venom sweet as sugar [open]

[veratrum]

A. The Curious Incident of the Vampire in the Nighttime

While he's only been in London for a very short time, Liam's more than willing to get involved in the local nightlife. And of course, he has the face and the looks to get into any nightclub he pleases, with as little as a bright smile and a wink. He doesn't stick to Islington territory, either--Liam's checking out clubs in any district he pleases, even being so bold as to look into clubs in Hillingdon and the werewolve's territories, which is where he is now, watching the people dancing from the bar with an intense look of amusement...and not a little bit of hunger.


B. We don't Want no Education

Of course, when Liam's not out clubbing, he goes poking around the colleges and libraries in Islington proper. He doesn't have a library card, of course, but he seems to come and go with books as he pleases anyway...the poor librarian's been mindwiped so many times this week she's starting to get a little batty, but the books are always returned in perfect condition, save some of the books particularly Irish and Gaelic folklore, that have had a great deal of complaints and corrections made in the margins.

The book vandal himself can be caught in the early evenings, checking his phone for a list of books to take out that night.


C. Wildcard!
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Comments

B

[necromancynow]

Liam wasn't the only one who like to frequent the libraries -- even occasionally in Islington territory. In the evenings. He had a thick canvas bag slung over one shoulder as he made his way down towards the library entrance. A bag he bumped Liam with, actually.

He stopped, turning bleary eyes toward the seemingly young man. "Oh, I apologize. I'm usually more coordinated, but it's been a long day."

[veratrum]

It wasn't really that uncommon to be bumped into--the only thing that really got Liam's attention was how tall this man was. Why, oh why, couldn't he have gotten another growth spurt before he died? This was unfair.

But the moment, and inane train of thought, passed quickly, and he just smiled, for all the world a picture of a perfectly polite college student.

"Oh, it's alright! These things happen. You do look a fright, though, sir...are y' quite alright?"

A sick man wouldn't be good eating, but if something was going around...best to learn what it was and how to identify it, no? Diseased blood tasted terrible.

[necromancynow]

"A fright...? Oh, you mean my face." Faust put a hand up to the shadows under his eyes. It was an absent gesture, a lot like the rest of his manner.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just a little... fatigue." Protip: Faust was not fine.

"Here to borrow some books? I like it here. The atmosphere. The quiet. Sometimes, in the evenings, it's almost like a tomb."

Was that supposed to be reassuring. Most people would not find that reassuring.

[veratrum]

"...You don't look fine. Fatigue is very serious, I'm told!" Liam pouts a little, turning up the charming concern just a bit.

Like a tomb, he says? What an odd way to look at it. It made Liam curious, shifting the books he was carrying under one arm. Interesting people were the most fun, be they human, fae, or weird wereskeleton, or something.

"Been in a lot of tombs, then?"

[necromancynow]

Faust smiled. What a kind, considerate young man. So unlike the seething rabble of the rest of today's youth.

"Oh, no, certainly not! Except perhaps the type open to public tours." He laughed. Maybe ten or so years ago, this laugh would have been warm, friendly, full of life. Now, it sounded slightly dusty, like maybe his original laugh had crawled off somewhere and died.

"They're very strict about that kind of thing, you know." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, like obviously Liam could relate, Liam would know. Liam probably spent like all his Friday nights hanging around mausoleums. It was what all the cool kids were into.

[veratrum]

Look, just because he was undead didn't make anywhere he slept a mausoleum!

"It's not against the rules unless you get caught." Liam laughed a little himself, a bright, bell-like sound that suited such a pretty face. It really was a shame his looks didn't match his personality at all.

"I didn't catch your name, Mister...?"

[necromancynow]

There was nothing wrong with mausoleums, okay.

"Faust," he said with a smile. He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and brought out a business card with a simplistic, economical design to it. It advertised a medical clinic and listed his name as a Dr. Johann Faust.

"I'm so glad I ordered more of these. There was an unfortunate accident with my old printer, but these new ones are just wonderful." The question, perhaps, was what kind of accident it had been.

[veratrum]

"Liam O'Ryan. I don't have any fancy cards, unfortunately." He takes the card happily, looking it over before pocketing it. Well, a doctor was always a good friend to have, in a pinch.

"They're lovely cards. It's a shame to hear about that accident, though." Everything is telling him this man isn't your average doctor. Common sense, common instinct, even the smell of him. There's something more...interesting, about this one.

[necromancynow]

Wow. Wow. What an oppressively Irish name. "Yes," said Faust, growing a little more distant now as he seemed to be recalling the particular of this terrible and no doubt gruesome accident that probably involvd someone losing their hand and getting a hook arm replacement. "It was very unfortunate. But I'm sure they'll be back on their feet... one day."

Why did that sound so ominous.

He brightened. "Were you about to borrow some books?"

[veratrum]

"Oh, yes." He looks down at the ones in his arms, momentarily surprised to see them there. Right, he was here for books, not terribly interesting, mildly morbid blondes (what was with him and blondes lately?).

"These are for a friend, actually! He wasn't feeling very well, so I came to find some books for him."

[necromancynow]

"How kind of you," said Faust, beaming and being super blond. And morbid.

"I'm sure he's happy to have such a loyal friend. It's not something grotesque, is it?" Well, that was a shift in conversation.

[veratrum]

"...He's very pretty?" Liam, no, we're pretty sure he meant the books. Or the illness. He just sort of blinks for a moment until his brain catches up to the rest of him.

"Oh! No, no, it's just a hangover."

[necromancynow]

"Ah, what a relief!" Pretty, though -- that was an odd way to describe one's friend. Faust wondered vaguely if this hungover young man was a bit more than a friend, in fact.

"I have a wonderful hangover cure, by the way. Works every time. All you need is..." A dead man's fingernails, he was about to say. Whoops, better not to give something like that away.

A

[goroesi]

Maera is a fixture in nightclubs on the weekends. She slips into clubs in all territories, daring as always - though it probably helps that she can masquerade very well as a human. And after a few drinks, she always tends to get pretty chatty.

So the next time she takes a break from dancing to go to the bar, she addresses the man sitting next to her, who happens to be Liam. "Not a fan of the dance floor?" she asks a little breathlessly as she sips on a club soda.

[veratrum]

"I love watchin' just fine...but I've two left feet, I'm afraid." He smiles at her, all charm and as much innocence one can muster in tight jeans in a nightclub. He does look Maera over--she's pretty enough for his tastes, but he's still feeling out the way of the land here. Best not to play cat-and-mouse for now.

Just make friends he can use later.

"But seein' all the lovely folk like yourself that come through these places is good enough for me."

[goroesi]

"I'd say there aren't many people as lovely as me around London, but I'll take the compliment," she says lightly, easing herself onto a stool now that he's responded positively. "So you're just a people-watcher, then?"

[veratrum]

"And why shouldn't I be? People are interestin'."

It's the most honest thing he's said since he got to London, that's certain. But he smiles easily enough, and motions to the bartender to refill her drink--on his tab.

"You're not wrong, though...not many here are quite so beautiful."

[goroesi]

Oh, that's sweet. Even if she has more than enough money to get by in mortal clubs, paying for her stuff is one way to get on Maera's good side. "Do you people-watch in clubs like this often? I've hardly seen you around before, which seems to be a crime."

A

[acrookedchild]

Some nights, even a proper Widdowson has a little too much to drink. She's not out of her mind, no, but the usual tension in Abby's shoulders and back is gone, and her expression is much less cautious than it usually is. She's been dancing, moving between guys who can't seem to take a hint when a girl's not interested and mingling in groups of girls. By this point in the night, she's a lot more friendly and a lot less cautious than she usually is.

So a cute guy sitting at the bar and watching? Well. She has to approach with a smile. "What's the matter?" she asks. "No one to dance with?"

Re: A

[veratrum]

Oh, he's the prettiest vampire in the club, that's for sure. He smiles brightly at her approach, but he can smell the alcohol in her blood from where he's sitting--she's not going to be any good to drink.

But a friend made is useful for future meals, right? Of course.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Liam admits, laughing a bit sheepishly. "I never did learn how."

[acrookedchild]

"Not like it's a waltz," she says with her own laugh. "Not much to learn. Except how to hear the music."

Proper dancing? She can do that. One of the many 'social graces' she'd been trained in from her youth. But club dancing? Well, that's entirely different. Not nearly as hard to learn how to do.

[veratrum]

"Hear the music, eh...?" He wasn't sure he'd call it that. A thrumming bass beat like a pulse, and some frenetic percussion, sure, but not music. And if he was to follow what that beating heart brought out in him...

"Maaaybe not a good idea. 'Less you're offering to show me?"

B

[mensrea]

While Stiles hardly has bad blood (ha) with any of the Underground’s vampires (yet), he’s unconsciously avoided Islington unless absolutely necessary. The scents clinging to his clothes tend to be a mixed combination of wolf, coyote, and fox—none of which would be particularly welcome in nest territory. There’s a book he’s been desperately searching for, however, and an online site informed him that a copy could be found at the Islington Branch Library. So he hurries over, bag slung over a shoulder, to claim the title.

Only to see it in the arm of some tiny old woman. Is Stiles awful enough to swindle some elderly woman out of her reading selection? Yes. Yes he is. As he approaches, sleeves rolled up to indicate he means business, it occurs to him that the tiny old woman does not have a feminine build. Like, at all. And as he gets even closer, he realizes that this is because said tiny old woman is not a tiny old woman. Well, tiny, yes. Old? In spite of the long, braided silver hair, no. A woman? Definitely not.

“Hey, pal, hold up.”

Still reeling over the fact that this guy had really strange hair, like something out of a MMO, Stiles forgets his pre-planned speech.

“Uh. Hi.”

[veratrum]

His hair's white to the roots, clearly not a dye job, that's for certain. But he looks up when Stiles fumbles his entry, and stares at him, blank and unblinking for a second too long.

Now that's a familiar face. But the tone, the color, the scent--those were all wrong. That was new.

"...I'm not a librarian." He notes blandly, posture clearly indicating he thinks Stiles is very, very lost.