(1505) Juan and David

“Priscus Cordoba,” David greets, in a formal tone as he notices the approaching Incubus. The Shadow was watching Hell move from his Perch in Heaven but Juan's arrival steals David's attention from the Infernal. The balance of power is a tug of war and Cordoba presents another challenge. Baying voices in the blood seek to claim dominance. Voices that are summarily ignored; controlled and locked away into the deeper recesses of the mind.

“It's good to see you,” David says amiably, “What can I do for you?”

Subtle adjustment in how he stands, brings Juan into a private sphere, for the moment, at least.

The Mekhet's Mask of Tranquility promised him peace as the Toreador approached. No feral instincts to distract him. "Good evening Priscus Regan." Cordoba glanced taking note of the Brady's presence in Court. His eyes lingered on the redheaded regent. As beautiful as she was, he knew not to draw attention to himself. He had seen her barbed tongue.

The Daeva smiled before the Shadow. "What can you do for me?" he playfully inquired. "Might you have any recommendations for books? I just finished reading Memoirs of a Geisha and I'm looking for another novel worth reading."

David tilts his head, a birdlike movement in truth, as he considers the Daeva's question. “Unfortunately,” the Shadow replies with a voice pregnant with apology, “I do not know your taste in literature. However,” an empty, upturned hand floats between the men, “I have been recently thinking of John Milton's Paradise Lost. It's probably the theme of the evening, isn't it?”

A moment's breath, lost to them both, follows and the Grand Wyrm adjusts and asks a simple question, “What types of literature do you enjoy reading, if I may ask?”

The Daeva nodded as the Mekhet suggested Paradise Lost. Eye brows raised as memory of it returned, "How very appropriate," Cordoba replied with pleasant nostalgia. "Yes, yes, yes, it has been far too long to enjoy Milton's epic. Oh, what an excellent suggestion." His character seemingly uplifted, "Well, I enjoy the classics - Dante's Inferno ranks high on my all time favorites." He paused trying to put his thoughts together, "Lately, I find myself enjoying alternative history. World War II and the Cold War inspired some of the more interesting points of diversion."

“Alternative History,” David repeats as though jogging his own memories. “I've heard The Historian is … interesting.” The Dragon's voice becomes a bit more wry as he remembers some of the vague points of the book. “Even so, if you look into it you'll probably realize why I haven't made it a point to read it myself.”

Considering another or two, David offers, “There's always the dystopias or pseudo-dystopias and spy-fiction of the day too. The Master and Margarita for one.”

Juan held his fingers around his chin, committing David's recommendations to memory as the man spoke. "Hmm...The Historian...long book from what I do remember hearing of it. Never read it. If you didn't find it interesting, I won't waste my time with it. I've found dystopian fiction worthwhile. The Master and Margarita however, I'll take your word for it, good sir."

A knowing nod follows Juan's word of thanks to the Mekhet Priscus. “I believe, as far as books, I'll be starting House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski soon.” David glances towards the red-glowing infernal hell staring back up at both Prisci, “I've been meaning to for a while now. But, though we have half of all the time in the world, I've had a tenuous grip on enough time to read.”

Turning his full-attention back to Juan, David says, “It's probably much the same for you?”

Cordoba followed Regan's eyes as they tracked down into Hell, the ambient crimson glow contrasting to their stark ivory. "I could not agree more," he replied turning his head back to the man as he spoke of their ageless existence. "I enjoy the pulsing activity of the Domain. I find myself so busy and often times, deep in thought going over what I must attend to, that..."...he paused with a mildly solemn voice, "I neglect my books and art." The Toreador vocalized his reassurance, "I'm sure it'll eventually pan out for us both. Balancing the scales so to speak."

Initially, Juan's statement is met solely with an understanding inclination of David's head. There isn't much else to say other than rueful agreement, and thus David keeps his silence. The Spaniard's assurance, though, is solidified with a faint, “I do hope so, Priscus Cordoba.”

But there's no conviction in his voice, only hope. Tomorrow night is unknown, the future is frightening.

With the lull in the conversation, Cordoba shifted his gaze down upon the crowd mingling in Hell. "I wonder who the new additions to the Royal Court will be." He looked to Regan and nodded toward the crowd below, "Any guesses before the big reveal?"