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Martin Sensmeier, photographed by Rick Bhatia

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theartofruling​:

A boom of laughter left Jackson then. “Getting cocky. I think I probably came from the womb cocky. The Gerards wouldn’t have it any other way.  They can try to take me down a peg.” He grinned, looking around at the other competitors. “Some have already pregamed. Some are mere humans. I need those with more tolerance to take them out.” Jackson nodded. “You know I could use you in the art world. Art theft is a tragedy, but I’ve managed to acquire some of my favorite paintings. At this rate the museum has become a place where I display all my favorite things.”

-

“You’re making it very tempting to enter myself, just to make sure your head will be able fit through the door on the way out.” Mischa responded with a raised brow.  Rarely could he be dragged into an event such as this, but between the presence of his old friend and the festiveness of the week getting to him, he was definitely considering it.  “I think my 600 or so years on you should be enough to beat you, don’t you?” he teased.

“How about this, if you win, I will come over and help you whenever to help you avoid such tragedies.  If I win...Donate one of those old paintings I know you must have hidden away?  Help me get back on Yesenia’s good side?”

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nvermore​:

Eryk & (Open @lumenouastarters) Location:  A book shop in Northland Heights 

Eryk had absolutely no idea what gave him the notion to walk into a book shop. It wasn’t like he spent much time reading. Of course he had meetings where he advised Louisa, but there he acted more like a sounding board for her ideas. There wasn’t much advice he could give her right now. His nights were taken up by whoever his current flame was that week. Right now he had been hopping from bed to bed. He kept telling himself that he should keep things light, because when things got more serious feelings got hurt. Normally his. 

He ran his fingers along the shelf as he walked through the shop absentmindedly. Maybe a book shop was a better place to pick up people than a party or whatever tavern he found himself in that night. Or maybe he should just keep his dick in his pants and actually find a new hobby. One that had less heartbreak. 

“Hey.” He called out to a person walking by. “Do you have any suggestions? It’s been a while since I read for fun.” 

-

In some ways, Mischa knew he played right into the stereotypes of vampires, attached to old things, haunting dusty aisles of bookshops when he couldn’t sleep.  But he found it always calmed him, running his fingers over the worn spines of books, picking up faint flashes of who’s hands it had been held lovingly in, wondering if he had once held it in his.  Even more so, he hoped to find a book he hadn’t read in his many many years, and was always pleasantly surprised when he did.  

His instincts had alerted him as people came in to peruse, but he paid them no mind, as much as he’d love to chat, to ask them why they picked each book, what drew them to the title, he knew that for many a bookshop was a place of solitude, so he let them be.

“Well,” he looked up in surprise that someone was initiating a conversation in the quiescent space, “I could suggest quite a lot.  But I’m afraid I wouldn’t do you justice, knowing nothing about you.”

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    мү ωσяsт {eneмy}                         ——–ɪs                                  ᴍ̶ʏ ＭＥＭＯＲＹ

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Martin Sensmeier, photographed by Rick Bhatia

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elijahxatkins​:

“Really?” Elijah turned to look at Mischa at the information he imparted with. “Huh, well whatever happens from here on out, I don’t want any part of it.” He shook his head some and sipped his drink. “Are you enjoying this?” Elijah asked him now, he was supposed to be working but some times you just wanted to pause for a minute.

___

“Staying out of it.  A tried and tested technique.” Mischa murmured in approval.  He had been around long enough to realize that getting involved in the workings of Lume Noua was a fool’s game.  He didn’t think himself cynical for his view that things wouldn’t change, but rather a realist and someone who has been through near on nine centuries of history to know better.  “Well I’m not disliking it,” Mischa answered noncommittally with a shrug and a warm smile. “I find these events to be a bit ostentatious for my own tastes, but not unenjoyable.” He finished, before taking in the man entirely.  “And yourself, enjoying working events like these?”  Mischa figured they must either feel like breaks or wastes of time.

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theartofruling​:

Jackson chuckled at the insinuation. “Now you know that I don’t make the rules. I just play by them.” He said almost innocently. “I think my unfair advantage and high tolerance might be fun to play against. Of course unless other those with rapid healing come into the game, I’ll have some worthy opponents.” At the mention of him betting Jackson nodded. “Then that’s all the motivation I need as long as you’re in my corner.  We can even chat, while I compete, it’s not like this is going to take much of a toll on me for a very long time. How is the museum doing by the way?” The one thing he did love about the Falls was all the history in those museums. His own art museum was a treasure, just as much as the gallery in the heights. 

___

“Mhmm,” he hummed knowingly, trying to hide his smile at Jackson’s antics.  Mischa was glad that throughout all the years he had known him and all the other man had been through he hadn’t lost his ability to have fun and cause trouble, apparently.  And while they had connected over bleak circumstances, Jackson had always been able to draw Mischa out of his introspective ways.  “You’re getting cocky, Jackson, maybe I’ll start hoping on someone joining in last minute to knock you down a peg or two,” he joked.  “--But the museum is good.  Although, Yesenia is currently angered at me for reading the history of a lot of objects and telling her they had to go back to their people and shouldn’t be displayed.  But she usually gets over it in a few days.” he laughed goodheartedly.  His talent for psychometry both a gift and curse for the woman he called his boss, he imagined.

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Michael A. Singer, The Untethered Soul

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elijahxatkins​:

@lumenouastarters​

Where: At the reception.

Elijah was working throughout the wedding reception so he didn’t have time to enjoy anything other than try not to get annoyed at people who tried to distract him from his job. At least it was his turn to swap out now and take a break so he headed towards where the drinks were, pulling his tie off as he went. Coming to the bar, he sat himself down on one of the stools. “Whiskey, neat please.” Probably not a good idea but who would even know? Everyone was having a good time. 

Feeling something in his pocket, he pulled out a card and raised an eyebrow, what the hell was this? Not thinking much more about it, he placed it back into his pocket and took the drink from the bartender before moving around on the stool to people watch. “On the scale of one to ten, how pissed off do you reckon the Southlanders are right now?” Eli glanced at the company on his left. 

___

Reminiscing could be considered one of Mischa’s favorite pastimes.  And at an event with so many old friends and familiar faces from all points of his lengthy life, the man found himself chock-full of memories, giving him a warm and nostalgic feeling in his chest.  That is until he saw a face he would have preferred had been lost to time and it’s erosive effects on memories.  Quickly excusing himself, Mischa found himself looking for a vice he hadn’t turned to in a fairly long time, and soon enough ended up swirling the dark amber contents of his glass, as he thought on the times the person who disconcerted himself so greatly belonged to.

Even while his mind wandered elsewhere, his senses honed by centuries of time and instinct never dulled, and his mind subconsciously picked up on the man seating himself down nearby, enough so he wasn’t surprised when he spoke up.  “They’ll forgive, eventually.  They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again.  Long memories, though.  They tend to forgive, but never forget, in my experience.”

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pulvisctumbra​:

Eyes narrowed at his words though she wasn’t surprised at what she’d heard when Never one to make empty threats ( although perhaps if there had been a handful made in her lifetime they’d all been to him ) a withering look was aimed in his direction before she rose smoothly from the seat she’d only recently claimed. Two purposeful steps were taken, fully intending to make good on her promise and cut their conversation short there and then. But her desire to have the last word, or rather not let him have the last word, was far stronger. Her steps slowed slightly as she adjusted her path to pace rather than stride away. Heels still echoed across the floor, almost providing a backing to her sharply pronounced words. “You make it sound as though you’re not the only one paying attention to me. All eyes are on the blushing bride.” The hand which held her glass in a light, delicate grip waved over towards the happy couple as if to prove her point.

To anyone else she wouldn’t have wasted the breath it would have taken to explain herself, mostly because she didn’t think it required an explanation. But something about the way he seemed to view her so cynically always made her want to protest. “Besides, I think you’ll find I did plenty of smiling earlier. It’s been hours, I’m within my rights to have grown tired of it.” Sip of her drink was taken, for a heartbeat intended to leave her defence there but found herself unable to resist another dig. “We can’t all be as magnanimous as you.” 

___

He did feel a bit guilty, his words coming off harsher than he had meant them to, sounding more like a reprimand and less like the tease he had intended.  Mischa had always been exquisitely mannered, a bright contradiction to his sire, enough so that it often made up for his incessant questioning and nosy nature.  But perhaps it was Yesenia’s own sharp nature that whittled his soft tongue into something more pointed.  Or that her self confidence seemed so strong that she could more than take a few playful jabs, leaving Mischa relaxed at sending them her way.  But his remorse only heightened as she plucked herself off her seat and began to walk away.  Though, he should have known better.  He hadn’t known Yesenia very long, especially in comparison to others he knew in Northland, but he had very quickly learned that it seemed she always had the need to maintain the upper hand.  And how could one obtain that if they walked away without a word?  

“We both know that plenty of people are paying attention to you,” he scoffed, “You are a countess, after all.” he quickly clarified.  “It’s a wedding, a joyous event, usually he smiling comes naturally. ---- Well I’ve had 800 years of practice, give yourself another five centuries or so and you’ll get the hang of it. ”

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Martin Sensmeier, photographed by Rick Bhatia

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theartofruling​:

Jackson felt as though participating in the drinking competition would be easy for him. Though he’d probably get bored halfway through and simply drop out on his own rather than keep going the rest of the night. Though for him, it would depend on who was competing. If it was someone rather annoying, he’d stick it out. Jackson was petty in that way, but he’d even own up to and admit that he was if need be. 

“Now what if I was loosening up. It’s not as though I can stretch for this,” he joked. “I was actually trying to decide if I even should compete. It almost feels like cheating considering it takes quite a bit for us to even be intoxicated. Are you thinking of competing? I’ve even considered competing up until the moment when I’m bored and then bowing out, though if there’s someone that will annoy me with their bragging still in, I’d probably stay in just for the hell of it.” 

___

“You do have a point,” Mischa mused, he wondered if prepping for a drinking competition was anything like how back in the day competitive eaters would ready themselves for their contests at fairs and other such events.  Do you make sure to drink before hand, give yourself a base to begin with?  Or do you abstain?  It had been so long since had gotten genuinely drunk, he really couldn’t answer.  “Might make it a bit more fair, too.” he finished with a raised brow and small smile, as if implying that to compete with such an unbeatable tolerance was cheating.  

“No, no competing for me.  Although I was thinking of maybe placing a bet.  Let me know if you do end up competing though, then I’ll definitely know where to put my money.  Maybe end up with a nice donation to give to the museum or something.” 

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who: @pulvisctumbra​ ( selene barrera ) where: wedding reception

Mischa was talked out.  It wasn’t often that it happened, in fact, in the past hundred years he was fairly sure he could count how many times it had on one hand.  Between the seemingly endless activities and competitions and his familiarity with almost all who attended the wedding and reception, he found himself falling back onto his old tested and true: people watching.  Dark eyes swept over the room, tracing over the figures of attendees, cataloguing those he knew against those he didn’t, finding the former column to be heavy and the latter to be light, with a few falling right in between of seeming familiar that he figured he must knew a relative of some sort.  

A person from that pesky middle category broke away from the herd, and his eyes tracked her on instinct, the primal part out of threat assessment, the other out of curiosity.  Vigilant senses took note of a small tinkling sound, followed by the parting of air as something moved through it, and before he could think, his body was moving to catch whatever it was before it hit the floor.  A delicate, gold bracelet shone brilliantly against his tanned palm.  It’s downfall; one small chain ring of many broken in half.  Perhaps it was the drinks he had imbibed while flitting around to talk to his many old friends, or the suddenness in which he had grabbed the object, but his guards were down and without meaning to , Mischa was reading the object, visions of it’s owner flashing before his mind’s eye before he could stop it.  He tended to keep this skill turned off, or at least down, finding it both incredibly rude to do without permission as well as somewhat annoying when every item had a past.  

He paused on a young, familiar face, which when he looked up to the bracelet’s owner, he now knew why she had been in that known unknown category.  it had been many years since he had seen her, and despite knowing her only briefly wondered how much she had changed.  Or hadn’t.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he offered, holding out his hand, palm open to show the bracelet.

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-Because nothing in this universe happens just once.  Nothing.  Infinity goes in both directions.  There is no unique event, no singular moment.  -I don't know what that means. -It means you will get another chance.

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who: @theartofruling​  ( jackson gerard ) where: holiday drinking competition

For a small moment, Mischa mused about entering the competition, but figured with his accelerated healing it wouldn’t exactly be fair, nor had he ever been much of a drinker.  Eventually he decided he’d have a much better time spectating than competing, always a people watcher.  A sanctioned drinking competition was going to be wild no matter where it was held, but he could only imagine the chaos that would descend on one held by citizens of the Dark World.

His eyes swept the bar, noting competitors and figuring the odds in his mind, wondering if there was a book keeper around that he could place bets with just to see if his guesses were right.  It was then, a familiar silhouette caught his eye at the end of the bar.  “Please don’t tell me you’re pre-gaming a drinking competition?” He asked, a brow raised in amusement despite not knowing if his old friend even intended to enter.