Cold Press at the Old Soul

Mar 4th, 2015 03:35 PM

It is a lovely evening at the Old Soul at The Weatherstone, there is some light jazz being played as I sip my cold press. The old tome in my hand, Dante's Divine Comedy, is weathered and worn, the pages yellowed with time, dog eared, scribbles and scribes in the margins and passages highlighted. In case it isn't obvious, this is not the first time I have read through this text. But I am not the only one who has held this book, this book has been around the world, through two wars and a fire. It was recovered from a library of royalty, and remains an heirloom to me. When it was passed down, I tried to put it into a box, tried to keep it as the antique it is, but I was quickly corrected.

"Little птица, book unread is not book, but waste of tree..." I remember hearing those words even now, as if it were yesterday. But it was not yesterday, it was years ago, when my heart pumped blood on its own, not at my will, when my skin was the color of clean beach sand, not now the ashen white.

Now though, now I sit and read, my skin has stolen blood flowing through, adding hints of color, turning my ghostly white skin to at least something more alive, something closer to a pasty gray, skin you see on someone who rarely if ever sees the sun. Alive, but... off putting. From there, makeup is applied to accentuate my skin and bone structure which helps me pass even further. Thankfully, I need not cake on the makeup or use prosthesis, I would not doubt though that will come in time as I age... age... a funny thing to say as someone who is supposedly immortal. Kindred are not that, we have a facsimile of immortality, but in actuality, we are just long lived and hard to kill.

I look up to make sure I didn't miss my coffee date, it seems she has not arrived yet. Which is fine, she is not late. I am early.

Mar 4th, 2015 11:06 PM

Coffee wasn’t coffee anymore, nor was a croissant a croissant. The things you loose as a Vampire were perhaps menial to some, others, well, they could take it or leave it. Vivian still cherished the smell, it came upon her blocks away as she found her way to the Old Soul. Fitting for the two of them, although they were perhaps not as old as some.

Vivian had stopped for a real bite prior to her arrival. A man wearing one of the worst colognes that were deemed designer, Joop. Its name had two distinct pronounciations, but no one could ever agree as to which was which. It smelled musky sweet or whorish male, whichever was the preference. The Daeva would have skipped him all together, but as the scent preempted, he hit on her at the drop of a hat… at a gas station of all places.

Her outfit was simple, easy going and fun. Not like they were going clubbing, but she rarely wore jeans and she had reasons for that. Complete with matching checkered gloves, Vivian entered into the shop. It had a hipster, at least she thought that was the term, feel to it. Her pace was quick as she spotted the monochrome Haunt and she walked over briskly.

“Dahling, good to finally meet! This place smells terrific.” Taking a seat opposite of Angel and laying down her purse.

Mar 5th, 2015 01:42 PM

Jazz called to Eva. It was new-fangled in her eyes, but there was something about it that just worked for her. Perhaps it was the soulful way it was played or its humble origins exploding into a superstar genre for years, only to fade into the background to be replaced by such distasteful things over time as Nicki Minaj and 'E-Dee-Emm', whatever that meant. Jazz never died. It just slipped into graceful torpor, only to emerge once more in the quiet places such as this.

A pity that she felt the Beast of another upon entering and surveying the bar. A little thing, something her own demanded a pound of flesh from - yes, she recognized it. How could she not? Vivian York was a beacon of fire in a room such as this, all pale skin topped with beautiful blazing locks. It took a moment to settle her boiling Blood, the usual ritual of a breath, clenched teeth and calming, certain thoughts settling it into its place. The hate never fully went away, but it became manageable.

Flashing a stunning smile at the Daeva and her monochrome companion?!, Eva made her way over to the bar. It wouldn't do to not find a drink at an event such as this, would it?

-1V for Blush of Life.

Mar 6th, 2015 09:39 PM

I stand as Vivian approaches and meet her with the hug and cheek kiss. As she sits I take my place across from her, "So good indeed." I say to her as I pick up my coffee and take another sip, as I do I remind my stomach what it is supposed to do, not reject the drink outright, but give me time to reject it later. As Viv says, the smell. That is why I come for coffee, not the taste, but the smell... sense memory and all that.

"I know! This place is divine, the different smells and roasts blending together! The music isn't bad, and some of the baristas are lovely, once you get past all that beard and mustache wax." I wave down one of the baristas and wait for him to take Viv's order. With that done I give a polite nod of my head to the other beast, as she arrives, that mine own is so reacting too, it is like white noise from a TV that looses it's signal, wretched. She isn't though, she is lovely.

"She was at the gathering the other night, was she not? I didn't catch her name..." I ask, knowing full well tthat she was, but i am truthful that I don't recall her name. "So, Vivian my love, tell me all about yourself. I must know everything."

Mar 7th, 2015 10:16 AM

She felt her enter, the Beast charging at her like a wild animal. Angel’s was cleverly hidden, it was a personal preference of course. Once she’d moved further in and toward the bar, her own Beast had begun to adjust.

Having no idea how long the Haunt had been in the place, Vivian asked. “Oh, have you been here long? Or is this not the first time you’ve visited?”

The Daeva waved her hand away. “Oh rubbish, the beard and mustache just add to the colour of the atmosphere.” At least in her Blushed state, the aromas were at least tantalizing. The contemplation to indulge was eating at her. “Hm, perhaps some rich robust roast is in order. What did you order?” Nodding to the coffee in front of the monochromed lady.

The new gal, Eva, she’d met briefly the last Elysia. “Yes, I met her there. Eva is her name.” Nodding to her smile, she flashed her own back. Glancing to the Haunt, Vivian tipped her head as if to call over the Daeva counterpart.

“Well my dahling Angel, that is a loaded question.” Laughing softly, even though the Haunt had no idea what a tall order that question had been. “Well, the list is lengthy. I’m sure you can guess I’m from England. But, recently, I hail from Toronto. I do miss many boutiques being open a great deal later. From a metropolis to this place, it feels a little like a small town versus the state’s…capital, if I’m not mistaken?”

Shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. “However, so many details. Anything particular you’d like to know, Angel?” It was almost too bad they were in public, but for now it was probably safer that way.

“And, you, too. Please, by all means, lend me some details dear.”

**Gerald Baker** · Mar 7th, 2015 12:46 PM

Old Soul is a humble place. Quaint, perhaps, but charming in its way. A fine place to see new faces over a steaming cup of the modern man's drink: coffee. Unlike the watered-down rum that Gerald remembers from life on the old trade ship, coffee doesn't get you drunk. It does, however, seem to be the lifeblood of the workforce. It is what keeps them going and, allegedly, keeps their minds sharp. Great ideas among mortal lives has often been attributed to liberal amounts of the stuff, if one is to believe the hype. The opportunity to stay in the 'now' seems obvious in a little boutique such as this. To Gerald, anyhow. And, it would seem, several other predators have been drawn here. Perhaps he can find out what draws to them?

Two are familiar. The fashionable and formidable Eva from Court as well as the monochromatic Angel - one he hopes to court for membership to his oh-so-precious covenant. This place is no place to discuss such things, however. The third he only vaguely remembers having seen. Court, probably. His Beast's reaction is a mild enough disdain to register that it is probably not the first time he's seen her. A doe among wolves. Lovely enough, though. Maybe it's the soft Jazz, or the familiar grip of boredom, but something says 'introduce yourself'.

And why not? What better company could they have than a man as traveled and experienced as Gerald. Not to mention his suit. Oh, his suit! Such a bold and daring robin's egg blue. Though it does not match the color of his eyes, Gerald is certain it speaks of affluence and class.

"Ladies. Good evening! I must confess... a lesser man would be smitten in the company of such delicate beauty. But I am no fool. Surely you did not come here to be doted on by this old man." He smiles brightly. "May I join you?"

To Vivian, he adds "I am Gerald Baker. Of whom do I have the pleasure of acquainting myself with?"

-1 Vitae for Blush of Life.

Mar 8th, 2015 04:21 PM

"Oh I have only been here about a half hour, but I got here early so I could do some reading." I say referencing the tome sitting before me. It is hardcover book, large, not something that can be considered light reading.

I smile and look to my glass, "I just ordered some cold press, house blend. It's quite lovely, has a beautiful aroma of cashew and hint's of pomegranate. Would you care to try some." I ask offering her my glass.

"As for me, I am from Oregon, spent most of my early teens through well, just a few years ago, in Portland. A beautiful city, have you ever been?" I ask with genuine interest. "Beyond that, you know what is important I believe. I am an avid reader, a private investigator and a bit of a flirt..." I laugh with that last bit.

I felt him before I saw him... As he approaches, "Hello Gerald, good evening to you." Ugh, the flowery words, If I could vomit, I may, delicate beauty. Oh wait, I have to later... Coffee.

Mar 8th, 2015 11:39 PM

Vivian wasn’t about to turn away a sip, she figured the purging would eventually happen when mixing with Kine. “Oh, that is delightful! I think I need one myself.” Plaching the glass back in front of the Haunt.

“This is as far West in America as I have been.” Her hand flicked a finger in the air. “But, I have heard that it is pleasant and peaceful up in that area, and yes, definitely gorgeous scenery.”

“A bit of a flirt...” The Daeva chuckled. “To that, I can relate. I need some sort of hobby. Shopping gets tedious at times, perhaps I need a friend to accompany me.” Tapping her cheek thoughtfully toward the noir woman. “Speaking of…”

Wow, I didn’t know that color of suit was back in style for men… Oh who cares, he’s male.

Vivian, clearly stodgy with her Requiem presently, held out her hand to the guy who caught her eye the last night of wandering in Elysia The look in her eyes was charming. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Vivian York. Please, call me Vivian.” Come on, kiss it, you know you want to. “May I call you Gerald?”

"And can she, call you later..." Nodding toward Angel, clearly teasing, for the most part. Vivian winked to the Haunt. Hm, doubtful Angel would stake me for that, would she?

After the new gentleman did as he pleased to her hand, Vivian leaned a little toward her Family member. “Eva, dahling, come meet this fine gentleman that begs our company!” Waving over the new arrival, her pitch not much more than a normal speaking voice. She wasn’t that absurd. Sure, Vivian hardly knew the new Deava in Sacramento… well one of them from that night.

Mar 9th, 2015 12:30 AM

Eva floated on over, three-inch heels only adding to lengthy legs that were warmed by stolen Blood. The old vampire smiled broadly, all twinkling eyes and dimples as she approached. "Hello, Vivian," she said, that smile and those eyes meeting Angel's, then Gerald's. "Oh, I've met Mr. Baker here before. Such a gentleman." She winked at the other two before offering her hand to the Monochrome for a shake. How on Earth was she so pale?

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Eva. How are you?"

She met the Nosferatu's eyes, grateful for the fact that Angel Ducard's Beast was tucked away, out of sight. Gerald's was grating on her, forcing her to concentrate and bring the Blood into line.

**Gerald Baker** · Mar 9th, 2015 04:56 PM

"An evening is only as good as the company you keep. You have good taste, Angel." He pauses to inhale the earthy, robust aroma of the coffee that dances through the air. "It smells so wonderful here. A shame I have not yet acquired a taste for this drink." He feigns a look of regret: one too easily broken by his near boundless enthusiasm. A knowing smile replaces the look.

The doe seems all too inviting, and Gerald is a wolf - or perhaps some great cat. He lithely closes the distance and accepts her hand, bending down just so to plant a kiss on it. A timeless gesture for which Gerald never lost a taste for. His Beast practically purrs at the touch; he is so close he could easily fall upon her like the prey she seems to be. The Man wins that unspoken contest, however. He straightens once more and flashes another grin. "I would be offended if you didn't, Vivian. Formalities always have a way of mucking up a good time."

Gerald chuckles, catching Eva's wink. He dips his head. "Eva, you are too kind. Or perhaps cruel?" His grin turns almost wicked. "You might have warned them that I am... incorrigible."

Pulling up a chair close to the table where Angel sits, Gerald makes himself comfortable.

Cold Press at the Old Soul

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