~1870~
Five years had passed since Eliot Bonaparte and Lucian Ellsworth had made their way to California. And the year was now 1870. Though Eliot was the only one of the two who still claimed residence inside the high walls of Sean’s estate. Lucian had since been moved to a dwelling further up the beach. He had been tasked with restoring a two story building that had once been previously inhabited by an old acquaintance of Claire’s, another doctor, named Kristofer Harris. Though Claire was oddly silent when asked for any further details about anything else regarding her relationship with the man who had last lived in the home nearly fifty years earlier.
As the bottom floor had once been a doctor’s office, and Lucian technically had been a doctor in his mortal life, it was only fitting that he would adopt a mortal identity as a doctor once more upon moving into the home. Though he also had to find a medically skilled young servant to watch over he, and any mortal patients he may have, during the daylight hours that Lucian was forced to sleep through.
After his handsome young blood bound apprentice, Reeve, had retired for the night, Lucian made his way to the ground floor in case any patients had a need for medical attention that evening. He was seated at his desk mulling over another letter to his daughter when he was startled by another voice in the previously empty room there with him now.
“Psst” he heard from behind as he quickly turned back at the sound, only to freeze at the sight of a companion who he had not seen or heard enter the room with him at all.
As Lucian set eyes on her beautiful, yet smirking face, he was immediately flooded with all those missing memories of his sire, all at once.
“Well, you don’t look happy to see me” Awsha greeted him in that sickeningly sweet tone she almost always spoke with. “That makes two of us” she added more coolly as she moved to lean upon the nearest wall, her arms crossed in annoyance over her ample breasts.
“How did you even...” he began shakily, though was soon cut off by her.
“No, I’ll be the one asking the questions” she told him coldly, “and five years? Really?” she told him with a glare.
He just shook his head, “what?”
“Five long goddamn years and you still haven’t even fucked her? Don’t you think it’s way past time you should be getting on that? Or rather, on her” she added with another smirk, annoyed though it was.
Lucian scoffed at that statement, “I’m sure forcing myself on her would be sure to win her heart. You have some twisted ideas of romance” he couldn’t help adding.
Awsha offered another glare before replying, “perhaps I should have turned the little bastard prince after all. At least he’s managed to get inside her nearly every night. And the ponce didn’t even like women before he met her. He’d definitely have been the better option here.”
Lucian just shook his head again, trying to pour through all of her many words, but he had more pressing matters now that she was finally in his sights once again, “at least tell me how Lenore is. You haven’t hurt her yet, have you?”
“What part of I’m asking the questions did you miss?” she growled back with further impatience.
Lucian returned her glare then, “your plan is shite... Awsha” he stated as though just then remembering her name at all, “it’s pretty impossible to gain the trust of someone when you have massive holes in your entire back-story, and she’s married to a mind-reader. In case you forgot that little fact.”
“And have you forgotten the fact that I still have your little girl?” she bit back, “and I’ve had so long to think of so many ways to hurt her. Maybe you need a reminder, after all” she told him with unmistakable venom in her threat.
The fear was clear in his eyes, though he painfully bit back tears that he would never let her see, “despite all your threats” he made himself begin, “it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t make her love me when she doesn’t trust me. And the reason she doesn’t trust me is because of this elusive plan of yours. Even a goddamn mortal can tell that the only reason I could have for continuing to pursue her like this at all is for the sake of betraying her at some point. That doesn’t tend to build a whole lot of trust, or warm feelings” he finished with desperation.
Awsha glared back at him for a long moment before speaking, “poor Lenore. Shame that she has a father who is such a massive disappointment.”
On that last threat, Lucian snapped. With red hot fury, he ripped a piece of wood from the back of his desk chair and lunged toward her, aiming straight for her heart. Though, as soon as that sharp shard of wood should have pierced her flesh, she vanished, the illusion dissipating before his dark, startled eyes.
Her echoing laughter was the only trace of her that remained as the splintered piece of wood slid from his shaking fingers, causing it to crash to the floor, just the way all his hope of saving his daughter from whatever horrors she had in mind, also seemed to crumble in the very same moment.
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After five long years of ingesting one Kindred’s blood, then another’s, then another’s every few months, Eliot already had the routine down. He knew that within a day or so, he would once again begin feeling that withdrawal and have to find and convince his next donor. It was actually Claire’s own blood that was running through his veins during this particular interval. Though in just a day or so, it would once again begin to dissipate, causing the need to find another Kindred to help stave off the unpleasantness of withdrawal and all that went with any return to a fully mortal state.
The most worrying thought about discontinuing his ongoing semi-addiction was the terror of immediately aging five years if his own blood ever ran clean. And though Eliot would still only age to a ripe old twenty-four years, it was still a process that he didn’t wish to explore.
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On that thought, he decided to venture out to the saloon that Claire and her associate had reopened once more over the past five years. It was true that Sean would likely have been willing to offer up a drop of his blood to replace Claire’s, but Eliot still tried to avoid Sean whenever possible. He didn’t much like the idea of letting Sean peer into his mind when it was filled with so many passionate encounters with the man’s wife.
Not that Eliot would be opposed to Sean actually joining in on those nights he spent with Claire. After all, Sean was beyond beautiful, and Eliot already knew of certain instances wherein Sean and Claire had shared male and female lovers alike in the past. But to have him simply peering in at five years worth of encounters between he and Claire? That didn’t sit near as well with him.
His slightly salacious imaginings about any possible ménages with the Prince of L.A. were soon interrupted though, by a pleasant voice greeting him as he waited for the bartender to make him his drink. “Evening, Lord Eliot” Emma smiled and offered him another curtsy as he turned at the greeting.
Eliot couldn’t help a little smile as he nodded to her, “Lady Emma.”
“Not really a lady,” she admitted with a shy smile, her ice blue eyes cast downwards.
“And I’m not really a lord. At least not technically,” he reminded her.
“Just an emperor’s son,” she told him with another sweet smile as she moved to perch atop the stool next to his.
“A fact I often try to forget,” Eliot admitted with a smirk as he received his drink at last and took a sip.
“Still, you could very well be the actual emperor someday,” Emma reminded him, then more quietly, “especially now.”
Eliot looked back quickly at that particular statement, “Pardon?”
“Surely you’ve heard,” she told him warily.
“Heard what, exactly?” he asked slowly, “is it my brother?” he added more worriedly.
“Well, I haven’t heard much at all about the prince imperial” she admitted, “but my... my...” she then moved her hand to her temple as she closed her eyes painfully, almost as though in sudden agonizing pain.
“Emma?” Eliot asked with both concern for the young woman, as well as a worry that he may not hear the rest of her sentence.
She then seemed to forcefully push the pain away and retain her composure as she managed to call a smile to her lips once more, “my... father back in Paris still occasionally sends me messages about any big happenings back home. He was awfully interested in sharing this news after I had informed him that I had met the the emperor’s eldest son here in America.”
Eliot narrowed his eyes at her strange behavior and nuanced speech in regards to the mention of her father, but right then he was more anxious to hear this news of hers that she thought had pertained to he and his estranged family.
Though Emma soon did continue, “so, you haven’t received any news from back home, yourself?”
Eliot took another sip of his drink then before responding, “I don’t really stay in contact with anyone back home. I doubt any of them even know my whereabouts at the moment. Except perhaps your father” he added with a weak attempt at humor to cover his worry over whatever news she had for him.
Emma allowed a nervous laugh before moving onward, “from what I’ve heard, in recent nights your father has fallen quite ill. And as far as I know, your brother is also still quite sickly and weak, even if he has outlived the doctors’ original predictions” she told him sadly, “so, as you can see. You could quite easily end up becoming emperor someday soon, after all.”
Eliot paled and his breath caught more than a little at that prospect as he took another large swig from his glass. But before he could dwell on it any further, another interruption came from the newest arrival at the tavern that night.
That was when Minna rushed into the establishment, seeming at least somewhat more lucid than was usual for her. But she gave Emma an unmistakable look of disapproval as she approached.
“You don’t leave without telling! You can’t be alone! You don’t know things you have to know!” she told her angrily, “or you refuse to.”
Emma just shook her head at the other young woman with a bit of confusion which was reflected on Eliot’s face then as well. Reacting as though she were a young girl suddenly embarrassed in front of her crush by her parents, Emma quickly spoke to Eliot once more, “please just try to ignore her. She’s always saying crazy things” she told him in a furtive and apologetic manner.
“Me crazy?” Minna returned with a huff, “you don’t even know what you are!” she told her, though kept her volume as low as she could, despite the anger behind her words.
Emma feigned offense to cover her apparent continued confusion in the face of such strange accusations being hurled at her. But then Minna’s entire demeanor changed visibly as her eyes suddenly moved to Eliot. She immediately took a step closer, uncomfortably close, to him as she appeared to be almost trying to see inside his soul right then.
“You... you are different” Minna told him as though she had had a sudden epiphany.
“Pardon?” Eliot asked with a slight blush, imagining a hundred different meanings that statement could have possibly had.
As Minna continued to watch him, she seemed much more agitated, “it’s wrong!” she exclaimed suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Eliot asked warily, leaning back from Minna as his eyes watched her cautiously.
“Her brother. He’s not the second. He’s the third” she shook her head as she rubbed at her temples, “you’re the second now. It changed. How did It change?” she muttered as she began to pace, her behavior almost manic at that point. She then suddenly turned back to where Eliot and Emma continued to watch her with even more confusion, “you changed it!” she told Eliot as she stepped close again. “How did you change it?” she asked him urgently.
“I have literally no idea what you’re even talking about” he told her, his own puzzlement sharpening his tone.
Her expression then softened, an almost childlike smile touching her lips below those wild eyes then, “you sparkle.”
“Um, thank you?” Eliot returned with sarcastic skepticism.
That was when another man stood up from where he had been watching from a seat in the shadows at the corner of the tavern that night. As he approached, Eliot couldn’t help his breath catching at how beautiful the young man was. Tall and thin with long reddish-brown locks and pretty nearly gray eyes, he offered Eliot a comforting and almost knowing smile as he intervened in the conversation that had grown progressively louder.
“I think this young lady may have had a few drinks before even arriving here tonight” he stated with a smile as he placed a gentle hand on Minna’s shoulder where she still was paying rapt attention to Eliot, as if seeing more than anyone else in the room. “Why don’t you escort her home, miss?” he told Emma with another polite smile.
Emma simply nodded, seemingly completely confused by the entirety of the conversation. But she still offered a slight bow of her head before taking Minna’s arm to lead her out of the tavern that night at last.
That was when the newcomer sighed heavily and leaned back on the bar next to Eliot, who was still a bit dumbfounded by the previous conversation as well as this young man’s appearance. “Malkavians, am I right?” the other man stated furtively with another shake of his head as Eliot just continued to stare back at him, a million questions in his eyes.
“Mal-what-ians?” Eliot managed, his breath still short as his eyes moved over the other man once more.
“Never mind, for now” the other man smirked, “I shouldn’t mention all of that right now anyway. It’s one of the things certain... parties, frown upon being discussed in mixed company.”
“And you’re close to making as much sense as her.” Eliot returned with a nervous sarcasm.
“Oh Eliot, I have so much to teach you.”