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Post by Nevan J. Blake on May 29, 2017 11:38:42 GMT
Nevan was used to walking to Ahman's creepy home enough that, by this point, it was easy to dodge around his slaves and hired chucklefucks. He had found that it worked fucking great to start all his meetings with Ahman by waltzing in unannounced, giving him whatever he had been ordered to make, and then talking until Ahman paid him to go away. Which didn't actually take that much time or effort because Ahman found him excessively aggravating and it wasn't like he could make Nevan more of an undead leach than he already was.
So it was with his usual respect and lack of knocking that Nevan tossed open the door to one of Ahman's many guestrooms and walked in on the man talking to another daemon man, swirling a bottle of thick silver syrup in one hand and grinning like a cheshire cat.
“Hey old man, oi tink that oi finally got something dat you're go-oh.” Nevan blinked and looked between Ahman and the under-dressed daemon before he hissed air through his fangs and rolled his eyes. He had wandered into this sort of shady bullshit. “Alright, yer busy. Oi'll wait.” Nevan fidgeted and attached the small bottle into a loop in his belt where it sat on his hip along with four other bottles of assorted potions that could come in handy in any number of situations.
Without being invited Nevan walked in, skirting around the outside of the room and grabbing a random book off a shelf as he walked past.
The room was a level of decadence that Nevan, frankly, found absolutely absurd but found easy to flagrantly disrespect. He selected a luxurious couch near to the corner, one set next to a great window that looked out at the City at large, bathed in the pale light of a rising half moon. Nevan put his feet up on a well polished table, crossing his legs and making a nice platform for his cat to spring from his shoulder and onto his lap and making it clear by the state of his shoes that he had tracked mud just all over the godsdamned place. Nothing like making himself as at-home as possible in front of the hopefully very important guest.
He had sat himself out of the light of the roaring fireplace and it took a few blinks before Nevan's eyes went from dark to glowing a brilliant purple. That bit was important as he flipped open the book and made a point to stare above it and at Ahman, the glow making it very clear where he was looking. “Jist pretend oi'm not here,” he added.
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 9, 2017 7:32:57 GMT
The truth was, Gabriel was one of those rare people who didn't mind meetings. Not the kind with useless blather about nothing, where a bunch of people all tiptoeing around each other's feelings wasted their time failing to come to decisions. The meetings Gabriel had were all, without exception, useful in some way. This was because if they were dragging on and looking as though they might not be useful he tended to get pissed off, and no-one liked pissing him off if they could help it. But, for the most part, these political dances were all part of the fun of life for the Daemon Lord - he wouldn't have killed for the role if he didn't find some satisfaction in the subtle manipulation of power, the ebb and flow of political relationships, and the constant intellectual challenge of maintaining the right connections in the right way.
It helped, too, that Ahman - the Eldest Daemon and therefore an automatic member of Gabriel's 'council' of sorts, always had good booze.
Because he generally liked Ahman well enough and because his meetings with him followed the sometimes lengthy, but always productive pattern that he insisted upon, Gabriel was lounging comfortably and happily in an overstuffed armchair and drinking very good, probably ridiculously expensive whiskey, when someone barged in. Daemons didn't follow the Human custom of excessive formality so although Ahman's house was always impeccably turned out and opulent, Gabriel was wearing only his usual black pants and a simple v-neck shirt. Which, honestly, was a significant concession since he often didn't bother with even a shirt and could usually be convinced to dispense with pants in most circumstances too.
He only watched, his expression entirely unchanged, as a frankly unusually disrespectful vampire tracked mud all over Ahman's flash study and proceeded to make himself comfortable. Gabriel didn't know Ahman all that well on a personal level - something he hoped to change, as it happened, figuring strengthening their relationship could only be good for the Daemons as a whole - but he'd always known the man to be ruthless with his slaves. Perhaps this one wasn't a slave. Either way, it was intriguing that anyone in Ahman's house felt comfortable enough around the notoriously merciless vampire to swan into a private political meeting without invitation.
"A new one of yours, Ahman?" Honestly, a lack of training due to being a brand new addition to Ahman's household was about the only explanation Gabriel could come up with as he observed the young intruder with detached curiosity.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 10, 2017 9:13:32 GMT
Ahman did not really like other people. Or, well, it was very difficult to convince him to even respect someone, much less like them. Nev was tolerated and was essentially the only person that was alive who fit that profile. Still, ever since he had been appointed Eldest Daemon and had offered services and funds to the daemons, it was “important” for him to “play nice”. This was one of those times. Meetings were silly, but also essential in terms of communication. Ahman understood that, which was why he agreed to meet with the daemon lord in the first place.
He had very minimal face-to-face contact with Gabriel, mostly out of his own preference. He was too busy to deal with any trifling visits or chats. Thankfully the daemon lord had never really felt the need to every summon him for any of those reasons. He probably had his own tasks to deal with. It had been a good long while since they last spoke, and Ahman felt compelled to sit down and have their chat.
Unlike the daemon lord, Ahman enjoyed overdressing. He loved to show off that he ran one of the most successful forms of businesses in Litharia. He knew he had power and money, and what better way to show it off than all of the time? This time, his garb was a bit more casual than normal, but still well made and flashy. A simple, dark purple tunic fell down just past his knees and was lined with beautiful, golden embroidery along the ends consisting of swirl-like designs. To add to it, a golden colored rope acted as a belt around his waist and gave him a less flat, simple look with the tunic. For shoes, he wore simple brown sandals since he was in his own home and wished to be at least a little comfortable. As per the norm, his hands were adorned with a number of flashy and large rings.
Ahman was seated next to Gabriel on a very comfortable and expensive chair. Between them was a small end table with a platter that held a few bottles of booze and some glasses. At Ahman’s feet was his grotesque shadow creature, Hound. It laid on its belly, its head up bright and alert as it awaited orders from its master. The creature did not sleep and, thanks to the collar around its next, would listen to whatever Ahman commanded it to do.
Over by the entrance of the door was a servant shifter girl. She was a young adult and had been in service with Ahman for a few decades. As far as servants went, she was one of his favorites and one of the few that have remained employed for a long amount of time. Her name was Atania, and she was merely there to also respond to Ahman’s requests, or Gabriel’s for that matter. The eldest daemon had instructed her to adhere to his requests as well if he had any.
As far as respect when for the daemon lord, Ahman had more so for him than most people. It was a different form of respect however. He only respected the boy (and Ahman did still think of him as a boy) based on his status, position, and (most likely) strength. Being a daemon lord required a lot of strength, either physical or magical. No one was elected or just randomly picked. It was a position that was fought for. That was as deep as his respect went though. Personally, Ahman knew very little about Gabriel and he honestly did not mind keeping it that way. Business dictated otherwise however, and since the daemon lord was using his resources, Ahman figured it would be best to change that a little bit.
Of course, a little bit of silence was too good. The witch he forced to work for him barged in without warning, tracking mud everywhere he went. Ahman knew that Nevan liked to do these things on purpose, and it bothered the hell out of him. He decided not to show that annoyance beyond giving an exaggerated eyeroll as the boy moved over to a chair an placed his feet up on the table.
“Feet off the table boy, or Hound will tear them off and make you put them down.” At the sound of his name, Hound made a deep rumble from its throat and raised off its haunches just a bit.
Though the idea was to annoy Ahman, especially with the mud all over the floor, the annoyance really pertained to the poor servants that had to clean up after the mess. Ahman snapped his fingers and Atania moved out of the room to fetch cleaning supplies. He looked over at Gabriel and feigned a small smile. “Ah yes and no. He’s more a servant than a slave. Well, more an apprentice in a way than a servant. I won’t bother introducing him. He can do that himself.” His red eyes switched back over to Nev, a flicker of annoyance and danger shimmering in them.
“Pray tell, Nevan, want did you need to bring to me after forcing my servant to clean up after you like a child.”
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jun 11, 2017 9:50:42 GMT
“New one of yours?”
Nevan's head popped up entirely over his book and he made a face, knowing full and gods-damned well what the stranger was implying with his question.
“Feck off no oi'm not! Oi'm an employee!” He still had no earthly idea who he was, but he glared with the same spite he used when a customer knocked something in glass off the shelves of his store. But when he looked at Ahman it was with significantly malice. “Yer got too may tables anyway, dad.” But he still took his feet off the table. He wiggled his shoulders a little as he slouched into the chair so his posture was even worse. He still had the book open in front of his face too, but he wasn't even trying to pretend to be reading anymore.
He stayed rigid until Ahman declared his occupation, when suddenly he became flared up and firey all over again. “Oi'm not yer feckin' servant! Have yer been tellin' people that? Why the feck would yer tell people that, oi'm contractually employed.” He ended the statement by making a particularly rude gesture at him.
“Like yer feckin' care what yer make yer servants do,” Nevan grumbled under his breath before he looked at the stranger and added, “oi'm Nevan J. Blake, oi'm the best witch in the fekin' City, an' who the feck 're yer, mate? Yer even more under-dressed than oi am.” The real question was so why is Ahman letting you get away with it?
He didn't actually change from looking dower and irritated until Ahman asked what he had brought. As obtuse as he tended to be he did actually care deeply about his work and a great spread across his face. He jumped up to his feet, sending Torin hissing and sputtering across the room to hide under a chair where Hound couldn't reach him. Nevan was standing over the old leach in an instant and he pulled the bottle of silver potion from his belt and held it out so Ahman could take it if he wanted.
“Oi figured out how ter make a potion tha' acts like pure iron.” Ahman always talked about wanting a way to hurt Fae easier and this had taken him months to perfect. “Tried it on some blood an' made it boil into nothing. Doesn't need ter be heated or anyting! Try it out, yer gonna like what happens.”
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 15, 2017 7:46:50 GMT
Under some circumstances Gabriel would have been annoyed at any intrusion that interrupted his work. Under these, though, Ahman's visitor was more of a curiosity than an obstacle. He wasn't there to discuss anything secretive or sensitive with Ahman - he'd not even bothered to ask that he dismiss his servant. Their discussions had been around the easing of tensions between the Human and Fae, for the most part - something Ahman could generally give him information on since he lived in the City and saw things firsthand far more than Gabriel. And something that was important given Gabriel had recently strengthened the Daemon's alliance with the Fae through the offer of active support in any war. If the Fae and Humans were not going to come to blows it boded well for them all; Gabriel would prefer to avoid the inevitable loss of Daemon life, and therefore collective strength.
So, it was with mild interest but no great irritation that Gabriel regarded the newcomer as he reacted, riled and brittle, to what were admittedly casual insults flung his way. The fact that he called Ahman 'Dad' even caused the ghost of a smile to flicker over Gabriel's expression, his gaze alighting briefly on the Eldest Daemon in amusement that he carefully kept under wraps. He couldn't imagine a less paternal person than Ahman in the entirety of Litharia.
"The best witch in the City? And so humble with it, I see." Slightly interesting information, that. Gabriel wondered idly what particular use Ahman had for a witch. He could think of plenty of useful things witches could do, of course, but surely it was something exceptional if Ahman was willing to put up with this child's foul mouth and disrespectful manner. Gabriel had always known the Eldest Daemon to be ruthlessly cruel in disciplining those who worked for him, paid or not. His standard were exacting and he wasn't the most flexible or forgiving person Gabriel had ever met. In fact, Gabriel could distinctly remember more than one occasion where Ahman had casually killed slaves right in front of him, for far lesser transgressions than those this youth was currently indulging in.
"Gabriel," he replied to Nevan's question, and this was all he offered. No title, no proclamation. He was curious about whether Nevan was going to keep behaving this way, and what Ahman would do about it. He almost laughed about the comment regarding his choice of clothing, though - he hadn't expected that. People didn't normally comment on it, but perhaps that was because people rarely questioned the Daemon Lord's choices. Nevan must be used to Ahman's insistence on formality, decorum, prestige and status...all things that, to Gabriel, came second to comfort and utility, though he was not opposed to dressing ostentatiously when he felt like it.
Interesting, though, that it seemed Nevan's earlier boasting wasn't entirely unfounded; when he described a potion that acted like iron Gabriel tilted his head slightly, intrigued. That sounded like a difficult thing to craft, though he was unsure as to the purpose of it. He assumed that since Nevan was sharing it so openly this too was not a secret, so he asked.
"Something to use against Fae? Why not just use the metal itself?"
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 15, 2017 8:39:11 GMT
Ahman had to keep from groaning with annoyance. If he groaned, that meant the brat had won. He and Nevan constantly had these moments where he would try the daemon’s patience. The boy was lucky Ahman needed him, else he would have been dead a long, long time ago. He could still use threatening his mother to keep him under control, but he did not want to over use that ability. For the most part Nevan listened. Sometimes.
The daemon lord did not seem bothered at all by the entrance, and Ahman couldn’t say he was surprised. All these damn young ones not caring for disrespect. He supposed it was better that way, otherwise Gabriel may have lashed out and killed Nev. That would have been very bad indeed.
“I did not state that you were a servant, you daft child. I said you were more than a servant. Do you have any forms of magic to heighten your sense of hearing? I can’t imagine what annoyances you forced your mother to endure as she raised you.” The last bit pertaining to his mother was in his normal, sarcastic tone of voice, not an annoyed one. For a moment, he glared at the boy after the addition of the word ‘dad’, but then turned his attention back to the daemon lord. The boy had to have been absolutely mad.
“Yes, it seems he lacks any form of humility as it were. But thus far, I would say he is possibly one of the best.” Just as he spoke, the servant woman returned and began to clean up Nevan’s mess. Ahman snapped his fingers at her without even giving her a glance, and pointed at an empty glass. She placed her broom and rag down and quickly went over to a cabinet. As she opened it up, there was a small collection of wine bottles, not filled with wine, but filled with blood. Ahman had a blood addiction, so he needed a few stocked up at a time. There was a servant that had cooling magic who kept the blood from going bad.
The servant grabbed a bottle from the right side of the shelf and returned over to Ahman, quickly filling his glass almost to the brim and retuning the bottle to the cabinet. She shut the doors and returned to cleaning.
Ahman grabbed his drink and happily took a drink. He returned to the conversation by adding, “You see this ring right here?” He had to point it out since his hand was covered with rings. It was a simple thing; it appeared like pure silver with emerald laced throughout it, but it was much more than that. “Keeps me from burning even a little bit in the daylight. There is a lot to it, but I have never found a witch till him that could make it.” Bragging that he could walk out in broad daylight was not very professional, so he offered Gabriel, “If you wish, I could have him make you one as well. It tends to take a while, but it is worth it.” Gods, he hoped the daemon lord would not suddenly ask him if Nevan could make rings for the daemon army. The very idea was ridiculous and impossible. The ingredients needed to make the ring were excessively expensive and very rare.
The boy’s attitude changed after Ahman asked about what Nevan wanted to bring him. Now the old daemon began to recall as the boy reminded him. It was amusing how his whole attitude changed; one moment ago, he was ready to play the ‘how long before Ahman tries to break my neck’ game, and now he was happily explaining about his work. What an egotistical little shit. Gabriel did not seem to understand the reasoning behind it, so the vampire went ahead to explain.
“As you can imagine, Fae make some of the best slaves due to their inability to ignore commands when their True Name is spoken. Fae hold on to these names with more resilience and willpower than one could possibly imagine and weapons, well, they can only take you so far till the fae finally dies. I asked Nevan to make something that would torture them to the brink of death, but not actually kill them as well as make it to where they could recover quickly so the process can be repeated. As I just got the materials now, I know not how well it will work. I aim to find out. We could make our wave to the slave cells and try it out. It is quite entertaining I suppose.”
Already Ahman had finished his first glass of blood. It was a refreshing boost that helped decrease his levels of annoyance for the time being. “I won’t give you a pat on the back till I see it work, boy. One of these days your arrogance is going to present you as useless if you continue that way.”
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jun 16, 2017 8:08:29 GMT
Nevan glared and folded his arms, suddenly looking very much like any other sullen teenager on the planet. “It sounded like that's what yer were implying,” he grumbled. He scuffed the toe of one of his red shoes against the carpet and pulled up his other leg so his knee was on his chest and his heel was on the chair he was sitting in. The rim of his hat flopped down around his face, nearly hiding everything above his lips before he indignantly moved it back from his eyes.
He nodded quickly when Gabriel echoed his deceleration then pointed at Ahman, “See? Ahman thinks so too!” He had dealt with the old vampire long enough to just take any admission of competence as praise. “The only people better than me is my mum an' auntie – an' auntie lives out in the Tangle an' my mum won't do the kinda evil shit Ahman wants done. An' Dad wouldn't hire me if oi wasn't good.” He grinned wide and bright, and his fangs dragged over his plump lips.
His smile fell when Ahman offered his services to Gabriel. “What!? Yer won't even give me money ter make one for me, how come yer boyfriend gets one? An' it takes feckin' months, oi got other tings ter do yer know!” Despite his words he just sounded resigned about the whole thing and he scuffed more irritably at the carpet with his shoe as he grumbled indistinct curses under his breath. So long as Ahman paid him he would do it but he still wondered if Ahman realized he had other customers too. Probably just didn't care.
He was immediately cheery again when talk turned to his potions and when Gabriel asked why he made it Nevan turned, already beaming. “Oi'm glad yer asked! See usually if yer want a metal act loike a liquid yer-oh.” His face fell when Ahman started talking about torture, and what little color was in his face drained entirely when Ahman suggested watching what it did to a living person. “Mm, naw, oi know what it does so maybe not doing dat would be great.” He had never seen what Ahman did to people to make them his slaves but seeing the end result made him sure he didn't want to see the process. The thought alone made his stomach twist in knots.
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 18, 2017 3:36:44 GMT
Gabriel had to work even harder to kept his amusement at Ahman's exasperation under wraps, because it was exasperation not only with Nevan, he suspected, but also with himself. Gabriel was a very different person to Ahman in many ways and he knew that Ahman disapproved of his lack of formality and ceremony. But these were not notions that Gabriel considered important to leadership, and it would take a lot more than the opinions of an old Vampire to change his mind - even a powerful one. Even one he considered part of his counsel.
The disrespect, though? Whether you were laughed at or had your throat ripped out depended a lot on context. Nevan had been disrespectful with no knowledge of who he was; it was part of the witch's personality, that abrasive, brittle defiance, probably worsened by working in close quarters with Ahman - not the easiest man to work with, so the bickering was not surprising. Nevan's behaviour was no reflection on Gabriel, and he was also in an easygoing mood. Gabriel was not unreasonable despite some rumours to the contrary. He was proud, and didn't take well to disrespect any more than Ahman, but he could read a situation for what it was and not take offence where it would have been unreasonable and reactionary to do so. Except if he was in a really foul mood, but people would know far enough in advance if that was the case, and it would have been abundantly clear that he should not be pushed.
"Mmm?" Gabriel glanced at the ring, unimpressed. He wore plenty of jewellery himself, most of it silver or rare metal from the Daemon world, and set with moon or sunstone as relevant to his family heritage. He perked up slightly as Ahman described the function, however. Gabriel had developed a decent level of tolerance to the sun over his time in Litharia, having been further down the scale in how badly he was affected in the first place.Vampires tended to suffer the worst, he knew, and the sun rarely gave him anything but minor annoyances in scheduling and travel these days. And yet, to eliminate the irritation entirely. Gabriel glanced at Nevan, rather more intrigued by the witch now. This was a skill; Gabriel had not met the maker of a working shield against the sunlight for his kind before.
"That is a generous offer, Ahman. You know I can't pay you for something like that, though. I would not want to put you out if commissioning one ran too expensive." By which he meant he was interested, though not enough to go through the rigmarole of finding the gold it was cost. Ahman knew enough about Gabriel's magic to understand how he usually worked in the world of material resources - he had more than one ability with which to trick someone into thinking they'd been paid when they hadn't, and access to some real items of value from the Daemon Tunnels to make up for the times this wouldn't suffice. It was bad practice to trick the Eldest Daemon, though, and Ahman did not need Gabriel to fetch him things from the Daemon Tunnels which he could access perfectly well himself. Gabriel could trade things for the gold Ahman would actually value, sure, but he didn't deem the effort worth his time or energy. Whether Ahman wanted to gift him a ring was entirely up to the Vampire.
"Lord, not boyfriend," Gabriel added absentmindedly to Nevan. He had no doubt that if Ahman instructed it the boy would be making a ring, other things to do or not. He was still looking at Ahman though, an expression of faint distaste now on his features.
"You know I don't take slaves Ahman, and that I find the practice distasteful. I'll take the child's word for it, the potion is an interesting achievement. I don't need to see it, I'd have no use for it, though I can see how you will find it useful." Having stood to look at Ahman's ring, Gabriel returned to his chair. Nevan, he presumed, was staying.
"Daylight rings and iron potions, then. What else can you do, best witch in the City?"
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 18, 2017 18:25:29 GMT
Once Nevan started talking about himself and other witches, Ahman could never get him to shut up. He supposed it was better than listen to him bicker and whine about petty things. It was defiantly better than Nevan calling Ahman ‘dad.' Was that some sort of weird kink? Was it just to annoy him? Was it both? The daemon was certain he had no desire to find out. The best way to deal with that would be to ignore it, or maybe cut off a finger. That would work.
As Nevan and Gabriel talked, Ahman poured himself more blood and, after drinking half of it, began to playfully swirl it around in his glass. For now, he’d let Nevan get his interruption tendencies out. It’d only be a few moments before the boy would grow bored and leave like he always does. Hopefully the Daemon Lord did not mind Nev. Ahman was hardly a parent though, and he would never actually speak up for Gabriel. He was sure if Nevan crossed the line, the daemon lord would speak for himself.
Calling Gabriel his boyfriend nearly made the vampire spit out his bloody drink. He nearly choked trying to force it down so he could speak. This time he did let his irritation and anger show, as a nasty scowl spread across his features. The very idea of being into anyone at both disgusted and seemed very boring to him. The daemon lord corrected Nevan, but otherwise did not seem too bothered. “Nevan, you try my patience. Do not pretend you are immune to suffering just because I find you useful.” Though a patient man, Ahman would change his mind easily if the witch became more of a nuisance than he was worth.
Ahman nearly laughed as the witch boy whined about how Ahman would not give him a ring. What a child. He finished the last of his second drink and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs and interlocking his fingers together. “Perhaps you should take a good look at yourself, right now, in this moment, and wonder why it is I give you no coin for something such as that. If you had a change of attitude, perhaps I would consider it.”
He leaned back in his chair again and changed his focus to Gabriel, waving away his humble decline. “Nonsense. I would not invite you into my home and demand coin from you. It would be a gift.” Maybe the vampire was feeling generous. Well, not to Nevan of course. If the brat hadn’t barged in and tracked mud everywhere, followed by calling Ahman a ‘dad’ and then the daemon lord a ‘boyfriend’, he might have considered it if he had asked later.
He could see that his offer to bring Gabriel to test the results of the liquid bothered him, possible irked him, which was not Ahman’s intention. It was impossible for him to keep tract of all his contacts’ preferences regarding his work. Some people were sadists and liked to take part in the torture themselves. The vampire knew that there was no way Gabriel was against violence or gore. It must have been the way it was done that bothered him. Ahman quickly replied, “Ah forgive me. I am merely used to offering my guests whether they would like to see the slaves or not. I find no joy in their torture, as it is business to me, but others can be different. My apologies.” The vampire’s apology was mostly sincere and he was honest; he was not a sadist himself. Everything that happened to the property of slaves that he owned as purely just for business purposes.
On a brighter note, the daemon lord seemed intrigued by Nevan’s abilities and was curious about what else he had to offer. He eyed the witch intently, curious how the boy would respond. The witch would either be genuine about his abilities, or snarky.
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jun 21, 2017 8:53:57 GMT
“Oh, am oi irritatin'? Oi hadn't noticed.” Nevan knitted his fingers together and put his hands on his stomach as he smiled benignly. “Oi'm so very sorry. That was never my intentions of course.” He was pleased as punch. Nevan was ever hopeful that at some point Ahman would decide he was more trouble than he was worth and break his contract so Nevan could go back to his Auntie's small village in the Tangle and never come back. Because honestly that would be ideal.
“And dare are lots of tings dat need to be collected at certain times of day. Yer tink everyting needs ter be dug up at midnight? Most plants need ter be collected during the day an' oi can't do dat anymore.”
It seemed like he was going to have to make another ring, though, whether he wanted to or not. “Fine. But oi want one of yer houses in the middle district. Oi don't want Mum living in the slums anymore and oi know yer have property everywhere.” That didn't seem like too much to ask for. He was actually making enough money off Ahman to afford one already but no one was willing to sell to a witch, much less a vampire witch and Nevan didn't want to ask to buy anything off Ahman. Old man would try to scam him he had no doubt.
Nevan wrinkled his face in confusion when Gabriel called himself a lord. He didn't know anything about the leadership of other species. In fact, outside of his craft he was entirely uneducated about just about everything but he knew what that term meant when it came to humans. While he disliked Ahman intensely, he was very aware of his rank and was mortified by his own disrespect. “Oi'm sorry, Laird. Oi didn't know daemons had barons too – oi didn't mean yer any disrespect.” Oh gods, was he judiciary? Nevan didn't even know what laws he was supposed to be following!
At the very least, it seemed Nevan was in good company. Gabriel seemed to have roughly the same opinion on watching Ahman torture his slaves as he did. Nevan licked his now bone-dry lips and grinned as Gabriel made it clear he wanted to know what Nevan could do. Oh fuck yeah! Ahman had no appreciation for the finer points of craft work. He took off his pointed hat and wrung the brim nervously between his hands as he said, “er, well laird oi most of my stuff stays in my . . . uh . . . workshop” Was that the right word? Whatever. “But oi do keep some things that come in handy on me must of the time.” He stuck his hat back on his head and took the seat across from Gabriel as he pulled out the vials he kept in his belt.
There was seven of them in total, most of which held something that looked like water. “Uhhh, I need something metal,” he mumbled as he looked around. After a second he scrambled over the arm of his chair like an overgrown, gangly spider and swiped a fancy looking metal goblet off Ahman's desk before he set it on the table between him and Gabriel. He took two vials off the table and popped the top of each of them before he poured half of each into the goblet.
When they touched, the potion turned from clear to violent red and hissed. It quickly became clear what the potion was meant to do as the metal dissolved quickly until all that was left was a puddle of brilliant red fluid sitting on the top of the wooden table. “An check dis out!” Nevan said before he smacked his hand down right down in the middle. He held it there for a second before he turned it up so Gabriel could see his skin was just fine. “It's better than any acid yer can find, but it only affects metal! An' if yer let anyting cloth soak in it for a while it'll retain the effects for a few days too. Great if yer lose yer house keys or get arrested”
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 22, 2017 7:27:54 GMT
Gabriel glanced over at Ahman, attention drawn by the vampire’s reaction to Nevan’s use of the term ‘boyfriend’. Ah, he’d forgotten that Ahman was strictly celibate and appeared to have little interest in intimate relationships. They were so different; it hadn’t even occurred to Gabriel to be offended. He wisely kept quiet and let Ahman correct the boy more sternly, then tuned out their ongoing negotiations in favour of contemplating his whiskey a little more closely. Say what you want about Ahman - at least the vampire wasn’t stingy with the quality of the liquor.
“I’m hardly going to turn down the offer of such a useful thing as a daylight ring,” he replied, tuning back into the conversation when Ahman redirected it back to the witch’s talents and grinning.
“Though if he’s to do the job you want him to do, sounds like your witch might need one of his own.” It was a casual remark, not actually a suggestion - conversational rather than directive. Ahman would have his own ideas about how to manage the witch no doubt, and in these kinds of things Gabriel would never interfere.
Nor, indeed, would he interfere in Ahman’s regular business. Gabriel shook his head at the Eldest Daemon's apology, waving a hand in the air to dismiss it.
“There is absolutely no need to apologise. I have my own preferences but what you do in your own home is very much your business. I would simply prefer to stay here in your nice study and drink all your whiskey." Another grin, more politeness in a light, easy tone. Individual freedom was of paramount importance to Daemons, and the right was won through strength. Which meant that, whatever Gabriel personally thought of the business of taking slaves, he would always value Ahman's right to do so higher, as it was something accomplished through power, strength and influence.
His attention returned to Nevan when the boy apologised to him. For a moment Gabriel thought he was being sarcastic, but he quirked a brow in surprise once he realised the apology was sincere. In fact, the witch looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Baron? What, no...Ahman, did you change him then not tell him anything?" Gabriel was still smiling, not surprised or annoyed. This was hardly an uncommon situation - Ahman had presumably changed the witch into a Daemon fairly recently, and if he even thought sharing the boy's new culture with him was remotely important, may not have yet had the time or inclination. And, given how snarky Nevan was to Ahman, he could hardly fault the vampire for not wanting to play teacher. Still, he should set him straight on the basics at least.
"Not a Lord, Nevan. The Lord. I'm basically a much cooler, more fun, more interesting and generally much more badass version of your King." It was strange to compare himself to the human monarch - that fragile, breakable man who derived his throne from bloodline rather than any actual, inherent power. But Nevan was clearly familiar with Human nobility structures and the comparison should make sense.
"Ahman is a member of my counsel, as it happens. Below only me and my deputy in the Daemon hierarchy. By the way." He wondered if that would prompt the witch to afford Ahman more respect, but suspected not. Their animosity seemed rather entrenched.
Gabriel listened to the witch explain the metal dissolving potion with interest, glancing at Ahman as he did so. The boy mentioned getting arrested. Gabriel's mind turned to war, as it so often did these days. Great for dissolving armour? Perhaps even weapons, if it worked quickly enough. The expense and difficulty of making things on a huge scale would determine viability of that thing for war efforts, but if nothing else Gabriel was impressed with the effectiveness of the potion. Ahman, he imagined, was a lot less impressed with the fate of what was no doubt a very expensive goblet. He wondered if the witch just tinkered around with whatever he felt like and showed any useful outcomes to Ahman, or if the vampire had specific concoctions in mind and if so what the intended purpose of this metal dissolving one was. He didn't ask, though; Ahman would share if he wanted to, but was otherwise entitled to his private business.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 23, 2017 6:47:53 GMT
Ahman ignored the boy’s sarcasm. He expected it all the time at this point. It was more surprising to hear him genuinely talk about something seriously, like his work. Though he did share a fair point on how it was harder for him to gather materials, Ahman had no sympathy. He had such a low tolerance to the sun, even more so than most daemons because of being a vampire. Since he turned Nevan, he was a vampire as well and was just as sensitive to the sun. “If I could live in the sun for more than seven hundred years, you can deal with it for a few days…or weeks…possibly years. Who knows.” Ahman crossed his legs and leaned back in his comfortable chair. It was about as relaxed as he’d every let himself seen around company and Nev.
Of course the demands never stopped. Ahman actually broke his composure; He stared at Nev for a solid minute before chuckling with amusement. His laugh echoed through the room, and his servant was silently baffled from the outbreak as she watched the conversation from the sidelines. Laughter was very rare for the vampire, but Nevan’s request was ridiculous. “Of course he wants something.”
The wry smile on his face did not disappear with the chuckling. “Look, boy, I have no obligation to use my house for your mother. I pay you. Why don’t you learn to save a little and do it yourself. The only thing I would ever give her would be your heart on a platter. Or maybe I’d give her heart to you on a platter.” It was not intended as a literal threat, but Ahman would not put it past himself to do it. “That was part of our original arrangement, yes? You do some work here and there for me, I don’t kill your mother, I pay you, and you can use my estates at your whim for you and you alone…for the most part.” He looked away from Nevan and just shook his head as he rolled his bright, blood red eyes. “Your mother will not be getting anything directly from me. I can, however, give you a bit of extra coin that you can spend however you wish. Whether you choose to use it for her or yourself is entirely up to you. I’d sooner give you enough to have a daylight ring.” Truth be told, Ahman would need to give Nevan the funds to make himself a daylight ring. He could do more work in a smaller amount of time and, if Ahman ever needed the witch to ever travel along with him, it would be easier to just roam about during the day.
With a slight curtsy of his head directed at the daemon lord's acceptance of his gift, he added, "Of course. Should you come by in a few months, it should be ready."
Finally, the witch realized he was in the presence of someone with a title that demanded respect as the conversation momentarily changed course. He genuinely seemed concerned for the mistake. Ahman met eyes with Gabriel and responded, “It’s not so much that I did not think it important to not tell him of our political party, but rather he would not give an ear to do so.” The vampire had no idea whether Nevan would even be loyal to the daemon part. For all he knew, the witch was still loyal to humans in some way. It was quite common for those turned into daemons to hold onto some portion of their literal humanity. Ahman was not one of those people. He was appreciative of Gabriel’s mentioning of his position, but he kept his composure. Pride played a big role in Ahman’s personality, but not boastfulness. He was very proud of his work, his status, and his position, but not so much so to always point it out to others. One day he would have told Nevan, but that was unnecessary now. Gabriel had done the work for him.
“That is one way of explaining your position,” he added without mockery. The daemon lord was interesting and just so…relaxed. Ahman had never seem him at his full potential, but just looking at him, he could sense the power emanating from Gabe. He was very, very powerful and very dangerous, and yet he was quite good at acting casual and getting people to live it. After all, it seemed like Nevan was takin some form of liking to him. Thankfully Ahman was not in a position where he needed to make friends and just needed the occasional ally.
It was no skin off the vampire’s back when Nev decided to use a goblet to show off his work again. He watched as the solid metal turned into liquid. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the witch was damn brilliant. For a split second, Ahman wondered if he should attempt to treat the boy better. But then he remembered that Nevan was a little shit, and he dropped the idea for the time being. “As I said,” he mention to Gabe, “Possibly one of the best witches.”
Back to Nevan he added, “This is why you get paid. Just think! If you hadn’t shown me that you were capable of things like this, you would be…well, dead from our first encounter. I suppose that means your pride in your work is well placed.”
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jun 26, 2017 4:34:27 GMT
Nevan glowered, his mood immediately sour when Ahman threatened his mother. “Oi've been saving. But no one wants to sell ter me because-” Nevan suck a finger in either corner of his mouth and stretched out his mouth wide. He wasn't very good at hiding his teeth and his four large fangs glistened in the light. Without taking his fingers out of his mouth Nevan said, “no hun hwants ter shell ter a lheach, ohld mahn.”
He dropped his hands and licked his lips again before he grumbled, “and oi don't have enough ter bribe someone inter selling . . . besides in a bigger house oi would have room ter have a garden instead of leaving the City every time oi want herbs.”
His attempts to negotiate were half-hearted at best, and he had taken on a glum tone. At least until Ahman hinted that he was so much as considering giving him money for his own ring. “Oh feckin' sweet! Okay so oi need about four thousand gold for each – that shouldn't be anyting you'll miss. Should oi jist ask one of yer servants ter get it for me or do yer got like a vault where oi can go grab it myself?”
Nevan blinked as something else occurred to him and he quickly turned to Gabriel. With a twist of his wrist a scroll of paper and a quill appeared in his hand. “Okay, oi need yer ring size. Yer seem loike a fan of jewelry, Laird, so do yer want it ter look a certain style? The jewel is pretty important, and oi have ter cut it a certain way but how do yer want it set? Oi can do bezel, basket, bar, or bridge. An how do yer want the ring styled? Flair, tapered, bypass, fuckin' . . . standard oi guess? Oi can figure out jist about anyting.” Ahman had not been given these options but Nevan wanted to impress Gabriel, him being a lord and all. For all the boy's flippant disrespect he held authority in the highest esteem, even if the man before him wasn't a human authority. And he had even been kind enough to suggest he get his own ring! Nevan was awestruck. “It's got ter be in silver too, sorry about dat.”
His awe did not, however, extend to Ahman. After a moment Nevan frowned and looked over his shoulder at Ahman before he looked back at Gabriel. “Erm. No offense, Laird, but . . . why de feck do yer wanna listen ter anyting Ahman has ter say?” Nevan had been steadfastly ignoring everything Ahman thought was a good idea for almost as long as he had known him. To the point where he got a tattoo in the middle of his neck just to piss the old leach off. “Oh, and sorry oi said he was yer boyfriend, yer can do much better than Ahman, Laird.” Honestly the standard gutter rat would probably be a warmer and more emotionally supportive than Ahman was.
That didn't stop the renewed swell of pride at Ahman's words. Being a daemon was infuriating, his wider range of emotions made him crave any kind of emotional feedback, good or bad. And his own responses seemed exaggerated and far too extreme to be reasonable.
The dark shadow of his hat hid his creeping blush as he said, “Well anyway oi can do other stuff too.” He rubbed the back of his neck before he continued, “all of these can be mixed in different ways depending on how oi need them, but oi don't get ter use them much. Most people who buy stuff from me either want curses or a way ter abort unwanted babies and those potions are easy to make.”
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 26, 2017 10:12:04 GMT
Hmm, well that explained why Nevan hung around despite openly loathing Ahman. The vampire paid the witch but he also had family he actually cared about, which made him vulnerable to exploitation. Gabriel idly wondered how Nevan and Ahman had bumped into each other in the first place, how these tense working conditions had developed. Why, especially, Ahman had decided to change the boy. He was burning with curiosity over the whole situation but diplomacy demanded he not ask the questions, not yet at least. Daemon Lords selected only one of their counsel - their deputy, or second in command. The other two positions were earned through right, and this meant sometimes relations were strained between the Daemon Lord and the Daemons who should be his strategists and confidantes. Gabriel did not want this kind of tension for his own leadership, and therefore keeping good relations with Ahman was more important than prying.
Even if the whole situation was very interesting.
When Nevan asked for what Gabriel assumed was an eye-watering sum of gold for the rings, he only smiled and held out both hands for the witch. He was gratified by Nevan's interest in making him something not only functional but beautiful. Long, slim fingers tipped with retracted claws already bore three rings. Mor Leuthil, the Fae's ring for the Daemon Lord, was a heavy silver setting with a large square cut black diamond, the most visually striking of the existing rings and worn on his left middle finger. Next to that, on his left index finger, another silver setting with a round carnelian had been his artifact during his brief stint as a Human. The ring still held magic from the blood of the Fae killed to create it, though Gabriel could no longer access it. On his right ring finger he wore Os Vis I, a third intricate silver setting holding a round moonstone, the ring that his parents had had made for him as a personally representative piece.
"Silver is preferable, it will match the rest. I'd like something that complements these existing rings. Not another black diamond or moonstone, those gems have particular meaning to me, but a white, black or orange-toned gem would be best. I prefer solid, opaque stones, like moonstone, to transparent stones like diamonds. I'll let you decide the rest - you can see my taste from these. You're the expert, I'll defer to your judgement."
Rather than sitting back down after he was finished giving Nevan the information he needed Gabriel sat on the arm of the wingback chair he'd lounged in before, though he retrieved his whiskey again. Answering Nevan's questions was a pleasant enough task - Gabriel loved to talk about the Daemons, and if he could save Ahman the task perhaps that would be best. Useful though the witch was to the vampire he was in danger of losing his tongue, Gabriel privately thought, and lengthy conversations about Daemon culture were likely just more opportunities for Nevan to push the limits. Ahman had better self control than Gabriel, if Nevan's flagrant insults were anything to go by.
"There are four positions of power in the Daemon hierarchy. The second in command, my deputy, is chosen by me. The other two are not however. Ahman earns his status by being the oldest living Daemon in Litharia, and collectively we benefit from his wisdom and experience." Gabriel didn't actually think there was anything he could say to ease the animosity between the boy and the vampire, but Nevan had asked - in the rudest possible way. He wondered if he was going to see Ahman pushed past breaking point sooner rather than later. He hoped the witch was very useful, because he sure was testing his luck.
"Possibly the best, indeed," Gabriel agreed, inclining his head slightly.
"And wasted on simple tricks before now, it seems. There's no need to call me Lord, by the way. Gabriel is fine."
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 27, 2017 0:57:33 GMT
Ahman rolled his eyes at the boy’s excuses on why he couldn’t get a house. If he continued to pester, then maybe he would consider sending a servant or guard out with Nev to get some piece of property. That would be as far as his help would go. As a businessman, Ahman knew there was only so far he could really push the witch until he would refuse to do any work. If it came to that point, he’d have to kill the boy and that’d be…unfortunate. The only logical solution besides using his mother as an anchor point was to give him what he wanted from time to time.
Well, this would not be one of those times. The pure slander he spoke of to Gabriel infuriated him, to the brink of running up and slamming the boy against a wall as hard as he could. Though he was patient with Nevan, it only went so far and the boy was coming dangerously close to the vampire breaking bones. His browed furrowed and jaw clenched, his bright eyes glinting dangerously. Hound, feeling the intensity coming from Ahman, created a deep, rumbling noise that sounded similar to a growl. Though the creature was not sentient, it was able to sense other emotions and would in turn react or even simulate them.
On an interesting note, the daemon lord did gain some favor with the old vampire. Even with the praise being thrown at him and obvious pedestal that Nevan was putting him on, he did not speak ill of Ahman, nor did he actually give out any private information regarding what Ahman actually provided for the daemon army. It was not something he would share with Nevan anytime soon. He made a note to thank the daemon lord later for putting up with the boy, as well as not talking down on Ahman in his own home. The man was no fool, which was becoming more and more obvious as they held more meetings together.
Though his fury did not subside, the only hint of it in his tone of voice was the deep layer of sarcasm. “You know, I just realized.” He glared at Nevan, but hid his emotions with a blank slate. “I ran the numbers through and it seems that I am not able to provide you the coin needed for your ring, Nevan. Gabriel’s ring, however, will still need to be made. Such a shame…” Ahman had plenty of coin to give Nev for another daylight ring, but with his blatant disrespect and how close Ahman was to breaking his neck, there was no way in hell he’d give something to make the boy’s life, or job, any easier. Eventually Ahman would give him the coin needed, but for now he would get nothing. Nevan would have no one to blame but himself for Ahman's change of heart.
Turning to look at his servant, he instructed her to bring up one of his best bottles of whiskey. She bowed and quickly left the room to go retrieve it from his personal study. The specific bottle he had in mind was very, very expensive, very good, and hard to find. With how much Nevan was giving him a headache, he decided he needed. That and since the daemon lord enjoyed his whisky, he was willing to share some. “Truth be told, I cannot tell where his true loyalty lies. He certainly isn’t loyal to daemons, I can promise you that.” Ahman was sure it did not need to be said out loud, but he wanted to be a shitty person and piss on Nevan’s name.
The servant girl returned again, but this time she had a beautifully decorated bottle of whiskey instead of rags and cleaning utensils. She handed the bottle to Ahman and he stood from his chair. He poured himself and Gabriel a glass and handed it over to the daemon lord. “Some of my finest spirits. Feel free to have more, if you wish.” The vampire went ahead and mixed blood into his own drink and finished it off rather quickly.
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