↳ hotel

　　　↳ ᴇɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ. ↰

@✧　Avery Onderas ↳ ᴍᴀʏ 18, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: gemini feed - banks

Once Eden is reassured that Avery will not struggle, he moves back slowly, allowing the regent king to breathe when he takes his hands away from his mouth. Eden isn’t here to kill him, after all; merely to issue a warning that Ziminiar probably wouldn’t approve if, if he had known what the guard captain was planning. It wasn’t as though Ziminiar could really stop Eden anyway, if he had known. When the captain put his mind to something, he was going to do it, regardless of the wishes and opinions of Ziminiar or anyone else.

He settles on the balls of his feet, sitting on his heels as he stares down at the Elven king. Once again pushing his sunglasses up to ensure they won’t slip and cause an accidental petrification of foreign royalty, the captain of the guard clears his throat and utters softly, “I apologize for any emotional distress I may have caused. My name is Eden, and I am the Captain of the Dream Guard.”

Eden, in reality, feels no remorse at the actions he has taken. He isn’t bothered by the prospect of causing Avery Onderas, the troublesome king regent of the Elves, any emotional duress. In fact, he is rather of the opinion that the man probably needs to suffer some for the cruelty Eden has heard of him inflicting upon his people. If that suffering comes through the presence of the Dream Guard captain appearing in his hotel room and terrifying him, then so be it. Of course, perhaps he doesn’t fear Eden—one day he may learn to fear him, if he doesn’t heed his warning.

“You may be wondering why I’m here,” Eden continues, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks down at the royal. “Normally I wouldn’t be forced to take such drastic measures, but unfortunately… there were issues of communication.” Meaning, Ziminiar had failed to inform him that foreign royalty would be arriving in the city.

“I’ve heard things about who you are and what you do,” the captain states. “And to be frank with you, I don’t need that sort of behavior in my city. My warriors have enough to worry about without a foreigner—king or not—arriving to cause more trouble. You may wear the crown of a King at home, but in this city you will answer to the law just as any other visitor. And I happen to be the law.” His smile is thin-lipped and wide, like that of a snake about to pounce on his prey—the simile was perhaps too on the nose. “If I hear of you being up to your usual antics, I will find you and the outcome will not be a pretty one.”

He understands that this is a royal visiting the city and that this is far from the customary practice of law enforcement welcoming royalty, but Eden has always done everything a little backward, a little twisted. He also has no tolerance for the sort of behavior he has heard of Avery presenting in his home. And perhaps he’s wrong—perhaps Avery isn’t the cruel individual he has heard about so often, but Eden isn’t one to put blind faith into people. He doesn’t give chances, especially to those he has heard so many horrible stories about. Avery may be a good person—Eden will not contest that it is a possibility—but the truth is that Eden… well, he could care less. Ziminiar used to call it his hero complex, but Eden is determined to keep the people of his city safe and he won’t let some Elven regent king come along and torment them because he could get away with it in his homelands.

@✠　Eden ↳ ᴍᴀʏ 18, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: wish you well - jean castel
↳ ᴀᴠᴇʀʏ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/be/eb/e4/beebe45415012d00dd90936ad1b80dd1.jpg

Avery is no stranger to attempts on his life, at least not anymore. It had been a rude wakeup call the first time his food had been poisoned, or the time after that when a guard was injured defending him from an assassin. There have been more attempts to kill him since he took the place of the true regent king in increasingly creative and convulated ways. He remembers one in particular where a foreign agent had come to the castle disguised as a circus master, and although Avery had sensed something off about him, the royal advisors forced him to accept his invitation. This murder plot involved several elephants, fire and a poison dart that was meant to strike him at the height of the festivities. Avery was of the opinion that whoever was after him then was far too overzealous. A simple kill in broad daylight would be easy enough, though he supposed whoever sought to end his life wouldn't want to be caught.

All of this is to say that Avery isn't necessarily surprised to find out that someone is once again threatening his life.

He is surprised to see a stranger in his room, jolted out of his almost sleep when he feels a presence in the bed with him. His eyes immediately fly open to see a shadowed face, with sunglasses covering a defining feature - the assailant's eyes. Avery in a deep breath before his mouth and nose are covered, and he finds himself unable to breathe for the time being. He can feel the stranger pressing his body into the mattress to hold him down, and Avery does not struggle. His expression goes confused, brows furrowing as he listens to the man speak.

This doesn't seem like a normal enemy to the kingdom. Most people who want the regent king dead are from the Elven rebellion or the other supernatural kingdom that they've been fearing war with for decades. He wonders if this man, who doesn't seem to be part of either group, understands the gravity of killing a monarch. The war it would cause, the descruction, the chaos - not that Avery considers himself personally so important, but to tear down the Elven king would be to give an opening to any number of adversaries waiting for the kingdom to fall. Perhaps this man doesn't care about any of that.

Intensely curious already, and finding that he's relatively calm about this whole thing (which probably has to do with the many other attempts to kill him) Avery eventually nods. His chest burns from lack of air, and he slowly and quietly brings his hand up from the covers, pointing to the man's grip over his mouth and nose. He even signs, 'I will not scream. Please let go. I cannot breathe.' He's not sure if the man would understand him or not, but gesturing to his hands will probably get the point across. Unless this man truly wishes to see him die through asphyxiation, in which case Avery would be forced to resort to other tactics, most of which would end up with someone in this room dying and blood on the hotel sheets.

@✧　Avery Onderas ↳ ᴍᴀʏ 18, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: out the roof - chase atlantic
↳ ᴇᴅᴇɴ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8a/2a/ad/8a2aad97e3b0250b6919a5ca9b9b02e7.jpg

"Were you going to tell me you brought a /foreign/ monarch here, Ziminiar?"

"Oh, Eden—don't fret. He's hardly going to be a problem."

"I've heard things about this one, and I didn't like any of them. I won't have him making trouble in this city."

"Where are you going? Eden!"

Since that conversation with Ziminiar, Eden's anger has since dispersed, leaving instead the Dream Guard captain's natural, terrifying calm. If asked he will blame whatever happens tonight on Ziminiar, for being fool enough to assume he didn't need to share information with the captain of the Guard. Especially about Avery Onderas—Eden has heard things about the Elven king regent, and none of them are quite pleasant. Hardly the type of person that Eden wants in the city, but /Ziminiar/ extended an invitation without his counsel or giving him the courtesy of a warning.

The wheels of Eden's skateboard are quiet on the street, drawing the attention of the occasional nocturnal creature until something tells them it would be best to leave Eden alone—the captain has a powerful aura of repulsion, and though he generally chooses not to use it, tonight is not one of those nights. No, he wants to be left to his own devices, at least until he has delivered his message to the visiting royalty.

Eden's skateboard vanishes when he stops in front of the hotel, eyeing the guards who are in the parking lot. They're not good at their jobs, considering that they haven't noticed him yet. The captain is almost tempted to waltz past them and enter the hotel in front of them, but that wasn't exactly his operating style. Eden drops to roll under a car and watch them from his covered position, spying as the guards jaw with one another. Was this the security of a king? Really, Eden's doing him a favor. He'll be sure to point out the flaws in his crew when he drops in and out unnoticed. These men are no Perseus, Hercules or Jason. It's almost child's play for the captain to sneak past them amidst the cars, weaving his way into the darkness that are the bushes at the side of the hotel. Hiding in foliage is familiar—Eden's serpentine qualities are those of a snake living in the rainforests. He peers out through the leaves, eyeing another guard who watches one of the staff entrances.

Eden doesn't need that entrance. His bipedal form slips away and then he is a serpent, slithering his way up the wall and still going unnoticed as he works his way toward one of the windows. He already knows which room the king regent is in. He acquired that information from Ziminiar's files while he was waiting to scold his friend for failing to communicate with him, and it's simple for him to regain his bipedal form when he is perched precariously on the windowsill. It doesn't take much for him to open the window and drop inside, landing silent on the luscious carpet.

The Elf he came to find is lying on the bed, either sleeping or trying to do so. Eden is noiseless when he steals ever-closer, pushing his sunglasses up higher on his nose so he won't accidentally petrify the visitor. That would certainly anger Ziminiar, if this little visit doesn't earn Eden a reprimand on its own.

He draws closer still, and then he strikes, his lithe body resting on the regent king's abdomen and his hands clasped firmly over his nose and mouth. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes glitter, and his black and white hair rustles like a wind has blown through it. Eden holds the snakes back, forces them to maintain their altered form. No sense in bringing more terror than he already would.

"Don't even think of screaming," he murmurs, so low that only he and the Elf beneath him are privy to his words. "You'll be dead and I'll be gone before your guards even think of coming to your rescue." And it is the truth. Eden could easily kill Avery and make his escape, but that isn't what he's here for. "I just want to chat, I won't hurt you if you behave yourself."

@✠　Eden Even outside of the palace Avery feels caged on all sides. The four walls of the hotel room seem to serve as reminders of his true status - an unwilling monarch surrounded by those who would do anything to keep him trapped. He sighs, rolling over in the king size bed to lay on his side. He counts the number of guards currently in and outside of the building and tries to go to sleep.

Two guards standing just outside his hotel room door. Two more guards at the end of the hall, stationed in front of the elevators. Three guards for each of the rest of the floors below, patroling back and forth to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. He's sure there are more guards that have been delegated to the parking lot, the bathrooms and the staff entrances. In his opinion Avery believes the large amount of detail is far too much. Then he'll remember that it's not their only job to protect him. They're also tasked with making sure he doesn't slip away unnoticed and make a break for it. Avery stopped trying to run after the third attempt, when the royal advisor warned him that they would go after his family if he tried again.

Avery flops onto his back with a heavy breath and runs his hands over his face. He can't sleep like this. It's much too quiet and his mind is running at a thousand miles a minute. His nerves are getting the best of him, thinking about the speech he's expected to deliver tomorrow at city hall. The entire reason he's in this city in the first place, and not back at "home" inside the castle walls.

They mayor had extended an invitation for the regent king to visit. Avery was told that it was to show the elven kingdom the benefits of living mixed, humans and supernatural creatures combined. While he himself was not opposed to such a forward idea, trying to get the entierety of the elven population to agree to such a thing would not be easy. In fact, it probably wouldn't happen at all. Far too proud were the elves that remained within the kingdom borders that they wouldn't deign to associate themselves with most other creatures, especially humans. If he was his true self now, and not king, Avery would be buzzing with questions for all the species here. What a great many of things he could learn from this city if he wasn't forced to watch every word that left his mouth.

Willing away the disheartening thoughts Avery turns his head to look at the clock on the nightstand. It's the early hours of the morning, just after midnight. He must sleep. He closes his eyes and attempts to rest once more.

[] sry i got a bit rambly ;;;;; feel free to respond with as much or as little as you like !

@♆　Kivari Ae "A journal," the vampire repeated right back with a nod. He watched Kivari's expression as he thought, and Valor vaguely wondered what the phoenix was thinking about. If his tendency to ramble was any indication, probably nothing that made any sense. To Valor, anyway. Nevertheless, Valor waited for a response and smiled when one came. "You can try it out," he suggested. "Even if it is less helpful with your memories, journaling in general is good for your state of mind. Helps you sort out complicated thoughts and emotions. I believe that alone can help you learn some control."

"I do not wish to feed on you as a means of survival. I would get addicted, and I cannot have that. If I were to be denied your blood for a long enough period, I would grow crazed and lose rational thought. In that instance I could kill you, and then you would go up in flames and kill me. And as we have already established, I do not wish for you to die anymore." The vampire showed a sad smile as he shook his head. "My father and the church believed those who killed themselves would go to hell. I was nearly there. Perhaps I would have gone to hell. But no; I accepted a stranger's offer for life, and I turned into a monster. I am unsure if I believe in God, but sometimes it feels as though there are other powers that seek to uphold karmic justice." Then he let out a laugh. "No, mon petit phenix, it is not rude to ask. I simply call it existence. I am not alive, but not entirely dead. Something in between. I dance on the gray line."

"It is not misplaced. I am a very intelligent person, I would never be stupid enough to misplace my trust at the expense of my life. I do wish you would trust me as much as I trust you. You would gain control almost immediately." The vampire tilted his head as something occurred to him. "You have never...fully learned control, have you? Have reached a point where you learned how to control your emotions and separate them from the fire? You have always died young, before you have made it that far..." He looked at Kivari. "I think that's why you have always died young. Of course I am not familiar with every way you have died, but it tends to happen at regular intervals, yes? Perhaps with a few years as a margin of error. Kivari, you /have/ to let me help you. Please."

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: greengreengreen - chase atlantic

"A journal?" Kivari repeated, feeling a bit like a flaming parrot (except he wasn't on fire at the time) since he so often repeated what Valor was saying to him. /Would/ Valor like him if he could transform into a flaming parrot? Kivari personally felt that he was a majestic bird, but perhaps the vampire would prefer him as a parrot? Or... Kivari didn't really know /why/ Valor would prefer him as a parrot, so he would definitely avoid asking about that and probably annoying him more than anything else. Kivari already annoyed him a lot, but Valor had a lot of patience to put up with the phoenix. "Oh. Those are... things I never thought to try," he admitted. Keeping a journal had never occurred to him, or maybe it had and he'd just forgotten with the passage of another life. "I—well, it's not like I /try/ to die," he pouted, "it just sort of happens. But you're right—nothing about dying is fun."

"You lose control, but at least you have it in the first place." Kivari gently nudged the vampire with his elbow, squeezing his hand. "I know. But you always have me to fall back on. To feed, I mean, when you need it. Or if you just want to? But you already know that." His thumb gently d over the back of Valor's hand. "Plenty of people have addictions, Valor. It doesn't make you any less of a good person because you made bad decisions in your past. That's part of life... or unlife, I guess? I don't know what you call it. What /do/ you call it? Do you have a word for it? Do you just call it death? Is that rude to ask?"

"I think it's misplaced. As soon as one of us lets our guard down I could woosh, go up in flames and then it would all be over and then I'd hurt the—" He stopped, to keep himself from saying the words that /had/ been on the tip of his tongue. "—and then I'd hurt one of the people I'm the most scared of hurting. And you'd /die/, and it would be all my fault and then what? It would just prove everything, it would just prove that I can't control myself and my power." Kivari's exhale was sharp, air hissing between his teeth. "I'd rather keep you far away from that scenario. I'm just too selfish to keep you at arm's length." The phoenix bit the tip of his tongue between one of his upper canines and his lower teeth, regretting his own overshare. "I'm trying not to die again, Val, but I... it just happens, I can't prevent it when it does. Maybe sometimes I'm careless, but..." He shrugged helplessly. "It happens."

The phoenix squeezed Valor's hand again, the cool of the vampire's skin soothing in more than one way. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially because of me. That's the last thing I want."

@♆　Kivari Ae "Keep a journal," Valor offered. "Each time you have a memory, especially one you think is important, right it down. Right down details about where you were, what type of clothing was worn. Each time you ask someone else about what happened, write that down, and ask them when and where it happened. You can start to piece together a timeline that way. I would be more than happy to help. From there I believe it will be easier to fill in the gaps. You need not remember every day of a past life. People forget most things anyway. But if you wish to remember, I shall try to help." Valor shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. "I would prefer you not die /at all/. Let's stop at twenty-five, shall we? I don't think you enjoy dying, so just don't. Stop."

The vampire let out a soft laugh. "No, I don't. I lose control sometimes. And you are aware that my addiction has followed me into this life. I crave blood more often than other vampires. Magical blood sates me better than human. I can't go as long without feeding, either. My body starts to go into withdrawal. I am still an addict, even in this life. I suppose it is a fitting punishment." Though Valor didn't believe that people should be punished for their addictions, he thought he should be. It was his punishment for killing himself with opium. The church always insisted that those who took their own lives would go to hell. And this was hell for Valor.

"It is not misplaced." Valor's voice was equally as firm, equally as insistent. "You have not lost control around me because you are actively controlling yourself. You need to trust yourself as much as I trust you. You will not hurt me, Kivari. I know you will not. You know it too, or else you would not come around me at all. You have felt plenty of emotions talking to me, and yet none of them have caused you, myself, or anything around us to go up in flames. The fact that we can even have any sort of friendship is testament to that." The vampire squeezed Kivari's hand tightly, punctuating his words. "I will not have you die again, Kivari. You can learn control, you are just too scared to try. In which case I shall force you to learn. I believe it is the only way that will work."

Valor took a deep breath. Again, not because he needed it, but because the action was calming. Familiar. He was certain he could rile Kivari up enough to get him to start burning, but he would not do so just yet. But soon. He would show Kivari his own strength.

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: immortals - fall out boy

Kivari nodded, lacing his fingers with Valor's. "It is frustrating. It's... it isn't nice. Some memories I'm missing are from so recently, and everyone else remembers them but every time I come back it scrambles things and I forget things, misremember things, and things are blurred. And asking Vos about things that happened in my last life is embarrassing because I should know what happened, and I don't, and I feel like they get tired of hearing me ask questions about things all the time because I keep dying. But it's not like I die on purpose. I think I'm just a very unlucky person. Or maybe I'm lucky? If I was anyone else I'd be dead a million times over. But at the same time something tells me if I was anyone else I wouldn't find myself in all of those situations." And there he'd gone again, rambling. The phoenix shook his head, patting Valor's arm. "I wouldn't want you to be in harm's way. Only bad people want me dead. Bad people you should stay away from. You're too good to be caught up in that. I can take care of myself. Well, kind of. I've only died..." He paused to count on his fingers. "Twenty-three... no... twenty-four... twenty-five times! That's good, right? I'm 118!"

Kivari cocked his head to the side, matching Valor's pace as they walked down the street. "You can steal a life to get it," he agreed, "but you don't. You won't. It's a cruel existence, but I have faith in you." Between the two of them there was one true killer, and accidental killing didn't count. Besides, the incident hadn't repeated itself, because Valor was careful and attentive. He'd had plenty of chances to drain Kivari, for example, and never did.

The phoenix, however, didn't have the same faith in himself. He tangled his fingers with Valor's and gently squeezed the vampire's hand, but he shook his head when Valor started talking. "I think your trust is misplaced," he stated firmly, "I'm too likely to hurt you because I can't control my power. I mean... you've never been around in a moment where I truly lose it. You've never seen me fight. You've never seen me on missions for Vos. And you've never seen me die. I don't trust myself."

It was nice, warming to think that Valor was so concerned about him that he would offer to try and help him learn to better control his power, but Kivari couldn't accept the risks that would come with it. Valor was a living, breathing accelerant, someone who would go up in flames like a sheet of paper. And he refused to be responsible for harming, or worse, Valor.

@KIVARI AE "I do not think that is such a bad thing. To reset and forget. Though I imagine it is frustrating, having holes in your memory." Valor had painful memories, but he wasn't sure if he would rather remember and suffer, or forget and lose those parts of himself. Even if he wasn't proud, they were still things he did. He had to live with them in order to grow. "Perhaps this time you will not reset. Perhaps you will not die so quickly during this life. Not if I have anything to say about it. Anyone who dares to hurt you will suffer greatly. I may not be a fighter, but I am a vampire. A predator by nature."

The vampire glanced towards the sky, which was slowly going a lighter shade of blue as the sun began to sink in the sky. "It is part of my curse, Kivari. I am alive, but only partially. The simple pleasures of existence have been denied to me and replaced with a constant thirst for the life force of others. Blood is one of the only things that makes me feel as if I am alive, yet I can steal a life to get it. Cruel, no?" Valor looked straight ahead, moving forward with his usual inhuman swiftness.

Valor had to resist the urge to roll his eyes because tennis shoes were certainly /not/ respectable, no more than jeans were. He wouldn't fight him on it; Kivari obviously had the things he liked, and Valor had the things he liked. Things like that made Kivari endearing; Valor appreciated that he did things the way he wanted to, the way he was comfortable with. Kivari and Valor were not alike at all. That was probably why Valor enjoyed his company yet.

Valor smiled gently at Kivari, reaching over to take his hand gently. "You can control it, Kivari. You've already proven that in all your years being around me. I know you can. I can help you work on it if you like. I trust you. I know you'd never hurt me. Truly."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: follow you - bring me the horizon

If anyone from Vos were to ask, Kivari certainly did not lean into Valor's hand for pets like some kind of kept phoenix. "Maybe that's because I do kind of reset. I forget things. Things are different. Not all of my lives are the same. I like different things, I do different things. I feel different, or at least, it feels like I feel different. It's like... I imagine it's how a shapeshifter would feel, except my face is the same and it's other parts of me that are different. I guess all that ever really stays the same is my personality and my body."

Part of the phoenix wanted to reach out and try to provide warmth; but the rest of him worried that it would lead to fire and fire would bring the death of the man he considered his closest companion. So he kept his hands to himself, expression contorted into a mournful frown.

"I didn't think about that," he confessed, "I didn't realize you weren't able to feel the sun." Not in the same way that Kivari and others experienced the sun, at least. It wasn't often that the phoenix and turned vampire had serious conversations about what they were, but from the very day that they had met, Kivari had known there was some underlying resentment for what Valor was and what he had lost in the change.

"Tennis shoes are respectable," Kivari muttered, even though they both knew that he and Valor had wildly different definitions of respectable when it came to clothing (and probably behavior, as well). No matter the closeness of their ages, Kivari had grown up a wild thing, roaming from place to place and living short periods before dying and being forced to do it all over again whereas Valor had grown up educated and refined, albeit with dark patches in his past. But Kivari didn't begrudge him his upbringing. The phoenix wouldn't be who he was if not for the lives that he had led and all of the things that had happened to him in them. "Besides, who's going to be looking at my feet? I'm not going to be looking at feet."

"It's a good thing you're not in Vos. Being in Vos is dangerous, and I wouldn't like you being in danger." Kivari pushed his free hand through his blonde hair and shrugged. "I don't know. It's like... whenever I'm with Vos, I try not to let my fire get out of hand but it happens anyway, and then Akaedi's disappointed but he never blatantly /says/ it but he has this expression when he's been let down, so I know he's disappointed, he just doesn't come out and tell me outright."

@MORRIGAN VALMONT "... thank you," he grumbles sheepishly despite the bright blush illuminating his cheeks. he laughs in an effort to ease the tension he feels, but all it does is amplify his insecurities. his gaze darts to the floor, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "i promise, i'm nothing like this when i'm with the enemy." he adds before following her to the sofa.

he places the tart on the coffee table in front of them, rubbing his palms against the fronts of his jeans. "do you think..." he begins, tongue darting briefly between his lips to wet them. "do you think it's strange?" he questions, for the first time lifting his gaze to meet hers. "sometimes, it comes so naturally. i know exactly how to deceive most people into lowering their defenses, but... i feel nervous with you." a few moments of silence pass before he bites back a laugh, instead a carefree smile spreading across his lips. "is it because you're so pretty?"

@MORRIGAN VALMONT lio could hear his heartbeat resounding in his ears. his grip tightened around the fruit tart case, shifting his gaze downward as he reconsiders having brought it. ‘what if she hates custard? what if she’s allergic to the chocolate lining?’ with several other anxious worries circling his head, he feels the onset of a headache. however, her door swings open faster than he would have liked, but the sight of morrigan easily puts his thoughts to rest—until a second later when he remembers exactly why he came to her current residence for.

for the first time since he was a boy, he grows bashful. “well, why did you ever think i’d skip out on spending time with you?” he murmurs beneath his breath. he then follows her inside her hotel room, and is completely taken aback by the luxuries present. “miss morrigan, i never even knew they made hotels this nice!” he says with his now usual cheerful smile. “i doubt my fruit tart is up to your high bar of excellence. i made it myself, but i’m certainly no five star chef like the ones that work here.” he admits, visage visibly sullen.

@KIVARI AE "I would never force someone to wear something they did not feel comfortable wearing. Unless it is jeans to a formal event. But in every day situations I would not. Therefore I would not make you wear a hat." Valor gently touched the top of Kivari's head, smoothing out his hair with an affectionate smile. "I am aware that we are not so far apart in age. I just think you handled your aging better than I did. You seem to reset. You are always full of energy, of life. Perhaps it is because I am dead. I have risen from my previous life, but I have no heartbeat. No breath in my lungs. I never reset. My brain kept going, kept aging, despite my body being frozen. You are a phoenix, born to die. I was human. I was meant to die, and stay that way. And yet..." Valor trailed off, a sad smile on his lips.

"I envy you of your ability to feel the warmth of the sun. With my talisman, it is no different than electric light. Without it, I may feel the warmth of the sun but at the cost of my own demise. I have taken it off a few times, just to feel the warmth. I blistered and burned, but I healed. It was worth it." Those scars weren't permanent, unlike scars from direct fire. Valor stretched out his hand, eyeing the charmed ring on his right ring finger, an insignia of two roses curling into each other with a crescent moon in the middle; it was the Rosewain crest. "I envy creatures who were born what they are."

Valor sighed as he dropped his hand, looking over at Kivari. "Oh alright. I have forced you into slacks, I shall not force you into a pair of respectable shoes as well. You may keep that comfort." Valor knew Kivari did not feel comfortable in formal dress. Getting him out of jeans was already a miracle, and Valor didn't feel like pushing his luck by trying to force the phoenix into a pair of leather oxfords too. Baby steps.

"Yes, well I find I would do rather poorly in a gang, so it is a good thing I am not in Vos. I am much more of the scholarly type. I haven't the stomach for violence, and drugs ruined my life. I understand that being held underwater is not...ideal, but I believe if you can control yourself around me, you could control yourself around them as well. You can do anything you set your mind to, Kivari. I truly believe that." A gentle smile, and Valor opened the door, leading them out into the street.

@VALOR ROSEWAIN ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: r u mine? - arctic monkeys

Kivari? A gentleman? He found that a little hard to believe. He was a member of a gang, a hitman of Vos. He spent his days killing and intimidating for his boss. Oh, and burning things. He did that too. But here Valor was, calling him a gentleman like it could ever be true, like Kivari wasn't all of that and then some more. He wouldn't disagree with him vocally, however, it was a slight frown and that was all. "If I had a hat, I'd probably hate that too. I like... I don't like things on top of my head." Kivari snorted. "You always talk like you're so much older than I am, but we're not that far apart in age." But maybe it was easier for him to shed traditions because of the different lives he had lived and the fuzziness it created in some of his memories.

"Oh. I don't need protection from the sun. I love the sun. The sun is warm and I like warm. I can stare up at the sun and my eyes don't hurt but that's because the sun is a great ball of flame and gas and I'm a phoenix and bright light and fire don't bother me." Kivari blinked. "We're not very alike in that regard. I mean, you need your talisman to walk out in the sunlight."

The phoenix shrugged. "It was a past life. Some things from my past lives are cloudy and hard to remember. Like... Kindle the model died years ago. I struggle to remember how it felt to be on a catwalk, sometimes. There are things from every life that I can't always remember clearly... I forgot what my mother's face looked like. I could encounter members of my family and I would never know it's them." And there he went, he had gotten off-topic again so easily.

Kivari looked down at his tennis shoes, the nicest pair that he owned, and gaped at Valor. "And here I thought that the tennis shoes were an improvement from converse," he pouted. "I left those and my boots at home." On second thought, maybe he should have worn the black boots that he worked in, even if they were a little scratched and worn and had been bled on more often than not. He could have washed them. Or at least cleaned them a little. Okay, maybe he wouldn't have put that much effort in, but he didn't do things like this. Go places like this. He was only doing it for Valor.

"Akaedi and Jinhai trying to drown me is pretty dire," muttered Kivari. It might have sounded dramatic to someone on the outside, but when Kivari's flames escaped his already-thin control, the only way to put them out was to totally submerge the phoenix in water. The amount of times he'd been held under in a bathtub had given him great breath control. He could thank the mermen for that, at least. "But yeah. Maybe you're right. There's no one quite like you in Vos."

@KIVARI AE "Of course you are a gentleman," Valor replied as if it were obvious. "Modern day definitions matter little. If you are a man of respectable nature with pure intentions, you are a gentleman. It just so happens that two hundred years or so, the title came with an expectation of dress. It did for ladies as well. Women still have that pressure today, but men...not so much. I am old fashioned. If it were up to me, I would have every man wear a hat. It used to be wildly inappropriate to leave the house without one." Valor's nature was not so stiff. He had been more than willing to compromise and grow as the world did, but his opinions on fashion had not changed for men. He still believed in suits with multiple pieces and hats.

"Victorian era clothing is actually more comfortable and cooler than jeans and other modern-day clothing. We used to wear linen undergarments that cooled you greatly. It also protected from the sun, but I won't go on about it. I understand that you like what you like, and I will not force my opinions on you." Valor assured.

As Valor checked his snow white hair in the mirror, a small smile creeped up on his lips as he glanced at Kivari in the mirror. He ignored the comment about his rambling making sense as he had grumbled it, likely without the intention of Valor hearing it--though his vampire hearing did anyway.

"I imagine fashion feels more like a costume to you," the vampire noted as he walked towards Kivari, offering his arm. "It can be. A costume, I mean. I feel as if I am wearing a costume whenever I wear modern day clothing. It feels like I am lying to myself. I am playing a part so that others do not suspect me of being what I am." Valor smiled again. "Speaking of which, do you need to borrow shoes too? The answer will be yes if all you have are tennis shoes. I will accept Converse."

Valor began leaving the room, heading towards the front door. "I think it proves you have control. You could control yourself around Vos as well, but you know the consequences are not so dire. Even if they douse you with a couple of buckets of water."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN ↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: runaway baby - bruno mars

"No one ever said I was a gentleman," Kivari muttered, but he didn't offer up much else in the way of resistance unless Valor changed his mind about the tie. The phoenix and such an article of clothing would not end well. The last time he'd touched a tie he'd managed to get his fingers tangled up in it and he'd—no surprise here—managed to put Akaedi in a bad mood yet again.

The things he did for Valor. He really was a great friend. He'd even put on slacks instead of jeans.

"While they would, I don't think I'd wear them," Kivari remarked. It seemed like a lot of time and energy to spend on something that—knowing the power and intensity of his flames—might not work regardless.

Watching Valor put his jacket on, the phoenix pouted. "I make sense when I ramble," he grumbled, even though he knew it wasn't always true. He had a habit of just going on about whatever popped into mind and often used analogies that, while they made sense to the phoenix, were nothing short of babble to those around him. Akaedi was one of the people who had no problem telling him when he was making no sense. And apparently Valor thought it was amusing.

"No belt," Kivari decided, shoving his hands down in the pockets of the slacks and slouching his posture a little. He could get away without wearing one, since Valor had left the choice up to him. "Well... then I don't like fashion very much. I didn't when I was a model, either, but I still don't know." One thing Kivari didn't think he missed about the life of Kindle the model were the outfits he wore on the runway that weren't always comfortable and sometimes didn't make any sense. But it had been fun while it lasted.

"That's because I'm very, very careful when I'm around you," Kivari confessed, with an awkward laugh. "I don't want to cause you any harm with my fire so I actively try not to get too excited or angry when you're with me. Usually that means I'm a lot more flammable when I go back to Vos. So maybe in a roundabout way... it's good that I'm spending time with you because it means I have some control, even if it doesn't show when I'm with the others."

@KIVARI AE "A turf war has nothing to do with your inability to keep your clothes clean," Valor said evenly. He stared at the phoenix in such a way that suggested he did not care about Kivari's reasoning as to his lack of formal attire. "I still think it is good practice for a gentleman to have at least one suit in his closet, and at least two pairs of slacks. And you must have one black tie, if nothing else. But I will not force you to wear a tie today, never you worry." Valor waved a hand to assure the other.

"I still would think that fireproof clothing is nice. There's plenty of dragons that use fire, as well as elementals and probably other creatures as well. They would be beneficial to many species." But Valor didn't mind Kivari rambling; Valor was patient, and had nothing but time to listen to the phoenix talk about burning up people during a revival. He simply waited, eyes on the male the entire time so that he would know that Valor was listening. "I don't mind if you ramble," he assured gently, walking over to his bed to pull on his jacket. "The things you say are often amusing, even when they do not make a of sense."

Valor looked the phoenix up and down, then nodded a few times. The pants fit Kivari well enough; they did not appear to be too tight or too loose. They were also similar enough in height that the length was almost perfect, just hitting the tops of Kivari's shoes. "It is much better. Now I feel comfortable taking you to the conference as my date." Stepping forward, Valor double checked to see if the waist was alright. "Should I give you a belt too, or would that be too much torture?" The vampire lifted a brow, then rolled his eyes on the comfort comment. "Fabric used to be higher quality. The clothes I grew up wearing were incredibly comfortable. Modern synthetic blends are a different story. Besides, fashion is not always meant to be comfortable."

The vampire let out a soft sigh--not because he needed to breathe, but because the action was comforting. "I have confidence in you. The members of your gang might have their doubts about your ability to stay cool, but in all the years I have known you, you have never had such a problem. I trust you. For better or worse."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN ↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: friends - chase atlantic

"I'm a member of a gang that's always in some kind of turf war, so I get blood on my clothes all the time, it just depends how ," Kivari shrugged, disagreeing with Valor's words as he caught the pair of slacks thrown at him. He looked at them dumbly for a few moments before he toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt. "Akaedi never makes us wear business formal. I mean, why would you make your employees spend a boatload of cash on some fancy clothes they'll just ruin when someone else bleeds on them? ...Well, sometimes he does ask us to dress up but I'm just a hitman, I'm not one of the Boss's many Hands so he doesn't need me to like... look fancy. Just kill people."

"Fireproof? I mean, probably. Have I ever sought it out? Nah. Whatever I was wearing when I die stays on me, so it's not like I'm running around flashing people or anything. That's a plus, right? I think so. Wouldn't want to ruin any innocent eyes... not that anyone would be seeing me for much if I'm in the middle of reviving. I'd burn them down. It wouldn't be fun, you know? It would probably kill them... I am absolutely rambling again oh no." Sometimes Kivari did that, started talking and just couldn't stop himself when he began to prattle about one thing or another. By now, Valor was probably used to it; they had been friends for fourteen years and Valor had been putting up with Kivari's antics for all of those years.

"I never say no to food," the phoenix mused, as he buttoned the slacks and lifted his jeans to fold them neatly. He was many things, but he wouldn't leave laundry laying on the floor—especially in someone else's home. Setting the jeans where they were out of the way, Kivari slid his shoes back on. "Is this better, Valor?" he asked, looking down at his legs. He'd forgotten what slacks felt like. That was one of the things made murky by the death of his model life. "Hmmm, I'm not sure if these are at all comfortable," he mused. "How do you wear things like this? I like my jeans much better."

But at least it wouldn't be long. At least there was that reassurance. Kivari could live with a few hours as Valor's plus one. After all, it got him away from an irritable boss for five minutes and in the company of someone he enjoyed being around. "I can live that long. Unless I can't. In which case you have twelve hours to get far from my cold, dead corpse."

@KIVARI AE Valor shot the phoenix a look over his shoulder after hearing the comment about their lack of blood. "I feed on blood to keep myself alive and yet none of my clothing has blood on it. The fact that you find the absence of blood to be enough reason to wear it to a business formal occasion shows your lack of understanding of what the words 'business formal' means." Valor pulled out a pair of black slacks and lifted them up, inspecting their size and nodding once in approval before tossing them over to the other male. "Change."

Valor rose from where he was crouched, folding and tossing the pants he'd placed aside back into the trunk. "I know you do not. I have centuries of clothes, so it does not pose such a large threat." Valor sighed. "Do they not make fire-proof clothing? You would think one person in the magical realm would have seen the need for it. Not only for phoenixes, but fire elementals, dragons, whatever other creatures can summon it." Not that Valor tended to be around those types; as a vampire he would go up faster than kindling. But Kivari was just special enough that he kept his company.

"There will be expensive food and drinks there," he offered to the other as a sort of white flag of peace. "And it's all free. You won't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to, and you can go walk around the hotel while the guest speakers are giving lectures--given that you try your best not to light the building on fire." Valor reached out to touch the phoenix's cheek gently, sliding the backs of his forever icy fingers against the burning warmth of Kivari's skin.

It was probably the warmth that kept Valor wanting him around. Kivari's warmth was the only warmth in this world he could seem to feel. Human blood was warm, yes, but their skin was not. Not like Kivari's was. "It won't be long. A few hours."

@VALOR ROSEWAIN ↳ ᴋɪᴠᴀʀɪ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/05/2b/11/052b11051fc12a19a32591444508463a.jpg
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: blue jeans - lana del rey
↳ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 22, 2051

If someone had asked Kivari Ae why Valor had asked him to accompany him to this conference, the phoenix wouldn't have been able to give them much of an answer; he didn't bother to ask or think about why. He needed to get out of the house before he accidentally burned it down, and he'd already been bullied enough by the other members of Vos for accidentally setting a table on fire earlier that day. That had resulted in Atropos dousing the fire and making it worse, because of the nature of Kivari's flames, and then Akaedi had wrestled Kivari into a barrel of water and doused him in order to put out the flame.

But there he was in Valor's room, dried and dressed in a clean button-down and a pair of black jeans that weren't slashed up or shot up or singed or blood- and ash-stained (a feat to find in his closet). He had had a flower, too. A white rose that he'd seen on his walk there, which had reminded him of Valor so he had plucked it and brought it along with him to present it to the vampire.

Kivari looked down at his black jeans, and then up at the vampire. "What's wrong with my jeans?" he demanded, watching as Valor dug through his chest in search of... pants, presumably, since he was protesting Kivari's choice in attire. "They're nice, they're clean, no one's bled on them."

Ah, dress code, of course. Kivari wrinkled his nose and bit back a few protests of his own. He was willing to be semi-cooperative when it came to Valor's requests, if only because the phoenix enjoyed his company and didn't find ticking him off to be as entertaining as it was to irritate his boss.

"I don't own dress clothes," he finally said, as way of explanation. After he had ended his modeling career in another blaze of fire, he'd had no need for fancy clothes. He wore jeans wherever he went and argued with Akaedi about it, but didn't bother to expand his wardrobe.

Oops. At least Valor didn't seem /too/ cranky. Kivari wouldn't push his luck.

@KIVARI AE Valor disdained conferences. They used to be pleasant affairs full of other academics like himself looking to share knowledge and research with one another. However, in today's society that was full of computers and screens and instant sharing capabilities, conferences were a bit drab. This conference seemed a touch more exciting, focusing on ancient civilizations focused around a recent find of iron in a site previously thought to be bronze age. Either the iron had gotten there by accident, or they were missing something. Perhaps communication with a more advanced society, or the site was dated incorrectly.

Valor did not guess that his date, Kivari, would be so amused. Valor wasn't sure why he asked the phoenix of all people. He likely believed that if anyone could make the night more bearable, it would be Kivari, hence why the vampire sent him the invitation. If nothing else there would be food and drink served, and while neither of those served Valor well, they would the phoenix. At least Valor could sip on a dark red wine and try to pretend it was something more sustaining for him.

The vampire in question was dressed in clothing that was of a slightly bygone era; a white poet's shirt open at the front, a deep blue velvet jacket laying across his bed that matched the midnight blue of his pants. Valor's white hair stood in stark contrast, and he only hoped people wouldn't whisper about it. "Unnatural" colors were still considered unprofessional, but on a day when Valor hadn't fed and his amber eyes leaned slightly more red, people would just assume he had some form of albinism. But today his eyes were their usual amber, sliding over to the phoenix in his room.

Valor sighed, walking towards a chest and opening it. "You cannot wear jeans to a formal event," he said firmly, searching for a pair of slacks or dress pants that would fit the phoenix. "I get enough looks without my date breaching dress code."