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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jun 27, 2017 8:58:00 GMT
Nevan was actually completely unaware that he had said something that crossed the line. He could sense the sudden change in atmosphere and he side-eyed Ahman warily. Well what did he expect? Threatening his mother like that. Honestly Nevan was still counting his blessings that his Auntie and cousins seemed to be out of Ahman's reach, hidden away in their snow choked village in the Tangle. He'd tried to talk his mother into leaving for the village too but she flat out refused, and Nevan was too uneasy to leave without her.
Torin shot out from his hiding place and was slung around Nevan's shoulder's in second, hissing and bristling urgently.
For his part, Nevan did not appear to react. He kept scrawling notes in his own personal cipher, one not even his family could read as he listened to what Gabriel said about his ring. ”Oh dat's not a problem,” Nevan said without looking up, although internally he seethed at how Ahman acted like so much gold was nothing. “Although oi tink oi underestimated the price a little. Actually oi'm going ter need, hmm, twenty thousand gold ter make one. That's not a problem righto, old man?”
Nevan doodled a few designs under his notes before he set his notebook open on the table so it was facing Gabriel.
“Okay, these are basic outlines but between these three do yer loike this, this, or this? It'll get done at about the same no matter which one yer want but keep in mind dat the ring, not jist the gem, is part of the charm so if yer break it then the whole ting won't work any more.” Information he had . . . forgotten to relay to Ahman.
Nevan held his quill to his ear and after a moment Torin took it delicately in his mouth and held it as Nevan put his hands on his knees. “Who's the rest of the government, then?”
At Ahman's jab about his loyalty Nevan wrinkled his face and looked at the leach, one eyebrow up and the other low over his eye. “Yer know damn an' feckin' well oi'm loyal ter witches. All witches. Anyting else is second at best.” He wasn't actually sure what Ahman was trying to get at but it was still pissing him off.
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Post by Gabriel on Jun 29, 2017 8:28:23 GMT
Casually, with no outward sign that he'd done anything, Gabriel brought to mind the emotion of calmness and sent it out into the room. A very subtle use of his emotional manipulation magic - he could cause people to experience terrible or wonderful emotions, intense and maddening, even unbearable. This, though, was the tiniest of tweaks. Just a little something to ease the rapidly mounting tension in the room. The Daemon Lord wondered if Nevan knew how close he was sailing to the edge of Ahman's tolerance, but Gabriel was sure it was very close. Although he didn't know Ahman that well, he did know that he, himself, had killed people for lesser transgressions against his pride.
Yet Nevan continued to push and he sighed internally, hoping Ahman wouldn't kill the boy while he was here at least. Gabriel already quite liked the witch - he was quick-witted, and obviously talented. He could see a use for the brand new vampire, and given a decade or two the mix of Daemon and witch could evolve into something potent and very, very interesting. It would be a shame if he needled Ahman to the point of permanent damage so soon after his change, but really it was Gabriel's business only as long as he was in Ahman's house for this meeting. Nevan and Ahman would either work it out or the tenuous connection between them would end in spectacular, violent fashion, and there was little he was willing to do to influence the outcome. They'd figure it out.
Hopefully.
"This one is perfect." Gabriel pointed to the sketch of the largest ring, an ornate and heavy silver setting and a large oval stone.
"I'll wear it on my, uh, right middle finger, I think." Even he, with his very limited interest in what he considered to be Human currency despite the fact gold was widely used throughout Litharia, knew the sum Nevan gave Ahman was absurdly large. He arched a brow at the witch, expression wry, but once again elected not to comment. Instead he helped himself to the new whiskey Ahman offered, closing his eyes briefly with an expression of immense enjoyment on tasting the heady liquor.
"I do like having meetings here, Ahman," he grinned. Emotional manipulation was all well and good, but Gabriel was also charming, distracting, interesting. He could draw attention, inspire curiosity. He was working bloody hard to try and lighten the atmosphere of the room - his best casual, charismatic self. Ahman and Nevan were both stubborn and volatile though. Daemons. Gods only knew if he'd have any effect at all.
"Just one other, at the moment. The Strongest Daemon is a Reptilian Demon called Hadjara. There is also a position for my deputy, or second in command, but it has been unfilled since my last deputy went missing." Gabriel should pick a new one, really, but it had been only five or six years. A brief interlude to a long-lived Daemon. He still hoped that Calandra was alive, and unless word came to confirm her death he probably wouldn't seriously consider replacing her for several years yet. Anyway, though he should choose another, no-one could make him. That was the beauty of being the Daemon Lord.
"Do you remain connected with your community following your change?" Gabriel was not surprised, nor put off, that Nevan confirmed Ahman's claim that he was not loyal to the Daemons. He'd only recently been changed, and presumably against his will - why should he be loyal to them? This was not uncommon and of no great concern to Gabriel. But the only witches he'd ever met had all been Human and he was curious whether species was an important factor to them.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jun 30, 2017 3:42:05 GMT
Gabriel’s magic did its work. It was subtle enough so that Ahman did not notice, but he felt just the slightest bit calmer. With his mindset, he figured it was probably the whiskey that was making him feel a tiny bit less angry at Nevan. Even still, he was fed up with the boy for the time being. He could try to re-negotiate the prices he needed for materials, but Ahman was no fool. He knew the boy overcharged him for everything the vampire requested, but normally it was no sweat off his back. This time, he was not as compliant. “And it seems like you have not been paying your taxes. Instead of five thousand, you’ll get forty-five hundred. That’s not a problem, right little boy? I might have to tax the money I pay you as an employee too…hmm.” The sarcasm was laid on thick again with no holding back. He was fed up with the attitude. Though his rage and urge to break something in Nevan subsided, Ahman was still intent on punishing him in some way. He seemed to admire Gabriel, so Ahman doubted that the witch would refuse him the ring after already going into detail on the choices he could make, none of which Ahman received.
He felt so humble that the daemon lord enjoyed having meetings at one of Ahman’s estates. His estate in Spirit was his largest and most comfortable, but the one in the city was decent as well. Just one glass of the whiskey was strong enough to make a human with a high alcohol tolerance drunk. For Ahman with his own high tolerance, he could feel a slight buzz coming on after he finished his first drink. He had purposely not offered Nevan any. The whiskey probably cost more than Nevan’s own life, truth be told.
“I’m glad you think so. Perhaps one day we could have a fine, small banquet with your other advisor present.” Gabriel had told Ahman about the strongest daemon, a women named Hadjara if he recalled correctly, but the eldest advisor had yet to ever met her. Like the daemon lord had said, there was still a position unfilled. “Pray tell, do you have any inclination of what you’ll do for a second in command, if anything at all?” Personally Ahman believed having too many advisers was counterproductive. It was a lot easier to discuss politics with only a few, rather than argue with too many. Two was a solid number. Two advisers proposed different perspectives alone. Three could have the same effect in having different perspectives, but was unnecessary in Ahman’s opinion. It was not his call; it was the daemon lord’s decision.
Ahman had no interest in listening to what Nevan had to say about his loyalties. He dismissed the boy’s outburst as nothing more than an annoying teenage outburst. It did give the vampire some satisfaction to see Neva's obvious anger. The boy did not know how to control his heightened emotions, and it was amusing.
What did it even mean, to be loyal to all witches? It was not as if Nevan knew the life style of ever witch out there. No doubt some of them kept slaves themselves for their own experiments. Ahman meanwhile did not have any loyalties to the daemons, or anyone. He worked with Gabriel and the daemons because it seemed to be in his best interests and was profitable. Ahman would not go out of his way to ever consider betraying Gabriel because that would ensure a major loss in profit, potentially his own life as well. Nevan’s sense of “loyalty” to witches, in conclusion, was childish and foolish in the vampire’s eyes.
While they spoke of loyalties, Ahman decided to let him release more of the tension he had withheld and relaxed, sitting back down onto his decorative, yet comfortable chair. He held back a sigh of annoyance; Perhaps someday, he and Gabriel would get back to their discussion and politics. One day when Nevan decided to leave.
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jul 7, 2017 23:00:10 GMT
“Eat my dick, old man, oi pay taxes monthly,” Nevan said flatly, “oi'm poor, yer tink oi can jist do whatever oi like?” He wrinkled his nose for a moment then raised his head without looking around. “Four thousand an' fif- wait, thats feckin' four hundred an' fourty four percent!” He finally turned to look at Ahman, his face incredulous. “D-do yer even pay taxes? Or do yer jist pay someone ter figure out math for yer? Cause, loike, if yer need someone ter calculate taxes oi can do dat shite off the top of my head.”
He supposed he ought to take Ahman's threats seriously but mm, nah, fuck that.
Nevan plucked up his journal again and studied Gabriel's hands for a moment before he took his quill from Torin's mouth and started scrawling in his code. It was mostly notes on design and measurements, but when he turned the page Nevan started to write in greater detail and he hunched his shoulders so low that the end of his nose was almost touching the page while he wrote.
He had minimal interest in Ahman's dinner plans but he did nod when Gabriel told him about the strongest daemon. He really ought to know the leadership of his new species, oughtn't he? It wasn't as if ignorance was going to get him anywhere.
“The community isn't really dat big,” Nevan said without looking up from his note-taking. “Most of it is families dat have kept at it for generations – it's not loike any of us are letting trade secrets get out so there aren't very many new witches cropping up. Most of de witches oi'm in contact wit are de same dat oi've known my whole life. Guess oi'm . . . gonna outlive them all now.” He hadn't actually thought of that before and he stopped writing. His cousin . . . she was the closest person in the world to him. Like a sister and his best friend. And he was going to see her get old and marry and have kids and die, and then he would see those kids and those kids' kids do the same. Well that was fucking depressing. Fuck Ahman.
Nevan sighed before he went on, “it's not loike it's against a law or anyting ter not be human it's jist everyting is a pain in der ass! Oi've got inherent magic now an' it's such a feckin' hassle! Oi always have to account for how oi'm going ter impact anyting oi'm making now an' not to feckin' mention how hard it is ter get anyting done in daylight anymore! Like, feck me, right!? An' when oi made new tings as a human if oi wanted ter know what they did oi could always jist drink it ter see what happens. Now? Feck my biology rejects most of de shit oi try ter do to it now.” He switched the hand he was writing with so he could keep writing as he gestured wildly to punctuate everything he said. “An' now there's weird side effects. Oi turned myself orange for loike a week a while back.”
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Post by Gabriel on Jul 9, 2017 2:06:39 GMT
Gabriel knew as much about the currencies used in most parts of Litharia as he needed to to lie effectively about it, and not much else. All this talk of taxes was so far over his head, and outside of what he was interested in, that he tuned out almost immediately. Trying to imagine Hadjara at a formal banquet, when Ahman suggested it, brought a smile to his face though. She was a messy eater and trying to picture her figuring out the difference between six different kinds of forks was a highly amusing thought.
"Good idea. You should definitely meet her." To a small degree they all worked together, after all. Gabriel held final and veto power over everything but he generally valued the input of his advisers, at least some of the time. Various Daemon Lords had been more or less dictatorial, but Gabriel thought ignoring the input of those the Daemons valued highest - for their strength, their age - was unwise.
"As far as I'm concerned Calandra is missing, and I won't name a replacement until I receive confirmation of her death. Even then, only if the right person is available." In truth Gabriel would find it hard to replace Calandra, his oldest friend and once-closest confidante. Ahman would retain his title of Eldest Daemon but there was no closeness between the two of them, and while Hadjara was easily the person he was now closest to, the presence of Malak would always prevent him from elevating her further. She fulfilled a default version of deputy anyway - not formally named, but everyone knew Gabriel confided in her and trusted her more than anyone else.
Gabriel tilted his head at Nevan's last statement about the other witches. This was a common fear of newly turned Daemons - outliving those they cared about. An understandable one, he supposed, since the boy had gone from having an expected lifespan of about sixty or seventy to a potential one of around eight hundred years. Gabriel had always struggled with really understanding it though; Dream Land born Daemons were immortal, and if anything eight hundred years sounded too short to him.
"That largely depends on whether you keep needling Ahman. You should know I've been controlling the tension in the room, a little, and I have a feeling he'd like to cut your throat." Gabriel was smiling as he said this - still trying to lighten the tension actually - but the words had a deeper truth behind them. Daemons lived violent, dangerous lives. Eight hundred years was a possibility but only rarely a reality.
Learning about the differences between how a witch's magic worked for a Daemon and a Human fascinated him though. Having had fairly limited contact with witches meant Gabriel had never even considered such a thing happening.
"I guess you'll corner the market on witch-made, uh, things for Daemons, then?" Gabriel didn't know of any Daemons other than Ahman who had specific uses for witches, but the idea was intriguing. The Eldest Daemon was creative, at least when it came to business ventures, and Gabriel was looking forward to what he had Nevan come up with. Assuming, of course, that Nevan survived long enough to figure out this transition in his skills.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Jul 9, 2017 5:43:03 GMT
Ahman had purposely overexaggerated the amount of ‘tax’ he’d take out. He rolled his eyes as Nevan clearly missed the daemons sarcasm and form of a ‘joke’. Tax had very littler impact on Ahman’s business. He was a sleaze and knew many ways to get out of it. Sure, he would tax others, but there was no ‘boss’ above the vampire in his business. He stayed just out of most political noses, but involved enough to actually make a profit. After all, he had a booming business in the City, and yet the Hounds, nor the king, had yet to make any attempt to stop him. They had no idea of his involvement with the daemon army, which was both advantage for him and the daemons as a well. For all they knew, he was just a slaver, and they had more pressing war matters to deal with.
While Nevan went on about the witch community and seemed to dwell on the fact that he would outlive his family, Ahman grew very uninterested and yawned. He had no grasp of the concept of a ‘family’ and how it was to have one, nor did he ever wish to have one. Though he had never told anyone, Ahman grew up as a slave for part of his life and was one day, chosen by his master to continue his legacy. Legacy or no, Ahman continued the business because he wanted to be rich and powerful, nothing more or less. He’d torn countless people from their families over the centuries, so make it so Nev would outlive his was not even worth mentioning really. Why would someone want to live such a short life as humans anyways?
“Stop your bitching, boy.” He finally spoke up, tired of the complaining. “You can always turn them if it’s such an issue. If not, you can just off yourself at some point too. Stop pretending there’s nothing you can do about it.” Ahman waved his hand to dismiss Nev’s complaints. He was obviously annoyed a little, though still not as much as he could be with Gabe’s magic still having an influence. Before he continued to speak, his blood red eyes narrowed at the witch. “I’m willing to bet you’ll get over it though and you’ll love your prolonged life and new found powers. You just need to learn how to control your emotions. Maybe you’ll actually come out to be somebody as a daemon, eh?”
Rare to happen more than once a day, Ahman smiled dangerously as Gabriel mentioned the obvious. “More like rip his heart out, but cutting this throat is close enough to accuracy.” Ahman was actually quite thankful for the magic that the daemon lord had been using. More than likely the eldest daemon would have already broken Nev’s arm or leg with his extra levels of disrespect and dickishness. Even so, he made a mental note to be more aware of that. Under normal circumstances, he would not tolerate having his mood altered to suite convenience, especially in his own home.
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Post by Nevan J. Blake on Jul 20, 2017 7:58:57 GMT
For Nevan, who had lived his entire life in poverty, casual jokes about money made him feel sick to his stomach. He scowled at nothing in particular and scratched under Torin's chin with one finger.
“Oi, fecker, oi'm not about ter do a ting ter my family dey don't want me ter.” Nevan glowered at Ahman. “Yer know, in case being a feckin' leach isn't at de top of dare list of tings ter be.” Daemon he was okay with, he guessed. But if he had an actual say in the matter he would not have opted to go for vampire. Everything about being one made him feel dirty and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel clean when he had to eat other people's . . . souls? He wasn't actually sure what he ate, and he didn't want to actually ask Ahman. Because Ahman was a dick. “Yer could've let me be whatever de feck he is,” Nevan whined, looking at Ahman but pointing at Gabriel, “he looks cool and yer blood tasted loike old person.”
“Might still off myself, though,” Nevan said as he did an exaggerated pantomime of hanging himself, twirling a hand around his head a few times before holding it up like it held a rope as his head went limp at an odd angle. “Better 'n being yer bitch for de rest of time oi bet.”
Nevan arched an eyebrow in surprise. There was magic that controlled emotions? Helpful, he supposed, but he hadn't actually noticed it. He had been a demon for almost half a year and while he wasn't used to dealing with his erratic mood swings he had taken to assuming any weird emotions he started feeling out of the blue was some daemon-based nonsense and to try to ignore it.
“. . . huh,” Nevan finally said. Then he shrugged and laughed it off. “Ehhhhhh, don't feckin' sweat it. Ahman told yer he'd get'cha something and oi'm the only one dat can make it for him.” He was still facing Gabriel, talking to Gabriel, but his words were aimed more at Ahman as he said, “Mum never learned dat evil shite, oi got dat from my auntie and there's no way anyone can find her in de Boil, her place isn't even on any map.” Mostly because she didn't live in the Boil, she lived in the Tangle. But Ahman wasn't about to hear that from him. “Or dare's my cousin but she ran off wit some elf. So either dad's is stuck wit me or yer don't get yer ring. Oi'm safe for . . . about another two months at least.” And by then he'd find something else useful for Ahman to keep him alive. “Anyway, yer want a toke?”
With a flourish, Nevan had produced his uncharacteristically elegant cigarette holder with a rolled cigarette already tucked neatly in the end. It wasn't tobacco, obviously, but it wasn't something so bland as marijuana. It was laka, a type of mint native to the Tangle. Numbed reality and dulled senses, made you more chill, and smelled fucking delightful. For Nevan it made him feel a little more human. He plucked up a small vial and started tinkering with it. Trying to get the liquid inside hot enough to set the end of his cigarette on fire.
“Dats de ting, though. Outside of Ahman there's no real use Daemons got for a witch. Oi mean, sunlight rings are not cost effective at all an' oi don't care for black market dealing. Yer – uh – we don't need artifacts so oi don't need ter work on customization an' dat's feckin' half my income right dare, and do . . . do we even feckin' have hormones? No daemon's come by askin' me ter treat them. Or ter get rid of babies. Or for curses. Feck, oi'm pretty sure only humans need witches. An' oi mean, oi guess living for-fecking-ever means oi could theoretically master witchcraft but overspecialization jist breeds weakness, yer know. Havin' so many generations brings a constant influx of new minds an' change. Feck.”
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Post by Gabriel on Jul 22, 2017 0:09:50 GMT
Gabriel couldn't help but laugh. A short, sharp bark of laughter, quickly stifled, but there was mirth in his expression and an amused glint to his eye.
"Sorry...sorry Ahman, but he's not wrong. I do look, uh, 'cool'." Gabriel very rarely turned Humans, he could count on one hand the number he'd changed over his many years in Litharia and he never did it against someone's will. Firstly and most importantly, he thought being a Daemon was an incredible privilege, plus not something that could be easily undone, and he didn't intend to share his magic and power with someone who didn't deserve it. Changing someone held an unusual kind of intimacy for him and he was cognizant that he was connected to that person from that point forward. Secondly, he wasn't sure it was worth the trouble, to add Daemons to their numbers who didn't like being Daemons. Maybe Nevan would grow into his new bloodline, though, and although Gabriel didn't change Humans often he did realise that Daemons who were more prolific did a lot to keep Daemon numbers in Litharia stable. The trickle from the Dream Land was too slow to make up for the numbers of them constantly dying violently through their own volatility, and the birth rate was even lower. Cycling through a bunch of useless Daemons for the few changed Humans that ended up surviving and thriving - like Hadjara - seemed to work out as worth it overall.
"You might be overestimating the amount of self-control a pissed off Daemon has, Nevan. But it's your funeral I suppose. I do want that ring though, so I'd appreciate if you could last a few more months before ending it all." It took a great deal of self control not to react to Nevan's continual habit of referring to Ahman as Dad, but Gabriel managed it by pouring another glass of whiskey instead of laughing again. He really didn't want to provoke the older Vampire, but the whole situation was absurdly amusing. Gabriel was glad he didn't bother with slaves or changings - the whole circus seemed like very hard work.
"What is it?" Daemons typically loved anything that an upper class Human would consider horrifically common, dangerous or tasteless, but he wasn't about to inhale some mystery substance without finding out what it did first. The smell when Nevan lit up was pleasant but unfamiliar. Gabriel was hardly a regular user though, more a casual dabbler when opportunity arose, and even with 300 odd years of casual dabbling there was only so much you could cover, so it wasn't that unusual to come across mind-altering substances he didn't know anything about yet. Answering Nevan's questions was easy though - he knew more about the Daemons as a whole than just about anyone, and could talk about them all day.
"Of course we have hormones, I'm guessing they're why we...well, most of us, anyway, have sex as often as possible. Pregnancy requires dedication to achieve though, it's rarely accidental for us. I'm sure some Daemons would suffer curses now and then...Hadjara had one once. But I've never heard of using a witch to lift one, so maybe it's a matter of finding out what use you can be to the Daemons and exploiting that. I am always interested in things that kill Humans, possibly Shifters, and most importantly Angels, for instance." Gabriel returned to his seat, drink in hand, clearly lost in thought as he considered what becoming a Daemon had really meant for Nevan. He wasn't surprised the boy was angry about it.
"Or I guess you find a way to make being a Daemon give you an edge in witchcraft that Humans will appreciate. You're a rare breed now. Maybe you can find your niche." Nevan didn't really have much choice at this point.
"There are ways to turn back into a Human, but they're rare and very difficult to achieve. If you go that route you may dedicate all eight hundred years to it and never even get close, but it's an option." Gabriel glanced over at Ahman as he said this, wondering if he was crossing a line with that statement. Ahman had changed the boy for a reason and it was perhaps inappropriate to even suggest that he could be deprived of this new toy. So, to ease that particular moment with distraction, it seemed a good time to ask Ahman about another, non-political matter of business he'd intended to raise.
"Speaking of houses, Ahman, I need one. I want a place in Spirit though, not the City, and although I know you're not a property dealer you're the best contact I have in this market. Can you either put me onto someone who can sell me a place, or arrange it yourself through your own networks?"
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