OOM - Russell Edgington's Mansion

[onceaviking]

Bedrooms. Huge, opulent bedrooms filled with tables with lion's paws holding up sickeningly sweet smelling bouquets of roses. With massive four poster beds hung with velvet, heavily laden with duvets and pillows.
So many pillows.

It is like a surprisingly convincing trip back to the days of the Sun King.
Cloying and too much.

He'd been informed on his way to the bedroom he has been invited to spend the day in, that there are countless such rooms on the mansion. Somehow, he does not doubt this.
Far too much.

But he is in, and the King is favorable to dealing with The Magister, so he can stomach roses, velvet, and thick carpeting for a little while.

After showering, he gets dressed. In slacks and the light blue v-neck sweater Pam said brought out his eyes.
And his chest.

He makes his way to the hall, very aware that he is being watched by the seemingly never ending stream of youngish looking male vampires.

And then the King descends.
"Sir," Eric says. Respectfully.

Russell has dressed with care as well. The floral shirt is an especially nice touch. "Sheriff," he says to Eric as he walks down the last few steps of the stairs. "Please accept my apologies. There is a matter to which I must attend."

A certain waitress that needs catching.

"Trouble?" Eric asks, because it is both a reasonable assumption and perhaps a way in which he can elevate the Kings opinion of him further.
He towers next to Russell who seems amused, but pleasantly so, at this.

"Not really," he says, a smile in his voice. "More of an experiment."

"Perhaps I can be of service?" Eric suggests, looking down at Russell. Choosing his words with much deliberation.
Anything that might speed up matters.

"Oh," Russell says, "Indulge my boy, Talbott, will you? Let him give you the full tour." He sounds fond and a little exasperated. And conspiratorial. Surely Eric knows what it is like. Got to keep them happy.
"It makes him positively blithe," he continues, ignoring the look on Eric's face.

This is not what he wanted to hear. This is not what he wants to do.

"Sir," he says, lowering his voice, "I have a child of my own in the Magister's bony hands. If you could help as soon as poss-"

But the King cuts him off with a dismissive, "All in good time, Eric."

And then he leaves.

Eric takes a breath (he can do this, it is just a minor setback, they still have time) and looks up as someone from the stairs say, "You?"

It's Loreena. Bill Compton's insane Maker.

"You?" He replies, lifting an eyebrow.

It's not that great of a surprise really. Seeing as how Compton is here.

Comments

[dobadthings]

Needless to say, Talbot has also taken care to dress well, one part out of habit, one part out of looking especially nice for the new houseguest. Wearing a satin burgundy blazer with a black velvet collar, tailored trousers and Italian leather loafers, he breezes into the foyer and puts a stop to the exchange between Loreena and Eric.

"Boys only," he says rather cattily to Loreena.

He is not a fan of hers in the least.

Turning to Eric with a meaningfully sly look, he can't help noticing the skin-tight blue sweater that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

[onceaviking]

Eric gives Loreena a look and turns his back on her.
She's no longer of any use to him and thus completely insignificant.

"Show me everything," he says to Talbot with that small twitch of his upper lip that lots of humans find deliciously naughty. Maybe because they don't realize that it indicates an itch to let his fangs down.

He might be overplaying it a little, but he rather suspects Edgington wants him to.

[dobadthings]

Talbot smiles obligingly and gestures toward a hallway.

He gives Loreena one last look, an eyebrow raised. If she and Bill are going to keep having sex the way they do, he's going to have to break out the cheap bedsheets.

Anyway.

He follows Eric, admiring his broad back and shoulders, before coming up beside him.

"I trust you slept well?"

The hall they are strolling through is dimly lit, with dark red carpeting and equally dark red wallpaper, flocked with velvet. Enormous paintings in ornate frames line the walls. There are several suits of armor from varying centuries and countries. Antique cabinets house more delicate treasures, like porcelain and glass figurines.

[onceaviking]

"The bed was lovely," Eric says, looking down at Talbot. "And I slept as well as I could. Under the circumstances. I'm sure you understand."

Looking away briefly.

He'd seemed very sympathetic to his situation last night. No sense in wasting that.

[dobadthings]

Talbot pouts and tilts his head in a nod, looking up at him.

"Of course, Mr. Northman. It must be so difficult for you right now. How old is your dear Progeny, if I may ask?"

It's quite attractive when a vampire such as Eric shows devotion to his offspring.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks back at him. "She's a mere hundred years old." His lips curl in a tiny smile. "I've probably spoiled her far too often."

Holding Talbot's gaze a little longer than strictly necessary.

"I do that."

[dobadthings]

"Oh, how sweet," he coos, meeting his eyes as a smile spreads, utterly charmed.

He clasps his hands behind his back as they continue to stroll, heading for Russell's private study.

"Russell is the same, although I daresay I spoil him more often than not. We both have...expensive tastes. He simply makes it easier for us to indulge. For instance, did you know that the bed you slept in belonged to a 17th century Turkish general? It's the largest bed we have. The story goes is that he had it built so that at least three of his harem girls could fit in it alongside him."

A pause, as he eyes Eric.

"When I saw you last night, I figured you would appreciate that particular bedroom."

[onceaviking]

Eric smiles.
"I can imagine," he says and then he too smiles. " I did enjoy being able to sprawl."
Tasting that last word.
"Though I must say that furniture has improved over the last century or two. The Middle Ages in general were horrible. Everything was made for tiny people."

He chuckles and then stops to peer at one of the paintings. "Is that a Vermeer?"
Strong, tall. Cultivated.

[dobadthings]

Talbot can also imagine Eric as he sprawls.

"The most we have from the Middle Ages are tapestries and weaponry," he says with a chuckle. "Nothing to sit on or sleep on."

He pauses in his tracks when Eric does. And he tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

"Why, yes, it is." He tries not to sound too surprised, but he is impressed. "Russell enjoys the sense of domesticity his paintings evoke. It's very calming."

[onceaviking]

"I would have to agree," Eric says with a small smile, brushing past Talbot to look at a display case at the opposite wall.
Closely past

"Do you have any favorites here?"
It appears to be full of little figurines.
True Death is beginning to sound quite appealing.

He manages to sound interested. Not necessarily in the figurines, but certainly in Talbot's opinion.

[dobadthings]

Talbot follows Eric to the cabinet and stands close to him. Of course he must, in order to point out which figurines are his favorites.

"I particularly like the Han Dynasty pieces," he says. "This dragon ornament made of white glass is very rare, and as delicate as tissue. And here, made of translucent jade, is the flying horse of Kansu. Whimsical, but spirited."

He points to the shelf below it, where miniature religious triptychs and reliquaries are displayed.

"These are all carved out of ivory, from the 15th century, Northern Europe. They may be quite small, but the details are extraordinary."

[onceaviking]

"I remember those," Eric murmurs. Turning his head a little to look at Talbot.
Letting his eyes move slowly from Talbot's doe eyes down his cheek to rest, briefly, at his lips.
Then back to his eyes.

"They're beautiful."

Slightly worried that he might be overdoing it a bit.

[dobadthings]

Talbot's eyelashes flutter, his lips slightly parted in a faint smile.

"They are."

He breathes a low chuckle.

"Come with me to Russell's study. That's where he keeps some of his most interesting pieces."

He takes a small step back and gestures with his head to follow him further down the hall.

[onceaviking]

Eric follows along, with the graceful gait of a predator.
"It's an impressive house," he says. "And impressively well guarded."

[dobadthings]

"Thank you," Talbot replies, pleased.

"I have put every effort into nearly every square inch of this home to make it into what it is. And with so many priceless artifacts, it couldn't hurt to have a little extra security."

He smirks at Eric over his shoulder, before opening the double doors to Russell's study. There's a fireplace, a massive mahogany desk, velvet drapes, a sofa and armchairs worthy of Louis XIV's sitting room. Aged books fill the bookcases, while yet another cabinet with reinforced glass displays a variety items that glint with brass and gold. More cases display knives, daggers, machetes, and swords. And even an ornately carved and decorated wooden stake or two.

Talbot opens a cabinet and pulls open a drawer. He retrieves a scroll made of ancient silk, carefully unrolls it, and hands it over to Eric. His lips twitch with anticipation of his reaction.

[onceaviking]

Eric heaves an internal sigh. He understands the desire to have nice things, but come on.

He walks over to Talbot, saying, casually, "And it's Eric. Please." Giving him a small, crooked smile.

He takes the scroll carefully. It's old.
And dirty. In the non-literal sense.
He is not even faking his interest, as he says, "Ooh And what is this?" Smiling.

[dobadthings]

He likes that lopsided smile of his. It gives him a rather boyish look, big and tall as he is.

"If you insist," he murmurs.

Eric's response to the scroll tickles him. It's certainly not something he would have thought to show Bill.

"Japanese vampire erotica from the 16th century," he says, still watching his face. "Exquisite detail."

[onceaviking]

Eric takes his time taking the drawings in. Smiling.
They are quite exquisite.

He looks over at Talbot. "Learn anything new?" he asks, with a smile and a lifted eyebrow.
Suggestively.

He is beginning to enjoy their little dance here. As much as he is able to enjoy anything at the moment. The frank appreciation is nice.

[dobadthings]

That smile is deliciously roguish.

Talbot has one of his own.

"Eric, you know as well as I that there's nothing new except someone new."

It's not easy essentially being the King's consort, spending every moment devoted to his comfort, keeping their home to perfection. When Russell is away, as he often is, one gets bored with the servants, and interesting visitors are few and far between.

Eric, thankfully, is someone new and interesting.

[onceaviking]

Eric smirks and lets his eyes sweep down Talbot's body. Letting them linger, briefly, at his crotch. Very deliberately.
Talbot is a essentially Edgington's little trophy wife. Another prize in his collection.
And Eric has always been good with bored housewives.

"Well, it's an eclectic collection," he says, still with that roguish grin.
It seems to work.

[dobadthings]

Talbot can feel Eric's eyes on him. Something of Russell's to be admired and coveted. He doesn't mind -- not when it's this fascinating stranger.

"Oh, you should see what we have in storage," he says airily, ambling a few steps closer to him, holding his gaze. "Russell's a greedy little boy. He wants what he wants, and he takes it."

When Russell wanted the young and beautiful Greek prince, he took him.

"He's the same way about people."

It's almost a warning.

"Watch out."

A rather coy warning.

Talbot gently takes the scroll from Eric with a smile, passing close to him to return it to the cabinet.

When he pulls open the glass door, among antique pistols and daggers, a gold crown gleams in a softly lit display.

[onceaviking]

Eric grins and turns, following Talbot as he passes him - and then he sees the crown.

And the smile slowly, slowly, slips from his face.

It's old. The ornate patterns on the side the kind that look a little like twisted ropes and a little like tangled animals.

It's heavy. He knows this, even before he slowly reaches out to lift it from its stand.
"And this?"

His voice sounds almost too soft. Because there is a roar inside of him, a roar of recognition.

[dobadthings]

The shift in Eric's demeanor is noticeable. His interest in the crown is oddly intense, and Talbot grows still and quiet, watching his face with curiosity.

"Some random tribal crown," he says, somewhat apologetic as he doesn't know its exact origins. "He must have a hundred of them."

He wants what he wants, and he takes it.

"This one's...uh, Scythian, I think?"

[onceaviking]

Eric stands still, holding the crown at eye level with one hand. Staring at it.

His upper lip twitch. Just a little. But it is no longer passion that tickles his fangs.

"Viking," he says.

Remembering.

His father. Wearing this. This very crown. Bearded and wise and exasperated as he looked up at him, coming in from the cold, his arms around his little sister. Her happy squeal as he placed her in their mother's lap. The firelight, reflecting in his father's crown and his mother's jewels and headdress. His mother's indulgent smile.

The food.

His father nagging him. About marriage. About kingship. About taking up the responsibilities of his position.

"You cannot spend life between a woman's legs, Eric."

"I want you to learn about the responsibilities of kingship."

And his own answers.

"I can try." (His mother trying to hide a smile).
"I will. Tomorrow."

Leaving to fuck the redhead. For the second time that day.

And then there was no tomorrow.

Only blood. And wolves.

He heard the commotion and ran back inside, but he was too late.
His mother, dead already. Beautiful and pale on the floor.
His little baby sister in a corner. Tossed aside like a broken doll. Crushed.

His father, fighting even as life was fading. Killing a wolf that turned into a naked man, branded with that mark. The mark he has been searching for ever since.

His father, dying in his arms. Asking him to avenge him.

The other wolf, huge and yellow eyed, with the crown in its mouth.

And then, the hooded figure in the snow and the sleet outside. Taking the crown.

"Don't be a hero, Viking."

And he stood there, the sword in his hand, and watched that figure leave.

He stares at the crown, without seeing it.

He failed them. And now, now -

- he wants what he wants - and he takes it -

"Don't be a hero, Viking."

He's found him.

Russell Edgington.

[dobadthings]

Viking.

Talbot blinks up at him, tilting his head in an attempt to catch his eye. But Eric is transfixed on the crown, silent and seemingly lost in deep thought. His face, however, is almost completely expressionless -- except, perhaps, a shadow of sadness.