strange tortilla concoction, before she herself would dare to.. and when she saw him take a bite, and swallow, and consequently not roll around in convulsions, she herself sat down her tea and replaced it with a.. tortilla roll. Lifting it up, she takes a tentative (but large) bite, chewing it absently, yet.. enjoying the spices that suddenly flood her mouth. She tended to prefer spices over sweets, and whatever sort of meat (or whatever he had inside them) appealed to her, thankfully. She didn't want to have to spit anything out. "Mm?" Finishing her bite, and washing it down with a bit of tea, Abrielle then speaks. "I do the same, actually.. for the very same people. Isn't it mundane? And if you're not molded to perfection.. God forbid." She flicks one of her wrists dismissively, before taking another bite of the food he'd prepared.

The rolls seem to be filled with mostly a brownish rice, mixed with some spicy... root? It has a raddish-like texture, but a pepper-like taste. And somewhat crunchy. "..Do you.." drones the unspoken voice, which seems to rattle the eardrums no matter how soft it is. "..It can be, I suppose. After a while.." He shrugs a dusty shoulder. Nobody ever really gave him shit about his appearance. Or his music. Then again, he wasn't your run-of-the-mill pianist. Or any sort of string plucker, for that matter. He finally turns his gaze back to her, eyeing her just as she flicks her wrist..

Oh, Abrielle got judged all the time.. which is probably why she's always got herself perpetually dolled up. At one of her first concertos, those curls of hers were looking a little lax.. and though the performance was spotless, she was all but lynched afterwards. "What is your form of entertainment.. if you don't mind my asking?" She -was- trying to be polite; he hadn't thrown her into that black abyss, after all, and he'd even offered her food. By now she was adjusting to his strange, all-encompassing voice - though it was still as strange as ever, and it seemed odd to watch him when the words didn't seem to be coming -from- him. Soon enough she'd finished her own little roll, and in her hands, resting on her lap, is the glass of tea. Just being in the room, surrounded by that strange mist, had made her oddly.. lethargic.

Well, he figured he had just confused the hell out of her - why not offer her breakfast and confuse her some more before sending her on her way? It isn't as if he had anything important to do this morning.. "I.. make music.." He says, somewhat hesitantly, as if he were choosing his words rather carefully. "I compose, mainly..." He finally concludes, leaning forward a little to pick up his cup of tea. He takes a small sip, still observing the girl. Keeping the cup lifted to his lips as he drinks, he inquires, "What do you do?"

Abrielle was your average pianist and string picker. That gaze of hers didn't stray as he spoke, and hesitantly at that.. but his words, when they -were- finally spoken - even if not from his lips - made her smile faintly. "Oh, really?" Taking a sip of tea herself, Abrielle probes her mind for a moment, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him before. Alas, her memory fails her quite often in this area.. she doesn't notice very much when she's playing. "I play.. the piano, and violin. Violin mostly, as it's very mobile." And Abrielle did have tendencies to wander, didn't she! It was the near-perfect instrument - of course, beaten by the flute. But flutes bored her. "I sort of.. compose, too, but.. not really.. I'd call it impromptu playing. Improvisation, if you will? Never write the notes down.."

[vampires violins vibrokinesis]

So.. is that how she knows the sly old vampire? He tilts the cup of tea up to his lips once again. "Improvisation.. yes.. I do a bit of that, also." Well, at least the conversation seems to be going somewhere. "Your songs are always a little different, then.." He half-asks, half-states. "I take it you're rather advanced, if you play for Oghael.." Indeed, he's heard some of the musicians Oghael hosts. He hasn't played for the vampire since...well, a while after Abrielle was born, hence the fact that she's never actually seen him play. But neither of them would probably know that.

Now they're on an interesting vein, aren't they. A bit of the awkwardness seems to have dissipated, at least from Abrielle. "Yeah, actually.. but they never want to hear my own songs. Stick to the classics, Abby.." With a self-deprecating little smile, she finishes off the rest of her tea, before replacing the glass on the table. "Oh, I don't know if I'd call myself advanced? I know when I'm in tune or not.." A little laugh follows that - memories of that strange demoness from the path spring to her mind, and even though Abby knew she'd been baited then, it still stung slightly. "But they seem to enjoy the songs I do play, so I suppose.. that's what matters." Oh, she didn't believe that in the slightest - but Abrielle was happy with what she did, even if it was by herself.

Never does a hint of expression flicker in Duvazl's facial features. He seems unusually inert - much more so than Oghael, who at least feigns friendliness when interacting with strangers. At the same time, though, Vosb does show interest in what Abrielle is saying. His direct eye contact would, at the very least, suggest that much. "Well. That says something, at least." Yes, he's well aware of how difficult to please Oghael's crowd can be. He's taken the time to eavesdrop on some of the comments being made, from the other side of the crowded auditorium, however the hell he does it. "He's quite a collection of pianos.. I tune them for him, occasionally.." A soft, somewhat lazy shrug. He swishes the tea around in his half-empty cup..

Ah, Abrielle hadn't exactly expected him to be friendly anyway.. she had sort of.. dropped into his home. "Oh, I know. I prefer just one.. it's a little old, and a bit worn.. some of the keys need to be replaced.. but the tone is just lovely. I'm not sure why he hasn't fixed it up, he certainly has the resources to.. but I don't mind." The young lass leaned back into the couch - which had become quite the bit more comfortable, it seemed - and let her gaze find him, until she was nearly staring. It wasn't quite rude in itself, though - mostly curious, quizzical. He was, after all, an interesting man. But he'd soon be kicking her out of his strange little lounge, she assumed, to do whatever it was that Vosb did. Ah, well; one could only overstay their random welcome for so long, right?

Duvazl , oddly enough, doesn't seem to mind the girl's unexpected presence in the slightest, despite his seemingly apathetic nature towards.. erh.. /everything/. One can only feign humanity to a certain degree, it seems. And there are things about Vosb Duvazl that would suggest that he's... really not all that normal. I mean, he looks human enough, but he certainly doesn't act it. He swigs down the rest of his tea, before replacing the empty cup upon the tarnished silver tray. "..Excuse me for just a moment.." He says, pushing himself to his feet and making his way across the room. He opens the strange door again, only this time, it is not a black abyss that awaits him on the other side, nor is it the stark /white/ abyss of Oghael's manor. All that can be seen of the lantern-lit room, however, is that there are many wooden shelves covering the matching wooden walls..and the hardwood floor creaks beneath his feet.

When Duvazl got to his feet, she almost stood up herself, out of habit.. but remained comfortably reclined in the sofa, though her gaze stayed on him. Especially as he moved towards the door that she'd stumbled through.. half-expecting him to jump into the pure blackness that had been there previously, Abrielle looked slightly worried.. however, that eerie abyss was gone, replaced by another room entirely. What the hell? After Vosb disappeared into it, Abrielle managed to tear those eerie blues away to cast the strange room another look. Those strange birds.. were so cute.. she thought about stealing one. That would be silly. And what was this incense floating about? It was charming, truly.. and relaxing.. and.. yes. Not in the same sense as those cigars, that it was drugging her.. but charming to the senses nonetheless.

Unbeknownst to Abrielle, what she was smelling was the remains of Vos' pre-breakfast smoke. But the thick smoke did linger in the little room for an unusual amount of time. If she were to nose around a bit more, she'd note a little stream of whispy smoke rising from the top of the hookah on occasion. It doesn't take Duvazl long to return to the den, after a bit of audible rummaging around in what would appear to be some sort of a storage room. When he returns he is carrying something that looks...uncannily like a violin case. Before sitting back down in the oversized recliner, he places the case on the sofa beside Abrielle. "..Here."

In fact, she'd just been about to investigate the source of the smoke when she heard him return. It was probably best that she didn't; who knows with Abby - she'd probably have done a bit more than investigate, and Borealis would've been waiting on her for days. When he returns with something that looks suspiciously like a violin case, she allows her pale brows to raise, a little questioningly. "Do you want me to play?" She twisted her frame towards the case, flipping open the latches and opening it completely. Oh, it -was- a beautiful instrument.. spruce, willow, maple.. a blend of woods, the denseness of each suited perfectly for their uses. Pulling it gingerly from its case, along with the bow, Abrielle let both sit carefully in her lap as she cast her gaze to him once more.

No sooner does he resituate himself than he reaches for his teacup and realizes that it's empty. Getting up, he steps into the kitchen, giving Abrielle time to study the instrument. It's indeed a very old violin, its wood dense, ideal for just the right amount of resonance. The strings look fairly new, and, should she choose to play a bit, she'd note that it is oddly, but not unpleasantly, tuned. "Well.." His voice rings eerily in the air, even before he re-appears through the curtains, holding a tea kettle, "..What else would you do with a violin?"

Those rosy lips pursed, as she examined the violin; help it up by its neck, running the pads of her fingers against the sleek wood. "Bludgeon someone to death?" Oh, there were -many- things! When he reappears through the curtains, Abby lifts the violin, perching it beneath her chin, testing its weight. Yes, it was -truly- a lovely instrument.. but only when she drew the bow across the strings, did she appreciate its sound. Yes, it was rather odd.. not in a way that would make someone cringe.. but in a way that would make someone, perhaps, listen. Once more she offers Vosb a little glance, before her eyes close completely, and she starts to play. At first, it's nothing quite special, just a few lingering notes.. a minor chord.. Yet when she starts to think about the situation she's in, the notes begin to taper into something dark, and heavy. Slow, with emphasis on every movement..

As if there were anyone around to bludgeon.. Really, now. He takes notes as he listens.. to how she ajusts to the tuning, the manner in which she moves the bow, to the degree of angles, pressure applied, but most importantly - he notes the sounds that come out as a arise from said movements. And he is not at all unimpressed by what he hears - or rather, feels, as Duvazl does not exactly 'hear' in the same sense that most do. His fingertips softly tap the arm rest of his chair, rhythmically, as the dark melody pours from the instrument..

As optimistic as she could (and tried to) be, her feelings lately had been more than melancholy. Especially the week without Borealis.. and she hadn't quite had an outlet for that pain just yet, so she used this lovely violin to channel it.. and, as Bellatrix said, 'cry' through it. The improvised song shifted in its melody from very few notes, slowly, to include more.. until her fingers went from hardly moving to hardly stopping. Fast, and yet - somehow.. not lively, but just as dark as before, if not.. moreso.. The rhythms and fingerings become complex, her fingers sliding rough down and up the strings, varying their pressure, to the point where they were hardly touching the strings at all. And that seemed to hurt the most. However, it only made her play with more fervor, until she forgot just where she was, those eyes still closed to the outside world. Forgetting completely that she has an audience, Abrielle just plays..

Try as he may to understand human emotion, it seems that Duvazl can do little more than merely detect it. And if she'd shown any emotion in the time that she had been here, it was certainly in the music she played. And it is not empathy that is stirred in Duvazl's mind so much as wonder and curiousity. For a while, Duvazl is intent to just sit and listen, his eyelids slowly lowering as his thoughts are drawn further inward.. sometimes it was just nice to sit and listen to someone else play.. If there was one thing he couldn't simulate, it was raw, uncut emotion. To him, there were few things that made music sound much better. Slowly, the low howl of what sounds vaguely like a flute begins to permeate the air, growing somewhat louder as the song progresses, but never drowning out the sound of the violin. Instead, it lingers and coexists, sounding more like a strange combination of a bird and a flute, trilling and warbling, and doing things that no floutist could ever achieve with a simple, silver pipe.. It's rather eerie in itself, but like most things that seem to arise around Vosb, unusually pleasing. Ah.. but where was the sound /coming/ from, exactly?

At first Abby doesn't notice when the strange, bird-like sound begins to mingle with the lowl, thick notes drawn from her violin.. However, as deep as she may be in her reverie, she soon notices the eerie harmony it produces. It makes her open her eyes - and though her playing doesn't cease, or waver in the slightest, Abrielle does cast a glance around. Those orbs see no flute, and no strange bird (besides the ones in their cage, who seem quite content at jumping around and being downright silly). And then.. it strikes her, after one long crescendo mixed with a scale of low notes, that it must be Vosb. He didn't speak with his lips, so it'd be silly to assume he played with them.. Not disturbed with her deduction, Abrielle lets her eyes close again, and her arm begins working incredibly fast, leading towards the climax of the song - with ample room for the 'flute' to join suit.

The strange, howling trills rise and fall in pitch and tempo, having no problem keeping up with the fast-paced, yet melancholy melody. It fills in the little gaps just enough without overdoing it, adding just enough brightness to the darkened tune without shattering the saddened quality that makes it so emotionally piquing. His eyes remain half-closed, cheek resting on his bent knuckles, elbow on the arm rest. If one were to see him now, they'd probably mistake his concentration for drowsiness. And who knows, it may be a combination of both...

Abrielle was actually so taken by the flute's harmonies, that once or twice she drew her own notes into a major chord; something that sounded suspiciously uplifting, if only for a moment, before drifting heavily back into the depths of sadness. And it was funny because.. she wasn't exactly sad herself, or she didn't think she was. These emotions had to be let out in some fashion, though.. her callused fingers seem to blister just slightly, but she rarely notices the ferocity with which she plays until -after- the damage is done. And then, purely organically, the peak came - an array of sixteenth notes, lacing their way up the scale until they end on a miraculously high note - yet retaining its darkness whole heartedly - and resting there, long, drawn out.. and beautiful.. before descending, quietly.. fading.

Haha, how unusual. After all, it's not every morning such a talented musician wanders into another musician's.. erh.. living room of sorts. A second, much lower tone joins the higher trill from time to time, though it blends in so well with the other two 'voices' that it can barely be detected on its own. It does, however, grow slightly more audible as the song reaches its gradual, yet profound crescendo, peaking in a dazzling array of quick, intricate notes, then falling to a dishearteningly peaceful conclusion. A thoughtful silence ensues as the song draws to an ending.

Her subconcious had probably recognized the lower tone, but it blended so seamlessly, and so beautifully, that the entire song sounded pure and.. beyond description. In fact, it had left such an impression on her, that when it had drawn to its end, and when Abrielle had placed the violin carefully in her lap, she was nearly trembling. Those were the kind of songs the aristocrats didn't want to hear. To have to feel something, so deep within your core.. no, they wanted sound, not music. They wanted well-known notes strewn together by well-known composers. At least with Abrielle they did. Slowly, she takes a deep, steadying breath, before those pale orbs search out the tired-looking Duvazl. "That, was.."

"Not bad," Duvazl finishes, as it becomes apparent that Abrielle couldn't. "Not at all bad." Leaning forward, he pours himself another glass of the spicy-sweet tea. "There are some things that no amount of raw talent can substitute for.. These are things you seem to grasp rather well, Abrielle.." The soft hum that the flute-like tone had melted into is quickly replaced by that echoey, originless voice. He leans back in his chair again.


That smile returned to her lips, and with a faint shrug, she replaces his violin in the case, along with the bow, before latching it closed. "Thank you.." It was a rare occurence, getting to play like that.. and with someone of such talent.. Now her gaze remained upon him, as if it was trying to dig away at his secret. "And thank you for playing with me.." Despite the tune's macabre tone, Abrielle was feeling quite better now - as if she'd stripped it all out and put it on display. Cleansed, perhaps.. "I can see why Oghael employs you.." He was brilliant, immediately idolized in that pale gaze of hers. But she was losing track of time.. Resting her head against the couch, Abrielle pauses. "Would you be opposed to.. my coming back, once in a while?"

"Your kind words are much appreciated," Replies the somnolent musician with a faint nod. Rising to his feet, he glances out the nearest circular window that resides up near the cieling, then to an ancient-looking wooden clock on the wall. Goodness, how time flies. "I would not mind. Good company is rare now adays, it seems.." Talent, sure, but not much more than that. He ventures towards the door, stretching his arms as he does. "Keep the violin. It's too nice of an instrument to be played as seldom as I play it. But I've a feeling you'd be able to give it the attention it deserves.."

Abrielle had gotten to her feet as well, having left the violin sitting there. "Well, I'm not exactly sure -how- to return.." Those words trailed off easily, as she heard his last statement. Was he completely serious? For a moment she just watched him, her pale gaze rather blank, though a tad incredulous. However, it took only a moment for her to feel the sincerity.. Her cheeks flushed, almost embarrassedly, and she looked down to the case. ".. really?" It was such a kind gesture.. Shaking her head in slight disbelief, Abrielle takes hold of the case's handle, before straightening and taking a few steps towards the eerie door. "Thank you, again.. I'll.. yes, thank you.

Duvazl offers the girl a faint smile, more out of novelty than actual happiness, leaving his hand rested on the doorknob for a moment as he turns to watch her. Well, the violin is of no sentamental value to him; he would rather see it go to someone who was capable of using it to its full potential, however, and whose potential it could help optimize. Why not? "Take note of which door you exit. The next time you choose to return, open the door with the intent of returning /here/.." With that, he cracks the door, and a sliver of the purest white becomes visible through the crack. "I'm sure Oghael could help you, if it so happens you need help finding it.." He pulls the door completely open, stepping aside so that she may pass.

He may have been lacking those emotions, but Abrielle was full of them - especially now. As far as music went, she was downright sensitive - and such a gift, well.. yes. At his words, Abby offers him a nod of understanding, before mumbling a near-incoherent goodbye. With that done, she steps out of the room, hearing the door close behind her.. and finding herself back at Oghael's manor once more. How long had she been gone for? If Oghael would've seen her now, there's no doubt he'd be a little.. curious. And now, it was time to make an attempt at finding her way out. Once again.

Vosb's goodbye is offered with the soft slam of a door as he turns to go.. feed his birds or whatever the hell he would have otherwise been doing, should Abrielle never stepped into his humble ...opium den.