Crossed Hart

[Alice Hart]

The moon hung high, the stars brights, but drowning in the yellow street lights, thought the closer Alice gets to her destination there is less power in those yellow lights. The albino doll takes an unneeded breath of the evening air as she approaches the dilapidated house that served as the intimidating and terrifying facade of the above ground entry to the Necropolis.

It was a poor shell of a thing, rotten wood, broken windows not bothered to be boarded up, and probably never will be. Alice imagines that when the wind blows through the many holes it sounds like the moans of the dying.

After the last incident with the poor, poor tomcat Alice made sure to pace herself as she worked upon the Caldarium, though now her efforts were slightly more apparent. Still a far cry from the sketches Gilroy had shown her, but still a fair bit away from the sad cinder block bench, with it's floor lamp.

Alice's unreal amethysts scan the area, all of her own senses detect no one, keeping in mind the stealthy approach that Gilroy advised, the marionette quickly ascends the rotting stairs and into the house, across the room until she spies the sight of blood matted orange fur - a notch in his ear - she takes another unneeded breath, swallowing heavily at the sight. 'Never, never again.' she vows to herself.

So intent is she that she might miss the approach of another...

[Robert Cross]

Cross has been driving for a while—aimlessly and unblinking—bars of yellow street light passing across his scarred face. And somehow he's found his way back to that neighborhood, back in the vicinity of the Necropolis, where Gilroy took him for his acknowledgement. He's not surprised, really. For whatever reason he hasn't been able to get the place out of his head.

If Cross cared to attend closely to his emotional states, something he has never been keen to do, he might realize that there are, in fact, good reasons for this. First and foremost among them: the Necropolis feels strangely like home. It belongs to his Family, it is a place where he can dwell among other Nosferatu. His desire to do so represents a new experience for this haunt, who has never spent much time with others of his clan aside from Vic, his sire. But even he can't deny this drive.

Without really thinking, and only a few moments after Alice has entered the house, he parks his Town Car down the block and approaches on foot, straightening the jacket of his black suit to keep it from catching on the piece holstered underneath, at the small of his back. He sweeps the street with a quick glance and, satisfied with his isolation, focuses instead on the house.

It's state of disrepair is pleasing to him on the level of strategic considerations. The only attention it might attract would come from squatters or the homeless: Food. More than its pragmatic benefits, the house appeals to something else in Cross, something that sings in the blood, that vague feeling of belonging again, of Family Ties. Cross, normally a fastidious monster, is briefly confused by his aesthetic appreciation of such squalor. But, as always, he suppresses that confusion as unimportant for his current situation. Introspection is not high on the list of Cross' priorities. Or, as he reminds himself: No time for navel gazing, asshole.

Despite his lack of a key to the Necropolis, Cross has decided (half-consciously) to enter the house proper, take a look around, check on things. It's something that appears completely natural to him: patrolling, keeping an eye out. In some ways, the Necropolis has been added to his beat.

The street is still dead, as dead as he is, so he pauses for one last look at the house before heading up the walk, onto the steps, and through the door. Quick, but not rushed; unobtrusively, no need to arouse suspicion. Like he's supposed to be entering the building, like his approach and entry is completely ordinary.

Cross is through the door, pulling it shut behind him, all with minimal noise. And then stops cold in his tracks, finding himself staring at Alice's back as she considers her most recent victim. His hand slips under his jacket, going to his gun automatically, on instinct, but he stops himself, forcing his arm back to his side. Who needs a gun, anyway? If the person in the room is human, Cross will have no trouble; if something else then bullets are likely to do little good. It's hard to say either way, his beast is quiet. But then again, he knows full well that the game can be played that way—it's the way he plays it, in fact.

"Who's that?" He asks, calm and collected, but with an unmistakably threatening undertone.

[Alice Hart]

At the sound of a male voice behind her Alice spins around, her own unique mental warning bells tinkling at the threatening undertone in his words, but the sound was not a deafening thing, not yet. "Alice." her voice clips, "Who are you? And why the hell are you here?" she demands, scanning his burn-scared face, emitting no beast, if he had one, was told her nothing of his intentions, was he Kine, Kindred, or Thrall?

Alice had thought that if Garrick, or Kenneth had any ghouls, and if they tended the Necropolis they would have told her. Probably. Neither man seemed like a cruel one, they wouldn't have left her flat-footed....or would they?

Alice fought off a frown, grateful for her own nature for the first time with the easy way she could keep her face neutral, casting away the thoughts of Garrick and Gilroy. Instead focusing more on the here and now.

She had not thought to bring any weapons with her, not that she really had any, and in the confining space of the decaying house Alice and her fancy foot work wouldn't be at her best.

So the albino haunt fixes her unreal amethyst eyes on the man, and hoped that he was not an enemy.

[Robert Cross]

Cross is struck by her eyes, their unnatural color matched only by the disquieting symmetry of her features. There is a whisper of something like the lost life in him.

The scars on his own face, his hands, in their patchwork distribution across his body seem to tighten, almost start to itch. His jaw twitches once as he forcefully dispels this illusion, this ghost of a physical and emotional reaction no longer native to dead flesh. Keep it together, Cross.

Whatever fascination he feels, the urge to examine this other-worldly woman in detail, translates into a flat stare. It is not hostile, just steady and probing. He gives her the once over for what seems like forever, silently. No way she's human. But is she one of us? The silence of his beast when confronted with Alice, the absence of the pulsing heat that lives in him, keeps him on edge. Crazy how sometimes it would be a relief to feel the bad thing well up, at least then he would know.

Finally: "My family owns this house, I'm checking up on the property."

Another long pause, and then: "Robert." Nothing offered beyond the name, not yet anyway.

[Alice Hart]

He's staring. That's not unusual, Alice is more then used to the staring, it's the manner in which his eyes take in the wraith in front of him. Assessing, maybe. That really sets her on edge. The man's silance is heavy in the stillness of the decaying shell where they stood. Until finally the man speaks.

'Family?' Alice thinks, 'Shouldn't have Gilroy and Garrick told her that there was a new cousin in town?'

With new eyes Alice takes in his burn scars, a slightly more gruesome than what would be today's standard, they looked untreated, than an experimental sniff, she catches the scent of decay coming from the pile of animal corpses, the rot of the house, and the burnt smell of the man in front of her. "Huh." Alice says, after a moment, "Well, isn't that a coincidence, we must be cousins. Since my family owns this place, Robert."

[Robert Cross]

It hits him then: Alice. Alice Hart. Gilroy had mentioned her as one of the other haunts in the city during their meeting. Getting slow, Cross

"Of course," he says, "Alice. Doctor Gilroy mentioned you. I should've remembered."

He gives her a smile, something that clearly doesn't come easily to him. There's the way it twists the scars on his face, which seem to fight this particular movement of his lips, but more than that it's the fact that the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Still, whether it's apparent or not, he is happy on one level to meet her. And there's still this feeling that he can't quite identify, a sort of fascination with her inhuman perfection, the likes of which he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I'm sorry if I surprised you. I was just taking a look around the house here. How about we go somewhere a little more private and talk?" Cross seems more relaxed now, his hands slipping into his pockets. Though the way he stands hints at a capacity for violence at any moment, like his very existence in the world is premised on some unspoken threat. "I'd love to get to know a new-found cousin."

[Alice Hart]

The tenseness that Alice carried at the sight of Robert fled as soon as he mentioned Gilroy. He'd met the Priscus and she assumed he'd been Acknowledged. Funny, though the two newest Haunts called the good doctor, doctor.

Her head tilts, as she watches the play of his scars, tugging as he smiles. Something unpolished, but still no match for her stab-happy killer smile.

"I really should have been paying more attention." she says, it's like everything she'd learned since her Embrace fell to the wayside at the thought that this place was safe. "Uh-yeah, we can go downstairs." she'd intended to go into the Necropolis anyway.

Alice hesitates for a moment, unwilling to have the intimidating man at her back, but she knows her own strengths, if he had designs upon her unlife, he'd have the advantage, and hell there might even be a blood hunt called if he ended her with the Right of Destruction granted to him. It's only the thought of how hilarious that would be that allows her to turn her back and lead her cousin farther into the house, down the steps until they reach the padlocked door. "You've seen Gilroy, and now me. But have you seen Garrick yet? Garrick Marlon?" she asks, as she pulls her key from under her shirt, her movement jerking, and awkward now that she wasn't so focused on making her movements smooth and human seeming. "Do you uh have a key yet?" she asks as the lock clicks open.

[Robert Cross]

At Alice's self-criticism, Cross' smile finally reaches his eyes, becoming more genuine. "Don't beat yourself up about it, but you should watch your back. It's rough out here." He can't help chiding her at the end; it's habit, the cop dies hard even when you've been dead for years.

He speaks to her like the one with experience, but at the same time Cross recognizes that, when it comes to the Kindred, appearance of age means nothing. Alice could be his elder by any number of years and that seeming moment of openness could be a ruse or trap. On this point, he keeps his own self-criticism to himself: Don't be a rookie, asshole.

He nods in response to her suggestion that they proceed to the Necropolis proper, then follows her down the steps and to the door, watching the way she moves, observing the human veneer begin to fall away from her. Appreciating it. For Cross, the process of shedding his human tics or proclivities is something of a private mission, his way of coming to terms with the thing he has become. And in Alice he sees someone who, whether she knows it or not, whether she likes it or not, wears "human-ness" like a mask covering something altogether other.

"I haven't met Garrick yet. Gilroy mentioned him along with you, gave me your numbers, but I didn't want to start making calls before anyone had been notified that I was here." Such presumption can get you killed, whether your already dead or not. "It's lucky I met you here, really," he watches her strangely off-kilter movements as she produces the key, "especially since I failed to get a key from Gilroy when we met."

Cross finds that he's excited to enter as the lock makes its click in the darkness, "I need to get one, though. I like it down here."

[Alice Hart]

Robert's chiding, scolding tone is strangely comforting, and Alice's head bobs, the movement like a puppet's strings slackening, before being drawn taut as she brings her head up. "Yep, yep, yep." she says feeling like a certain big mouthed dinosaur as Robert's smile becomes more real as she become more fake.

"Ah. Yeah I get that." she comments, opening the door "I met with them both around the same time. The good Doctor at the first Court I attended here in Sacramento, and Garrick, I bit the bullet and texted him and I ended up meeting him in a park a while ago." Alice's smile appears in a flash, it's too wide, and too fake.

"Garrick's a-" Alice pauses as she begins her decent into the dark of their Kingdom. "He's cool. Not Masked, to be warned, but he's not stuffy and he's Unaligned, like me. Oh yeah, which Covenant are you a part of, if you're apart of one?" She asks when she makes it to the bottom of the metal grated stairs.

"Hmm yeah we could get a key cut for you." Alice assures him, mentally squeeing that she got a key during her first visit to the Necropolis, and he hadn't. "I like it down here too. I've spent a far bit of time sprucing up the Caldarium. There's not a whole lot done on the Necropolis yet." She explains, leading him into the place she'd spent so much time. It wasn't quite finished yet, but it was a far cry from the cinder block bench and the floor lamp. "Just the Caldarium here, and the Dark Temple. It's really beautiful. But don't mess around with it, Gilroy is the Sanctified Bishop, so...don't mess with his Temple, he says that I'm allowed to visit if I don't mess with his alter, so I assume that rule applies to you too. But don't bring guests into the Temple without Gilroy present." She tells the other haunt, as she takes a seat on the hardened cement form that she'd just finished a few nights ago.

"So...uh Hi." she says with a sting pulled shrug, letting him take in the half finished Caldarium.

[Robert Cross]

Cross follows her down into the dark, feeling something click into place deep inside him, that wave of belonging. Back in LA he did not spend much time in such places, our places, largely because Vic did most of his business above ground and therefore kept his childe busy above ground as well. Despite all of his rhetoric about getting to know the family, Vic had effectively stood in the way of that happening. Typical Vic, Cross thinks, half annoyed half amused, altruistic in every way but the one that counts. Still, Cross can't help admiring that: Vic always took care of his business first. But in any case, here he is, once again following another haunt into the Sacramento Necropolis, and it just feels right.

All of these feelings, memories, thoughts, are only half-registered as he listens to Alice detail her own integration into the Sacramento scene. He notes the pause, the kind of mental sticking point, that happens for her when Garrick comes up. Interesting… Before responding to her question about covenants:

"I'm unaligned too. Can't figure out why I'd want to get involved with them. My sire stayed uncommitted his entire requiem and that seems smart to me." He gives her a wry smile, "I know the Doctor keeps the faith, though, which is fine for him. I don't judge, even if I'm not looking to be converted."

He nods at her offer of cutting him a key, "I would appreciate that, I'd like to pitch in down here like you are." He looks around Caldarium, which he visited with Gilroy not too long ago, his eyes widening a bit at the improvements. "And it looks like you've been pitching in quite a bit." He doesn't go overboard, but the admiration in his voice is apparent. And to her warning concerning Gilroy's temple, he raises a brow and gives a Whatever you say, boss shrug. This temple, which might give Kindred outside The Family reason to come down here, presents a security concern that Cross decides to address at a later date, with Gilroy directly. Now isn't the time, though.

After she sits, he finishes his inspection of the changes to the space, before focusing his dead stare on her again: "So, tell me about Alice, Alice."