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Cian had been invited to Saagochque's office at the Chocolate Factory Elysium when he sought to schedule his tithing meeting. It was still early in the evening--before ten o'clock, and the Elysium was not particularly busy. Sounds echoed in the empty factory above, the creak of long-abandoned machinery. The lounge below muffled most of it, though.
Cian has dressed for the occasion - crisp fall-front trousers in a warm brown, a bright white shirt with full sleeves, and a striped silk waistcoat. A blue cravat is carefully tied around his neck, nearly the exact color as his eyes, and his well-worn boots have been cleaned and polished. Still, he looks mildly uncomfortable as he makes his way through the Elysium, gripping the shoulder strap of his bag tightly as he walks.
The door to Saagochque's office is already open when he arrives, the Sakima seated behind a desk, looking through a small stack of paperwork with a red pen in hand. There is a small yellow rubber duck in one corner of her desk that she seems to be talking to as she works. She's dressed in a long-sleeved black dress with a high collar that fails to completely camouflage her skeletal frame, her dark hair worn back in a braid.
Always polite, Cian knocks gently on the doorframe before he steps into the room, eyes cast down. "Sakima. It's lovely to see you again."
"Is it really?" There's a wry sort of humor to her words as she gestures to one of the chairs on the opposite side of her desk. There's two of them, and they are upholstered in hideously 70s fabric in shades of pea green, brown and orange, which don't match the rest of the at least somewhat refined decor of the rest of the office. The nice mahogany dress, Saagochque's own ergonomic office chair. The cabinets behind her that match the desk. No, those chairs definitely stand out.
"It's polite to say so, is it not?" Cian's mouth twitches upward, and eyes the chairs before sitting in one, placing his bag on the ground and crossing his legs. "Shall I bother with polite small talk, or would you rather this be a shorter visit?"
Saagochque doesn't respond immediately, setting her pen down and straightening her stacks of paper, before tucking them in the desk of her drawer. The duck remains, though.
"It would interest me to hear how the past year has treated you in my city, and if there's anything I can do for you in the next one, Cian."
Cian nods, looking thoughtful, and takes a moment before he speaks. "Philadelphia has treated me rather well. I am settling in and making connections. The differences between here and Boston are fascinating, I don't know that I'll ever tire of discovering them."
The Sakima leans in, her eyes lingering on Jack, unblinking. "Oh? Such as what, exactly?"
"The flavor of one-upmanship and competition that exists in Boston is...honestly nearly nonexistent here. There is a level of respect for all Kindred that is nowhere to be found in Boston. If one claws ones way to the top, there, one must always be prepared for that position to be toppled. In every facet of life." His voice is quiet, his soft Irish accent getting slightly stronger as he continues to speak.
"That sort of attitude was common during the reign of my predecessor, Frederick Adelgrief. And that is precisely why I unseated him and reorganized the city the way it is now. That attitude causes suffering and pain for everyone, in every level of Kindred society." She nods slowly. "Which is not to say there isn't some jockeying for position and favor, here, but it's not an environment where one needs a position in order to be considered worthy of respect."
"It's refreshing, and has continued to be unexpected." Cian nods. "I admit, Philadelphia doesn't have a very positive reputation in Boston. They say you lack the teeth to wrest control of the city properly, and it's only a matter of time before someone unseats you. Having been here, I don't think they understand how wrong they are." His smile is humorless.
"Do you intend to correct them, to explain what sort of structure I've created around myself?" Her eyebrows both raise.
"I plan to avoid returning to Boston for as long as I possibly can. I cut ties entirely, and have no interest in rebuilding them."
There's a nod and perhaps the slightest curl of her lips. "I see. What are your hopes for your future in Philadelphia, then?"
There's a pause, as Cian considers. "I...suppose I'd like to be left to my own devices, inasmuch as that is possible. The hands off approach is something of a novelty, and I hope to be able to live without constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering when someone will call on me to do something I find detestable."
"Of course. That makes a lot of sense, if your experience in Boston involved a lot of coercion. Well, it's entirely possible you'll go another whole year without having to see me, if that's what you seek." A pause, and her head tilts slightly to one side. "Provided you keep yourself out of trouble and I'm not needed to reprimand you, of course."
"I don't plan on causing any trouble, no." Cian huffs in mild amusement. "I prefer flying under the radar, as it were. As, hopefully, has been clear for the past year."
"Indeed. It still makes me wonder, though, what you're occupying your time with."
He arches an eyebrow, a small smile crossing his face. "Does it?"
"I can't help but be curious what those in my city do with their nights. We are Kindred. Even if you are not a part of the Saagochque family, in a broader sense we are family." She makes a round gesture with both hands, like describing a globe, before resting them on the surface of her desk.
Cian nods. "I spend the majority of time with my books - I find comfort in study of all types."
"Is there a particular topic that interests you the most, or do you take pride in being an interdisciplinary scholar?" Her interest seems sincere, as she leans forward slightly over her desk to hear the answer.
"I'm quite enamored by history - as a subject, and as a lived experience. Philadelphia, like Boston, is an excellent place to immerse oneself in it. I work as a reenactor, I enjoy sharing what I know with others in that way." Cian sits back as he speaks.
Saagochque's smile dims just a hair. "I've found that reenactments tend to focus very strongly on the colonialist view of events, painting the white men who came into this land as the ones who civilized it. As the ones who created real society."
Cian runs a hand through his hair as he nods. "Many do, yes. My current job on the United States is no different - and adds the extra layer of attempting to glorify the military industrial complex, though she is no longer a commissioned naval vessel." He grimaces. "I tend to skip the glorification bits as well as I can, on my own tours, and provide an LGBTQ lens to the history I tell, but it is far from perfect."
She purses her lips, considering him for a moment. "Would coming to see you at your work be an intrusion, a failure to 'leave you to your own devices'? I'm interested in seeing how you frame the events you speak of."
He pauses, meeting her gaze as he thinks. "No, I don't think it would be. I would be interested in your perspective. The nighttime sails tend to paint a more...nuanced, shall we say, picture of life at sea than the easily digestible scripts that the daytime staff follow, but it's by no means stripped of the colonialist view of things."
"If you'd like, I can give you advance warning, instead of showing up to surprise you. My intention isn't to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable."
"I would appreciate that." He cracks a small smile, there. "We have night sails Thursdays through Mondays, the -" he pauses here, as his speech starts to take on a rehearsed quality. "Forgive me, you don't need to hear the whole speil about the museum, and our daytime events."
There's a bit of a laugh. "No, I don't suppose I do, though if you wanted to deliver it, I'd listen."
"I'll spare you the canned speech," Cian says with a smile. "You will hear it when you take the tour. We are quite receptive to guest feedback, as well. It's a little unusual, at least in comparison to some of the other sites I've worked. So if anything stands out, things may change as a result."
She nods. "I look forward to it, then. In the meantime, may I have your tithe?"
"Of course." His voice is soft, and he shifts a little uncomfortably as he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt, pushing it up to expose his wrist. "That is primarily what this meeting if for, is it not?"
"Primarily. Often, people bring vials, instead of having me tap the vein directly. That is permissible in the future, if that would be of comfort to you." She reaches out to take his arm with both hands, her grip strong.
Cian arches an eyebrow. "Stored Vitae loses its potency quickly, yes?"
"It does. It is still permissible." Then she leans in over the wrist, holding very firmly onto the arm as she bites, taking only the smallest sip of vitae possible. The Kiss washes over Cian only for a moment, before she licks the wound closed and lets go completely.
He can't help but let out a quiet gasp at the Kiss, and he pulls his arm away as soon as she's let go. "I will keep that in mind, for the future. This has been...an enlightening conversation."
"I'm glad you're taking something of value away from it, Cian. Please let me know, if there's anything I can do to help you in the future." She sits back in her chair.
"I will do that, yes." Cian goes to stand, and pauses, like he might have more to say. But only for a moment, before he picks up his bag.
Saagochque's dark eyes linger on him quietly, patiently. She doesn't ask, but it's very clear she noticed that pause and is waiting to see if more is coming.
"How...mmm." Cian grimaces. "How do the current governing parties address those who lie about their lineage?" It comes out slowly, haltingly, rather than as a casual question.
"There are no laws against such things. Honesty is not something we demand from those in this city. Of course, the truth coming out could lose one the respect they've earned, if it happened in an inopportune way." She steeples her fingers. "Do you have something you'd like to inform me of, Cian?"
Another grimace. "I don't know what respect I've managed to earn. I...have allowed myself to be assumed elder than I truly am, for the purpose of avoiding the sort of treatment that I have experienced neonates receiving in places like Boston. That it doesn't seem to matter here has been unexpected, as I've said."
"I see." She doesn't seem to be mad about it, though a calculating, thoughtful expression crosses her face, skin tightening further on her corpselike frame. "I'm glad you feel safe enough, now, to trust me with this information. Do you plan to be open with everyone, or are you simply telling me in order to...how do they phrase it? 'Cover your ass'?"
"There are few that I've told one way or the other, to be perfectly honest. Very few Kindred here are interested in poking into my background on a chance meeting. Discussing my past is a subject I'm not comfortable with at the best of times." A pause. "None of that truly answers your question..."
"No, it doesn't. And I'm about to add another question to that pile: is there anything that I can do, to help you feel safer within my city, regardless of whether you're presenting your age accurately or not? More simply; what do you need, Cian?"
"The mere fact that you've asked that question says very much. If...there are future transplants from Boston, I should like to be informed. It can take time, to find out through the cacophony, and by then it may be too late..."
"That's reasonable. If any present themself to me, I will let you know." She nods.
"Thank you. Thank you very much." There's a tinge of relief in his voice, and he stands again, shouldering his bag. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you."
"I'm glad you feel you can trust me with it now. I imagine you feel lighter, knowing that it isn't something that I'm going to take offense to." A nod. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Cian."
"You as well." He gives her a respectful nod, and backs out of the room, not turning around until he's past the door.
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