【Ｔｈｅ　ｅｏｎｓ　ｍａｙ　ｐａｓｓ】- Small Group RP (Closed)

Evelyn didn’t quite understand what this answer was meant to mean. She thought maybe he meant he was okay with getting in trouble for turning people - she didn’t think much of that idea, why turn someone in the first place if it would be dangerous for you? - or maybe that he didn’t expect people to escape once he’d decided to turn them - which was probably true, wasn’t it? - but she didn’t ask. It wasn’t really that important.
“Yeah, probably,” she agreed with a one shouldered shrug. “I’m just saying. Once you’re caught once, it’s a lot harder to fly under the radar. Better to keep your head down all the time, not risk it being put on record, or whatever.”
She glanced at the store up ahead, noting that they seemed to be headed that direction. Fair enough. She was curious to see what they’d see.
“What would I do…?” She repeated quietly, not looking at him. Her visible eye was narrowed a little. “You mean, besides not having to worry about being killed all the time? I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter, does it? We aren’t free.”

strider

(Late, but finally did it.)

Germain entered the building with hesitation, looking around with a bit of puzzlement on his face. He knew where he was, but he wasn't sure if he had the right time. Instead, he entered the library and glanced toward the front desk. Hum. The person he'd been looking for wasn't there.
He glanced around briefly, then continued through the stacks. He amused himself pouring over the new fiction sections. Then his eyes trailed toward the nonfiction and he headed down that aisle instead. His head came to a point just above the shelves, while his eyelevel was just a bit too high to be a good placement. The shelves were at least decently packed with books. He just wasn't particularly sure what brand of book he was looking for. He was just looking for something to pass the time while he was here.

George spent a lot of his free time at the library. Technically, he spent a lot of what wasn’t supposed to be free time at the library. It wasn’t as though the teachers actually cared if he showed up to school, though. As far as they were concerned, if he was getting good grades it didn’t matter if he was actually there. Sometimes, George liked being a good example. He sat up straight and proper, choosing the desk nearest to the teacher so he could best pay attention without distractions from the rest of the class. Unfortunately, he already knew a lot of what they were teaching, and he got bored quickly. Not to mention the teachers didn’t tend to enjoy being corrected by a twelve year old. It was stupid that he had to go to school. He had learned plenty over the past several centuries – he didn’t think there was much more he could learn from sixth grade.
There was someone knew in the nonfiction section, hovering near the biographies. He wasn’t alive. At least… he didn’t have a heartbeat. George moved a little bit closer, trying to figure out more about the stranger. Trying not to be seen himself, though he hadn’t ever tried to avoid detection by a fellow vampire.

Avoiding detection from a vampire seemed pretty amusing to any vampire who was being avoided. Germain was no exception. In this case, he found himself perfectly aware that George was there after just a couple seconds. Though in George's defense, it was because he'd been searching for a vampire. And seeing a bit of movement without the tell-tail human sounds did just the thing for alerting him.
Though that did brooch the question of whether or not he should address it. After a long while, Germain went to flipping through a book. Though that didn't stop him from half looking at where George was - were his line of sight clear - to try and work out why. Why was the other vampire here? Was there something wrong?
Or maybe Germain was just reading too much into a little, uneventful interaction?
He didn't know, but he waited to see if George would make the first move.

It would seem that there wasn't going to be any interactions for the time being. Germain frowned down at his own book as he sensed George's eyes on him. He wasn't sure what he should say to try and get a conversation starting, so instead he said to his book, "It's on Slavic mythology."
He carefully closed his books and replaced it on the shelf again. He glanced over at George. "And what brings you here?" He sounded mildly amused, just a bit. After all, it would seem that George was trying to avoid him or trying to see what sort of vampire he was. Or any number of things.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked cheerfully, reaching out again and choosing another book from the shelf. He didn't actually look at it too closely this time. Instead, he just flipped through it and looked through the various pictures. They were nice. He didn't have artistic talent in this direction, however. Heh.

The thing about groups was that they were never just that. There was the general group, of course, made up of everyone who’d ended up there for whatever reason. Then there were the other, smaller, less visible groups within the group. These were the things you had to learn about slowly, without being told.
Cvetko was not part of a miniature group, but they were a member of the larger one, which was a good start. They knew Joe and Jocelyn were a group. They were pretty sure George and Shengying were, too. The others…Cvetko didn’t have enough information to know yet.
It was often a good idea to let mini groups come to you first. If you avoided being an awkward third wheel, things went better for you.
Cvetko paused outside Shengying’s room. They had a habit of keeping track of everyone. The two in question were currently hanging out in there.
They supposed they could find someone else. But they got the impression these two would be the most interested in their find, so they knocked a light pattern into the door and stepped back, waiting.

“Hm… I think I have about twenty more until it’s done,” George replied, holding his project up to the light. It was a sock, knitted in finger weight yarn that was extremely slow to build up. Fortunately for George, he had learned patience somewhere around the turn of the twentieth century. Or perhaps before that… he had lived a long life, and the centuries tended to blend together. He could keep the faces straight, but the dates… he knew when he had met people. Their faces and names stuck in his heart and refused to budge, but he had little to no concept of when he had learned to knit, or when he had started assuming the best of people instead of the worst. Or if he had ever started assuming the best of people. He was still rather wary of his new roommates. He wasn’t used to them yet, and a good number of them had very different ideals than George did.
The knock sounded at the door and George barely avoided starting. It was a quiet knock, some sort of rhythm or something. He hadn’t yet memorized the habits of everyone in the house, but if he had to guess… the musicality of it probably belonged to either Cvetko or Jocelyn. Jocelyn would have done it to be flourishing and dramatic, but Cvetko likely would have done it absentmindedly… it wasn’t long or dramatic enough to be Jocelyn. Everyone else’s knock would have been simple and straightforward. Except, of course, Shengying, but they were in the room with him…
George looked up, eying the door as he waited for it to open.

| Shengying | In the apartment |

The room was well organized, and free of cobwebs thanks to Flav- er, George's help. A few porcelain trinkets were on the shelves, some silks hanging, an ornately carved wooden comb, as well as some more modern touches- one of the porcelain bowls had some hairbands in it. But it was still quite neat and uncluttered.

"Nothing too busy- technically, I've got forever to finish this." Shengying joked, setting down the needlework. They caught a glimpse of Cvetko trying to take a peek at the room, and glanced back down, not wanting to make Cvetko feel like they were defensive or like, No, you can't look at my room. Honestly, Shengying wanted to see Cvetko's plants at some point. They'd seem them carrying in some quite spectacular ones.

"An art museum?" Shengying repeated, starting to nod their own tentative agreement, looking at George to gauge his reaction. They'd be interested in going, but not if George didn't want to go. They felt a responsibility to look after him. He was a quiet kid, and they valued the moments where they just did craftwork together, occasionally talking. There had been days in the past where he had never talked, and the most they could hope for was a nod of acknowledgement as they talked at him. But luckily nowadays the two of them had grown as close as siblings.

Cvetko | In The Apartment

Ah, they’d been right, then. It had been pretty clear to them before, but the glance Shengying sent George, a silent question the other vampire could undoubtedly read better than they could, and the nod in return…yes. This was a group, and one Cvetko was not a member of. There was undoubtedly history here, as rich as any they planned to go and see in a museum, moments lost to time but still important because they existed in not one, two heads.
They were a visitor in someone else’s life. But wasn’t that how all relationships began?
They smiled a little as their offer was accepted, and stepped back so they were no longer blocking the door. “Wonderful,” they said brightly. “I was thinking we could use the public transportation to get there. I prefer to walk most places, but alas, it’s a bit too far. Do you need anything before we go?”
They weren’t in any hurry. There was the whole day ahead of them, and all of tomorrow, too. Being as old as they were, things tended to feel a little less urgent. Plans were made to be changed on a whim. They were willing to follow the others wherever they wanted to go.

One of the most frustrating things about child labor laws was that George no longer had an income. He could acknowledge all the good that child labor laws had done for the world, he could recognize that children were now allowed an education, and he could be pleased that he had been part of the movement to change the way things had been. He was, however, annoyed by the fact that he wasn’t technically a child, though he was still covered under those laws. All it meant was that he didn’t have his own money for public transportation.
George knew that Shengying would be willing to cover him, but it was annoying to have to rely on them whenever he wanted to buy something. It also meant he had to live under their budget. It was fine until they only had a certain amount of money in a month and decided they absolutely needed an antique outfit they had seen. Not that it really mattered… George didn’t need all that much to live. He had moved around enough that he had managed to whittle his belongings down to what would fit in the tiny chest sitting in his room. The drawing from his brother. A piece of bark from Roanoke. A faded ticket. The scrap of fabric that Shengying was still probably mad at him over. He had a feeling he would take something from the apartment, too, but… it would be small. Small enough to fit in his box. George shook his head of the thought, then looked up at Cvetko and gave a small shake of his head. He pulled his beanie up from where he’d set it on the couch, pulling it comfortably over his curls.
“What sort of art museum?” he asked quietly as they began moving towards the entrance to the apartment. “Historical…? Modern…? A combination of both?”

Evelyn looked at the other vampire for a long moment before she followed his point to…a stack of rubber balls? She narrowed her eyes at them. They looked completely harmless to her, but she thought there had to be some sort of reason for them to be pointed out to her. Unless he was asking if she wanted one?
She had no idea why she would want one of those. They seemed completely useless, except for getting in the way.
“I think if you want one, just go get it,” she told him, looking back at him for a long moment. “Unless you have something else in mind.”

“I guess,” George replied, pursing his lips as he thought. “I mean… they’re calling stuff that was made over a hundred years ago ‘modern art,’ so maybe that art style will be known as ‘modern art’ forever. They’ll just have to make it like ‘the modern art movement of the 20th and 21st centuries.” He crossed his arms, then glanced between Cvetko and Shengying. He may not have known as much about Cvetko, but he knew that Shengying really liked some things about modern life and could easily have passed up other things. George was the same way. ‘Modern art’ really wasn’t his thing. He liked poetry, and he enjoyed reading his own meanings into other people’s writing, but he had a hard time doing the same thing with art that didn’t really look like anything. It just seemed pretentious.
They were approaching the metro, though, and George’s thoughts were soon forgotten as he looked up at Shengying. Hopefully they would be willing to pay for his ticket without him directly asking. He was ashamed of the fact he couldn’t pay for his own, but it wasn’t his fault he had no source of income. He never thought he would miss the days of selling newspapers.

"Germain," Germain introduced. He could have given a longer title. But as it was, he didn't care too much to convolute an interaction like this.
He seemed slightly curious about the mythologies that George had just listed. But he didn't end up commenting beyond just the knowledge that George had said anything with a nod.
Then, because he supposed he could, he questioned, "Do you often come here?"
It wasn't one of the libraries he frequented. He did indeed have larger and more reflective collections for his interests at his home or in other locations. But if he was here for meeting a person, he was curious about why George found an interest here.

George looked over at Germain, giving a brief nod in recognition of the name. He would do his best to remember that. He had gotten better at knowing names over time. When he was little, it didn’t matter much. The only names he needed to know were the names of people in positions of power. If he didn’t remember a servant’s name, it wasn’t exactly a big deal. Now, though, he wasn’t only dealing with servants. Forgetting was impolite. It was respectful not only to know their name, but to make sure to refer to them by it the next time you saw them. Assuming, of course, that you were going to see them again.
“Often enough,” he replied after a moment, not meaning to sound quite as blunt as he did.
“I’d like to come here more often,” he said finally, glancing back towards the shelves. He didn’t want to give too many personal details. Germain didn’t need to know that he had just moved to the area. “I assume you don’t visit that often, if that’s a question you had to ask? Or… were you just being polite?”