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

[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.

[onceaviking]

"It's beautiful," he says, quietly, his eyes still fixed on the crown.

Vengance.

[dobadthings]

Eric's lips barely move when he finally speaks.

"Quite," Talbot replies, his voice equally soft. But he still eyes Eric with curiosity, and now perhaps even a little concern.

He doesn't know him well enough to ask if something is the matter.

Instead he holds cabinet door open, a wordless gesture inviting Eric to return the crown to its stand with apparently greater reverence than Talbot ever could.

[onceaviking]

At first, Eric seems to not even notice.

And then he does return the crown to the stand. Carefully. Briefly closing his eyes.

"... I rarely see things from my human past," he says, his voice still very, very quiet, as he pens them again and turns his he'd a little to look at Talbot.

Viking.

[dobadthings]

Talbot watches him. And then turning his back to him a little, he closes the cabinet doors, locking the latch.

"Well, when you live as long as we do, some things tend to get left behind."

He turns around, catching Eric's look. He hesitates as a thought strikes him with a somewhat dreadful pang.

"This isn't...yours, is it?"

Because what would be the odds?

[onceaviking]

Eric breathes a laugh. Smiling.
The smile doesn't reach his eyes. But it hardly matters as long as Talbot is not looking at him.

"Oh no," he says. "I was never one for kingship. I like to be able to do as I please and not have to worry about all the -political games and power struggles. I clock out when I go home."

He shrugs.
"It just brought back memories."

[dobadthings]

Talbot exhales a chuckle, too, as if at his own silly notion.

"Mm, I know what you mean," he muses. "When one is a Byzantine prince being forced to marry someone against one's will, it's time to seriously consider what one really wants out of life."

[onceaviking]

Eric forces down his emotions.
And smiles.

"What was the conclusion to that? What do you want out of life?"

The dance steps are well known. He can do it almost no matter what state he is in.
Even this.

[dobadthings]

Talbot smirks, meeting Eric's eyes.

"Russell happened," he says simply. "And he gave me everything I wanted."

He brushes closely past him, casually heading for the door.

"Would you care for a little something to tide you over until dinner? I can give you a preview of tonight's menu."

[onceaviking]

Russell Edgington doesn't give. He takes.

Eric catches up with Talbot with a few steps and walks beside him down the hall.
"That sounds - tempting," he says, looking down at him.

Tall. Muscular. Interested.

"I was quite impressed by the aperitif last night. A very sophisticated bouquet."
Because he likes that, Talbot. Being thought special and sophisticated. Well-breed and lusted after.

And Russell Edgington clearly holds him very dear. Very, very dear.

[dobadthings]

Talbot flicks his eyes up at him at the word tempting. And he smiles, pleased that Eric is showing appreciation for his household handiwork. He evidently has impeccable taste.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. The blood we dine on here is cruelty-free, all of it from willing donors. They have their own quarters here and are kept comfortable and fed, usually according to what flavors we want to bring out. They don't mind. They're very well taken care of. It's a much more civilized way of doing things, don't you think?"

[onceaviking]

"Quite," Eric agrees with a small smile.
"Though I must admit - sometimes, I miss the chase."
His smile turns crooked and he shrugs.
"What can I say? I was like that even before I was turned."

Viking.

[dobadthings]

He slants him a sly smile.

"Old habits die hard, hm?"

He does look like someone who would give good chase.

Walking with him down the hall and through the foyer, he then leads him into another adjoining room that's not as formal as the dining room, but there is a table set with a fine cloth and candlesticks and a floral centerpiece. A black-clad security guard appears at the doorway and stands there as silent as a marble statue.

[onceaviking]

"They do," Eric says with a chuckle, as they enter yet a room filled with art and flowers and pointless fabric.

He spares the security guard a glance and settles down in a chair.
He really does have long legs.

"So," he says. "The staff is mainly vampire?"

And wolves? Are there wolves here, Talbot?
Evil, fucking, branded wolves.

[dobadthings]

Talbot eyes Eric as he sits down with a smooth, long-limbed elegance that's difficult not to find sexy. It takes him a moment to respond to his question, a little distracted as he is.

"Oh, yes. All vampire -- the nighttime staff, at least."

He pauses to call out, "Marcel?"

A servant comes through another door.

"Will you please bring out a sampling of tonight's menu for Mr. Northman and myself?"

The servant bows and ducks out the door, before Talbot takes a seat opposite Eric.

[onceaviking]

"... I thought I detected a hint of - werewolf?" Eric asks. Casually. Running a finger along the tablecloth. Apparently enjoying the texture.

He wouldn't mind ripping a few of those to pieces.

[dobadthings]

"Oh, do forgive me," Talbot sighs with exasperation.

"It seems that no matter what I do to get rid of the smell, it always seems to linger. But yes, we do employ werewolves as part of the daytime staff. They mostly patrol the grounds and do Russell's bidding where he sees fit. Dirty, uncouth things, really, always tracking mud on my rugs."

[onceaviking]

Eric smiles. Politely.
"I am sure the King has good reasons for choosing to employ weres," he says.
It's pretty obvious that he doesn't hold with weres personally.

(He couldn't have hidden that, even if he tried).

"I myself have had some business transactions with them in the last two decades or so."

[dobadthings]

Talbot shrugs.

"I don't care much for them, but Russell finds them useful. They're obedient, for the most part -- if you show them who's master."

[onceaviking]

Eric can feel his smile hurt.

Perhaps, this is what little girl Sunshine meant when she talked about him having to do things he didn't want todo. Things that burned.

"I can imagine," he says. "They do say the work if the regents are never done."
And how does the trophy wife feel about that, he wonders.