~1901~
There were not many survivors of the DaCosta massacre the previous year. Those invited to the soiree were all young and upcoming artists, human, ghoul, and Kindred alike. There was of course the Sabbat vampires Marina had planted to “entertain” the party goers. And all of those vampires who played a part in originally perpetrating the attack had ended up as dead as their numerous victims that night.
The Sabbat vampires, or Cainites, which they preferred to call themselves just as the Camarilla called themselves Kindred, had been killed by Lissa and company, as well as the fledglings who reveled in their own frenzied killing. That group included the majority of the newly made vampires that night who were turned by members of the staple Sabbat clans like the Lasombra and Tzimisce. However there were a few that night who had been made Toreador by Marina’s own blood, and they were given the choice between death, if they chose to follow in their Antitribu sire’s footsteps, or at trying to assimilate into the ranks of the Camarilla.
Two of those newly made Toreador did choose to make an attempt at a new life among the Camarilla. The two talented, and quite attractive, young men had taken up residence in the Toreador house within the walls, and wards, of the estate where Sean and Claire had both made their home for many of the years of their long past.
Daeran and Rion were the names of the two fair-haired, startlingly attractive young men. They had spent that first year as Kindred trying desperately to retain some semblance of their mortal lives where they had run one of the more successful of the theatres in a city now filled with such establishments. Having managed to continue their success past their deaths, the two had expanded their theatre recently. They were spending that evening searching through the store room at House Toreador where much of their Prince’s art work had been abandoned once he had to take up the crown of the previous Prince.
Daeran was looking through paintings tucked away at the back of the dusty store room in the basement, while Rion was at the other side of the room, reading through Sean’s writings, seeking inspiration for their next play. They had a young male servant, borrowed from the main house, searching through any of the rest of the art work they might want to re-locate to their newly expanded play house, with the Prince’s permission, of course.
“The first woman to ever be allowed on stage?” Daeran stated with admiration as he found Sean’s rendering of the performance when he began searching through another stack of paintings. “I assume our Prince was actually there?” he asked the servant as he brushed a layer of dust from the canvas.
The servant, Kristian, moved to look down at the painting he referred to, “Yes, I believe that’s the theatre the Prince and his wife ran in London, in the 1600s,” Kristian confirmed, his admiration for and knowledge of his beloved Prince clear in his smile.
“She’s beautiful,” Daeran added, his observation of the painting causing Rion to also move across the room to have a look himself.
“Just as beautiful as our Prince it seems,” Rion grinned as he laid a hand upon Daeran’s arm in a slightly flirtatious manner.
“Probably why there’s even more paintings of her,” Kristian smiled as he gestured to the next framed canvas in the pile propped against the wall.
Daeran handed the original painting to Kristian as he and Rion moved to look through the rest. All of those collected there were various portraits of her that Sean had painted throughout all of his many years before becoming Prince.
“It appears there was a bit of a relationship between Miss Hughes and our Prince,” Rion stated with a grin as they continued looking through one beautiful portrait after another, including a few where she was wearing a bit less than she had been wearing onstage in that first painting.
“Miss Hughes?” Kristian asked. He then searched his knowledge of their history, then added, “Oh yes, that was her stage name, wasn’t it?”
“You seem to know quite a bit about her as well, Kristian,” Daeran pointed out once he pulled his eyes from the last painting he had been inspecting. “Patron of the arts, are you, as well as art history?”
“Well, yes, especially when it comes to Sean and Claire, all things considered,” Kristian admitted shyly.
“Claire?” Rion asked as he and Daeran both gave Kristian a questioning look.
“Miss Hughes’ real name,” Kristian informed with a sheepish smile to hide his pride at his extensive knowledge of their past in the theatre.
“And what art history book was her real name revealed in? I must read it myself,” Daeran asked curiously.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Oh her real identity has never been in any book I know of. They’d never have allowed that,” Kristian corrected.
Daeran and Rion gave him a curious look before coming to their own conclusion before Daeran spoke again, “She must have made quite an impression on our Prince if he still spoke about her with you, nearly three centuries later.”
Then Rion latched on to something said earlier in the conversation, “Did you say her real name was Claire?”
“Yes,” Kristian smiled, “but most any of the servants could have told you about Claire.”
“Wait,” Rion said thoughtfully, “that’s where I’ve heard the name Claire. Someone said the Prince had a wife, I didn’t even recall it until now, but that is where I’ve heard the name before, after all.”
“Wait,” Daeran echoed, “Are you saying that the first woman to ever be onstage is actually this Claire who our Prince is now married to? And living there in the main house with him to this day?”
“Guess that does explain the plethora of pictures of our beautiful thespian,” Rion stated more to himself.
“Well, she hasn’t really been here at the estate much lately,” Kristian stated quietly before continuing, “but yes, she is indeed his wife. Just like she was back then,” he smiled down at the first painting once more.
Daeran and Rion looked at each other with excited grins, “We must meet her,” Daeran stated simply.
“Indeed,” Rion easily agreed.
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The last time they had spoken, Sean and Claire had found it difficult to even decide how they should interact with each other anymore, even after three long centuries together. However, as entwined as their lives had always been, that would have to be something they did eventually figure out how to do again. And eventually had now come.
With the new year also came the next meeting of Sean’s council. Meaning, Claire would have to not only return to their home, but also spend the majority of the evening in the same room as Sean. As well as with six other very old Kindred who were more than capable of providing even more stress than the two of them were already feeling after the last year of that long life.
Sean had already been acting a bit distant since seeing Claire’s, nay Eliot’s, new home, directly across the street from Raven’s Loft at that. But knowing there would be a council meeting that night, and knowing Claire would be part of it, Summer decided to make herself scarce as well.
Shortly after sunset, Summer decided to make her way down the boardwalk. She kept a slow pace, watching the various stragglers returning to their homes for their nightly dinner after closing the multitude of businesses that now dotted the streets of Los Angeles. Her eyes wandered from the buildings to the beach and the waves, lost in rather somber thoughts, just as she had been ever since her meeting with Claire on Christmas Eve.
Her eyes were then drawn to a man with dark hair, and just as dark of a suit that was too well made to warrant him being seated on his knees in the sand as he was that evening. The reason for his strange location was a tiny fair haired, blue eyed toddler girl who he was trying to keep entertained and calm with an attempt at ‘helping’ her build a sand castle.
Seeming to want none of it, the little girl continued destroying the foundation of the sandy castle almost as soon as he finished erecting it. Summer couldn’t help a small smile at the girl’s defiance as the man did well to hide his annoyance behind a smile and just continued trying his best to keep the little one entertained.
Summer’s eyes looked around at the otherwise abandoned beach and took a few steps off of the wooden walkway and onto the sand near the man and child. As she stepped closer though, her eyes were once again drawn back to the man who she could now easily note was quite handsome. As her steps drew her nearer, she once again felt that awe she had only ever felt when she had been around Sean and his kind.
Though the feeling wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it had been with Sean, it was more akin to the awe she felt the one time she had been alone with Claire. And it still caused her to halt her steps and look around them once more to note that the beach and boardwalk were now quite abandoned as the hour grew later.
Taking a breath, she moved closer, managing a smile as he noticed her presence and cast her a small smile of his own. He took a moment to let his eyes move over her, despite his frustration with the toddler’s determination to destroy his attempts at constructing the castle.
“You seem... familiar,” Summer decided on, slightly biting her lip, “have you ever been to the Beringer estate?”
He paused a moment as though to study her before responding, only to then flinch slightly a moment later, as though a bright light had just illuminated his dark brown eyes, despite the darkness of the beach surrounding them that night.
“Once or twice,” he answered her in a British accent that sounded more than a bit suspicious as he continued squinting slightly at her.
Summer swallowed, looked around again, then spoke once more, though in a whisper, “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, casting a wary look between her and the little girl before replying, “I was going to say the same thing to you. I’ve only ever seen one other person who... you remind me of,” he decided on.
Taking a moment to dissect his words, Summer allowed another smile, cautious though it was, “So you know Eliot?”
He seemed a bit thrown by that statement as he cast another protective look at the little girl, then spoke again, “You could say that, I suppose.” He then allowed himself another statement, “We arrived in Los Angeles on the same train, quite some time ago.”
Summer seemed to relax a bit then, at least enough to also move to her knees in the sand, though still several feet away. “I mean then you know what he is: What I am,” she added with another cautious smile.
“As much as I could even know,” he said pointedly, his look of suspicion remaining. “Though I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily a good thing.”