Dancing bears and painted swans [Marcus]

[tristan]

The Young and Rich
And I just don't give a shit

All the lights and machinery surrounding him was not needed. It was a façade that he put on to his ‘employees.’ Of course Tristan was the only one who would work the machinery. He lied through his teeth each time they asked him about how something worked. He gave an articulate reply that left them stunned in amazement at the genius of his brain. Tristan was good at facades. He enjoyed making people believe what he wanted them to believe. It was a control issue. Tristan liked to be in control of everything. If something did not go his way, well it could end badly. He wasn’t the smoothest stone in the bunch. He had many different facets to his personality that intertwined together to make him what he was. Tristan was a god to his group. Someone that should not be trifled with, but worshiped for his many talents but if they only knew how he managed to dazzle the crowd each night. If they only could see that what made him so extraordinary was that he was indeed a damned creature destined to spend an eternity trapped in this porcelain body forever. No, he was not unhappy for he knew that his body was indeed very beautiful. He had mesmerized girl after girl, not thinking twice about it. Tristan had no heart or care for this world. He had only had an obsession with illusions. Everything was a game to him, he was too young still to realize that things held a price. That everything changes with time, but he was to naïve still to understand this. With time, Tristan would grow to understand everything. He’d realize that his life that he was living now would change as the times changed. With a deep sigh, he nodded for the curtains to open.

The red hanging drapes moved with a new sense of reserve, Tristan waited on the stage as the crowd’s noise muffled. Everyone’s eyes were on him. A new sense of rush exploded within him. Attention was another of Tristan’s deadly sins. He enjoyed having everyone close their mouths in aw of him. Quickly as the crowd became silent, he painted a picture in his mind. A garden, one of his favorite themes, but his garden had stone walls. Everything was draped with flowers and vines, as the sun shone in. Of course this was all unreal. No need to worry about his skin turning into a million rainbows. His mind swayed as the colors dashed along the walls and had the crowd in a field of flowers surrounded by a cracking circular building that was open for the world to see. “Welcome,” he purred silkily to the crowd. “Welcome dear friends to my humble abode. I trust you shall enjoy your stay here as you see one of the most alluring and enticing shows that has ever been.” He held out his hand, a small dove appearing before it as it fluttered out into the crowd until it disappeared into a burst of fireworks. For that was what they were called, regardless of whether the crowd knew this term or not, for Tristan didn’t even know the name of it. He just knew how to make the crowd awe. “For you will see things that are past your grip of imagination, and though everything feels real, it is a mere illusion. Or is it?” He turned to walk along the stage, basking in the glory of his performance. He watched as a few women winked at him, remembering their faces for later. He’d always remember those that threw themselves at him, for he enjoyed a one night stand as much as the next man.

The show lasted an hour or a little more. Tristan’s mind was partially spent, needing a good dose of blood to wave off the new feeling of hunger and tiredness. Waving his crowd off politely, he issued the curtains closed. Italy had produced a bigger crowd than he had anticipated, but it was rewarding to him. His workers congratulated him on yet another superb performance. He nodded, asking them to clean up his things while he retired to the back room, set up specifically for him and his personal needs. He would have to hunt tonight, but first he would need a dose to refresh him. Closing the door, Tristan moved to his cabinet and took out a vial. Drinking the red liquid down with one gulp, he set it back down feeling better within seconds. He smiled, noting the faces in the crowd. How wonderful it had been. He was still not at his best, finding some tricks harder to do than others, but he was getting better through practice. He’d drain himself dry if he could if it meant that he could practice more. Shaking his head, he put thoughts of practice out of his head at this time. It was time to feed and have a bit of fun. He had been working entirely too hard. Coking his head from side to side, Tristan moved to open the door and move back out to survey the workers progress. “Be careful with that Antonio or it’ll be your head,” he said half frustrated at his new employ. How moronic these humans could be.

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[Marcus]

Seemingly unbeknownst to the performer another vampire could be found in the crowds. Highly seated in the gods, blending to the shadows sat another immortal dark reddened eyes watching the stage with interest, a long spindly finger as white and hard as polished marble to reddened pouted lips. He sat utterly unmoving but a white face to the darkness of his surroundings, the long span of hair cascading into a long straight river of silk. One leg sat pompously thrown over the other as if the old theatre was his home. And the show… it intrigued him. These ideas of illusions and magic were not new of course he had seen magicians and ‘wise men’ throughout the years about to conjurer things to amaze and entice but in this era with the added machinery it was fascinating to watch. He had known the moment the entertainer had stepped upon the stage he was a vampire the touch of immortality reeking from his pale flesh, he held himself with the cockiness only a vampire could possess knowing full well he was prettier then the humans and knowing they knew it to. Truly it was strange for a vampire to be in Italy and for Marcus to have not met them. He watched absolutely unmoving all eyes to focused on the stage in awe to even notice the strange silent, still statue of a man. He rose from his seat as the audience erupted into applause as the curtains fell, slipping through the adoring crowds through the foyer and to the deserted streets.

It was dark now, late save those who attended the performance and the desperate peasants beginning to arrive to beg or attempt to sell to the rich. He looked quite the part; easily fitting into the scene of Italy at it’s finest. Long ebony hair trailed down his back, framing a handsome face, so hard and pale it could have been stone. He was dressed like many of the upper class, long tailored coat left happily open to flap against the cold breeze, sharp riding boots covering auburn breeches accompanied with the dark shirt and waistcoat of the era. And yet regardless of the fashionable attire and the confident way he held himself, seeming to glide rather then walk he looked terribly out of place in the cloths he wore, terribly out of place in the whole time around him – yet he doubted any mortal would notice. He found it entertaining to imagine what he appeared – just another desperate man wishing to escape the tight prudish religious restraints of the century in the arts of the theater then an evening with the paid comfort of a woman’s breast.

Boots clicked to the damp cobblestones, the smell of damp bricks flittering to his nose after the obvious rain. Silently he slipped along the streets and down the small alley leading to the backstage of the theater. It was an old trick, to walk with a cool allure and confidence – to look like you belonged and no-one would ever question you. He walked with his head held high not once stopped as he moved through the hallways easy placing the vampires scent amidst the hoards of mortals. It was rare that Marcus was intrigued yet this young vampire with his tricks had quite captured his attention.

He slid silently into what he knew to be the mans ‘room’ eyes glancing over the flowers and letters from adoring fans, little pieces of machinery and clothing here and there. He moved silently into the room, lowering himself into the chair beside the huge mirror, legs coming up to rest on the coffee table before him as he waited. It didn’t take long. Soon the vampire was at the door, he waited still until once more it closed and darkness consumed the room.
“Quite a show.”

[tristan]

Tristan was not amused by his staff at all. They were incompetent fools. He paid little or no attention to the comings and goings behind him. It was foolish indeed, but he was far too busy with the hustle and bustle to notice Marcus Volturi slipping into his private chambers uninvited. Would he have stopped him even if he had known? Who knew? Tristan was a private man though, so there was no clue as to what would have happened. Presently, he was more fixated on firing the lot of them and doing the work himself. All of the machinery was for too tedious and the façade was tiring him. What would the fools do if he told him that all of it was not real and he was a true magician? They might be stupid enough to believe him, either that or string him on the rafters for witchcraft. Oh the Salem Witch Trials. He chuckled to himself, another man beside him giving him a small smile. Tristan quickly frowned, glaring at him. “Get back to work,” he half growled before he knew what he was doing. “We are on the road again in three day and all you lazy slouches can do is muddle around and think of all the bars and women you could have your fill of while in Italy. You should be ashamed of yourselves. First you work and then you play.” He huffed mildly, helping a man with a particularly heavy piece of equipment.

Shifting his gaze over to a particularly beautiful set of women, he moved quickly to set the machinery down and introduce himself. It took a matter of minutes before he had one lovely lady in his grasp. He black pupils with hints of red in them not discouraging her passionate kisses as he walked her down the hallway into a closet. No one would miss her, she came in a lone and she would die alone. Like so many of his other victims, he felt no sense of pity as he started kissing her neck. If he were a more passionate man, he would have made some form of love to her, though he preferred to call it lust. Tristan however was not the romantic at heart and therefore, felt no grief as he sunk his teeth into her peach flesh and drew out the most heavenly of liquids. She would be dead in a matter of minutes and his hunger would be sated for the night. It was a win win situation. Tristan knew how pathetic the girl’s life was, so he helped her hurry it along.

Dropping the body, for he had no care for it anymore it had served it’s purpose, he exited the closet and wiped his tainted lips. No one was outside, and no one saw the pair walk in the closet together. He would not be tied with this girl at all, though she was sure to be found in morning in due time. The thought bothered him not at all, instead, the blonde found a new joyous stride in his step as he made it to his room. That was until of course he felt the presence of another. It wasn’t just another human, it was another vampire. Curiosity peeked his interest as he opened the door to a smiling male, who was handsome in the face and well dressed. Closing the door behind him, Tristan arched his brow looking into the darkness at the figure. He moved quickly over to light a candle. Once the room was illuminated he started at him blankly. “Well I’m pleased you enjoyed yourself….Mr?” He raised his hand to the candle and moved it across the room so that they could talk and see each other at the same time. While he did this, he also lighted a few more candles.

“Now should I ask you as to why you are in my personal chambers. Not that I’m at all opposed to guests, it just seems a bit peculiar that one such as yourself would enter another man’s room without some form of invitation. What brings you to see me?” He did not like people in his room or in his space. It was his and his alone, but this man had yet to explain himself. There was obviously a perfectly logical explanation as to why the dark haired man was seated in his make shift room. He had met few vampires in his life and this one seemed old. The thought was slightly worrisome for he didn’t think he could have possibly ran into the Volturi. That was madness. The Volturi held no interest into a traveling passerby.
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[Marcus]

Marcus merely watched him with a hint of amusement as he lit several candles, questioning his presence. His eyes cast over the boy thoughtfully, his cheeks and eyes filled with the after feed glow he must have only fed seconds ago and with that thought Marcus` nostrils easily caught the scent of a fresh corpse not to far away. The boy was handsome Marcus was renowned for being one who appreciated beauty no matter its manifestation. He had come from a different time there was none of this sexuality debate, no-one even considered it you courted and slept with who you pleased and no-one truly gave a damn. Still Marcus had forever found women more appealing and did to this day be it as lovers or friends but with age came boredom and with boredom came that need to try everything. Truly there was nothing Marcus had not done and now and again indeed a young male would come along to allow his eyes to roam. Even Marcus could not deny Tristan was attractive with a mop of blonde hair, dark eyes and a strong jaw.

The first time Marcus had entered a relationship with a male had been a few decades after his change, travelling the world having met a handsome young slave in the deserts of Egypt (for the innocence of poverty was always something of appeal to Marcus) who had become his companion for almost a year before Marcus tried and left Egypt what became of the boy he knew not though now and again his thoughts would wonder and imagine. From then on Marcus was more aware of himself, he knew he didn’t truly have a sexuality merely a love of beauty no matter what shape and form it came in for him.

He merely smirked at the boys demands for his motives finding his questions and slight hinting he thought Marcus` actions rude rather amusing.
“Your tricks are enthralling.” He answered simply – honestly truly Marcus found himself deeply interested and in truth longing to know just how they were performed. Marcus was a curios creature by nature having always been the one who asked the demanding questions, who desired to know everything and anything from the creation of vampires to the hows and whys of simple magic tricks. “Like every fan I wish the magician to divulge his secrets.” He told him simply hands falling together long fingers resting to his thick pouted lips as he watched him with those dark eyes sparkling with a strange mirth as he obviously taunted this man slightly.

“It’s not everyday a lowly illusionist is invited to the Volturi manor for drinks.” He told him simply an invitation to his word as he lounged in the chair as if perched in a large throne, hand coming to rest on his jaw long white fingernails drumming against a high cheek bone as his eyes finally left Tristan scanning around the room, lingering on machinery with a slight interest and curiosity.

((Crappy sowwie))