Renaissance Faire - Damascus Steel

It's late, even by the new extended hours of the Renaissance Fair. The first evening has wound down, and it is now midnight or later. After an eventful evening, Skylar found his way back to the Marketplace, where he sent his employee home for some much needed sleep, and is closing down his booth himself. It's a good excuse to expel some of the pent up emotion - both good and bad - that comes after spending time with a certain vampire-killing witch.

Silent steps carry a short, slender figure towards Skylar's domain. Dressed simply, in black tee and dark jean, the youthful-looking man is fair of skin, and moves with a quiet, catlike grace. He stops and stands motionless, regarding Skylar with a some interest, though his lips bear the faintest of smiles. He's making an effort to play nice.

Because of the silence of the new arrival's approach, and because of his own inner thoughts, it takes Skylar a moment to realize he is not alone. Not to mention to sounds of industry as he secures his wares for the night. When he does finally notice the person, he can't really make out who it is, the light being dim outside the booth itself, with the Fair closing down. "Hello? Sorry, we're closing down… but if you know what you want, I can try and help you. Gonna need to make it quick, though, I'll be back here come morning." His voice and expression are pleasant enough, despite the unexpected arrival, and the late hour.

"Good evening. Now would be good," replies the youthful figure, stepping forwards towards the mortal creature. Accent is tinged with a faintly Southern twang, and his voice is gentle, if distinctly neutral. He stops a social distance away once more. "I asked a few questions," he continues, moving a hand to gesture at the fair in general, "and was informed that you are the most talented weaponsmith here." Glamoured someone, more like. As he comes closer, the paleness of skin and inhuman grace with which he moves becomes more evident.

Skylar has somehow managed to go without interacting a single vampire since the Revelation (that he knows of)… and now twice in one evening? His eyes widen in surprise, his expression unsure… no fear is expressed either by expression or scent, but surprise and uncertainty definately abound. "Ah, well… I'm not sure if that's true, but I certainly take great effort when it comes to my craft. How can I… help you?"

Will picks up the changes in physiology with sharp ears, and regards Skylar with his smile lifting to one side. Amused. "Have you ever worked with Damascus steel?" he queries, reaching a hand around his back to bring forth a sheathed knife, the hilt intricate and bound in a silvery metal, the sheath wooden and carved in a Middle Eastern style; though a very old version.

"Damascus…" Sky begins, his eyes widening further (if that were possible). He stares at the knife as Will brings it forward, utterly entranced. Of it's own accord, his hand begins to move, but Skylar quickly shakes himself, putting his hand back down. "Did… did Chloe send you? I thought she was joking, even after meeting that vampire boyfriend of hers…" Or friend. He -was- corrected on that, but he's momentarily distracted. He can be forgiven - right?

One dark, slender brow lifts for the words. "Chloe?" he wonders, suddenly much sharper of look, and penetrating with it. "Describe this Chloe," he adds, flatly. "The hilt, the steel binding, is damaged and in need of re-attachment," says Will, levelly. "Perform well and I may have further work for you." As though the 350-year old blade is nothing to him. He proffers the sheathed weapon forwards, hilt first, for Skylar to take a look. A deft shift of hand attempts to cause skin to skin contact during the process, though it's a difficult manoeuvre at the easiest of times, never mind while holding a weapon.

"Chloe - red hair, sultry in a demure sort of way, smile that lights up the night," Skylar replies in an offhand sort of way, eyes still focused on the night. In truth, he's using the words that he used to say when describing Christabel, but as her and Chris are so much alike, it's really the same, accurate description - more or less. The fact that he even needed to describe her, however, is apparently lost as he takes the knife in hand - and certainly seems unaware of the skin on skin contact. Will, however, will likely be aware since, not only did he instigate it, but he gets… nothing. No memories, nothing. It's as if they weren't touching at all, for all that he can get.

"Oh, well, of course… wow. This… is a Moro blade, is it not? Mid seventeenth century? And… it truly is real damascus steel? Yes, of course, I'll do my utmost, you've my word on it." Heck, Sky's even apparently forgotten that this is a vampire - for the moment at least.

"Hmm," Will replies, flatly, to the description, filing it away for future reference. For future discussion, with said Chloe. At the touch, which Will clearly felt, eyes narrow a little more, studying the mortal now with even greater intensity. He forces the look from his face, back to the relaxed friendliness. "It is a Moro blade," he acknowledges. "The age also seems appropriate. Do not use silver or gold in the repair. Please contact my assistant once it is completed." As if from nowhere, a small oblong of white card appears between two fingers, again offered forward.

"Hmm? Oh, of course, of course. I always make sure to use nothing but the same materials already inherrant in the item when doing repairs," Skylar replies, nodding his head. Of course, that might be hard if it was damascus steel itself that needs replacing, but such is likely not to be the case. It'll probably take him a moment still to realize why silver was requested - though he may wonder at the gold. Likely, though, he'll just assume that Will is a purist, not unlike Sky himself, when it comes to weapons. "Yes, of course, I will. Thank you." He takes the card when it's offered, still struggling to take his eyes from the blade, but does long enough to glance at the card. "And thank you for the oppurtunity, Mister…?" he trails off questioningly since the only name on the card is a females (likely the man's assistant), and raises his eyes back up.

"Good," says Will, allowing a nod for the first comment. He contonues to study the man, even as he takes the card, and his head tilts a fraction to one side. Clearly considering something. "Grant," he offers in response to Skylar's query. "Your name?"

Skylar pockets the card, then reverently places the knife down for the moment atop a soft leather covering. Then he turns back to Will. "Ah, apologies, I should have introduced myself." Clearly, he was distracted. "I'm Skylar Murphy. Pleased to meet you, Mister Grant." He's starting to recall just who and what this man is, now, but the hand is still held out. Maybe this one's more of a hand shaker then the previous vampire he met tonight.

The vampire's smile wanders more amused now, as eyes flick down to the hand. His own, slender one comes forwards, taking Skylar's in a firm, solid grip. "A pleasure to meet you, Skylar," says he, not quite able to get out of the habit of using everyone's given name. Now his eyes flash briefly upwards, showing only the whites as his power threads through the touch. Now Will is actually trying to penetrate defenses, largely because the first touch didn't work.

Skylar inclines his head - he smile is small, and possibly slightly forced; Mostly, however, it's genuine. He doesn't necessarily trust this Mister Grant, and that's probably clear enough. But neither does he seem to fear or hate him - especially when this vampire comes bearing gifts. "And you, sir," he replies.

As for the super powered aspect of their handshake - well, it's a good thing Skylar is one of those men who doesn't just do a quick shake. The shake is firm, a few pumps - long enough for the first parts of his mind to be breached by Will's sheer power. The first bits are likely unclear, like the memories themselves are out of the corner of his eye, or just around a corner - or, perhaps, in another language, if visions could be construed as such. But then it comes into focus, in bits and pieces - this memory is fresh, put in his mind from the most recent of events. A brunette woman on a dancefloor, her earthen tones sticking out like Skylar's as they are surrounded by a plethora of color. Another event, closely linked is interspersed with this: Watching that same brunette's profile in the distance and darkness, talking with a redheaded woman. Chloe. And beside Sky, a glimpse of a man. Or, rather, of a vampire. Marius. That last memory takes place not far from where Will and Skylar are now.

And then, the memory fuzzes again, as Skylar's hand squeezes Will's and a breath escapes Skylar. The squeeze is clearly inadvertant as Skylar winces, instinctively drawing away his hand likely as Will starts to withdraw his. "Sorry about that… head pain," he says by way of explanation, wincing, his hand moving to his temple.

Eyes flash back down, resting clear blue back on to Skylar. Another quiet "Hmm," escapes his lips, as he brings an expression of faint concern to his face. "Do you need assistance?" he asks, as fingers begin to tap against his leg. He is largely unused to such resistance, and the gentle tattoo of fingers is a clear sign to those that know him that he is thinking, and deeply.

"Hmm? Ah, no, I'm… fine. It was brief only." There's a brief flash of fear, quickly hidden on Sky's face. This is how it started last time - he really hopes that the blackouts won't come back. He hasn't even been that stressed! "I'm fine," he repeats, mainly for his own benefit. Then he shakes his head, clearing it, and smiles at Will. "Anyways, I really should close up now. I'll be sure to let you know the second I'm done. And again… thank you for your trust."

"Of course," says Will, "you should rest if you are unwell." The fear is almost tasted on the air, though the vampire keeps his expression as it was. "Have a good evening," he allows, before he _moves_, a sudden flash of shadow that takes him away from the place, at a speed beyond human dream.

And if Skylar needed a reminder of just what this mysterious Mister Grant was? That would be it. He stares into the darkness for a moment, then turns back to the booth. After carefully wrapping the knife up and setting it gently aside for him to take home with him, he finishes securing the merchandise, locks up the booth, and heads out of the Fair. At a normal speed.

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