September 1884

[Dragoș]

"I was researching..." Dragoș flounders internally. "Life."

Dragoș pauses while his own ego lets that sink in.

Life? If that oughtn't brick his Sire into terminal humour then nothing will.

Temporary dissemblance aside, his pride was accessorising itself into a fit of self-harm. His scholar ached. In addition to the palaver of coming to Bath, Dragoș must, it seems, tarnish his own self esteem.

"I was a collector of religious antiquities," he went onto embarrass his lineage, and felt his soul wince. "Some people are convinced that ancient objects of talismanic power are there for the taking if one merely has the money, leisure and inclination to dig them up. Many mortals and Kindred alike, desperate to get their hands on dusty tablets and put their Colloquial Arabic or Hebrew to use, pretend an interest in the artifact's housing or tomb while indeed, they are more concered only with the massacre of sacred ground in the removal of said items. I specialised in... deterring would-be thieves from their loot. I tended to put artifacts back from whence they came."

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius continues to look at Dragos, wondering if there will be any expansion on the topic of his research.

"Ahh, a preserver. It pleases me to know that there are still those who seek to maintain the sanctity of the sites of power."

Gaius has a small smile on his face again.

"When I was in Greece I visited a fair number of points of interest, the cave where Hermes was said to have made the first lyre and slaughtered Apollo's white cows for one."

"Have you ever studied astronomy?"

[Dragoș]

"Yes, quite; a lot of my sites of power tended to be desecrated for loot, admitedly we all became quite sensitised to thieves."

Which isn't far from the truth, Dragoș concedes. Hardly sufficient, you'd think, to form the basis of a neurotic obsession for the better part of his Sire's entire life, but, Dragoș must forgive, she's been subject to more looting than he.

The beauty of chronic ambivalence is that even tiny shifts of detail have the power to tip the scales. All this seductive talk of Greece was simultaneously summoning forwards an outgrown childhood fetish and a miraculously resurrected dead love. Dragoș should know what a liberation it would be to get up and just walk away with a tactful farewell, as of a final renunciation that brings peace.

But he couldn't. He was actually enjoying the conversation, trying though some of it was. He considered for a moment, whether he could suitably convince his erstwhile companion to trade in a shakedown of Beckett for instead a grilling of this fellow here. His very inaptness - asking after personal research, really how crass - lent the man a whiff of mad authenticity. Perhaps he did just care for conversation? Although Dragoș knows better than to believe it, he almost wishes he could.

Have you ever studied astronomy?

It was a small agony, to hear it in the format of a question. The mere topic rushed him up out of his stupor. Suddenly the uncertainty of this stranger's status here - was he Vortigern's or not? - was intolerable. When I was in Greece I visited a fair number of points of interest... He wasn't lying (and even now the thought of Greece, even conversation of it, after all these years was like a violent drop in blood pressure) but Dragoș couldn't stand the thought of simply waiting to see how this would fuck him over. With the abrupt cessation of the night's peace and that one simple line of enquiry the year of passivity caught up to Dragoș and yanked him into bristling anger in a contained paroxysm of self-disgust.

"No, never," he snapped, his tone suddenly clipped. "A wasted art these nights."

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius schooled his expression, the sudden change in demeanour at the question giving him the option of pressing on and potentially breaking through to whatever lay underneath, or apologising and beating a hasty retreat to topics less sensitive. Internally he shrugged, in for a Penny, in for a Sersterci.

“Some might consider it so, with the Kine charting the stars as they do and then recording the information. But in the stars we see the patterns of what could be, a mix of astrology and astronomy...can help predict genext great shift...the next calamity possibly.”

Gaius blinks slowly, looking back up at the moon.

“When the red moon hangs low, beasts shall rule this world.” He shrugs “I am not gifted with the power of prophesy as some within this city are...but I do believe that patterns can be discerned from the sky.”

Slowly tilting his head, Gaius looks directly at Dragos.

“Why do you call it a wasted art? I would care to hear your opinion on the matter.”

[Dragoș]

The lack of expression in his companion's face seemed to cool what fires were half-building. Dragoș respected a lack of displayed emotion, if not the subject matter.

"Red moon? Then that is a new one," he exhaled in what was not quite a sigh. "Prophets have come the world over, with red stars and red wolves and red children born of red wolves, but not moons. Perchance we will have red cakes, next."

"I call a wasted art anything that -" Dragoș snapped, hackles again high. But he cooled almost as sharply, a one-eighty in temperament.

"I would like not to have this conversation." The Elder found himself busied with the dark river, beyond the bench and the railing. His tone was softer.

And he cleared his throat, took eventually to meeting Gaius' eyes. "Tell me instead what you would do if given a single wish. From a Djinn. It is as ineffectual a topic of discussion, you see. Truths are not shared these nights."

[Gaius Olynder]

Gaius lets a small smile tip up one corner of his mouth.

"I have tried red cakes, some form of attempt to crystallise blood so our kind can mimic eating as the Kine do. It was an interesting theory developed by a man desperate to stop his humanity slipping away and communal meals with his childr were what he believed he could manage such."

He blinks slowly

"The Red Moon...I am unsure if it is literal or a representation...but when I have seen it in my dreams it is what gives the mastery of this world over to the Beasts. Which as even the most fool hardly Neonate must recognise would spell disaster for our kind...and all the others who see the truth of this world as well as for the Kine."

Gaius inclines his head at his companions request factoring the topic away to be broached perhaps at a later date, or at least avoided with Dragos. The lapping of the water, that cinstnat ebb and flow of liquid moving over and under the surface lent the Malkavian a feeling of calm.

Looking at the sky overhead, Gaius thought for a moment. The calm of the weather allowing his mind to work unhampered for the first time in many nights.

"A wish form a Djinn, that rather depends on how foolhardy I was feeling and my mood on the night. There are some nights when I may wish for the Djinn to leave me alone for the rest of my existence...for dealing with creatures that powerful can bring a great deal of trouble."

Gaius brushes his hair to one side, thinking carefully as he adjusts his glasses.

"But as I do not know the character of the Djinn, I may well wish for my Childe to be returned to me whole and healthy. With no more mental scars than she had before. What about you? If you don't mind my asking."