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edenfallingI figured out some plot points for later on in the story, all of which amuse me to no end. I can't wait to get there! For now, though, Ariadne's POV picking up right at the end of part 4. (1,825 words)
My preemptive apologies for throwing pretty much every French epithet Jean-Claude ever uses into the space of five hundred words.
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Weregild, part 5
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Ariadne flew to the roof of the motel and pressed herself flat against the bare concrete until she heard Arthur curse and shut the heavy door to his room. Then she dusted herself, sat cross-legged, and stopped pretending to be human.
It was easy to be still. For all that her body feigned life and her heart pumped stolen blood through her arteries, she'd been a corpse for three nights until her maker's power convinced dead flesh to wake. Stillness was every vampire's base state, a pale reflection of the death their last sparks of mortality were wrapped in.
Ariadne closed her eyes and reached into the heart of her power, touching and tasting the essence of the two men below her. Yes. She had them; she knew them. So long as they remained within her range, she could track and identify them no matter how well they hid. Jean-Claude would be pleased at that advantage.
Ariadne set aside the memory of Cobb's power, noting only that while he was definitely a lycanthrope, the only sure thing she could say about his species was that he wasn't a fox. His beast didn't have the tactile closeness of an animal she could call.
Arthur's power, though. That memory she drew up and savored. He tasted of darkness, stillness and silence: an echo of death wrapped in mortal life instead of the other way around. Like the Executioner, only without the constant pulse of fury disturbing the peace of the grave.
Arthur was an animator.
Jean-Claude most likely knew that already, since Asher had been familiar with both Arthur and Cobb, but Ariadne planned to report the information anyway. Jean-Claude knew she could distinguish basic types of magic when she read power signatures. If she didn't tell him everything she'd learned, he would know she was holding back. Then he would start wondering what else she might be keeping secret.
She preferred him not to pay attention to her.
Ariadne waited half an hour to see if either Arthur or Cobb planned to leave the motel, but the door remained shut. When she took a chance and drifted down to the sidewalk and leaned against the curtained window, she heard the shower running. They would almost certainly stay put for the rest of the night.
Ariadne flew back to Guilty Pleasures, which had slowly started to empty out -- only the hardcore vampire junkies tended to stay past one o'clock, when the stage shows ended. The private rooms were all occupied, however, which was a good sign. The club had been running slightly in the red since Robert's death and Jean-Claude's decision to add female acts to the male lineup. Ariadne had been trying to play up the club's reputation as the oldest legal vampire strip club in America, raising the atmosphere a bit, and apparently that was starting to pay off with the more serious clientele.
She wished she could dump the manager's job on someone else altogether, but orders were orders, and Jean-Claude knew she was good with numbers.
Ariadne debated over feeding before she went to face her master. She had an agreement with most of the bartenders -- it was astonishing how much more amenable humans became to such things if she promised never to bite them and allowed them to open their own flesh with their own knives -- but Jean-Claude might interpret that as insubordination. And there were always willing bodies at the Circus.
She decided to remain hungry for the moment, and made sure the closing staff knew not to wait for her before shutting down. Then she began walking through the District toward the Circus of the Damned, delaying the inevitable a few extra minutes.
Jason Schuyler, Jean-Claude's pomme de sang, was waiting for Ariadne in the employees' parking lot wearing a smarmy grin on his face and not much by way of clothing -- just black leather shorts and a strategically torn sleeveless white t-shirt that left vast swathes of his torso bare. His nipples were peaked and obvious in the cool autumn air. Jean-Claude's idea of advertising, Ariadne supposed. She admitted his body was attractive, but short blonds weren't her type, even discounting the turn-off of Jason's personality.
"Hello, pretty lady," Jason said, sliding forward and trying to wrap an arm around her waist. "The boss wants to see you ASAP."
Ariadne caught his wrist and squeezed, hard enough to break human bones. She counted to ten, opened her fingers, and watched a bruise bloom and fade on Jason's skin. "You belong to Jean-Claude and I'm not interested. Hands off."
"One day you'll give in and admit you like me," Jason said, still grinning, but he backed off a respectful two steps and kept his hands to himself as he led Ariadne down under the Circus. "I'm not asking for much, just a smile and maybe a laugh at one or two of my jokes. Even Anita gives me that much."
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "I'll laugh when you're funny. Right now, you're simply immature, annoying, and overly forward." In fact, most preternatural creatures who weren't utterly submissive tended to be overly forward. Dominance hierarchies might be the most effective way to maintain order among predators, but they tended to give the people the delusion that power could substitute for consent.
"Crushed again," Jason said with an overdone sigh. Thankfully he remained silent for the rest of the descent.
Jean-Claude had a disconcerting habit of holding meetings in bedchambers, but fortunately for Ariadne's peace of mind, Jason escorted her to one of what she thought of as the small audience rooms -- stone chambers Nikolaos had kept empty and dank for intimidation value, but which Jean-Claude had ordered to be cleaned, lit, and decorated in faux Sun King style. Ariadne rather liked the effect: she hadn't seen daylight in nearly sixty years, and the explosion of color and texture reminded her of all the things night and death had muted.
Jean-Claude was lounging behind a heavy oak desk. Asher stood like a statue at his back, arms folded and face set in disapproval. Jean-Claude was harder to read, his model-perfect features relaxed and welcoming despite the warning whisper of his power that hummed through the room.
"Go to my rooms, mon loup," he said to Jason. "I will join you presently."
Jason grinned and backed into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.
"Well?" Asher said into the resulting silence.
"Arthur and Dominic Cobb are staying in the Motel 6 off I-270 near Bellefontaine," Ariadne said. "They're alone. I tasted their powers, and I can track them anywhere in the city whenever you wish. Cobb is a lycanthrope; I don't know what type. Arthur is an animator. I believe they are dangerous men, but they seem to have approached in good faith though they're wary of vampires in general and you in particular."
Report finished, she settled back on her heels and watched Jean-Claude and Asher exchange a speaking look.
"Tell me what Dominic said to Asher about Saito," Jean-Claude said.
Ariadne blinked, reaching back to that tense conversation. "He said... that Saito doesn't like failure, and that he hadn't spoken to them since San Francisco."
Jean-Claude swept his hand through the air in a cutting gesture. "Non, Ariadne, not in your words. Give me his words. Exactly as he spoke them."
Ariadne closed her eyes and concentrated, drawing on the memory for detail that she'd cultivated out of sheer terror of missing some nuance Nikolaos wanted to know. "Asher said, 'But perhaps you are still tied to Saito?' Cobb said, 'Saito doesn't appreciate failures. We haven't spoken since San Francisco.' He seemed nervous and awkward, but he was nervous and awkward through most of the conversation." She opened her eyes. "That's all."
"He did not lie," Asher insisted.
Jean-Claude turned his head to look up at his second. "I do not doubt you, mon chardonneret," he said, his voice like a warm caress. "However, the truth a man speaks is not always the same as the truth another hears. Speech is not the only way to remain in contact, and depending on who Dominic meant by 'we,' there is nothing to tell us that Saito has not spoken to Arthur. Saito is a master of deep and subtle games, and Dominic spent a half century dancing attendance on the Council as Mallorie's tiger. We would be unwise to underestimate them."
"We would be unwise to overestimate them, too. Without Mallorie to bind them, Dominic and Arthur have no standing and little power. They cannot touch you," Asher said.
This time, Jean-Claude's gesture was languid, an airy dismissal. "Yes, yes, I know. But their presence is a sign that greater forces are in play and we would do well to be alert. I will call ma petite and ask her to attend the meeting tomorrow night. You will contact Richard, since he is currently entertaining the illusion that if he ignores me, I will cease to exist. He cannot continue that foolishness. If Saito and Fisher bring their battle here, we must, as the saying goes, all hang together lest we each hang separately."
The visible half of Asher's mouth quirked upward, and he leaned down to murmur something in Jean-Claude's ear, too quietly for Ariadne to distinguish the French syllables.
Ariadne cleared her throat, snapping the men's attention back to her. "Do you need me for anything else?" she asked.
Jean-Claude smiled. "Not now. When you rise tomorrow night, find Dominic and Arthur immediately and report their location to me. Tonight, you are free."
"Thank you," Ariadne said, ducking her head and stepping into the hallway. As she turned to grasp the doorknob, she saw Jean-Claude reach up to press his hand against Asher's ruined cheek. She closed the door as quietly as she could, and made her way to the more populated areas of the Circus.
She fed from one of the wolves the Ulfric had tacitly ceded to Jean-Claude, then retreated to her room and laid sideways on the queen-sized canopy bed Jean-Claude had given her when she'd expressed her dislike for sleeping in a coffin. It was larger than she usually needed -- her only dalliance since Nikolaos's death had mostly taken place at her lover's house, until he decided he wanted children and dumped her for a human woman -- but it had been a nice gesture, and she liked the extravagance of the silk hangings contrasted to the dark solidity of the wooden frame and posts.
But enough drifting.
Ariadne spread her arms wide and closed her eyes, falling into the center of her power. She had been special to Nikolaos because she could find anyone -- not just people to whom she had a link, like a human servant or a mind-rolled puppet. Jean-Claude used her tracking skills too. But neither of her masters had known the deeper half of Ariadne's gift.
She reached for the taste of Arthur and Cobb, and tiptoed into their dreams.
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End Part Five
continue to part 6
back to part 4
---------------------------------------------
So far as I know, Ariadne's gift is not a canonical Anita Blake vampire ability... but if Anita can get a new superpower in each book, I can create new talents too. And this IS, after all, a crossover with Inception. *evil grin*
...I should probably make an index page for this.
My preemptive apologies for throwing pretty much every French epithet Jean-Claude ever uses into the space of five hundred words.
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 5
---------------------------------------------
Ariadne flew to the roof of the motel and pressed herself flat against the bare concrete until she heard Arthur curse and shut the heavy door to his room. Then she dusted herself, sat cross-legged, and stopped pretending to be human.
It was easy to be still. For all that her body feigned life and her heart pumped stolen blood through her arteries, she'd been a corpse for three nights until her maker's power convinced dead flesh to wake. Stillness was every vampire's base state, a pale reflection of the death their last sparks of mortality were wrapped in.
Ariadne closed her eyes and reached into the heart of her power, touching and tasting the essence of the two men below her. Yes. She had them; she knew them. So long as they remained within her range, she could track and identify them no matter how well they hid. Jean-Claude would be pleased at that advantage.
Ariadne set aside the memory of Cobb's power, noting only that while he was definitely a lycanthrope, the only sure thing she could say about his species was that he wasn't a fox. His beast didn't have the tactile closeness of an animal she could call.
Arthur's power, though. That memory she drew up and savored. He tasted of darkness, stillness and silence: an echo of death wrapped in mortal life instead of the other way around. Like the Executioner, only without the constant pulse of fury disturbing the peace of the grave.
Arthur was an animator.
Jean-Claude most likely knew that already, since Asher had been familiar with both Arthur and Cobb, but Ariadne planned to report the information anyway. Jean-Claude knew she could distinguish basic types of magic when she read power signatures. If she didn't tell him everything she'd learned, he would know she was holding back. Then he would start wondering what else she might be keeping secret.
She preferred him not to pay attention to her.
Ariadne waited half an hour to see if either Arthur or Cobb planned to leave the motel, but the door remained shut. When she took a chance and drifted down to the sidewalk and leaned against the curtained window, she heard the shower running. They would almost certainly stay put for the rest of the night.
Ariadne flew back to Guilty Pleasures, which had slowly started to empty out -- only the hardcore vampire junkies tended to stay past one o'clock, when the stage shows ended. The private rooms were all occupied, however, which was a good sign. The club had been running slightly in the red since Robert's death and Jean-Claude's decision to add female acts to the male lineup. Ariadne had been trying to play up the club's reputation as the oldest legal vampire strip club in America, raising the atmosphere a bit, and apparently that was starting to pay off with the more serious clientele.
She wished she could dump the manager's job on someone else altogether, but orders were orders, and Jean-Claude knew she was good with numbers.
Ariadne debated over feeding before she went to face her master. She had an agreement with most of the bartenders -- it was astonishing how much more amenable humans became to such things if she promised never to bite them and allowed them to open their own flesh with their own knives -- but Jean-Claude might interpret that as insubordination. And there were always willing bodies at the Circus.
She decided to remain hungry for the moment, and made sure the closing staff knew not to wait for her before shutting down. Then she began walking through the District toward the Circus of the Damned, delaying the inevitable a few extra minutes.
Jason Schuyler, Jean-Claude's pomme de sang, was waiting for Ariadne in the employees' parking lot wearing a smarmy grin on his face and not much by way of clothing -- just black leather shorts and a strategically torn sleeveless white t-shirt that left vast swathes of his torso bare. His nipples were peaked and obvious in the cool autumn air. Jean-Claude's idea of advertising, Ariadne supposed. She admitted his body was attractive, but short blonds weren't her type, even discounting the turn-off of Jason's personality.
"Hello, pretty lady," Jason said, sliding forward and trying to wrap an arm around her waist. "The boss wants to see you ASAP."
Ariadne caught his wrist and squeezed, hard enough to break human bones. She counted to ten, opened her fingers, and watched a bruise bloom and fade on Jason's skin. "You belong to Jean-Claude and I'm not interested. Hands off."
"One day you'll give in and admit you like me," Jason said, still grinning, but he backed off a respectful two steps and kept his hands to himself as he led Ariadne down under the Circus. "I'm not asking for much, just a smile and maybe a laugh at one or two of my jokes. Even Anita gives me that much."
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "I'll laugh when you're funny. Right now, you're simply immature, annoying, and overly forward." In fact, most preternatural creatures who weren't utterly submissive tended to be overly forward. Dominance hierarchies might be the most effective way to maintain order among predators, but they tended to give the people the delusion that power could substitute for consent.
"Crushed again," Jason said with an overdone sigh. Thankfully he remained silent for the rest of the descent.
Jean-Claude had a disconcerting habit of holding meetings in bedchambers, but fortunately for Ariadne's peace of mind, Jason escorted her to one of what she thought of as the small audience rooms -- stone chambers Nikolaos had kept empty and dank for intimidation value, but which Jean-Claude had ordered to be cleaned, lit, and decorated in faux Sun King style. Ariadne rather liked the effect: she hadn't seen daylight in nearly sixty years, and the explosion of color and texture reminded her of all the things night and death had muted.
Jean-Claude was lounging behind a heavy oak desk. Asher stood like a statue at his back, arms folded and face set in disapproval. Jean-Claude was harder to read, his model-perfect features relaxed and welcoming despite the warning whisper of his power that hummed through the room.
"Go to my rooms, mon loup," he said to Jason. "I will join you presently."
Jason grinned and backed into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.
"Well?" Asher said into the resulting silence.
"Arthur and Dominic Cobb are staying in the Motel 6 off I-270 near Bellefontaine," Ariadne said. "They're alone. I tasted their powers, and I can track them anywhere in the city whenever you wish. Cobb is a lycanthrope; I don't know what type. Arthur is an animator. I believe they are dangerous men, but they seem to have approached in good faith though they're wary of vampires in general and you in particular."
Report finished, she settled back on her heels and watched Jean-Claude and Asher exchange a speaking look.
"Tell me what Dominic said to Asher about Saito," Jean-Claude said.
Ariadne blinked, reaching back to that tense conversation. "He said... that Saito doesn't like failure, and that he hadn't spoken to them since San Francisco."
Jean-Claude swept his hand through the air in a cutting gesture. "Non, Ariadne, not in your words. Give me his words. Exactly as he spoke them."
Ariadne closed her eyes and concentrated, drawing on the memory for detail that she'd cultivated out of sheer terror of missing some nuance Nikolaos wanted to know. "Asher said, 'But perhaps you are still tied to Saito?' Cobb said, 'Saito doesn't appreciate failures. We haven't spoken since San Francisco.' He seemed nervous and awkward, but he was nervous and awkward through most of the conversation." She opened her eyes. "That's all."
"He did not lie," Asher insisted.
Jean-Claude turned his head to look up at his second. "I do not doubt you, mon chardonneret," he said, his voice like a warm caress. "However, the truth a man speaks is not always the same as the truth another hears. Speech is not the only way to remain in contact, and depending on who Dominic meant by 'we,' there is nothing to tell us that Saito has not spoken to Arthur. Saito is a master of deep and subtle games, and Dominic spent a half century dancing attendance on the Council as Mallorie's tiger. We would be unwise to underestimate them."
"We would be unwise to overestimate them, too. Without Mallorie to bind them, Dominic and Arthur have no standing and little power. They cannot touch you," Asher said.
This time, Jean-Claude's gesture was languid, an airy dismissal. "Yes, yes, I know. But their presence is a sign that greater forces are in play and we would do well to be alert. I will call ma petite and ask her to attend the meeting tomorrow night. You will contact Richard, since he is currently entertaining the illusion that if he ignores me, I will cease to exist. He cannot continue that foolishness. If Saito and Fisher bring their battle here, we must, as the saying goes, all hang together lest we each hang separately."
The visible half of Asher's mouth quirked upward, and he leaned down to murmur something in Jean-Claude's ear, too quietly for Ariadne to distinguish the French syllables.
Ariadne cleared her throat, snapping the men's attention back to her. "Do you need me for anything else?" she asked.
Jean-Claude smiled. "Not now. When you rise tomorrow night, find Dominic and Arthur immediately and report their location to me. Tonight, you are free."
"Thank you," Ariadne said, ducking her head and stepping into the hallway. As she turned to grasp the doorknob, she saw Jean-Claude reach up to press his hand against Asher's ruined cheek. She closed the door as quietly as she could, and made her way to the more populated areas of the Circus.
She fed from one of the wolves the Ulfric had tacitly ceded to Jean-Claude, then retreated to her room and laid sideways on the queen-sized canopy bed Jean-Claude had given her when she'd expressed her dislike for sleeping in a coffin. It was larger than she usually needed -- her only dalliance since Nikolaos's death had mostly taken place at her lover's house, until he decided he wanted children and dumped her for a human woman -- but it had been a nice gesture, and she liked the extravagance of the silk hangings contrasted to the dark solidity of the wooden frame and posts.
But enough drifting.
Ariadne spread her arms wide and closed her eyes, falling into the center of her power. She had been special to Nikolaos because she could find anyone -- not just people to whom she had a link, like a human servant or a mind-rolled puppet. Jean-Claude used her tracking skills too. But neither of her masters had known the deeper half of Ariadne's gift.
She reached for the taste of Arthur and Cobb, and tiptoed into their dreams.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Five
continue to part 6
back to part 4
---------------------------------------------
So far as I know, Ariadne's gift is not a canonical Anita Blake vampire ability... but if Anita can get a new superpower in each book, I can create new talents too. And this IS, after all, a crossover with Inception. *evil grin*
...I should probably make an index page for this.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-30 01:28 am (UTC)He tasted of darkness, stillness and silence: an echo of death wrapped in mortal life instead of the other way around. Like the Executioner, only without the constant pulse of fury disturbing the peace of the grave.
...
Ariadne spread her arms wide and closed her eyes, falling into the center of her power. She had been special to Nikolaos because she could find anyone -- not just people to whom she had a link, like a human servant or a mind-rolled puppet. Jean-Claude used her tracking skills too. But neither of her masters had known the deeper half of Ariadne's gift.
She reached for the taste of Arthur and Cobb, and tiptoed into their dreams.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-30 01:43 am (UTC)I confess I like writing fantasy stories where I can talk about magic powers (and the people who hold them) in vaguely synaesthetic metaphors. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-29 11:13 am (UTC)Also enjoying the view of Jean-Claude through her eyes. It's neat to see how people not Anita or his favorites react to him.
She reached for the taste of Arthur and Cobb, and tiptoed into their dreams.
... OHOHOHOHO.
I dunno, it fits pretty well with some of the other powers. Not everything can be sex-based! XD
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-29 07:05 pm (UTC)Yeah, I figured dreamwalking was within the general realm of possibility, given the other mind powers vampires have displayed. I just wanted to have a note on the record that I am aware it's a power I created, not one that came directly from the books. :-)
Next chapter is for flashbacks and dreams! ...but first I must go shopping and buy a new electric fan. *sigh* Summer. Bah.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-29 09:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-29 09:55 pm (UTC)This is an interesting story to write, because I simultaneously have an outline and have no idea what is going to happen next -- I am writing to find out what happens, and yet so far I'm not flailing around completely lost the way I often do when writing without a scene-by-scene rough breakdown. I mention that because until I started writing this part, I had no idea that Ariadne was a dreamwalker... and yet it makes perfect sense, and has brought some later plot points into focus. :-)
I dithered a bit on what kind of lycanthrope to make Cobb -- I thought about bears and wolves, too -- but a tiger seemed to fit him, for whatever reason.