A Rally in Support of the Hungry Few

[baedalites.livejournal.com]

Who: The City
What: A Rally in Support of Cruorvores.
Where: Mercer's Square, Aspic
When: AT A CLEVER TIME
Notes: Everyone is welcome, including curious neutrals. NPCs available on request. OOC post.
Warnings: A general spirit of solidarity may be present.

Word has been spreading over the network and on the street. Leaflets have been available at open minded public houses and restaurants. A few of the city's more prominent inhabitants have organized a rally to show support for cruorvore citizens. It is going to be a public event; sanctioned, the leaflet assures, by the state. Speeches will be made, the true colours of the city will be shown. There is a lot of talk about standing up to the sowers of discord.

As the evening of the rally approaches, more and more people gather in the square. All sorts have come out for the event, xenians, humans and people who defy categorization mingle peacefully. A cat watches the proceedings from on top the stage has been erected to one end. The stage has been draped in banners promoting tolerance and acceptance, and small sign near the bottom proclaims it was built with the kind donations from Bloody Sunday, The Zygoda, Howl's Market and certain private citizens, of which there is a list. Some attendees have brought instruments and casually strike up a tune every now and then. Others have brought food, signs or torches as the rally promises to continue well into the night.

Comments

[goodeintentions]

Aimery had arrived earlier in the afternoon, prepared with an excuse about getting turned around on his way to the bazaar, and loitered without blatantly participating. He didn't understand this cruorvore pride thing, didn't like the concept of living off of others flesh, was conflicted from a religious standpoint... but surely most of them hadn't asked for their vampirism and other afflictions- it was something done to them that cost them a normal life and he understood that well. All most of them seemed to be asking for was to be allowed to live as they needed with consensual donations, and he didn't see why they should be denied.

None of that was why he stayed after the sunset. As he stood near the outskirts of the rally and listened to the speeches —didn't cheer along, just listened and sympathized despite himself— he watched the crowd, hoping to spot familiar faces. Aimery had vague memories of vampires he'd known before, most of them pleasant, and he knew others had come to Baedal from Bete Noire. Maybe, if he were lucky, he'd see someone he knew and fill in a few blanks.

[fish]

"Hey..."

Thanks to a combination of crowd cover and drunkenness, Fish is feeling socially brave tonight—this is why he's actually been approaching people, when his usual habit is more reserved. A cigarette hangs from his lips and there's a cup of water in his hand (yes, it's actually water). Behold his smudgy eyeliner, also, for he is wearing some.

"You're from CB523, right? You were stayin at the inn."

wow that didnt even make sense

[goodeintentions]

It had been over a month but Aimery recognized the man just as soon as he mentioned the inn. The code wasn't as easy to place, but context meant it was probably a reference to his cohort. If his really was the five hundred twenty third, that was... quite a high number; it never failed to impress him how large the city was.

"I was, though I moved out a few weeks ago. You've a good memory," Aimery greeted him with a smile, hesitating just a moment before extending a hand to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

:V

[fish]

"Yeah," he says, as a blanket reply to everything, and reaches to shake despite ordinarily preferring not to do so. His grip isn't the most confident, and his hand probably feels smaller than it looks—thinner, somehow, and colder too.

Once they've separated, he plucks the cigarette from his mouth so he can speak properly. "You stuck out in my memory for some reason. Maybe 'cause you look so normal. How's the new place?"

[goodeintentions]

It was all together not the butchest of handshakes then, since Aimery had a rather light hold and delicate hand himself. He didn't mind though, and dropped his hand away to casually clasp it with his other in front of himself, answering the question with a bit of pride in his voice, "Very good, actually. I've a room at one of the manors in Brock Marsh. I'm still working on the decorating, but the view is quite nice."

He pursed his lips a moment, then raised his eyebrows and asked, "I look normal?"

Aimery would've thought it was the accent that made him memorable.

[fish]

"Yeah. Well, I mean..." It sounds as if he's trying to gauge whether or not this is an insult, but the attempt dies pretty much instantly. "...no, yeah, you do."

He pauses here to take a drag from his cigarette, and blows the smoke away from Aimery, quite leisurely.

"Your haircut's like, super normal."

[goodeintentions]

His brow crinkled as Fish waffled on his word, but Aimery tried to keep his expression neutral, hoping to encourage him to say whatever it was he was going to say. And when he actually did, he stared at him for a moment, clearly confused. With the way he blew that smoke and his bizarre compliment/insult... was he trying to hit on him? Or just drunk and adorably terrible at conversation? Possibly both, Aimery decided. At least he seemed to be less excitable than he had been the first time they'd spoken.

"Well, thank you," he answered after a beat, smile returning with a bit more amusement than before, "Yours isn't, but it suits you. Your uh-"

Aimery lifted one hand and made a vague, circling gesture with one finger at his own eyes. "Eyeliner? Is a little smudged though."

[fish]

"Huh?" On reflex he actually moves to touch his eyelid, with the hand holding the cigarette, even—it's okay, he's a pro at this, just his ring finger's stuck out—but stops short as he realises what the guy means. Oh, you. "Nah, dude, it's s'posed to be like that. You can blend it a little, it doesn't always hafta be like a hard line. Thanks for noticing, though."

Water time! He gives yon crowd a look whilst sipping from his plastic cup.

[goodeintentions]

"Oh. I see." Really? That was intentional? It was supposed to be that way? His new 'friend' just went from being endearingly odd to being flat out weird in Aimery's eyes.

"You're welcome-" he began, the words unsure and more in the form of a question than a sentence, "I.. don't believe I caught your name."

[fish]

Well excuse you, Aimery, some people live in the fashion present.

"Oh—yeah, sorry, I guess we never got introduced or anything. I'm Fish. You?"

[goodeintentions]

"Aimery le Gode." He would have offered a handshake but they already did that. So he didn't. Aimery paused a moment, then added, "Is Fish short for something?"

[fish]

Haha, that would be his name, wouldn't it? Fish is about to say something about how fitting it is, but then there's a question and his train of thought zooms on ahead, basically out of control. "Kinda? It's my family name. People just called me Fish in college, and it stuck, so I guess I'm used to it now. Is there, like...a short form for Aimery? Like a nickname or whatever that you don't hate?"

[goodeintentions]

That question caught him off guard. Why would Aimery need to be shortened? Aimery blinked for a moment, trying to remember if he had any nicknames; most of what his memory churned up as alternate names were vulgarities. Must've had some unpleasant friends.

"Well. Not really, usually people just call me Aimery after I ask them not to call me Mr. Le Gode. I... seem to recall being called Aims or Amy a time or two."

[selfmadman]

Don lingers on the fringes of the crowd, wary and watchful, a vampire's voice booming over him. He's taking distracted drags on a cigarette, exhaling a little more forcefully when applause breaks out. He watches where he steps, doesn't let his eyes rest on anyone--anything--for too long.

As the speech comes to an end he slips away from the throng. He's heard enough; he'll finish his cigarette and leave. "Hell of a way to spend a Saturday night," he says half to himself, letting out a ragged breath and remembering too late that's not what it's called anymore.

[goodeintentions]

"Not a fan of speeches, I take it?" he asked after the fellow who had wandered up near to him mumbled to himself. Aimery wasn't sure if it was actually the speech that had left the man so... unnerved? nervous? or if it was the speaker. But why attend a pro-cruorvore rally if one didn't like cruorvores? Hence his asking, his idle curiosity and mild concern clear on his face.

[selfmadman]

Don laughs, a short expulsion of air. "My hands get tired from all that clapping." He pulls again on his cigarette, turns his head toward the speaker. This far from the stage the light's weak as a watered-down cocktail: he makes out a suit, eyes that don't, unlike some, burn yellow or red in the dark.

"How about you?"

[goodeintentions]

Aimery made a soft, agreeable noise, like he completely understood. The other man showed a flash of his sense of humor, so teasing won out over concern.

"Oh, I don't mind the speeches, or the amount of clapping for that matter," he shrugged, looking back to the stage for a moment, "It's not as if they're going to leap over and drink our blood if we don't cheer."

[selfmadman]

Instinct stirs like an animal brought out of a deep sleep. Don experiences a twitch of dread; for a moment he's in the clutches of an image. Blood spilling down a sink.

Blinking it away, face drawn, he gives the other man a look. It borders on scornful. He says nothing--the only word on his mind is "enough"--and returns to his cigarette.