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Conveniences in the public offices had them closing later and later these days, but despite the rush post sunset, it's not quite late enough for the harried-looking long haired redhead. Jasper's gaze hardened on the space as if prepared to silently swear a host of unspeakable things about its future...
But then his eyes alight on another figure. A quick sweep of them before the glasses-wearer cleaned them and checked again as his body warmed. Then confident strides forward as he raised his voice. "Excuse me? March Walker? March Walker number 613?"
The man seems a little startled to be recognized, head tilting to one side. His face is freckly, clothing casual--t-shirt, cargo pants. That paracord bracelet that he wears in every video; it's been both pink and black, recently neon pink again.
"Yes? That's me."
"It's me," introduces the elder in a way that's completely useless given the lack of true reference. "We've corresponded over message a few times." He offers out his hand for a shake. "Jasper Wright, or as my pen name would suggest, Sonnet Seeker number 43."
"Oh, this is parasocial." He chuckles. "SonnetSeeker. You look...hm, younger than I might have expected you to, given your areas of interest. Though I suppose appearance and age aren't always perfectly correlated, and an interest in older work is a quality of merit, not a flaw. Janus Mearcstapa, if you prefer."
"Ah, an interesting mix of classics and literary conventions. Though I suppose at least one wasn't of choice," he says with the slightest lift of his lips before gesturing to the building. "It seems I have come a bit too late post dinner to attend to any business so my evening just opened up. I hope you don't take this as too forward, but should your evening be open, would you care to have a drink?"
His lips twitch into a small smile. "Both were a choice. Among friends, I just use Mearcstapa, most of the time."
And then he takes a moment to consider Jasper, looking at the suit, the hair, the little details like jewelry and his glasses thoughtfully. "It's not too forward, I don't think. Do you have a place in mind?"
"There's a new one I'd found not terribly far from here called Stir Lounge that might be good?" A somewhat local gay bar not far from the gayborhood. Has a reputation as 'welcoming all types' with a relatively laid back long bar in dirty brick setting. "What form of address would you prefer I use?"
From the way Mearc's eyebrows lift slightly, he's at least heard of Stir Lounge. He's not really making eye contact with Jasper at any point, as they talk--his gaze lingers on the arm of Jasper's glasses or on his hair, rather than directly making contact.
"While it can be hard to quantify relationships in online space, I suppose in a sense I've already been thinking of you as a friend, without even knowing you yet. Which is a fallacy, but one that could be remedied tonight. Mearcstapa is fine."
"I'm familiar with the ever-shifting nature of personal dynamic." Jasper considers a moment, then turns sideways and offers out an arm. "Should you wish it, I'll escort you. If you'd rather, perhaps, have a vehicle moved closer instead? I will meet you there." Offering casual intimacy for the modern day or a polite escape without placing a particular stop on either.
Mearcstapa's smile grows, as he accepts the offered arm. "I'll accept the escort, I think. thank you, Jasper."
Long fingered knobby hands pat the hand that settles on his arm before they begin heading off towards the bar. Rather than look at the Lost, he keeps his eyes forward, offering the other a chance to study uninhibited. "I take it you weren't there to being booked from some unfortunate misunderstanding?"
"No, no. Paperwork makes the world run, and I've begun to involve myself more heavily in it. Business concerns, personal matters, dancing the bureaucratic dance for friends who don't have the same sense of how to untangle it." His laugh is light and self-mocking. "Some of them simply have no appreciation for a clearly laid-out set of rules."
"I've found that rules are best made from understanding. When one is dictated laws, they do not embrace them. When one comes to see the personal nature of the situation, and offered the chance to abide, they do better," muses the Kindred in this casual stroll. "Though the layers and intricacies there often can elude the best of us. It's good that they have someone caring to help support them."
"Mmm. Laws are simply boundaries stated with formal consequences for breaking them. Those who wish to participate within a civil society agree to abide by them, as a sort of toll for taking part. Though, of course, not everyone is civil, as much as we'd like for them to be so."
"Very much not. And one must always be prepared for those who consider laying down the law to either view themselves as separate from it, or to use it to their advantage to overpower others. Society as a whole is such an interesting dance that we choose to participate in, with ever evolving steps."
There's a quiet snort as Jasper talks about people using the law to their advantage to overpower others. "The law is hardly the only bludgeon people seek to apply, when their own capacity to build relationships proves insufficient. But, uh. You seem to take this as a matter of personal interest. Are you a sociologist, Jasper?"
"Formally? No. I'm something of... a professional student. A dabbler, if you will," says the man with a glance to the other. "I find people very interesting. I like discovering the ways they interact with the world, their passions, their unique perspectives. Ultimately, I find it means it can inform my own growth."
There's a small sidelong glance at Jasper's clothes when he calls himself a dabbler, and he nods to himself. "If you don't need to support yourself, I suppose that would be a very nice way to approach life. To take in information, knowledge, experience, and transmute it into growth."
"I've found that my services regarding helping the elderly has been a saving grace. It doesn't take up too much time and allows me certain freedoms in that regard," comments Jasper by way of excuse.
"And surely allows you time to learn from their experiences?" His head tilts to one side. "I can imagine you relishing that opportunity, as well."
He dips his head. "It does. Though such experiences are often quite personal - I could hardly relate what I learned to others. I'm a poor teacher. Not like you, Mearcstapa." The name given a light bit of breathiness to its pronunciation.
"I have taken good criticism, over time. To become less dry and formal, in my videos and presentation. When I first started, in the conference space, I was...not in a headspace to really consider how I was delivering my message. I often joke that I was more protocol than person, at that point." He grins, brushing his hair out of his face with a hand.
"But if you've been enjoying my work, I'm glad. I hope people take from it what they can, and act to make changes to their situations, in order to create a sense of security, for themselves.
"I enjoy the thought exercise they give me. They teach me about an issue, then how to correct the issue, and then I need to figure out how to get around the correction," admits Jasper. "It also helps that the one giving the message is visually appealing."
He blushes slightly--he may not be a true redhead, but he still has a bright warm blush. "Thank you. Though that really isn't the focus of my work. Would you mind an odd question?"
"Only if I'm given leave to ask you odd questions of my own."
"Of course. I'm curious which questions you'll ask--or choose not to. But, ah. What meaning does the number 43 hold for you, Mister SonnetSeeker?"
Jasper seemed to light up at the question. Some nerdy part of him fixated on the perhaps way to publicly declare things while still remaining aloof. An homage to truth while lacing it with hints to guide the way, like the mental exercises of scholars in later years.
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."
The recitation seemed to move something within the currently living Kindred. There's something excited about the low draw, careful not to rush through the words, but offering them with a focus just so to make the words seem true, and perhaps to woo as if the words cast back may have done before.
"Elizabeth Barret Browning's Sonnet 43. An excellent English poet of the Romantic Movement. Perhaps my favorite," he says after a moment to collect himself.
Mearcstapa seems caught by the words and by the passion behind them, watching Jasper with a clear admiration as he speaks, his face lighting up. "Oh--that's absolutely lovely. 'And with my childhood's faith', that's a very deep, heartfelt thing to offer to a love."
"Yes. Much before one can have the spoils that create the intricate map of scars across our heart that show our growth. The first initials scratched into the surface are those wrapped forever in our years of growth, like a tree," comments Jasper with a nod. "I'm nothing of a poet myself, but I find the works of others to be quite enjoyable. Do you have any appreciation for any poems?"
"A few; one of my closest friends is obsessed with the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and so I've deep-dived his work, though I haven't memorized most of it. He wrote a few sonnets, too--including one where the subject was science personified. And I may not be a proper scientist. Closer to an engineer at the end of the day, but I can't help but wonder if he was looking ahead to a very not Romantic future, when he wrote it."
"It's interesting to look back and see how the influences of the time produce such great works, and really change cultural perspective. Or perhaps are a product of the shift in a cultural perspective? Chicken-egg there." Finally, at the bar, Jasper was opening the door for the other redhead.
He offers a (completely informal and almost playful) bow before stepping into the bar. "I can't help but feel that the great works and great person view of history are biased toward a desire in humanity for good stories, legends even when they're about people who lived. George Washington and his father's cherry tree are modern mythology of a sort. Yes, inventions and innovations push culture, but...we remember those better because there is something in people that likes a tidy tale."
"I certainly enjoy a nice tale," says the Kindred with just enough coyness to it for the double entendre homophone to come through. Now a hand is (scandalously) placed at the small of Mearc's back to guide towards the bar proper. "Your bow was endearing. Are you always so playfully cheeky?"
"No, not nearly. Sometimes I'm far too serious and caught up in my own head." He laughs warmly. "But that hardly seems appropriate to the occasion."
"Then before I make myself a nuisance, perhaps you ought to tell me how you see this occasion," suggests Jasper as he finds them a piece of bar to order from away from the others.
"You're clearly flirting. And while I wouldn't engage in something serious or long-term without speaking to my committed partners, I'm finding the attention quite flattering. You're clever as well as intelligent, certainly very handsome, and your hands are gentle. I want to learn more about you. I want to see who you are under the fine polish." He tilts his head to one side. "How does that align with your intentions?"
"I did take you to a place where such fraternization is the default. You seem open to my passes, which is good. I'd like to get to know you, and if the moment's right, perhaps find a quiet corner with you," comments the Kindred with just enough time to let the Changeling think about that before continuing, "but I must admit that before the night's over, I am something of a lightweight in drinking matters. You may find my lips on you quite early if you aren't strictly opposed."
"I am not opposed, and greatly appreciate the warning." He nods, his smile growing somewhat. "It's nice to have someone be so explicit about what they intend, instead of dancing in circles around it."
"There will be plenty of dancing later," says Jasper. "I've come to discover that more people in this age prefer... let's say lax dynamics and intimacies than what books on the Romantic Era would have you believe of the past."
"And you think I'm like most people of this age?" He lets out a bit of a laugh. "Careful making generalizations, Jasper."
"You're a mystery." The Kindred's gaze fixes on Mearc. "One I would very much like to study in fine detail."
"And who shall observe the observant?" His smile lingers, as he again does that almost canine head-tilt.
The Kindred doesn't answer directly, reaching up to move one of the hairs just slightly away from Mearc's face. A casual intimate touch as he allows himself time for his study. "I make no guesses on that regard."
As Jasper tucks his hair behind his ear, Mearc closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the gentle touch like someone else might savor a good chocolate truffle or a fine wine. "...perhaps it'll be like standing in between two mirrors, watching you watch me, as you watch me watching you."
"I imagine looking into the mirror can be its own issue. Reflected infinitely, it's hard to find the difference between what's really you and what's just a facsimile." The kindred's lips lift again. "I'm afraid you've found me in a contemplative mood. Is that often the case with your dates?"
"Ideally? This may come out sounding...impolite, but I find a lot of people simply too shallow to date. I like knowing there's something below the surface, something more than beauty and 'nice' words. I like the thought of drilling down into the core of someone's being, seeing who they are under the public face. Not all at once, but I need to know that there is something there, for my interest to be caught."
A vaguely predatory gleam can be seen in Mearcstapa's eyes.
"So long as you're used to one drilling right back into you, I can see the appeal," comments the Kindred with a completely straight face.
And that makes Mearcstapa laugh warmly, delighted with the innuendo.
It's that moment when the Kindred begins his Uncanny Perception of the man, potentially setting off some Kenning from an active supernatural power.
"Tell me," says Jasper as he trails his hand down to shoulder and then off the other. "Have you read any good books lately?"
"Hm, lately I've been revisiting some fantasy novels. Similar to Game of Thrones, less popular work. Differing views on the whole idea of politics as game, within a court setting. Robin Hobb, currently, her Farseer books." There's a little hesitation, like he's not entirely sure Jasper's going to be interested.
"I'm not familiar." He pulls out a phone, tapping at it to add in a note on a digital stickie. "But fantasy allows one to work through large complex societal issues by giving it a new framework. It helps to recontextualize, I feel. What draws you to the interplay there? What's the focus that you're drawing enjoyment from?"
"One of the villains in the first part of the series comes to the table with a sense of entitlement. In a land where noble parents name their children after qualities they hope for them to embody, he's the third son of a king, but the one named Regal. Seeing his arc, how he tries to prove he's the most deserving of the throne and how he fails is very satisfying to me right now, in the aftermath of dealing with someone as entitled in person. But beside that, watching the viewpoint of the main character mature across the series as he grows from the stableboy to a warrior to someone who can study and understand the interplay between the nobles is interesting. Hobb handled that very well."
He again pauses to check Jasper's interest level. It's...like he's afraid that infodumping too much will get him pushed away.
"We'll circle back to this entitled person who quite annoyed you - that seems like an enjoyable life moment. Do you find yourself also drawn into the perspective of the stableboy? Is that something that you identify with?" poses the man as he leans against the bar.
"In the series, there are two types of magic. There is the noble magic of the Skill, that resembles telepathy, and is used for the royal family to coordinate and wage war. There's also the Wit, the magic that allows men to talk to beasts, to bond with a partner. It's considered a dirty thing, a thing that should be hidden. And both the main character and the stable master he serves possess the Wit, though the latter avoids ever bonding. Watching the two of them talk about it, I recognize conversations I've had in my own life. About sexuality, about neurodivergence, about the conflicting viewpoints between generations within communities. And that, more than the exact context of the character, makes the book feel very familiar to me."
He allows himself to gesture as he speaks this time, showing the generation gap as a difference of height mid-air.
"I imagine that may be quite the struggle, navigating space and dynamics set about for neurotypical sets within rules made for them and by them. I imagine learning and using those rules could be of quite a benefit for someone seeking to rise from the role of the oppressed," muses Jasper as he studies the one before him. "... Terribly sorry, I drifted, making assumptions. Both seem to be of telepathic variety, but yes, contact with what others consider lesser beasts is often not as valued a skill as it really should be. Who knows how much the pigeon knows and sees instead of the warrior on the field."
"Well. FitzChivalry isn't only a stableboy, he's a bastard grandson of the king, in a kingdom where bastards are traditionally trained as assassins, spies and tools for the royal family. The first book follows his apprenticeship to the king's brother. Assassin's Apprentice is the title. And in later books, Fitz does bond with a wolf, who is a good companion for a warrior, and for a spy, for obvious reasons."
A pause, and a crooked smile. "Were you projecting that rise from a position of oppression onto me or onto the character, there?"
"Why can't it be ambiguous? Sometimes it just fits to go with really anything at the time."
"Hm. What have you been reading lately? I know at least some of your Youtube habits, but not your taste in books."
"Hmmmm... most recently, it's been The Majesty of Mughal Decoration: The Art and Architecture of Islamic India. I had given it a read as a followup to some conversation with a gentleman I'd some passing interest in," he admits.
"Would they be the ones with the complex tessalated mosaics, or would I be in the wrong part of Islamic culture for that?" He leans in, clearly interested in hearing more.
"No, no, you'd be right for it. It lands often in Punjabi lands and seems to have spread alongside and beyond the empire's reach along with them. It's a very unique style - are you an artist as well?"
There's a little bit of a laugh at the question. "No, not usually. Occasionally a mathematician, and one of my partners is a street artist--chalk and spray paint, primarily. They have a mural at the Touati gallery right now."
"Interesting, though while knowing about your web is nice, I think I prefer to keep my questions on this handsome man before me." He reaches out, putting a hand on Mearc's side if not stopped. "Tell me - what's something you've always wanted to be asked on a date, maybe this one, maybe not, that just hasn't come up?"
The question gets a lot of thought, Mearc silent as he tries to figure it out. "That's a very hard question. It's rare to realize what you don't know or what you're not getting, until you do, don't you think?"
His hand slips to rest atop Jasper's--not stopping him, perhaps trying to encourage him.
"It is, but some... some wish things had gone a certain way. It's hard to gauge when that might be." Encouraged, those long fingers take just the light brushing tactic, exposing a bit of skin and touching there at the side. "What thoughts are racing through your head right now?"
"I am glad I'm not particularly ticklish along my sides." He smirks. "I don't know if I'm ready to have that sort of a weakness exposed to you yet."
"Which implies a ticklish area elsewhere to me," muses Jasper. "Perhaps... that tender skin between one's thighs?"
"Perhaps you'll have to take your time and find out firsthand." There's something of a purr in his chuckle.
"Is that an invitation?" asks the vampire flashing the briefest bit of teeth in a reflex smile.
"Well. An invitation to keep unraveling me, yes. An invitation to touch that part of my skin right now? No."
"It is quite public. People would have the wrong idea, I think," says Jasper. "I like the way you blush. The way your heartbeat raises just a bit, and I can nearly see it dancing in your throat. I can't tell if you looking at my glasses instead of in my eyes is nerves or a tick however. If nerves, perhaps I shouldn't press, see how fast we can make that heart race."
The implied question is a bit of a buzzkill, and it shows. "It's not a function of you, or my current feelings toward you. Eye contact is hard for me. It feels...invasive and almost painful. I referenced neurodivergence before. To be a little more explicit, I'm on the autism spectrum; we often find eye contact hard, and those who make demands for it rude."
"Better to address it directly than to find myself putting you in a place and frame of mind I don't quite understand." Those touches continue, albeit slower. "Are there other things I should know to better help you feel ready for this particular social engagement? I'd defaulted to your eyes so not to feat too much on your body and make you uncomfortable, but there's a delicate dance in that too."
"This...is an awfully public place, to be getting so hands-on. Right at the bar?" His smile re-emerges slowly.
There's a laugh from the Kindred even as he pulls his hand back. "I like bars. They're much less sticky about such casual touches. The interplay between both a social space and an intimate space intrigues me."
"I can imagine you also find them interesting for people-watching, for playing the part of the observer while other people engage in 'such casual touches'. Hm?" While he might not make eye contact, he can still deliver a wry little look.
"I suppose I can be known to be a voyeur. It's in my blood," muses the Mekhet. "Then might we observe others? Critique and engage in people watching together? Preferably close enough to feel body heat, yet not touching. An illusion of intimacy where I can hear your heart race?" suggests the salacious man.
"Keep commenting on my heartbeat, and I might think you only like me for the percussion I provide." There's a smirk, before he glances around the room, lifting his chin toward a pair of women in their late thirties, maybe early forties, sitting at a table together alone. "How about those two?"
"No, no. I'm also interested in how you would feel pressed against me. Or how your breath might catch, but those are things I'll wait to indulge until you ask with clear desire," purrs the Kindred before turning to study the ladies from behind his glasses.
"Hmmmm... my initial impressions are a commitment - neither looks to another, but is not completely overwhelmed with passion in the hunger of their looks. But see that small touch to the outside of the hand?" Clearly Jasper could take to people like it was just a TV show. "Intimacy. Possibly a friendship, a long term commitment where the passion has faded but the comfort is there, or... what's the term escaping me? Not fuck buddies, but the intimate for-cuddle companions."
"Does that follow your assessment?"
"Mm. Friends with benefits? Actually, if you look, the one on our left's wearing an ace ring. It's possible they're romantic, but not sexual partners--that this is a date, but that it won't lead to the passion you're talking about." A pause, he glances at Jasper.
The man takes a moment to study the ring in question. "Ah, I'd completely overlooked the detail. Yes, I suppose that does change the context a bit. Likely not the cuddling though - notice the smile from the one on the right? It matches with the crinkle of her eyes corner, merging with the crow's feet. She's very much enjoying herself. Lefty's getting some cuddling tonight if they want it."
"Good, I wish them all the joy they can create together." While Jasper's still looking over at the women, he leans in to brush his lips against the redhead's cheek gently. So very gently, the barest little butterfly kiss.
"Mmmmmm..." The soft sound rolling at the back of his throat betrays a little bit more from Jasper. "That is entirely unfair when I cannot take you into the bathroom or your home and ravage you yet." The tone is joking, but there is an undercurrent of heat to it.
"You really were serious about finding a quiet corner, hm?" Mearc seems amused, and thinks it over quietly for a moment. "I'm not quite ready to take you home, yet."
"Quite. But the home seems such an intimate place for some - unless that was meant towards the broader perspective." He leans in to briefly bump a shoulder into the other. "Perhaps we should look to another group, hm? What do you think about the tattooed short man over there with the... individual with the shaved head?"
It's barely three seconds before Mearc answers. "First date, and not going well. He knows it, too, and is trying to dig his way out of whatever he said--look at how he's leaning in. The other one, they have their phone out on the table, maybe they have someone who'll give them a call later they can use as an out?"
"I'd heard about that. The person sets someone up to call them at a prearranged time to just get out of a date if they aren't wanting to be there. Do people actually do that?" asks Jasper as if he'd actually never seen it done.
"People like to have safety nets. And in the modern world, the fear of a man not taking a 'no' gracefully has been validated repeatedly with incidents of violence. There's also bars that hang flyers in the women's room, telling them to order an 'angel shot' or something of the like, if they're uncomfortable with the person who shows up for a Tinder date or other blind date and need a way out without being direct about it. These are the things people need, in order to feel safe, sometimes."
"Hmmm... I didn't give you much prep time," muses Jasper. "I'm going to go to the restroom. You can let those who you need know where you are in case you don't end up wanting to end up locked in a near violently intimate embrace." The offer comes with a wink before he turns to make his way into the bathroom.
And Mearc totally takes out his phone and sends a couple texts, before making his way to the bathroom as well.
When the Changeling finds his way in, he finds Jasper standing on one side of the lone mirror and faucet, looking to the door. He crooks a finger invitingly. "It seems you've chosen to find some secluded corner. Am I reading this right?"
Mearcstapa locks the door, then walks closer slowly, almost a prowl. "Yes, yes you are."
The Mekhet says poor, feasting on every inch of the other as they prowl closer. "Any last boundaries you want to establish before more animal brains take over?"
"My safeword is gumbo. If you hit any of my personal boundaries, I'll say that word--as such, no gagging me or covering my mouth with your hand--covering it with your mouth for a kiss is fine, of course, no choking...fair?"
"I imagine you'll know better than to gag yourself?" asks the Kindred as he draws the other in. Those long, knobby fingers set to action as a kiss is placed on the other's neck. "No pictures, no videos, yes biting."
Mearc laughs warmly, pressing his body up against Jasper, and reaching up to undo the necktie. "I don't mind a little teeth."
Jasper is... patient, learning, yearning, but not without passion. Lots of kissing, lots of exploration, but, well, when things get heated and towards a certain boiling point, fangs are added and... well, Jasper's a blood connoisseur. What things can one derive here?
When he feels the fangs and that (familiar) extra rush of pleasure, Mearcstapa laughs quietly. "You might regret that, in a bit." His blood has a tingly, staticky taste, like licking a CRT TV or computer monitor that's been on for several hours, but it also tastes sort of like...well, depends on if Drake's been feeding on animals, but it's the blood of a predator, not strictly that of a prey-beast, somehow. He doesn't fight the Kiss, or the bite, riding out the pleasure, eyes closed as he loses himself in the sensation.
When he came back from that Kiss, he pressed his lips to Mearc's with just a bit of his own taste - letting the predator be drunk in that sensation along with him. Coming down with the mess of clothes and brushing the Changeling's hair back as he searches his gaze. "... Mmmm... familiar, are you? I... do expect that will be... hm. Yes. In short order, you're going to not want to be in here. At least until I could... get used to such a sensation."
"If you're going to throw it up, at least let me hold your hair back. It's only polite." He laughs warmly. "I had wondered, if that's what all the consent tests were about. Leading me, making sure you could defend yourself afterward. No, you're not the first Kindred to bite me, but the first I didn't explicitly give permission to take my blood."
"No, no. I wanted you to feel... that the boundaries were in place. It just seems something important to you," says Jasper. "I wanted you to enjoy the performance enough to come back for another round. I find asking explicit permission for every sexual thing I do to you to be perhaps mood-breaking. For it is a uniquely intimate situation." He searches the other's gaze. "Did you like it?"
"Yes, I liked it." He grins. "And perhaps I will come back again. You, Jasper Wright, are a complete delight to me. Though I'll need to explain to my partners why I'm so tired, in the next couple days."
"Who are your partners? Would they also like to-" He places a fist before his mouth. "Excuse me. I..." And then the Kindred's rushing to the stall to undo what has been done.
Mearc follows, and as he'd suggested, he does tenderly grab rake his fingers through Jasper's hair and establish a hold to keep blood from getting in it, kissing his shoulder lightly as he...empties himself of that. "It's alright, let it all out. I'm not feeling particularly insulted or anything. I know, I'm not food."
The tone of voice is gentle and reassuring and coaxing.
There's a bit of a cough before a few rounds of flushes. "No, not food. A criminal, though. You've got the taste. I quite like it."
Mearc doesn't let go of Jasper's hair right away, though, maintaining control of his head with a firm grip, at least until Jasper pulls away. "Technicalities, and not any laws that matter to you or yours."
One last kiss, to Jasper's forehead, and then he lets go.
"You certainly do like holding onto my head," jokes Jasper as he looks up before covering his mouth. "... I'm afraid I need to find some mouth wash. Perhaps we ought to... dress again?" Though his eyes slid over the other. "... Unless you're comfortable staying this nude or moreso. I'd certainly enjoy the view."
It's definitely a view. Mearc is freckly all over. Also now more relevant than earlier: his cargo pants hit the ground sounding heavy, like there's a lot of stuff in the pockets--same for the brown leather messenger bag, a distinct whumph.
He reclaims his underwear and pants, though, starting to get dressed. "Mouthwash is probably a good idea."
The mostly nude body of the vampire had started to pale even more, but the lightly muscled farmboy style body of Jasper flushes again with warmth and life - uncertainly again as he slides back into his under things. "It gives us both a chance to kiss more, if you want it."
"Mmm. I think I'm done kissing--for tonight. Even after mouthwash, kissing someone who's had my blood in their mouth lately is just weird to me. But...I will offer you my phone number. If you'd care to have it. I tend to use Signal more than SMS for messaging--have you gotten to that video on my channel yet, talking about encryption?" He pulls out his phone, and checks his messages before slipping his shirt back on, with a quiet snort at the response to the message he'd sent before entering the bathroom.
"I have." He starts buttoning up. "I could do that. I'd be happy to have the number." He searches Mearc's face. "I have... a very strange potential request to mull over."
He glances up from the phone. "I'm willing to hear the request."
"If it wouldn't be too strange, I'd love some of your blood." He pauses. "That sounds strange even to me. I make it part of my hobbies to study the blood and the ways it weaves mystical connections between others. I'd love to see what it means to taste it, and to have the opportunity to... get used to it. Enough to avoid this circumstance in the future." A small chuckle there. "While the sensation of the bite might be enjoyable, I imagine you won't always want to hear the after effects."
Mearc turns and bends over to grab his bag, perhaps to hide his face as he thinks. "Getting used to it is a thing that's possible?"
"I've seen and even done stranger things in my time. With my mastery... I should think so, yes. Especially in my... unique case."
Finally the tie's going back on.
"Your unique case? Are you one of the ones who was Fae-Touched, before becoming a vampire? Like Alex and Esme?" This seems to be a point of curiosity, something Mearc's keenly interested in.
"No." Jasper seems to weigh on this. "I'm of a line that is able to build connections through blood. We can feel more of what another feels, know when they're in danger, even share thoughts and memories, because of the blood. The ability to shift it is... viable, in my mind."
"Ah. Oh, that sounds dangerous to me, if I'm sharing my blood with you." He laughs. "My memories...aren't all things you would want to see or know, Jasper. In fact, I'd be somewhat scared of you learning that much about me."
"I don't... believe I could use such abilities on you," says the Kindred uncertainly. "There's a difference between your blood, ours, and that of the kine." There's a pause as he considers the other. "Is it something about me? Rest assured... I have seen and experienced things first hand that would make it unlikely for me to judge you."
There's a bit of a frown that flickers across Mearc's face at the use of the word 'kine', and he shakes his head. "Do you know what I am, Jasper?"
"A fairy. No, the other word. Changeling? You're very focused on the perception of the world so that's my guess." He spreads his hands. "I'd never tasted anyone like you before though I've had run ins with them from time to time. Honorable people. Always good for the terms of a deal."
"Our entire society is built on a thin network of promises. It's how we make ourselves feel safe." He shakes his head. "I've compared the process of becoming a changeling to...being ghouled by an eldritch god, before. To be molded and shaped, taken outside time, sometimes for lengths of time similar to the sleep of ages you lot experience. To be rendered down, reduced to something inhuman, for the whim of something terribly and alien. And even after you escape, what comes back is never the same person as what left. I don't want you to see memories of my time Over There. That's what it is, not something about you."
Jasper considers that for a long, long moment before speaking. "I imagine not. One doesn't like to expose their pain, particularly if the first hand experience of it would be possible. I don't plan on going looking, even if I could. Though I'm not certain the limits as I've not tried to push them in this regard."
Mearc steps closer, reaching out to touch Jasper's cheek. "I'll make you a deal. I'm not giving you more blood tonight, but I am willing to give you some. Not enough to make me ill, not without warning. However, if you do discover how to feed successfully from changelings because of the blood I've given you, and it's something that can be taught, somehow, or shared, you will offer it to Alex Shaw, without asking anything in return from her."
"I don't believe I'm familiar with the name..." Jasper considers. "Since it could be an enemy, one additional caveat." He traces a finger along the other's jawline. "You put in a good word for me with your others. Start off as the handsome, charming man they should meet and you're excited to date instead of the stranger who wants your blood. Deal?"
"Mmm. Why not both? My people know of how strong my relationships with the local Kindred are. I can tell them explicitly that you're one who I'm eager to see again." He chuckles.
"... Yes, I suppose that part's fine. I more meant those you're worried about seeing you woozy after this. I'd rather see your lovers excited to share in your joy than a bunch of folks waiting with torches, hm?"
"My lovers trust me to know my own limits--as I trust them to know theirs. But really, as long as you're not an exploitative piece of shit trying to threaten any changeling who comes within ten meters of you, I don't think there'll be a problem. One of our leaders is friends with your Sakima; we are, as communities, on good terms." He laughs. "To be fair, I've already texted them that I was likely going to have sex tonight with you. So that part at least is already seeded."
"Not the only part," comments Jasper dryly. "Feel free to make introductions in the future. I can only grow more from learning from great minds."
He lets out a rich, warm laugh. "I look forward to you meeting them."
"It should be... quite an evening," he muses before almsot leaning in for a kiss, grimacing, and pulling back. "You should leave before I am overcome with the desire to ravish you again. Part of the Kindred condition. We don't tire, and with just a little bit more hunger, well, all manner of vices are possible."
Mearc leans in and kisses the tip of Jasper's nose. "Here, let me give you my number first. And then I'll go."
The numbers exchanged, and briefly, ever so briefly, a tight-lipped nuzzle into the Lost's neck with some squeezing behind before letting him free. "Go, go. We can explore and learn more another time."
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