[ open ] left you with nothing, but they want some more

[greydawn]

Who: Nuray and OPEN
What: Nuray is the worst vampire.
Where: Anywhere in the city; Mafaton, Mog Hill and the Vault are specifically mentioned
When: Late Ceidary through early Shadri, any time between sunset and sunrise
Notes: If you want a specific threadstarter shout at me and I will make one! Also here are some outfits.
Warnings: Whampires are involved, so gore is likely.

The first thing Nuray does is take the cash and leave the Inn. She won't live anywhere that exposed, somewhere she doesn't trust, when she is more vulnerable than most while she sleeps. It's easy enough to find somewhere else to stay — it's not her preference, but beauty is a kind of tool. She needs more clothes, also.

The idea of getting a job is novel enough to be interesting, so she takes it seriously. She considers the options given to her during her consultation, but ultimately deigns to wander the city and see if anything catches her fancy. She talks to everyone she can on these little rambles of hers, asking many questions. Who they are, what their lives are like. What do they do, do they like it, how did they get started in it. She learns a lot of things this way, people tend to reveal more than they intend in the face of such good-natured curiosity — and her slightly alien nature which makes her feel a bit like every day is her first day among people. It's not, but neither is that entirely inaccurate.

Mafaton fascinates her. She does not for a second believe anyone here is naive enough to think the majority of the 'cruorvores' — a clumsy name, but less pretentious than 'kindred', really — get their sustenance from synthetics and volunteers. She also is not naive enough, herself, to assume she is the only one to have reached this conclusion. The fact that people are willing to overlook the monstrous nature of their citizens, knowing what they are doing and largely ignoring it, is — interesting. Hilarious, although she's not capable of that depth of amusement. The Camarilla were wrong, apparently. How precious they seem, in retrospect, to underestimate the depth of human apathy.

She spends a lot of time in Mafaton, accordingly, they do all seem to drift here whether intentionally or not, and her presence is noted. Nuray lets people come to certain conclusions about her species, because to hide such a thing is pointless. She does not deny it if asked, but neither does she announce it; she does not tell anyone what kind, or how old. She does not go to bars like Gutters. She does go to Bloody Sunday, which she is instantly charmed by; several nights a week she can be found there, trying different things she never had even while alive. She likes the "milkshakes".

In Mog Hill, she wanders into a store she knows nothing about and where she can't buy anything, chats with the owner for two hours, and somehow ends up coming behind the counter to try her hand at working there. She comes back the next night, as requested, and somehow this turns into a job. It pleases her. She gets to wear an apron — hers is shaped like a heart — and talk to all kinds of interesting people who are awake so late at night. A donut shop isn't a place she would dream of setting foot into back home, but here, she can and does.

Other times, she can be found often on the arm of a wealthy older socialite, an established and respected Baedalite citizen with a known thing for vampires. Sometimes, they go to the Vault.

Comments

[incaptivity]

Hal is, as always, a creature of habit. Settling into new habits in Baedal has been a process, however, particularly since he's taken up a position as Martel's butler. He works as consistent a schedule as he can reasonably manage--go to work at particular time, down a particular path, work for a certain number of hours, and walk back to the Inn at the same time every day--which is not always as consistent as he would like. There are things that need doing, sometimes, and that's fine, he's fine, and anyway isn't it better to deal with a little stress and keep this job, versus the alternative?

And so he's running a little late today, which would have been fine had he not also run out of tea the preceding evening and needed to stop at the store as well. He hasn't the time now to go that far off his route (there is a particular store, a particular tea) and still make SMB2's seven o'clock broadcast. Not that he's particularly desperate to brush up on local politics, but his life is a kind of balancing act and that's a full hour to fill. Instead, he sees the sign for the donut shop around the corner and decides to stop in.

He gets just through the threshold before he realizes who it is at the counter.

Oh. Well.

It would be rude to turn right back around, although he would if he thought he needed to, but--fine, what's the harm in a brief transaction? She hadn't seemed so bad when last they spoke, and he does want that tea. His pace slows for a second, but he keeps on toward the counter.

"Hello again."

[greydawn]

It's getting late (well, early) and her shift is almost over, which is honestly a little disappointing; this endeavour is still fairly novel to her, and she still does not feel entirely comfortable sleeping somewhere she doesn't own. An apartment or house is high up on her list of priorities. She's considering staying awake during the day to browse around the network for leads — the modern age never fails to entertain her in that way, the image of lying buried in dirt in a coffin and scrolling through your Blackberry to check your Facebook — when the door jingles, she looks up, and blinks.

Oh — him, she remembers. Hal. The kindred-but-not-kindred, she has a better understanding of what that feels like, now, having immersed herself in Mafaton where most of the other cruorvores are not like her. (Then again, of those who are like her, they are still not like her. In many ways.) She still can't quite place him and she is loathe to start poking into people's heads without permission as it's quite rude, but it is awfully tempting.

Nuray smiles, doing her best to look relaxed, friendly, not frightening. "Hello, Hal, it's nice to see you again. What can I do for you?" The words as she says them are slightly awkward, foreign almost, like she has never been in any position to say them in her life and is slightly amused by doing so. She has the appearance of someone who is playing some elaborate game of make-believe.

[incaptivity]

It's an impression not unfamiliar to him, that certain awkwardness. He'd been flipping burgers before he came to Baedal, and it was always a bit surreal, like dressing a lion up in lambswool. The similarity strikes him as a little endearing, and his expression softens despite himself. (These are not things other people find endearing, probably.)

"Just a tea, please. Black, with a splash of cold water if you have it." ...He could stand to be friendlier than that, really. It's only polite. He shifts, then offers a bit of a smile and attempts: "You seem to be settling in."

[greydawn]

"They make it awfully easy, don't they? All kinds of services, and departments, and people to speak to." So it's a little ironic, sure, she clearly has opinions about bureaucracy, but she's also a little amused, too. When she turns, it's to fetch his tea, although she keeps talking as she moves. "It's quite a change, but I gather it's like this for everyone."

Then, side-eyeing the cup she's working on: "I should warn you, I have no idea if it's any good." Since she can't drink it... or anything else they sell here... or eat any of the food...

[incaptivity]

He nods to the side at the first part, rifling around in his pockets for his wallet. Of course, it wasn't very easy for him, infrastructure or no, but his situation is a little unique. (...He's picky, is the truth.)

"Not a tea drinker? Or–" He pauses, eyes slightly narrowed as he puts two and two together. ...Oh. "Sorry, is that usual for you? There's such a variety of –us here," skirting around the elephant in the room, "--and I'm afraid I haven't gotten out in the community much. Or at all."