Dream a Little Dream of Me - Locked to Cesare (Late September)

[greenevoices]

Imogen's been offered a job, and she thinks she'll take it. Not that she particularly wants to spend her days teaching magical teenagers how to sightread--as someone who's only barely in her twenties herself, she thinks that's far below her--but because the pay is decent and, combined with her weekly performances at the Angelo, it means she might even be able to move out of her aunt and uncle's house. Or at least start paying rent.

Two days after her meeting with Sylvia Redbright, Imogen is back under the spotlight at the Angelo. She's "gifted," whatever that means. Something about her voice is magical. It should be earth-shattering news, but somehow it makes sense as much as anything in a world that is suddenly peopled by witches and vampires in addition to regular humans makes sense. It seems right.

Halfway through her set, another person walks into the lounge. Imogen is too much of a professional to register her surprise, but it's actually the first time that Cesare Borgia, her mysterious employer and benefactor, has come to see her sing. She smiles to herself. Gifted, huh?

Between songs, she whispers something in the ear of the pianist, and he signals to the rest of the band. They're going to change things up a bit.

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[longterm]

Cesare is more there to keep an eye on her and check to see how Imogen is doing than actually see her performance. To be honest, he doesn't care whatsoever about her singing, nor that song. He's heard it thousands of times at this point, if not more. But something is different. Very different. The way she sings makes the skin on the back of his neck prickle and, as he sits in a booth at the back of the room, he leans in, strangely enthralled. It's hypnotic. And she looks incredible...

He waits until after her set and invites her to join him in his booth, where he has been sitting for a surprisingly long time.

"You sing...very well," he says, not quite knowing how to explain it.

[greenevoices]

Apparently her little experiment had worked.

Imogen is quietly pleased with herself as she is led to Cesare's private booth. He's never deigned to see her perform before, and now she's in the VIP section being served unfathomably expensive champagne in one of those fancy coupe glasses you see in period dramas sometimes. She smiles demurely and looks away. "Thank you, Mr. Borgia."

[longterm]

"Have you always sung like that?" he asks. He's curious about it, wants to know why he finds it so hypnotising. Why she herself is so intriguing. His gaze, normally relaxed and verging on smug, is enthralled as he slowly leans in on the table. Is that butterflies he's getting?

"It is a true talent."

[greenevoices]

Imogen is used to getting a powerful reaction when she has a good day, but maybe not this powerful. Cesare seems a bit too keen, a little too enthralled. Is that what her powers do, when she actually thinks about it and puts effort into it? Is this what Sylvia Redbright meant?

“As long as I can remember,” she says lightly to hide her discomfort with this discovery. “That, and years and years of practice and lessons.”

[longterm]

Cesare leans back in his chair and laughs, though he still can't quite take his eyes off her.

"Those must be some lessons!" he says with a smirk. "I doubt I could ever learn to do that. Even with years of practice behind me." Cesare had never quite been the singing type. Apparently it takes more than hundreds of years to learn pitch.

[greenevoices]

“Anyone can learn to sing,” Imogen flirts, smiling through the terror of realizing that she can actually do what Sylvia Redbright had hinted might be possible. “As long as you get them early enough.” It’s electric, this feeling. This power.

“By the way, Mr. Cesare Borgia, I googled you.” She’s teasing, wondering if she can keep the spell going as they talk or if she can only do it when she’s singing.

[longterm]

To be totally honest, whether Imogen's powers carry through into speech or not, either way Cesare is already hooked. He smiles softly, taking a sip of his drink.

"What did you find out? Think I have some surprising relatives with similar names?" He doesn't know how much she knows about the supernatural world yet. He doesn't intend to introduce it to her if she knows nothing. She can just think he has an interesting namesake if she has to.

[greenevoices]

Imogen grins rather wickedly. “I thought the name sounded familiar.” She pulls up a Wikipedia article, and a portrait. “There’s a family resemblance.” Even being recently initiated into the idea of vampires and werewolves, she doesn’t think it’s anything more than a passing coincidence.

[longterm]

He leans in to give the page a look. He's read it before and, to be quite honest, finds most of the theories in there to be complete bullshit. For one thing, he had never been interested in his sister-in-law like that. Apparently he saves that types of fondness for real sisters instead. Also what is that nonsense about syphilis and a mask? He's damn tempted to edit it.

"I don't know about you, but he seems like a rather admirable figure to me... Died so young though. What a shame....You knew of him before?"

[greenevoices]

Okay, he seems a bit too into in this. Imogen laughs, waves it off. “Saw the picture. Studied art history in school. The violent ones are more interesting.”

As far as she cares. It’s not like it has any impact on her life beyond a question on an exam two years ago or an essay mostly written with help from Wikipedia and plagiarism.

“But here’s the thing. I googled you and I only found him.” She guestures dismissively at her phone; the Renaissance . “You are hard to track down. Why is that? You’re young and wealthy; should you be off making a mess of yourself on the tabloids with all the others?” She grins. “You know, date a Kardashian or something.”

[longterm]

"Kardashians are not quite my style," he replies with a smile, though deep down he probably knows that's not entirely true. He enjoys the Kardashians in a way, their blatant success and work ethic. He just doesn't need the attention.

"What if I told you I wasn't as young as I seemed?" he says as he casually picks up his drink and takes a sip. "It takes time to build a business after all, and this is an old hotel... and if my family had no old London buildings and business to pass down to me, well then..." He shouldn't be telling her this, should he? There's a strict rule about revealing the supernatural world to mortals. But for some reason he feels compelled to tell her. Maybe she's just charming.

[greenevoices]

If he’s trying to be subtle about it, he’s being a bIt too subtle because right now all Imogen can think is “wait, is he over forty?” She doesn’t understand the mechanics of the London world entertainment and real estate. What she does know, however, is that Cesare seems like he’s getting to the point of something.

“‘Well then,’ what?” She asks over the rim of her glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

[longterm]

Cesare leans in slightly, his voice getting lower. She's about to tell him a big secret after all. This deserves a bit of secrecy showmanship.

"It means maybe you can only find information on one man because there is only one man."

He opens his mouth for the briefest of seconds and his tongue instinctively moves over his right fang.

[greenevoices]

“What are you—“ he’s leaning in, getting a little too close and Imogen wants him close but at the same time the pit falls out of the bottom of her stomach and she starts to sweat, suddenly reminded of that vampire girl and the attack, but why would she be thinking about that now?

Then she catches a glimpse of fang in Cesare’s mouth and it all makes sense.

“...the fuck?”

Him? He’s a vampire?

[longterm]

Cesare can tell that there's some recognition in her reaction. He leans back in his chair and smiles at her.

"How much do you know already?" He would rather not bore her with retelling of the same information. Being told the same thing over and over has a habit of losing its lustre and Cesare does love to make an impact when he can.

[greenevoices]

“Enough.” She wants to sound steady, mature, but her hands are shaking. She keeps thinking about being attacked, about the sharp pain in her neck and the terror of having her life in the hands of monsters.

“So...when you found me the other night, you knew what had happened to me. You weren’t just being nice.”

[longterm]

"Can it not be both?" he says, sounding slightly apologetic. "We are supposed to keep that type of thing a secret if we can. We have a code of sorts." In fact a really serious code that he shouldn't be breaking right now.

He looks at her with a bit of a sad smile.

"I wanted to help you."

[greenevoices]

Imogen just looks down at her drink. “You wanted to hide me. Get me into a nice hotel, buy me pretty things, keep me too distracted to call the police and say I’d been attacked by vampires.” She laughs bitterly. “Worked. Secret’s safe. Well done.”

But she has a secret too. “I’ve been offered a job, you know. Lady named Sylvia Redbright wants me to teach music in her school.”

[longterm]

Cesare doesn't deny it any further. He owes Imogen better than that and so he just leaves it.

Then the topic of Sylvia crops up. Ew. Cesare's disgust is pretty clear as he rolls his eyes.

"Why would that bitch want anything to do with you?" It seems like Sylvia broke the rules far before he did.

[greenevoices]

“So you’ve met.” While ‘bitch’ isn’t the exact word Imogen would use for her new employer, the look on Cesare’s face speaks volumes.

Now here’s the tricky part. If she reveals why, exactly, Redbright had scouted her out Cesare will know she’d been experimenting with her powers. But she knows now that there are people with powers, and it’ll be useless to pretend otherwise.

“Apparently I’m...a, uh, meta-human? Sounds like a comic book, doesn’t it?”

[longterm]

"Oh," Cesare grins and quirks an eyebrow. That changes everything. Suddenly they're just two supernaturals talking about their world. Suddenly everything is so much simpler.

"What can you do?" he asks, the same way you ask a magician to show you a trick. "Fire? Invisibility?" He pauses and grins, clearly joking with his next words. "Mind control?" Apparently he truly has no idea.

[greenevoices]

“We’re still trying to figure that out. I’m a bit new at this.” Imogen smiles uncomfortably. Change the subject, change the subject...

“So you’re actually a vampire? Hundreds of years old, can’t go in the sunlight or eat garlic or anything?”

[longterm]

"I can go into the sunlight as long as I wear this." He gently taps the signet ring on his right ring finger, carefully avoiding to mention any of the pieces of moonlight jewelry on him. Cesare is not the type of person to take risks by only wearing one piece. In fact, rumours abound that he actually has a moonlight gold filling. Whether that's exaggeration or entirely true, Cesare will never clarify.

"But not everyone here can. Why do you think this hotel has such great blackout curtains?" He flashes her a smile, trying to focus on the conversation and not how fantastic she looks.

[greenevoices]

Imogen tries not to laugh. “A magic ring? Do you sleep in a coffin and vant to suck my blood, too?” Her Transylvanian accent could use a bit of work.

This is all ridiculous and part of her still doesn’t quite believe it, despite all she’s seen in the last few weeks. Vampires and werewolves and witches and metahumans. Hell, probably mermaids and pixies too.

“...are there more vampires in the hotel? Other than you?”

[longterm]

Cesare laughs a little awkwardly because the truth is he really does want to drink from her.

"I sleep in a bed, though you are welcome to check that if you like." Wow, subtle, Cesare. Normally he's considerably smoother than that. What's happening? Why is he so nervous? He tries to move on and takes another swig of his drink.

"See that man over there who looks in his sixties? The one drinking port? He's only ninety or so. And that young thing at the bar, wearing all the sequins? One of my elders."