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Another night and Atalo is doing inventory again, a little plodding at it, but it's routine enough he's getting there. Cerberus is helping out by lazing around and napping, naturally. Dressed in a striped shirt that's a tad more colourful then his usual plain fare, the vampire otherwise seems to be following the same groove as he has for most nights over the past ten years.
And the freckled face of a particular wisp darkens his doorway much more. Mearc's face is a careful blank, hands resting on the strap of his messenger bag as he walks into the shop. He doesn't say anything right away, moving to the counter.
"Good evening Maercstapa." Atalo asks politely, looking up from his work with the light, customer smile he's practised. "How are you tonight?"
"Well, thank you for asking." He doesn't bother to put a smile on his face, his gaze resting on Atalo's hands. "And you?"
Pleasantries. The world runs on pleasantries, and at this time, Mearcstapa will observe them before getting to business.
"Settled, as normal." He nods. "But something is on your mind? About the trouble with your friend?" He reaches down, patting Cerberus lightly.
"Yes. I wanted to speak to you about that. Because you are now the reason my partner does not feel as though they are safe sleeping at home. You have destroyed their sense of security, with your actions. And that is something I cannot have happening."
His head cants as he processes this, then spreads his hands. "I don't understand. I knocked politely and waited, I didn't enter without being invited and I left without complaint when requested. I came with no intention of harm, simply to bring news of someone wanting to hire them to do a painting."
"You tracked them down to their home, Atalo, and ambushed them there. Yes, there's circumstances you could not have known. Like their nature as a changeling. Or the fact that they might be on the shitlist of the Italian mob. Or that Anna-Marie commented about putting recording devices in their bathroom. But even absent all of those, that was not how that situation should have been handled."
His voice is low, but intense, each word crisply, sharply enunciated like a blade.
There's a quiet growl from the dog basket, Cerberus raising a head to fix eyes on Maercstapa at his tone. Atalo glances his way, gesturing once and speaking sharply in Greek. The dog lowers his head back to his paws, but still watches Maercstapa carefully.
With a slow blink, Atalo looks back to Maercstapa. "If I made a mistake, I'll offer apologies. But as you said, none of those were things I could have known. How would you have preferred I handle it?"
"You could have left your information for them to contact you, slipped it under the door. You could have texted me when you realized I was within the apartment--and made your purpose clear up front. You could have waited longer, learned their movement patterns, and made your approach in a public space instead of at home."
"If those are better approaches, then I'll consider them in future." Atalo nods after a moment. "I simply wanted a chance to explain to them in person. My intention wasn't to cause any concern, either for you or for them."
Mearcstapa nods slightly, though his posture doesn't relax one nonce. "Do you know, Atalo, about how a person becomes a changeling?"
"No." He answers quietly. "I haven't wanted to pry into your own secrets. You've respected my own."
He gives a glance around the shop, then leans in over the counter. "It is like being ghouled by an uncaring eldritch god. They pluck you from your life and take you away, changing you into what they want. A very literal dog for the hunt? A lantern to read by? A statue for their garden? You serve. You serve them, barely remembering that you were a person, before. Until there's a memory that breaks you free of your stupor, and you escape, only to find the life you left behind is gone. Like your long slumbers, that you and Guy have discussed. And you're not human anymore. For some of us, when we first escape, we struggle with being people, let alone human. It is the very concept of violation, in every single sense of the word."
He blinks again, staring at Maercstapa. "That was done to you?" He asks, tone hushed and shifted from its normal, possibly frustrating, calm. "Then I am truly sorry. You know of our slumbers, but we still retain most of what we are, even if we find a new world."
"That was done to me. And to every other changeling you know. And the other part of it is? After we escape, They often want us back." He lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.
"Then you have that constant fear, that you are being hunted?" He nods again, frowning. "Then I think I understand why your friend was frightened. I do want to show I'm not an enemy Maercstapa, though I know that might take time."
"I know you're not an enemy, Atalo. Merely an overzealous idiot. I would not be here telling you any of this, if I thought you were an actual threat to anyone I care about. I would be working to neutralize the threat."
"Why tell me this?" He asks curiously. "Do you want me to apologise to your friend, or simply to understand, or to learn how better to fit your world? As you are aware, understanding people is a skill I struggle to keep."
"I want you to know the harm you have done. If you think you have a way to make it right, go ahead. But now you know for the future, what it is that you're facing, with us. You can't claim ignorance of what we are, and why we act as we do."
"In that area I'm, as you stated, an overzealous idiot." He shakes his head. "I suspect anything I do to try and make it right would only worsen things. But I understand for the future, and will follow your advice where suitable."
"Good." He takes a deep breath and turns for the door. "Have a safe night, Atalo."
"Be well Maercstapa, see you again perhaps." He waves, returning to his inventory.
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