Jun 21 18:15:07 106 PA - An unlikely alliance
From Chronicles
Kingsdale - The Alibi
The club is a liberal mix of modern and classic styles with a dark, warm lean to the hardwood and metal decor, dressed up with velvet and leather. Set up about the stage with attached DJ station and dance floor at the center, the entrance is set to one end of this, the bar to the other. The entrance itself is tightly controlled. There are always two well dressed people at the front, a bouncer to check each person coming in and another watching the drum and closet lockers that hold all patron weapons.
A broad , semi circular stage extends from the center of the widest wall, rising two feet, with lights rimming the edge and hidden in scaffolds high above. A rich red velvet curtain lies ready to sweep about and veil the stage itself from view. The DJ booth is set up right next to the stage, set into the same wall. With a thick window and biometric locks on the two side doors, one to the stage and the other to a set of stairs down, the equipment within is secure. Within a C shaped desk and racks hold the sound equipment, all linked into a central computer. All done up in sleek, dark cases, mixing well with the warm, wood paneling of the booth's exterior.
A dance floor is central to the club, laid out in a broad circle before the stage. Laid out in a semi circle opposite the stage side of the dance floor are a series of round tables, with smaller two person sized ones at the edge, with larger four person tables in the next row and a few grand six to eight person tables on the outer edge. All staggered to make for the best view for all to the dance floor and stage. To one side of this central focus is the bar, a broad affair taking up much of the shorter wall in width. The bar itself is a mix of modern and classic, with the simple, elegant hardwood design of the bar itself mixing with the display of alcohol behind it, opaque plastic shelves lit from within to highlight the wide selection of common and uncommon liquors for sale. The barstools themselves, lined up in a neat row, mix dark metallic stems with comfy red leather seats.
Late in the evening, and the club is packed with bodies, dancing and relaxing. The noise level is high and Maya has retreated to get a little quiet and space. She has claimed a booth, settling there with her purple drink and her feet on the other chair to keep it private. Her cheeks are flushed, the scientist's hair tied up in bunched twisted around to become small buns on her head. Despite having lost herself in dance for some hours, her face is thoughtful, her eyebrows drawn together and the hazel eyes clouded. At that moment, her thoughts are interrupted by a man, whose arrival appears not to be unwelcome. She tilts her head back, giving him a lazy smile, the words spoken teasing.
A faint tingle at the nape of her neck is the first impression something's amiss. The small hairs standing, one after another, feeling something like a big crawling ever-so-slowly towards the base of her skull. Her date is confused, swallowing, but he forges ahead undaunted. He doesn't know what it is, and Maya's quite the prize. Still, the young scientist has felt this before. That set that makes breath just a little harder to draw. The bitter taste at the back of her mouth. She can't see Ahriman, but he's here.
Maya's smile freezes for a second before she abandons her drink, rising to her feet and offering the poor man a kiss, one with plenty of body language in it, her body pressed into his. To a casual glance she is oblivious to the outside world but the set of her shoulders, a flicker of her gaze around the bar, to the observant, that may give the lie to her movements. To the man in her arms, it is real at least.
"You're good," Ahriman rumbles. He's seated in that booth, where she was just moments before, a slim hand-rolled cigar wafting an herbal scent into the air. It isn't tobacco, nor marijuana. Something else. Who knows what effects his physiology? The cigar is pressed to his lips, the cherry ember flaring to life, and Ahriman leans back his dark head to blow a smoke ring out away from his pinstripe suit. The grey of the smoke matches his attire. "Your friend doesn't know that he's late," the dark being rumbles, black eyes staring up. It's like the dark of the club swallows him a moment, and he reappears standing beside them, smoke curling from his nose and mouth as he grins. "Explain to your friend that you have a prior engagement," Ahriman suggests, leveling his gaze on that hapless soul.
The kiss pauses, the man lifting his head to stare at Ahriman before giving Maya a questioning look. She turns slowly in his arms, deliberately keeping them around herself, her head leant against his chest. "I think I didn't have any engagements tonight." She replies slowly, her forehead wrinkling, her expression revealing a brief flash of discomfort, unnerved. The man, however, he responds to the silky threat there, pulling his arms away, lifting hands in a defensive gesture. "Maya, I'll catch you later... the vibes, baby..." He backs away, before turning to vanish into the crowd. Maya stares after him for a moment before she turns back to Ahriman, hands resting on her hips as she regards him.
Ahriman's head discreetly tracks that man, eyes impossible to follow. In the flash of the lights swirling about them and the thump of the stage, he'd be nearly lost in the dark of the club save for that glowing ember that anchors his features to the space before her. Six feet, slight of built, perfectly cut. Like a GQ demon, minus the horns and tail. Probably. "He's cute," Ahriman praises, and he reaches towards Maya with an ebony hand. Allowing her o take it, or not, between them. "My Little Sister said I was being foolish. That keeping you people frightened was a mistake."
Maya's expression doesn't soften and she frowns. "I'm not frightened. I'm angry. You don't have the right to decide who I am spending the night with however old you are..." She informs him, before she takes a step forward, her intent to move around him, to return to her seat and her drink. "And I thought you were one of a kind. That means no family, Ahriman." The slightest hint of curiousity from the scientist, as she moves to brush past him.
The dark being fades into thin air as she approaches, and as she walks past where he was standing it's as if she presses through a curtain of warmth sliding about her skin, enveloping her in something hotter than blood one fleeting moment before she's past. He appears again seated as she finds her drink, trapping her in. The dark creature's head is back, his cigar up like the smoldering mast of the HMS Bogeyman. He growls around that stick, "I told you I have a brother, Ohrmazd. He is another species. My Little Sister is human. She must have been born five, ten years ago at least." Ahriman blows another great gout of smoke, lifting that cigar, and he turns the ember to point towards Maya in a free hand as he notes, "You're interested already. Is sex with that human so much more engaging?"
Maya takes her drink, narrowing her eyes at him as he traps her, discomfort showing in the tensing of her shoulders. "You know I am interested in your species." Her voice is level, steady, despite the flicker of nerves in her face. "So you name them brother and sister but in fact, no blood relation of you at all. And sex with that human is my choice. Free will and all that. Nobody gets to tell me who or where, or what." She puts the glass down, folding her arms across her chest, the movement defensive, the hazel eyes watching him closely. "Did you want something in particular?"
"Nobody?" Ahriman asks with an amused note in his deep, oh-so-deep voice. His eyes slide back to Maya, white teeth peeking out about the edges of a smile. A soft hissing escapes his mouth, a sound no human tongue could produce. Four whispers overlapping, their combined efforts producing ... it almost begins to make sense, moments before a rime of frost overtakes his black hand and brown smoldering stogie. The latter snuffs instantly with a sharp hiss, and he idly flicks the frost off in the opposite direction of the booth. "Perhaps I have saved your vibe-sensitive friend after all. I come for you, Maya Pearson. I'm a stranger in this town. I only know my family." He looks ahead, at the opposite booth bench, and suggests, "Perhaps you could get your day after all?"
Maya tenses, the hissing sound clearly discomforting her. "Saved him? From a night of fun without strings attached? I'm sure he will appreciate it." She replies, narrowing her eyes at him, caution underlying her words. "I don't know exactly what you want still. Your...family will tell you some humans value honesty, and I am one of those. What do you want from me?" She draws her glass back to her hands, holding it on the table, twisting to face him, hazel eyes intent. "You want company in exchange for being studied?"
"I would lie if I said nothing," Ahriman replies simply. He disappears there, and after a moment reappears opposite the scientist. Giving her an escape route, while also making it easier for her to see his features. His chin lifts proudly, handsome features revealing little as he says, "A connection. If Leonard succeeds in his next assassination attempt, if the police take me, I would have two humans who would mark my absence. That is worth a day." His chin drops, mane rising to fan behind his head as he stares out at the dancers beyond. That sounded rehearsed. He could be nervous, or just lying. It's hard to say. He never flinched.
Maya doesn't escape, but her body language relaxes as he appears opposite. "A connection. You want a friend?" There is a hint of wonder in her voice, a flicker of a frown between her eyes. "Leonard tried to assassinate you?" That comment brings a reaction, a true anger in her face as she sits up. "Why? Why would he do that?" She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, watching him through her lashes as she dips her head to take a slurp of the drink through the straw. "The Director said he would write you that letter, if you wished it."
"I said a connection," Ahriman chides softly, his chin dropping as he stares at Maya from beneath hooded brows. "I have no need of the letter. Your police do not find me an appealing target for punishment. Leonard took the law into his own hands. He corrupted a cousin of mine, a Shadow Beast, and set it hunting." Ahriman frowns at that, seeming more troubled by the inclusion of the elemental hunter than of he attempt on his life. "He owes me a broken arm. I have, so far, withheld retribution, but I fear to gain the reputation of a free mark." The dark being falls silent at that, eyes meeting those of Maya once again.
Maya's face is troubled, balancing the knowledge and thoughts in her mind. "Define connection for me." She replies slowly, her own eyes dipping to look at the glass in front of her. "Leonard is, I beliieve, a troubled man. His actions recently are not...in keeping with the person I knew." She leans back in the chair, resting her drink on her stomach. "Is it friendship, an acquaintance, or sex you want from me?" The words are blunt, her gaze lifting to meet his steadily, her forehead wrinkled into a frown.
"Friendship -- an alliance," Ahriman clarifies. His eyes sweep down, a faint flicker of a smile crossing those ebony lips. "You're pretty enough, so don't be offended. Four thousand years ago I would have spared you the bloodlust of the alter to slack my mating urge. Had you survived you might have even earned your freedom." He raises his chin again, considering the little Maya. "But times have changed."
A faint flush rises in Maya's cheeks and she shakes her head. "I wasn't offering. I was clarifying." She replies, perhaps a little quickly. "Bloodlust of the alter...?" The question is asked slowly, her forehead wrinkling. "You sacrificed people in sex?" The scientist is never far from the surface, and at this moment, the anthropologist is at the fore. "A friendship, yes. I won't be unquestioning, and I won't offer loyalty you haven't earnt." The words are blunt, parameters for the function of that alliance spoken aloud.
Ahriman's head tilts left, and right, and he frowns faintly. "Blood makes the grass grow. It's not necessarily true, but climate-changing spells take vast sums of PPE and captured sorcerers and virgin maidens make fine fodder." His focus doesn't change exactly as he grows more still, less reactive to the lights swirling about them. He sees other days in his head. "After the magic was lost, the tradition continued. Some of it I used to power the pyramid temples, to travel. But there was usually enough spares for me to keep a few until I moved on.'
Maya is itching for a notepad right now, her face thoughtful. "At least I'm safe from that. I'm hardly a virgin or a sorcerer." She comments softly, resting her elbow on the table, chin in hand as she regards him thoughtfully. "Spares? Spare energy or women? Or are you not gender specific about your tastes?" The questions are asked with more professional interest than personal, her hazel eyes thoughtful, as she adds, "Most cultures have a tradition of blood sacrifice, but most currently find it unacceptable."
"Women," Ahriman replies. "Sex with you would be as fruitless as with your male friend, but you have more correct parts." He leans forward, a smirk touching those ebony lips as he reveals softly, "I can also be more ... vigorous, with your females, before I begin rupturing things." A slow smile spreads at the memory, Ahriman's eyes sinking to Maya as he conceives of it, and he melts into the shadows in the booth once more. That heat pressed d against Maya, enveloping her, as his voice sighs into her ear, "Tomorrow. This hour. Your lab. Don't be late or I'll find you." The heat eases then, leaving Maya in silence. Presumably alone. One might hope.
