History, Red in Fang and Claw

Dallas Heritage Village

Dallas Heritage Village is a living museum boasting thirty-eight buildings. The entrance road, Main Street, leads into the Village proper; left behind are the electric lights of the park and upon entering the world of the mid to late 1800s, gaslights line the street.
Along the causeway, the small town takes form. The Blum Brothers' General Store and the Main Street Saloon sit side by side, their sides in clapboard. Along the side roads and alleyways, the various other services such as the post, the physician's office, schoolhouse and the church can be found. Further in and up against the edges of the village are the two story, pre-Civil War residences of the solid, upstanding citizens of the day including the Millers and the Sullivans.

The night is only just fallen, and the rays of the sun are just down from the horizon by perhaps an hour, at the most. The moon rises in the evening sky, giving off a light that could be described as rivaling the sun in that it shines brightly upon the earth, almost making the street lamps of the Historic Village unnecessary. There are more visitors to Kidd Park, certainly, than the village as the historic interpreters have left and the shops are closed until tomorrow's light.

While Dallas is learning how to be a 24/7 city, there are still some areas that keep to the more traditional hours of operation, and state and private educational facilities are the two biggies. It's the retail establishments that are cashing in…

Upon the gravel path, a lone figure walks, looking at the different buildings that lay upon the causeway. At one, the General Store, Marius changes his direction and takes quick steps up onto the wooden platform that serves as a 'sidewalk', under a porched roof. Reaching out, he checks the doorknob and gives it a gentle shove. It remains firm in its frame, though the chances are good if he gave it another shove, it'd open under the force.

Trey wanders through the semi-abandoned model village apparently lost in thought. His hands are lightly clasped behind his back and his expression as vague and unfocused as a sleepwalker's. It is debatable if the young man has even noticed that the attraction is closed down yet. He's wearing faded jeans, loafers and a close-fitting dark blue shirt that has a silky sheen in the night, all worn with a certain casual, rumpled air to them. Whatever he's thinking about, the faint rattling of the door gets his attention and he focuses, looking towards the figure in front of it from ten or so feet away. His expression is faintly puzzled as he gets his bearings and he says, in a cool, soft, precise tone that seems his normal speaking voice, rather than spurred by any emotion, "I believe they are closed for the evening."

Marius turns around, his neutral expression slightly masked by the shadow from the overhang. He doesn't move from the porch, and so remaining, responds, "It does not appear that they open at all in the evening, which is unfortunate." For them or for him?

Without a glance back to the locked door, the vampire takes a step forward to descend from the porch and looks ready to be on his way further down the road.

"There is a smithy nearby, yes? I have heard that it is within this village," but apparently he hasn't yet found it. "Know you anything about it?"

Trey pauses a moment. His demeanor is still faintly distracted, rather than wary or suspicious. "Ah, in specific or general principle?" He orders his thoughts and adds, "Or are you looking for directions? I believe it is, ah, roughly that way." He makes a vague gesture deeper into the historic village. "I have to admit that I'm here more for general, um, ambiance, than actually recording the details, at the moment."

Following Trey's gesture further into the village, Marius inclines his head ever so slightly. "I see."

As for strolling for ambiance, and being alone with ones thoughts? Why? To what end?

"You walk without seeing." He pauses a moment before, "Distraction can be dangerous. I would advise against it." Marius looks away, blue eyes scanning the middle distance, getting an idea where things are and where.. others are before he returns his attention to the lamb to whom he speaks. "The village merchants are closed, so there is little reason to be here. If the smith is not within and his doors are barred, then there is no use to my presence here." See? Easy.

Trey considers that advice for a moment and says, "Hm. I'm generally safe. And this seemed an appropriate place to work on a paper. I'm trying to pull something new 'and of literary merit' out of a frontier journal that has been passed around among scholars for the last hundred years or so. So it occurred to me, from a conversation I had earlier, that in order to -understand- a person, I might try to approximate their life experiences and environment." He looks around and frowns faintly. "They do seem to have closed while I was, ah, distracted, though. Annoying. Though probably convincingly period authentic." A pause and then, "I take you have some interest in blacksmithing? From what little I know about it, it's fascinating. And the place of smiths in various socio-economic structures through history is a great subject all by itself."

At the explanation, Marius looks.. blank. The expression is less 'uncomprehension' but rather, deadpanned. Impassive. More than a few concepts are tossed around and like wheat, don't take hold in rocky soil.

"Yes, they are closed. You did not notice, then." Like he said, 'distracted'.

"I wish to see some of the items he has for sale in his market. I was told they were of high quality, and it was a boast that requires me to determine if it is correct or empty." As for all the other.. words the form around him, the veteran is aware that it is english, certainly, but .. not something that he's ever really concerned himself with. Really. Ever.

"Have you anything to say of weapons across the centuries?"

Trey gives Marius a faint smile and says, "It's not really my field but so many of the books I work with are manuals of war and personal combat or tactics that I think a little theoretical knowledge can't help but sink in. On the other hand, It would be wildly presumptuous of me to present myself as anything more than a complete dilettante in the field. But I think I'd defer to the wisdom of several masters of various disciplines over the years when they said 'It is the man that makes the weapon dangerous, not the other way around.' Surprisingly how many languages and contexts that comes up in." He pauses and says, "Your accent is interesting. You're a not a native English speaker, I think?" He doesn't quite go as far as to venture a guess as to where Marius may come from, but he's paying more attention now. And for some reason, he feels a faint but unmistakable chill go up his spine. Must be the night air.



More words.

At least through it all, Marius finds something through all the chaff that is cast. It is the man that makes the weapon dangerous is an observation that he understands and agrees with completely. "With a stick, or a stone, if one knows its strengths and weaknesses as well as knowing that of the foe, one will always count their victory."

The young man, though winded, seems to have a few things in which have some grasp in reality, in the 'here and now', as far as the old vampire is concerned. The mention that modern english is not a native tongue is greeted with a slight nod of his head. "It is not. Nor has it ever been. Instruction was necessary from tutors. My native is.. a dialect no longer spoken, even in the region. I do, however, understand well english now, as well as high German."

Trey and even the most oblivious person can catch a clue when it's thrown right into their laps. To a vampire's senses, the sudden pounding of his heart and a wash of flight or fight chemicals in his scent is pretty obvious, though he fights down that first instinct after just a moment and takes a deep breath, becoming more calm, though still a bit nervous. He looks around again, suddenly intensely -aware- of how isolated the two of them are. After a moment he clears his throat and says, in fairly good Middle High German, "I thought that might be the, ah, what's the word, accent, I noticed. Have you ever considered coming and speaking with some language and history experts at the University?"

Marius' response is quiet as he hears the blood begin to pulse a little faster. He can smell the fear, just as he thought would happen as hints are dropped. It's a heady scent, and the vision of the nervous shake as adrenalin begins to pump in that fight or flight reaction that prey have.. it certainly garners more attention.

His words are low now, the accent finding his native tongue. It is an amalgam of High German, Low German, Basque.. all rolled into one. It is unique in itself, and perhaps almost completely uncomprehensible to the scholar. "Run, lamb.. the lion hunts this evening."

Marius waits for a long moment to see if the man understands him, his cold blue eyes now completely attentive.

Instead of pressing, and not answering the question regarding speaking to 'experts', Marius turns his back.. and simply walks away. He still tunes to the scholar, waiting to see if he is actually jolted back to awareness and understanding of what stalks in the night.

Trey turns pale and nods once, at least savvy enough not to press his luck. He doesn't -quite- run. Perhaps under the theory that running just excites an undecided predator. But that's a -very- fast walk that carries him towards the light and crowds that promise a dubious safety.

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