1361/Nightlife

Nightlife
Date of Scene:	25 April 2020
Location:	The Wick
Synopsis:	Two vampires meet at a vampire club. Imagine that.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Morbius, Blake Riviere

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Michael Morbius has posed:
Is this what his life has come to?

Two weeks ago, he was a well-respected biochemist. He was a modern man. A quiet, unassuming scientist.

And now, he is traveling to a place called the Wick after hours because of tonight's specialized clientele.

Google had been helpful, and he had not truly believed what he was seeing, but as soon as he stepped in...he knew.

The Witching Hour, when this place catered to gothic/romantic subculture of vampires.

They were not real vampires, of course, any more than HE was a real one. He could tell they were quite alive. They simply held this...ideal of creatures of the night. The romantic concepts, not the bloody practices, although there were a few that looked dangerous enough.

Michael had eschewed his lab coat for the black suit he wore to formal functions, his collar open.

And in this place, a tall man with red eyes would not warrant a second look.

Blake Riviere has posed:
To be fair, Blake had been to the Wick before when it wasn't for a specific 'themes'. It was dark, comforting and then perhaps a little charmingly gothic. Last time she'd been here she'd been more plainly dressed, she'd met interesting people and... well, it was enough to draw her back.

Besides, there was a certain amusement for her to find herself surrounded with people who were fans and false-vampires. The 'confusion' of it all was...kind of adorable. And truth be told? She did rather like one or two of those books.

Wrapped in the black dress, those red stockings, the hair-ribbons...the woman moves among the crowd with a little soft sigh. Her own eyes were red, deep and practically luminescent...and here she didn't have to hide it.

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael looked around. Fangs (dental acrylic), different-colored eyes (contact lenses), leather and mesh and lace. Delicate women in dark clothing, waxing poetic about the tragedy of life and the ennui of centuries.

He had looked at his own blood, his own bone, under a microscope. Longevity was a distinct possibility if the other tests bore out. A week ago, he was doomed to weeks. Now, he might see centuries.

"Excuse me?"

He turned, looking into the faces of the two young woman. He was self-conscious for a moment - he had fed on bagged blood so as to minimize risk, but he was aware that he still looked a little...predatory. "Yes...?" he said politely.
"You're new in here. Are you one of the Primogen?"
He was mesmerized for a moment by the pulse of the woman's heart, but blinked. "I am...new to the city."
They looked to each other, then said, "You should announce your presence to Matthew." One pointed to a wolfish-looking person in the corner booth, attended to by four others. "He's the Prince of New York."
"...Is he, now?" Michael was amused. He had accepted a role in this strange game. An outsider, come to court. He smiled to the "Prince," which earned him a scowl.
"You should fear him. He controls New York. No one is strong enough to challenge him..." the redhead said quickly.

"...Should I, now?" he said cryptically. "We shall see."

The two women drew away from him, and he walked towards the bar. He needed a drink. A REGULAR drink.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A laugh, soft and clearly amused. A little giggle that was clearly not quite going along with the serious 'game' being played tonight. Blake was here, she could see it, hear it, every last little noise in the room, every pulse nearby, every harsh note of body glitter and perfumes. Whatever amusements she found from these crowds and their theatrical interpretations of how vampire society 'really' was, it wasn't without a little irritation here and there.

Making her way between the crowd, the raven-haired woman was already at the bar as Michael approached, a glass in her hand lightly marked with the trace of her deep red lipstick. A sidelong glance over the rim of the drink, she tilts her head to the side.

"A newcomer you said?" the questions comes in her soft 'Queen's English' accent, noticably lacking any obvious fangs to her lips before she tilts her head. "Welcome to the Wick."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael looks askance at the dark-haired woman, but nods to her. "My first time here. It is...a learning experience." He looks to the bartender. "Shot glass of ouzo. I hope you have that."
The barkeep smiled. "Imported from Naples."
Michael looks satisfied as he turns to Blake. When he smiles, the fangs can be clearly seen, and if they are fake, they are matched to his white teeth perfectly. "My name's...Michael."

Blake Riviere has posed:
There was a smile from the girl, but the woman lowers her glass with a nod. Much like everyone else, the woman's beverage was decidedly plain, some sweet-smelling cocktail with fruity overtones. Myth and fact were blurry at the best of times, but Blake could clearly tolerate more than just blood...it was just like a human being eating nothing but rabbit; she simply couldn't survive like that.

There was a light sniff from the woman (admittedly one of many today) dressed in black and red, a tilt of her head as she considers something...different. She just couldn't place it quite yet.

"Blake," she offers back, offering a hand in introduction. "I promise you, it is not always like this...but it is good for a laugh."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael hmmed as his drink arrived. "It all seems so...dramatic, really. The concepts of eternal youth and no consequences...I suppose some might mind it amusing..."

Michael looks to Blake...and pauses for a moment. He can read a person like a book, and the added special abilites enhance that. But Blake seems...wrong. Out of place. Perhaps he is misreading his own senses.

"Are you involved in this game? If so, how long have you been playing it?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Life is for living," Blake muses, another little sip of her drink claimed while she shrugs her bared shoulders. "But that hardly means it's without consequence. Isn't that sort of what makes it a little more exciting?" A shift in her seat, the woman leans lightly against the edge of the counter. She was trying to make it look normal, comfortable conversation...but she too was looking closely.

Something about Michael stood out, she just still couldn't quite place it...aside from the fact he wasn't playing along.

"Me? No. I'm...consider it a 'culture study'," Blake muses, lazily tracing a fingertip over the rim of her empty glass. "And a chance to dress up I suppose."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael nods thoughtfully, sipping his drink. "More of a subculture than a culture. But my strengths are more with biochemistry than anthropology." He hmms, then adds, "You do look lovely tonight, though, Miss Blake. Perhaps we can..."

He felt a tap on his shoulder, then turned to look at a tall black man. "Yes?"
"Matthew summons you."
"Ah..." He looked to Blake. "I am summoned. Perhaps I should have thought to bring tribute..."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A soft snerk, Blake manages to disguise the expression with a little touch of her delicate fingers to her lips. Perhaps she simply managed to get away with playing more disrespectful for her appearance alone, stockings and short skirts with the right neckline having an effect that was almost certainly both something Blake was aware of and utilized comfortably.

Or maybe they just thought it part of her 'character'. It didn't really matter.

"Go on then," she muses, pivoting on her chair to glance towards 'Matthew' at his table and then looking back to Michael. "But hurry back. Last time I met an Astrophysics expert here, now a Biochemist? It seems quite the place for intelligent company...and I could use another drink."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael steps off of his barstool. "Perhaps I should have worn something more...Victorian?"

He nods to Blake, then walks with the...vassal? Thrall?...towards the booth.

It is supposed to be a quiet conversation, but Blake can hear everything.

"So...what clan are YOU from?" Matthew asked scornfully.
"...Morbius." Michael seemed calm and composed.
"How long have you been in *my* city?"
"Your city? Well..you could say I 'arrived' four days ago. From Greece."
"You took your time."
"I'm new in town. So...I'm supposed to 'acknowledge' you as my Prince?"
Matthew smiled. "Exactly."
"I see...and what if I told you to go untwist your DNA?"
Matthew frowned. "Perhaps you don't realize your account is already deeply in the red. Isaac, show him the red."

Isaac moves to drive a fist into Michael's belly, but Michael moves and suddenly Isaac is on the ground, moaning and clutching his middle. Blake saw Michael hit him in the left kidney, but it was much faster than it should have been.

Blake Riviere has posed:
There's a raise of Blake's hand, a little wavering side-to-side in mime of a classic 'eh' response. She doesn't reorder her drink, after all she'd invited Michael to join her, but it's lazily lowered to her lap as she brings her knees together for the sake of modesty and continues to idly trace a digit around the rim of the empty drink.

She was listening, watching even, the exchange that she'd seen more than a few times in a few places. Truthfully? She almost missed the overdramatic capes and accents of the earlier years, it was like a delightful pantomime. Tonight however, someone was going to take it too far. Always someone out there who got too drunk on the false authority...

Then there's the impact, but it wasn't Michael that wore the hit. Interesting...

She saw it, even if others didn't or indeed couldn't, now the vampiress leans forwards with alighted interest to watch the exchange. Was Michael a mutant? Was that what she missed? Tonight had just become quite a bit more engaging...

Michael Morbius has posed:
Matthew looked at Michael as if he had gone off-script. A few others were gazing at him as well, with varying emotioms and reactions.
After a few seconds, Matthew snarls, "Are you challenging me, outsider?"
Michael smiled sardonically. This was actually getting kind of fun, actually. "I suppose if I considered you any kind of challenge, I would."
Matthew was turning a rather nasty shade of red. "I accept your challenge. Tomorrow night, midnight. And I will show you what happens to UPSTARTS."
Michael smiled. "Yes, yes, of course, puff, blow, pomp, circumstance. Am I dismissed?"

If eyes were gun muzzles, Michael would have been blown out of existence. He nods, the walks back to the bar to sit down next to Blake. "And here I thought I would be unable to find entertainment."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Applause, even if it was a little slow and sardonic. The clapping from Blake only lasts about four or five 'beats', but the woman is smirking as Michael returns to her. After all, she could -hear- the panic in the heartbeat of the so-called 'Prince'.
% His words? They're met with a soft chuckle from the woman who glances over her shoulder at the bartender and raises her hand to draw attention before looking back to Michael. "I don't know about that," she muses, offering a little smirk. "I found it somewhat entertaining..."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael smiled thoughtfully. "Well, I wasn't expecting to upset the social structure of the vampire community. I certainly hope it will not affect YOUR social standing." He tilted his head slightly. "Are you some sort of Countess or Baroness? I hope I have not offended..."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"My social standing?" she repeats, giving a little shrug and waving her hand. "I imagine you'll find you more likely to suffer such chest thumping than I will. My social standing is probably measured on how much of my neckline and up my skirt they think they have a chance of seeing."

That and...she'd used her mesmerization more than once in places like this.

"Countess?" she repeats, tilting her head. "Perhaps 'Lady', but titles aren't as interesting as people themselves, are they?"

Michael Morbius has posed:
Michael chuckles. "Perhaps...but I think there is more to you than meets the eye. Shall we retire to someplace more open and less...class-aware?"