multiversallogs | 002 | CLOSED. join the children of hell.

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002 | CLOSED. join the children of hell.

Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, John Mitchell, possibly certain others
What: Hasi drags Mitchell to Gutters, pretending it is "for her protection".
Where: Gutters!
When: Evening, lateish.
Notes: Your log page is belong to Kays.
Warnings: Hahaha uhh. It's a vampire bar and Hasibe exists. Stay tuned.

Ending up at Gutters was always in the plan, for Hasibe. She had made a list of all the bars and clubs she absolutely needed to hit up ("needed" at least in the context of her own mind), and since this place came recommended, it was bumped up a few notches on the list. Cognizant of the danger inherent to the place, she'd even managed to wrangle a companion, though her motivations for persuading him to come along had less to do with her own need for protection--at least, that was how she saw it--and more to do with her desire to push him into interacting with his own kind. It was convenient for both of them...and, for the purposes of particular other activities of hers, gave her ample opportunity to observe the effect recent events had on the population.

There's always an ulterior motive with this one. She sees it as benevolent.

Mitchell probably didn't need the help, though. She'd even admit that, freely. But she has her ways of showing her interest in people, and arranging social situations for them with varying degrees of subtlety happens to be one of them. Once they make their way into the bar, buried as it is in the undercity of Mafaton, she abandons her coat, which means she is fully unveiled in her patently ridiculous white dress with its cut-out spaces, and accompanying towering black leather ankle boots. It's not exactly dressing to blend in down here.

(She gets a little bit of silly entertainment out of wearing pristine white to places where everyone is almost certainly dressed dark. It's a thing.)

"What do you think?" Hasi inquires, smiling at Mitchell. She loves the undercity, of course.

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There's something in the way Hasibe says it that makes Mitchell pause. This isn't Bristol, he thinks. He's not Big Bad John any more. It's interesting to be freed of that expectation, but at the same time he's lived with it for so long. And in some ways, it still is who he is.

He briefly muses on whether there could be anything worse than what he's done over the years. Possibly not. Probably not. But there is the possibility for it having been matched. And that's new.

While he thinks, he turns heel and, in an almost dutiful fashion, follows after.

She walks in silence for a while. It's obvious she knows where she's going, and it might not be terribly far in destination, though the neighborhood looks increasingly dilapidated. Hasibe seems strangely effortless in her high heels, when by now they should probably be beginning to hurt, but maybe after wearing them for so many years she just no longer notices.

It's not abrupt, precisely, but placed rather in the quiet between them:

"My blood is poisonous."

She waits only a half-beat for continuing.

"That's part of why I was so comfortable in there. Do they have the Sisterhood of the Oleander in your world, historically? Women who were supposed to be beautiful, but poisonous. Toxic. Named for the flower, although the effects are more like datura with no antidote."

That surprises him. Part of him idly wonders if it could be a ruse, but then it does explain why she was so confident about this entire venture.

"Not that I know of. Any poisonous or demonic women throughout history were usually one of ours. Rumours of their powers were usually exaggerated or plain made up." A smile slips around the corner of his mouth. "In some cases, we were the ones who created the stories. Put out the rumour that garlic wards off vampires so some poor fool will use that against you instead of something that actually works."

"It sounds very... I don't know. Poetic." He looks at her askance. "Are all witches in your world part of that Sisterhood?"

"By birth," she confirms, and then considers explaining the whys of her blood, the reasons for its toxicity. 'Divine ichor' is probably a little much. "Have you ever read the Book of Enoch? It's not exactly standard Biblical canon, and I don't know how religion affects you."

It's not like Hasibe is a Christian, anyway, so symbols of that kind wielded by her are probably ineffectual against any vampires.

"I don't feel a desire to recoil just yet," he says, with mild good humour. "Other than the basics, I can't remember much. I was raised Catholic, but the Bible got taught to us, we didn't really read it for ourselves. And that... Well, that was a long time ago."

He doesn't think much about his mortal life these days. It seems so odd when he's reminded of it, like something he once dreamt.

She remembers what he said about his age--and thinks most people's memories of childhood begin to fade a little by their twenties, so she can't quite imagine how it must be decades and decades later.

"The Book of Enoch talks about how before the Great Flood, a group of angels became obsessed with mortal women, after being exposed to their charms by Lilith; she mentored them and helped them find their way to sin. They fell to Earth and made what some people call the Nephilim with those women, although the preferred term is Bene Elohim--Nephilim sort of connotes something demonic." Which is not how she thinks of witches at all. As she explains, Hasibe heads for a tall building that appears to be under construction, a large part of its beams exposed.

"Those fallen angels taught their wives magic, and their children, too. When the Great Flood happened, people believed all the Bene Elohim, the first witches, had gone. But there's a little more to that claim that witches can float than people thought."

"So you're...descended from angels?" It's said slowly, because while he's getting used to the idea of endless possibilities, it's still a little much to take in. Thoughts about religion, God, and the scheme of vampires, werewolves and ghosts in the cosmological order had crossed his mind over the course of his long life. For the most part they had gone unanswered, or vampires had put their own egotistical spin on it ('God is dead,' etc).

"But you can't --I mean, I can touch you and I feel fine." His hand briefly goes out and hovers near her shoulder as if to double check. "The rule is that if someone believes a holy symbol can harm a vampire, then it does. But if angels exist that should be stronger. Then it's a fact. But it's just your blood?"

A hand goes out to hover near Hasibe's shoulder. Sort of like how when someone says 'this plate is hot,' someone will inevitably feel the need to test how hot.

Here, she veers closer, tone getting that conspiring, playful note that she wears sometimes. It's a bit gamine on her part, but there's a thread of truth in it, too. With her, it takes a bit of observant practice to tell when she's playing games or being honest, because so often both practices run side-by-side.

"But that's just it. They were fallen--forsaken, really. They gave up God in favor of their lust. So not only can you touch us, we're made specifically so that you're supposed to want to touch us."

"Aha," he says, adopting his own playful tone as he goes along. "Very like the oleander then. Beautiful to look at, poisonous if you get too close."

"I'm almost tempted to feel sorry for the vampires in your world." Only not really. The removal of the usual predator/prey dichotomy makes things a great deal more interesting.

She doesn't laugh a lot, this one, but that gets a quick laugh, bright and pealing. It's entirely in good humor, but she has to point something out: "Oh, he says this while standing right next to me. But maybe you're not susceptible."

(Hasibe doesn't think that at all, for the record, but she rarely does.)

"Lead me not into temptation, for I already know the way." He has a rather dark sense of humour when he feels like sharing it. It fits nicely into a conversation about angels, demons and all things in between.

Edited 2011-11-19 16:04 (UTC)

"I do like a man who doesn't need to be lead," she comments, lightly, and then there's a change in topic as it occurs to her. If only because she meant to bring this up earlier, and now she thinks things are comfortable enough--a little weird, given the previous conversation, but it doesn't actually bother her--it seems better-timed.

"Ilde and I have had some very illuminating conversations about vampires recently, actually."

Yes.

Illuminating.

"Oh God." He scrunches his eyes closed in memory of his own chit-chat with Ilde. "If one more person tries to talk to me about what Ivan likes to do in his spare time, I'm walking out into the fog."

He can only dread what he's going to be asked instead.

"Oh, she did bring it up to you! I'm sorry--women are a hundred times worse than men when it comes to certain things, despite popular stereotype." That's apparently what Hasibe wanted to know, and there's more laughter, this time, half-smothered behind her hand.

"I don't know a lot about Ivan yet. I guess I should do the fussy, stern, protective thing--I dated Ilde's dad when I was younger, it'd be appropriate--but I'm not very good at it. He seems all right for her."

They reach the door to the abandoned building she was going for, and she swings it open with nary a trace of difficulty, so either it was somehow not locked, or Hasibe took care of that in her own fashion.

"Mm." Mitchell presses his lips together in something between a grimace and a smile. "I don't think I'm really in a place to advise on what makes a suitable boyfriend." Or whatever Ilde and Ivan are.

He doesn't exactly want to badmouth Ivan, but then again crediting him as right for anyone seems...off. Finally, he settles on, "We're --vampires, I mean, although me and Ivan obviously included. We're not really the kind of guys you'd want to take home to your parents. Although I think that's fairly obvious. If you're fine with that, then you're free to make your own decisions."

'You' not being directed to anyone in particular, although an odd choice of pronoun given the company.

It's a funny kind of conversation to have--Hasibe is protective of Ilde in her own way, the way she's protective of all women, because she's so accustomed to no one ever protecting her; she ought to make sure others have that, at least. That said, she has a twisted perception of what constitutes a troubling relationship.

Which she knows, it just doesn't stop her.

As she says, now: "Considering Ilde's father is a river fairy who dated me when I was just a 22-year-old doing 'art films' that pretended they weren't pornography, he's a bit unconventional. But I take your point."

Zeynap, she's pretty sure, would just. Eat every vampire. Her mother had no tolerance for what she perceived as a slavish dependence on the flesh. It was weakness, and weakness had to be excised.

Hasi exhales, shaking her head. "I suppose I'm not a very good judge, either, given my marriage. But regardless, circumstances here are so different that I can't quite find it in myself to try to police anyone's relationships."

The interior of the building is dilapidated, with a teetering spiral staircase she starts toward. In those shoes.

Hasibe probably won't see it since he follows after her going up the staircase, but Mitchell is a little surprised to hear that she's been married. Past tense, even, and the way she speaks about it makes him curious although he has more tact than to ask outright.

"It's not something I've thought about yet." Given that he just got out of one relationship, no matter how short lived. "Living in an open society is going to be weird in that respect."

"You can't exactly tell women you like the truth, can you?" She can speculate as to why, and glances over her shoulder with a look that's as knowing as it is curious, but maybe he has more reasons than the ones she's guessed.

"I know the feeling. With anyone, really; it's hard to connect when you can't be honest."

"I've been fortunate a couple of times." Literally a couple. He thinks on Josie and Annie as he climbs.

"It took me forty years before I found something like that again, although that didn't work out. And then Annie..." The love of his long-lived life; it's still something he believes. "I didn't treat her well. That was my fault. She knew what I was, but she didn't know what I was. Trying to keep that hidden, trying to be a good man for her, well."

He bites his lip, shaking himself out those thoughts. "Sorry. No, the truth isn't always an option."

Although there are other reasons (namely that he's him).

"You don't have to apologize," she says, gently remonstrating. It is worth noting they seem to be going up a lot of goddamn stairs. Hasibe has a thing for heights, as Mitchell will undoubtedly discover shortly.

"Talk about whatever you want. But if we're getting into the concept of goodness again, my opinions from before still stand."

"Better keep it shut, then." It's more self-deprecating than anything else.

"Part of me thinks I should look at this as a completely fresh start. Try to find some... Balance, I suppose. I mean, I suppose I can do that here, unlike back home."

Although he keeps stalling on making a decision. And it's not like Baedal is a guarantee he won't keep falling back into the same destructive old habits (it's really not).

At the top level, they stand towering stories above most of Baedal, and there are exposed beams enough that mincing along is a rickety, semi-dangerous experience. She doesn't seem bothered.

"I like it up here," she says. It's a little bit of a catlike instinct, but she likes the secure feeling she associates with heights. When she refocuses on the topic, it's while sitting down on the edge of a balcony that lacks its actual railing, taking off her high heels to do so (so they don't go plummeting to the ground, presumably).

"What would you do, to find that balance?"

"It's quite a view." Mitchell takes a moment to really look at the city glittering all around them. It's completely different from the skyline of any other place he's been: the mismatched buildings, the Skyrail in the distance, the thrum of otherworldly energies powering things not completely unlike electricity pylons.

He takes a seat next to Hasibe on the balcony, legs dangling over the edge. Eventually, he answers her question with, "I'm not sure. I still have a lot of things I need to figure out." Like what is balance, and whether he's capable of it, and whether he really wants it or not.

With her high heels propped up on one side of her and Mitchell on the other, she feels relatively comfortable up here. Hasi leans back on her hands, palms flat behind her, and tips her head back, eyes closed, hair falling loose behind her. Although this does have the side effect of exposing her throat, she's not concerned--poison witch-blood aside, it's for other reasons.

"Be careful of what you give up. When it comes to either side of you." Because he is dual-sided now, she thinks, not quite as defined as Jekyll & Hyde, but there are two Mitchells, bleeding over into one another. "I know you can look after yourself, but--there are people who'd want to use you, here."

Her tone suggests she is speaking from personal experience, though not here in the city of Baedal itself.

"I think it's a little too late for that," he says quietly, in regards to the last part of what she said. Thoughts of Herrick and Wyndham cross his mind.

He turns to watch her, before asking, "What would you suggest?" Part of him is curious to know what the answer might reveal about her, as much as any beneficial advice he could use.

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