Absinthe
Art Nouveau decor throughout the main lounge pays homage to an era when architecture and interior design were the perfect marriage of form, function and art. The walls are purples and pinks that blend into more subtle hues with the constant green lighting. Small tables with four tall chairs can be found scattered about the room. Large purple couches can be found nestled between the table sets, and in front of a smaller stage used for poetry readings.
The bar itself is long, taking up the entirety of a wall. Tall chairs are scattered on the patron side, and behind the bar is a beautiful greenish glow. The glow comes from the shelving where the majority of the alcohol is stored. The nearby glass racks reflect the glow splendidly as well.
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It's still fairly early in the evening, and Absinthe is having one of its regular poetry nights, it's fairly busy, most of the area surrounding the stage is empty, yet as usual Michael has found himself somewhere fairly open to sit, currently he's on one of the couches giving the stage, and the poetry being read there. He gives away little feeling, although it's possible if you know his tells to spot that he finds the poetry amusing. He moves as a table becomes free, taking a quick glance towards the door while he considers ordering an absinthe in advance for Desiree.
The door opens and Desiree sweeps in from the warm, humid night. No rain, for the moment, but the skies are threatening. There's the smell of rain in the air, but this doesn't seem to have bothered Desiree. She's dressed in a flowing lavender gown, one she particularly likes, and one which makes her look almost ethereal. As she negotiates the tables and patrons, she seems almost regal, almost above them all. Michael is seen, and she moves toward the table he's chosen. "Hello," she greets, a smile on her face. Has she been drinking already? Perhaps, but not enough to impair her abilities. She sits, sliding into the chair with a waft of exotic perfume. The only thing which seems out of place is the cast on her left arm, and the dark purple silk scarf wrapped around her throat. "Thanks for inviting me out. I was going a little stir crazy."
Michael nods, with a smile of his own, the first genuine one of the evening. "It's good to see you're feeling up to going out again." He rises from his seat. "I'll get you a drink and then we can talk. There are a few things I'd like to discuss." He speaks in low tones, so that no human other than Desiree could hear. He also take the opportunity to make sure there are no other vampires in the bar, it only takes a quick check to be sure after all. "I take it you'd like an Absinthe?"
"Absinthe would be perfect," Desiree replies, smiling, albeit with a somewhat distant, abstracted expression. "Talking would be good. Are you sure this's safe enough for a serious conversation?" After recent events, she wants to be dead certain she's not going to be overheard. "I wouldn't want what we say to reach the wrong ears." She settles herself in the chair, slipping her lacy shawl off her shoulders. Purse is set on the table. "I admit I was a bit surprised at your call, but pleasantly so. Like I said, the walls were beginning to creep in on me, and sleep was impossible. Have you been here long, then?"
Michael nods slowly. "I'll be just a minute." He disappears his search continues, and not surprisingly turns up no other vampires, it does however turn up some absinthe. Placing the drink on the table, he sits across from Des, leaning forward so that he's close to her without risking drawing too much attention he once again speak quietly. "It's safe to talk as long as we're careful not to be overheard." He sounds a little amused. "Oh? I'm sure my asking you to spend the evening out with me couldn't have been /that/ surprising?" He becomes more serious. "But I do need to discuss some things with you. Namely my reasons for taking you to the park. I wasn't looking for evidence, I was hoping you'd remember things correctly." He pauses a moment, thinking his words over carefully. "I once told you that there were things we could do that I couldn't tell you about. One of those things is glamouring; it's also why I told you never look into the eyes of a vampire unless you're sure you trust them completely." He leans back a little, but is still careful that his voice won't carry. "I meant to explain this to you before, but honestly you seemed…. distracted. What you remember of the attack at the lake is likely a false memory, when you first mentioned falling down the stairs I couldn't be sure you didn't even believe that. I was hoping that the memories would have been poorly covered and that I could… jog something by asking you to go over the details." It's a lot to drop in one go, but it's also the only way he could think to explain it. "I would have told you before, but it's a delicate matter, I couldn't risk you being glamoured and telling someone else I'd revealed it to you." There's an edge of guilt in his tone as he explains himself.
Desiree accepts the absinthe and the small preparation device. As Michael talks, she busies herself with making her drink. She does it twice, so there's double the amount in her glass. When she's satisfied, she blows out the flickering flame and sips the still warm green liquid. Feeling the strong liquor slide down her throat, she nods, letting her eyes meet Michael's for the first time that evening. "Thank you for telling me," she says, voice barely above a whisper. She knows his acute hearing will pick up her words; no need to even speak at normal levels. "Problem is, I already know what happened, that my attacker glamoured me into thinking it was someone else. The one I remember—" She pauses, taking a second sip. "As much as I'd have loved to see him punished, he's innocent of that wrong-doing, at least." Her words are still a whisper. "And, since I've no real memory of the night, there can be no justice served." The last words are tinged with bitterness. "So, I'll bear the scars of this attack for the rest of my life, and he goes … free." The rest of the drink is downed in one swallow. "Explain to me why I shouldn't be angry."
Looking at Desiree Michael frowns. "You told me you didn't see anyone." There's a hint of anger there, but it's gone in the next comment. "And you have every right to be angry, but you're wrong. I won't stop looking for whoever did this, and if I can't convince anyone else to deal with him I'll do it myself." He sounds sincere, his tone laced with cold anger. "I will see the attacker brought to justice if it's at all within my power. I promise you that."
Desiree doesn't seem to be upset at Michael's anger. She quietly prepared another absinthe, then looks him in the eyes. "I said nothing because I knew you would do just that— go after him. So, I kept it to myself for your protection— and my own. My attacker was a very clever man, Michael. The false memory he put in my head kept me from going to both human and vampire authorities." Bitterness again. "And how I know he's innocent of attacking me? He told me himself. He and another I've no reason to disbelieve." A sip is taken, then, "And, please don't ask me to give names. I won't. Not to you, not to anyone. That, too, is for your protection, and mine." She lowers her eyes, twirling the half empty absinthe glass between her fingers. "Better you should try to help Paige find the vampire who attacked her and Hugo. At least he'll leave a trail you can follow. My attacker covered his tracks far too well, and since there's no one to accuse…? There can be no justice for me. Even you can't produce someone who left no memory of himself in my mind."
"I will speak with the authorities about the Egyptian, he's far simpler to find." Michael's anger doesn't seem directed at Desiree anymore, it's focused sqaurely on the attacker once more. "There may be no trail in your mind, but there are other ways to learn such things." He looks at Desiree. "I can't promise I'll find him, but I will try." He arches an eyebrow. "It would help if I knew /who/ he implanted in your memories however. It would help me find suspects." He shakes his head. "But that can wait until later, we are out, we may as well try to enjoy the evening." He offers a grin to Desiree. "I will admit I've always found open mike nights at poetry readings…. amusing. Not to mention insightful."
"I'll give you the name only if he gives his okay," Desiree says softly. "It's his name, and I'd as soon not mention it lest he find some kind of offense in my doing so." She takes a breath, turning her eyes to the stage. "I wrote a poem once, for a creative arts class. The instructor found it … disturbing." The corner of Desiree's mouth quirks up in a smirk. "She said it creeped her out, and told me there was a very dark place inside me." Her laugh is low and throaty. "She doesn't know the half of it. She'd run screaming if she knew all the things I want to do to the vampire who left me with these scars." Desiree levels those jade green eyes at Michael. "I think even you might be surprised at what I could do to my attacker. I suspect, though, I'll not have a chance at him. The one he wronged besides me will probably deal with him harshly." A pause. "Provided we ever find him."
Michael nods slowly looking at Desiree. "There's darkness in all of us, the trick is in trying to decide how much to show the world." He shrugs looking at the stage. "Few people truly reveal themselves in their poetry, they simply write what they want the world to see in them. Especially those who want others to see their work." He sips his blood. "That's reasonable, although I wish you'd been honest with me in the first place… I had no intention of doing anything with out a plan, it would have given you plenty of time to ask me not to go after him if you had reason for that." He meets Desirees' green eyes. "I will hand him to you bound in silver if I ever find him."
There's something dark and deadly that flickers through those green eyes, something that almost makes her eyes glow with demonic fire. "I will hold you to that promise, Michael," she whispers, her voice as cold as ice. It's common knowledge, now, what silver will do to a vampire. Thanks to the FotS and their latest creation, "SilverSpray (tm)." The gleam in her eyes gets even darker as she laughs. "I would so enjoy seeing him writhe and hurt, like I did. I'd make him crawl, like I had to, bleeding and battered— " She stops, closing her eyes and shuddering. "I want my memory back, Michael. I know it's impossible, but he not only violated me, but he raped my mind, and I want those memories back. I don't want to remember the wrong person." She finishes off the second absinthe, and prepares a third. "This is my last, I promise. Tonight is not the night to over-indulge." There's logic and reason in her words, and she turns her attention to the stage where a whiny youth in black spins an epic tale that leaves his audience yawning.
Nodding Michaels' expression becomes distant. "I remember. I know the feeling of being attacked and having control taken away." He frowns a little studying his drink for a second. "I also know that in the last few nights of my life I was glamoured at least twice, but the… attack I remember although the details are sketchy." He smiles faintly, although there's no sign of humor or affection there. "It was only after I died that I had it explained to me what I was." He shrugs a shoulder. "Still I will do what I can, and until then I'll be more than happy to do whatever possible to make you feel better; as hard as I know that will be."
"I'd even go so far as to beg you to make me a vampire, so I'd have some kind of … of power amongst your kind. Vampires take the word of vampires far easier than they do from a mere human," Desiree says, but it's the absinthe and bitterness talking. She doesn't really mean it; that's easy to tell. "You've helped me face many things, Michael. You've helped me … beyond measure. Some things, though, I have to work through by myself, and I suspect this anger, this bitterness may be one of those things." She takes a breath, toying with her final glass of pale green liqueur. "Everyone tells me I'm a fool for not letting you stake a claim on me, but as much as that would help protect me, I want to be a target. I want him to come after me again, and maybe … maybe I can survive to see him punished." Yeah, she's talking wild, now. Insane thoughts muddled by alcohol. Abruptly, she lifts the glass to her lips and tosses back the entire contents. "I need to go home now. Please take me home, but I want to be alone. No offense, but I have a lot to work through, and I can't do it with someone else present." A pause. "Please. I promise I won't do anything stupid, just … I need alone time."
Nodding Michael looks at Desiree. "I won't turn you. You would likely regret that, and you /don't/ want to be a target again. That won't solve anything." Michael smiles a little as he studies Desiree. "That was something I meant to discuss. I had intended to wait until you had recovered, but now seems as good. "I'll not be staying round often… I may even pick up my things next time I am there." He stands offering his hand to Desiree. "I will of course still be there if you want to call me, but I think it best if you get some alone time as well." Michael looks at Desiree for a moment. "I want you to sort out /your/ feelings Desiree. Last time we spoke you told me you didn't know how you felt about me, I still want you. I want you to be sure that you still… care for me in a romantic fashion." He meets Desirees' eyes for a moment. "But then I guess that answers that." His own feelings aren't at all apparent as he leads Des to the car, there's nothing more said, the fact that Michael has no wish to is obvious.
Desiree rises as gracefully as she sat, the lavender floating around her like a cloud. She smiles, and enigmatic, haunted smile filled with a plethora of emotions: remorse, relief, regret. A hand lifts to stroke Michael's face with the back of her fingers. "You're a good man, Michael Isonzo. You deserve someone who will be what you want them to be. I will always treasure our time together. If we're meant to part, I'll always be there for you, should you need me." Her lips then brush against his, and she turns toward the door. Desiree drifts between the tables toward the door, leaving in her wake a trail of exotic perfume. She steps out into the muggy heat of a Dallas summer night. Halfway to her place, the rain begins. Tears for the parting of friends.
