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Cian Doyle:
Despite what Google may tell you about it being in the mid-40s in Philly right now, this player wants snow and so. It's snowing. High 20s and snowing, though the temperature is surely dropping as the night progresses.
And what better way to spend a chilly, snowy night than by cozying up in one of the window seats of the Bellevue, alternately watching the flakes fall and intensely studying what looks like a very old book?
Which is precisely what Cian is doing. He's pulled a table over to one of the windows, and has his customary setup of laptop plus tablet plus notebook plus half a dozen books scattered across said table, and chews on the end of a stylus absently as he pours over whatever this crumbling tome has to offer. Occasionally he jots a note down on the tablet - or tries on the notebook before huffing and searching for the pencil hidden among the mess - and even more occasionally he turns back to the window to take a small break, running a distracted hand through his ear-length waves.
Daniel Hawthorne:
The presence of a new but familiar Beast made itself known as Cian went about his studying, with Daniel making his way into the Elysium bundled up against the chill. Beyond his usual well-appointed ensemble he sported a stylish pair of sunglasses, which some might find odd for the evening hours but to each their own, no?
Upon spotting Cian Daniel smiled and gave him a nod, along with a "up for company?" sort of look.
Cian Doyle:
"Ah -" The man nods, and reaches to begin clearing some of the table for Daniel. It's a bit of a thankless task, but he does manage to close a few of the books and set them aside.
"Daniel. It's always nice to see you here." His smile is soft as he shifts his computer slightly, getting it out of his own direct line of sight. Possibly so he can actually focus on the Haunt without being rude.
Daniel Hawthorne:
"Good to see you as well." When Daniel replied that almost-whisper rasp was gone, his voice returned to the pleasant tenor he had sported in his living days back in Boston. "It's been a while. The nights treating you alright?"
Cian Doyle:
The change in tone makes Cian's eyebrows twitch upward, and he shrugs as he sits back against the window. "As well as can be expected. I've taken on a few research projects that have taken me out of the city, but it's really been quiet, all told. I can't imagine business hasn't been good for you, everyone needs clothes, mm?"
Daniel Hawthorne:
The eyebrow quirk earned a small smile from the Haunt, nodding at Cian's answer. "Glad to hear it, and glad to see you back as well. And very true, we've been solidly booked for the last few months. Not that I'm complaining, mind."
Cian Doyle:
"But still with enough free time to take an evening off to spend at the Elysium," Cian replies with a small smirk. "It's good, good. I'm...well. Working, as you can see. With the cold, the museum shortens their hours, which leaves me with more time to go down my own rabbit holes..."
Daniel Hawthorne:
"My sister insists that I get out of the studio now and again." He replied with a chuckle, finally claiming a seat for himself. "So I see. What are you working on?"
Cian Doyle:
"A eh...searching for a possibly lost set of journals," he says after a moment of consideration. "I'm not entirely sure they exist, but it's been something to occupy my mind. Digging up records of them, and of the person who possibly wrote them. They're quoted in a variety of things as primary sources, but the originals have never been found."
Daniel Hawthorne:
"Ah...sounds interesting. If you ever want a second set of eyes on it let me know. My time with the Academy has honed my research skills pretty well."
Cian Doyle:
Cian nods thoughtfully, though it's a little unclear as to whether he's even heard the man. It's almost a rote action. "How...mmm. How is the Academy, here? You know my history with them, but..." he trails off as he fails to find the words he's looking for. Or is afraid to find them in the first place.
Daniel Hawthorne:
"Very solid, actually. They've been a great help in getting me out of the fog that my entrance into the Danse left me in."
Cian Doyle:
"Mmm." Cian purses his lips, his mild distaste at the talk of the Ordo Dracul clear even though he's the one who started the conversation about them. "In...another setting, with a different past, I might have felt like I belonged there. The Carthians..." he trails off with a noncomittal shrug. He's not going to diss his covenant, but...it's pretty clear there's no love lost there.
Daniel Hawthorne:
Daniel nodded, giving Cian a quiet but knowing look. "Philadelphia is a very different city. I think you'd find them more to your liking here than you'd expect."
Cian Doyle:
"Mmm." He can't hold back a slight grimace. "It's....still connected to her. I...I don't know how to disentangle the two, if you understand my meaning...?"
Daniel Hawthorne:
"I do, yeah." He offered another small nod, thinking a moment before looking to Cian with a small smirk. "Could see it as reclaiming it as something of your own, taking the path on your own terms instead of hers."
Cian Doyle:
Cian opens his mouth to make some sort of smart comeback - and then closes it again, looking a little chagrined. "It's...easier said than done." Which is really just an excuse, isn't it.
Daniel Hawthorne:
"True, but it's worth the effort. Letting go of the baggage that came from those early days took time but it's made things much better in the long run."
Guy Dagenham:
Suddenly there came a rapping, as if a crow a-gently tapping, tapping at Elysium door.
Then a handle turns and the door ominously eases open, before that crow hops into the room, and casually kicks the door closed behind it. It lets out a caw and hops across the room, glancing between the two. It has a Beast, an ugly and raging thing straining at its cage, but the crow seems neutral, at least as far as you can read a bird.
Cian Doyle:
Cian's Beast rises - when was the last time he'd come across an unfamiliar Beast in familiar territory? - a slinking, almost feline thing, and it's an excellent excuse to entirely ignore the advice From Daniel that he's not ready to hear yet. Birds are not the man's strong suit, clearly, and he narrows his dull blue eyes at the thing, flicking his hair out of his face as he watches it hop across the floor.
Guy Dagenham:
The crow hops up on the back of a chair without flapping it’s wings, tilting its head to examine the unfamiliar face. The bird shifts and warps, stretching and contracting and flowing out of itself, until there is a man sitting on the back of the chair, dressed in fatigue pants and combat boots and a tank and leather jacket, all black.
“Huh. You’ve got to be one of the only supernaturals in the city I’ve never met…” His eyes are a mossy green, and almost unreadably cold. “Guy Dagenham, nice to meet you.” He leans forward a bit, and Cian might be suddenly reminded of a great cat suddenly taking interest in something new; the sinuous attention of a predator having nothing to do with his Beast.
Cian Doyle:
If Cian were Blushed, his anxiously beating heart might give him away. But he's not, so he just raises an eyebrow in mild interest as the crow transforms into man (for lack of a better word) and he inclines his head.
"I've been told we ought to meet, someday." Cian looks him over curiously, a researcher gathering data. "Cian Doyle - likewise. What brings you here this fine evening?"
"Fine" is maybe a stretch, as the snow outside seems to have gotten heavier.
Guy Dagenham:
Guy studies the other vampire for another moment, then stands to lean on his chair. “Oh? Didn’t know I was a celebrity, someone who ought to be met. Just figured I got out of the house enough, since I kept meeting new people. I’m well. Enjoying the lovely weather.” Either he means it, or his sarcasm doesn’t parse.
Cian Doyle:
"Phaedra's suggested it. Finley has too, I think..." His lips purse thoughtfully. "I'll admit I've gotten more than a little distracted, and never got around to meeting the rest of the Gangrels in town. There are a fair few of us, mm?"
Guy Dagenham:
Guy smiles at the mention of his friends’ names, and it manages to reach his eyes, genuine warmth shining through for a moment.
“Mmm, yes, there are, when you put it like that. Lot of birds and cats and dogs and coyotes to watch out for…and then there’s the Gangrel.” His voice doesn’t deviate from its soft, not-quite-a monotone, and he doesn’t really wait for the joke to land.
“Good folks, around,” he says with a nod. “Spread of Covenants, too, concentrated in the usual for our Clan. Ordo, Circle, Carthian.”
Cian Doyle:
Cian's mouth quirks up at the joke regardless. "You're one of the Dragons, right? It's where I started out, it...mmm." His lips purse. "Have you ever been to Boston?"
Kinda strange non sequitur, that.
Guy Dagenham:
“That’d be me, yeah. It’s my job to keep an eye on all the other dragonlings. My other job is watching out for everyone else. And…my side gig is chatting with the neighbors about how things have been going, apparently.”
He tilts his head. “Philly’s the only place I’ve been in America. Landed, anyway. But I’ve heard it’s the kind of place where I’d put my fangs to its throat and tell it to give me an excuse,” he says cooly. “Lots of good folks here with bad blood there.”
Cian Doyle:
The sailor's smile turns sharp. "Boston has run out of excuses, I wouldn't give it the chance to get away. The Ordo there..." He shudders. "Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if I'd had more of a choice."
Guy Dagenham:
He considers for a moment. “Noted.”
After another moment, “I know it doesn’t change the past, but the Dragons here are different. Not a recruitment pitch, I…genuinely surprised the only one I’ve given worked…just saying. Hope it helps you sleep a little easier during the day, is all. You should meet Flo, she’s another Hound, a Twilight Judge, and a sweetheart. Sorry you…didn’t have that choice. Or that your lack of choice was rewarded with loyalty.”
Cian Doyle:
"So I've heard. So much here is different - and I certainly sleep easier, overall. I...may have met Flo, though it's been a while. The name sounds familiar."
The apology gets a shrug. "I could have refused, and borne the consequences. I was - I am, I suppose, too much of a coward." It's clearly a line he's used to giving, from the lack of emotion in his voice.
Guy Dagenham:
Guy snorts. “Surviving isn’t cowardice. You aren’t responsible for what others did, or did to you, either,” he fires back just as easily, and then shrugs. “And if there’s things you aren’t proud of, well, I’ve done worse, probably, so I figure I get to hold down the fort on questioning if I deserve the good things in my life.” He lets out an ugly chuckle. “And now I’m prattling. Point is, I hope Boston works out of your head eventually.”
Cian Doyle:
"The moment it works out is the moment it will come back to haunt me," Cian mutters maybe a little bitterly, and plays with the button on his sleeve cuff. "I've only been here a year and a half, practically no time at all. And my sire...I don't believe she'd ever completely write me off. I was always a disappointment, but...she's..." he pauses as he considers his choice of wording, "possessive," he finally says.
Guy Dagenham:
Guy falls silent a moment. “I’m just…it was only a few months ago I stopped expecting her to just…walk in and derail my life. I still don’t know, entirely, if I’d be able to say no to her.”
He shakes his head. “We, ah, were mutually possessive.”
Cian Doyle:
The Gangrel grimaces. "It wasn't like that with her. She just wanted to own us, use us for our talents and hoard us away. I'm very, very lucky I walked away without an addiction, it..." he falls silent for a few moments. "I've never said no to her in my life. Still. I don't know if I could, either."
Guy Dagenham:
“Well. Yours comes around, tell me what you want done with her. Mine? Honestly I’d say run, but barring that do your worst and don’t let appearances fool you.”
Cian Doyle:
"I don't intend to let mine get within city limits." It's a growl - this kitty has claws, even if he doesn't look particularly built for it. "But I'll keep that in mind. I...we'll both be looking over our shoulders for...a long time, won't we?" His laugh is bitter
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