LEFT TO MY OWN DEVICES//CLOSED

[Avery Blake]

tagged for rosalind
Vault

He sat in the Tea Shop, a favoured past time of his - because it reminded him of England. Avery’s mouth quirked into a fleeting scowl, blue grey eyes sliding disinterestedly past the window he sat at without really seeing through it. Despite his best efforts and foul moods, Avery was coming around to his placement in Beauxbatons. He smiled to himself, acknowledging that perhaps he had been a little cutting when he’d described the Academy as a ‘heathen filled slum’ in his owl to Brennan, his mentor. Upon considering that - he decided he hadn’t actually been entirely untruthful - it was a heathen filled slum, but it had surpassed his expectations in that he had found a handful (and he could literally count them on one hand) of beings here that he didn’t find it entirely distasteful to spend time with. Now that was an achievement, he hadn’t been able to make a statement like that in over a hundred years.

Despite that revelation, he still wasn’t entirely convinced as to what ridiculous thoughts had been running through his mentor’s mind when placing him here - he couldn’t see what this ‘academy’ could give him in life that his credit card already didn’t. The thought was typically Avery, but it lacked the vehemence and maliciousness he usually managed to put behind it. It troubled him slightly, as he’d managed to survive, particularly in the last few years, on being a cold hearted and unfeeling little sod. Was he going soft? Leah’s face flashed vividly into his mind, and he relived the crushed, defeated expression he’d managed to rip from her upon their first meeting. The mere fact that it bothered him still was confirmation he was going soft…and he was further appalled to realise he didn’t quite know what to do about it. Perhaps this was as Brennan intended, that he be surrounded by people that would beat him into submission with their niceness.

He hooked a long, pale finger into his coffee glass and drew it towards him, stirring it elegantly. He didn’t intend to drink it, he didn’t like coffee, wasn’t really his palette. He ran his tongue subtly over his hidden canines, his closed mouth smile rueful. Besides, his insomnia didn’t need any further assistance in keeping him awake at night. And the breath it left on some people. Disgusting. He’d taken a the odd bite into a coffee fanatic only to find their blood saturated in its bitter darkness. Avery supposed the drink and he had that in common at least.

[rosalind dillon']

Already she was growing tired of the palace. It was the longest she’d stayed in one place for some time and she couldn’t say she was particularly fond of the situation. Rosalind really had little invested in the place, but she’d done as she’d been advised, knowing that despite what she wished it was in her best interests to be versed in the formalities of society. She’d never been very accustomed to human lifestyle, not since she’d been robbed of her mortality – not that she’d had much time on her hands when she’d had it. She’d never been keen on human company as it were, they made a much better meal than they did company. As it were she’d grown accustomed to her lifestyle, situating herself in the vast society only so long as it took her to find a tasteful bite. She looked the part well enough, but she knew just as well as the others that she had little knowledge on how to function in human society.

She hadn’t been particularly interested, but the times were changing. It wasn’t so easy as it used to be, fleetingly passing through cities unnoticed. As keen as she was on staying away from the humans and their wretched cities, she was realizing that it was getting harder bypass them. So she’d settled here in France, trying to thread her way back into society. It was all a bit frustrating, really. Sighing Rosalind lifted her grey eyes to the city streets, watching as people disappeared into open shops or scatted down side alleys. She had left the palace early this morning, after having spent the night battling authorities with a girl who’s fiery hair did nothing to match her temper. It was amazing how much authority these children thought they had. Rosalind had finally left the girl sitting in the room, reveling in her pleasure at having outmatched her. What did the girl know? She was only lucky that she hadn’t met her in a foul temper. Despite the girl’s insistence, Rosalind knew that she was not the one who needed protecting.

Her dusty grey eyes faltered as they passed a small window, situated on the small city corner. She stopped in her tracks as her eyes backtracked, taking a closer look at the individual seated behind the glass, finger hooked in a mug as he slid it closer to him. France was just full of unlikely surprises. There was no doubt in her mind; his stubborn, cool stature could only belong to no one else. It had been some time since she had seen his face, one of the few she’d ever shared any company with, if only for the fact that he had as much distaste for everyone as she did. Turning into the shop, she raised a curious brow when she realized he was seated inside a tea shop, the strong scent of coffee wafting from the doors.

Not that I ever thought much of it, but you’ve really lost your taste haven’t you Avery. Flicking a finger against his mug, she settled into the seat directly across him, not bothering to wait for an invitation. Lips curling in the corner, Rosalind brushed her raven locks from her eyes as she drew her gaze from his coffee mug, letting it rest on Avery’s familiar features. It’s as bitter as those that drink it. Though, with that in mind I’m sure it suits you well enough.

Bad start, bleh.

[Avery Blake]

Avery stared into the frothy depths of the coffee, his thoughts turning from present to past. He hadn’t seen his mentor for over fifty years until a few months ago. Brennan had returned and made no bones about taking the necessary action he felt he needed to redirect Avery’s rather chaotic path through life. Aveyr hadn’t resisted, because he felt tired of living, strangely vacant. He’d never been particularly emotional even as a mortal, but in becoming a vampire he truly had come into his own. It hadn’t been a choice…no it was a much baser reason than that. A simple animalistic need to survive. Brennan had offered him revenge as a side dish, and he’d willingly taken the opportunity given to him. That had earnt Brennan the final place in Averys heart before he’d sealed it with ice, and his eternal gratitude.

Was that the reason he was here? A return for the favour given to him so long ago? Brennan had no hold over him, and at any point Avery could have walked away. Yes, Brennan was much stronger than he - but they both knew he wouldn’t despatch his only fledgling. His musings only further confirmed that attachment and emotion were a weakness that served only to restrict and wound. It was those attachments that had him here at Beauxbatons, and those again that prevented him from leaving and disobeying the instructions of his mentor. Despite this, he found he rather enjoyed the direction of another - his own choices and path had proved to be brutal and bloody and had become increasingly erratic.

Not that I ever thought much of it, but you’ve really lost your taste haven’t you Avery.

Speaking of the past…“Always did drag your heels when moving with the times Rosa…” He lifted the cup to his lips, but didn’t drink it - smiling coyly from behind the glass and instead savouring the scent. Avery hadn’t expected her to ask to be seated, Rosalind had never been one to abide by social norms. He didn’t doubt that if she’d thought he expected her to ask, she would have deliberately seated herself to spite him. It was a trait he liked in her, because of course, he would have done exactly the same thing. Aside from Brennan, his maker, Rosalind had been the only other soul (or rather lack of) that he’d found acceptable to spend an extended amount of time with. Neither would have been sentimental enough to have ever deemed the other a friend, infact they would have found the application of that word repulsive - but they had shared a close relationship. It had been based entirely on blood lust, mutual disdain for the prey they hunted, and a terrifying lack of emotional attachment for anything, including each other.

It’s as bitter as those that drink it. Though, with that in mind I’m sure it suits you well enough.

Avery laughed shortly, returning the cup to the table. “What I can I say…like attracts like. Which provokes the intriguing question…what are you doing here? You don’t like mortals.” Unlike him, Rosalind had no obligation toward her maker. He sniffed briefly, his lip curling. ”You’re even starting to smell like one…” Avery’s blue grey eyes narrowed considering. Rosalind’s distaste for mortals surpassed even his own, but from the scent that clung to her clothing he could tell she was staying in pretty close proximity. Perhaps more had changed in the centuries they had been apart than he’d realised.



//sorry, mine too...

[rosalind dillon']

You know as well as I that change never flattered me. Rosalind said with a smirk, settling comfortably into the booth, her grey eyes pinned against Avery. Though it seems to have done a number on you. She cut frankly, her gaze following the mug of coffee to his lips, a coy smile playing at the edge of his lips. She’d never been fond of coffee, not even in her years as a human when she’d has a less distinct palate. She’d spent years surrounded in thick scent due to her fathers market in trade and she’d developed a strong distaste early on, one of the few traits she’d carried into this life. It was bitter and dark – while she was both it held no favor for her. I was hoping you’d more refined tastes. Flipping her raven locks over her shoulder she leaned forward across the table. Despite the fact that he was musing about in some fancy tea shop there was no doubt that this was Avery, his chiseled features dark as ever. I’d half a mind to invite you out for dinner. She said a short laugh on her lips. I’m sure a pretty little blonde would better serve your appetite.

It had been sometime since she’d last seen his face. He’d been one of the few individuals she’d been able to keep company with and even that had been relatively short lived in the span of things. Avery was one of the few, if not the only person, who’d been able reside in her misery – if only because his own was so close in nature. Not much had changed in times passed, not for Rosalind at least. She couldn’t find it in herself to think of him as anything more than company, her heart to cold to warm to anything more endearing. Admittedly she’d shared a closer relation to him than with most, a large portion of her younger years they’d spent their time stalking the streets picking out favorable prey. Unless my only dinner company would rather sit here and inhale such a nauseous scent. She employed. She wasn’t particularly in need of his company, but it seemed far more favorable than the vermin she’d been surrounded with for the last months.

Don’t insult me so. With a sneer, she turned away in distaste, but she was sure he was right. Though she could say nothing better of his own scent, overwhelmed with human interactions. Well you’ve kept your memory intact I see. You’re right I don’t like humans.. No better than he did. She actually quite despised them and the children here weren’t hearkening anything favorable from her. It would seem I’ve forgotten my humanity. She said, twirling a slim finger between her locks as she laughed, if that wasn’t the joke of the century – she’d never had a shred of it. Pity there are still those stronger than me or I’d be off hunting in Brazil or the like. She said waving off handedly. While I was never fond of life, I’ve become quite accustomed to this one and I’d like to avoid a stake to the heart. You still tending to your maker, then?

[Avery Blake]

“You know as well as I that change never flattered me…Though it seems to have done a number on you.”

There wasn’t much that didn’t flatter Rosalind, and she was simultaneously arrogant and oblivious to it. In fact, the best wording for it was irrelevant. She would see it as such. After a time of finding that your looks alone were enough to attract a meal without really trying, they were easily taken for granted, even more so with her…Avery often found he tired of how easy it made it all. Blunt as ever, she made no effort to hide her distaste at his choice of entertainment.

“I was hoping you’d more refined tastes.”

“Leave if you don’t like it.” He remarked, his conversational tone slightly marred by the yawn he allowed at the end. Perhaps to another, their exchange would seem rude, but he knew Rosalind wouldn’t take offence. Their abrupt, to the point conversation left nothing to the imagination and ultimately allowed for no misunderstanding. It was minimal headache talking to Rosalind. If she thought it, she said it. He appreciated that about their relationship. The majority of the time he didn’t have to consider any ulterior motive with her.

I’d half a mind to invite you out for dinner. I’m sure a pretty little blonde would better serve your appetite.

“I am partial to blonde at the moment…“ He smiled sharply, eyes snapping to her face. Leahs face flashing into his mind. Now that pretty little blonde was one he wouldn’t be sharing with her…she wouldn’t understand. Hunger rose abruptly in him, but mixed with the sudden wave of emotion Leah’s face evoked in him he felt quite sick. He was under specific instructions not to touch the students here…but did that discount the townsfolk also? He was torn between the desire to finally hunt again, it had been too long these last few months, and the revulsion he imagined Leah’s face would reflect should she ever find out what entertainment he sought out on his city breaks. He forced his expression to remain devoid of the inner turmoil he felt, furious at himself. Was this what Brennan had hoped would happen? Avery wasn’t really letting one stupid little blonde student ruin everything he could be? He wasn’t a mortal anymore. He couldn’t expect to have normal things, a routine life. It didn’t work like that anymore. He was destined for greater, bloodier things. “This academy has ruined my taste buds.” He growled.

Don’t insult me so.

Avery couldn’t resist a small smirk of triumph, both at her irritable reaction and the knowledge that his assumptions had been correct. He didn’t doubt he reeked of mortal as much as she, but then he was aware of own circumstances, and the abrupt fork that had led him to be so ‘involved’ here. Hers, as of yet, were still a mystery, and undoubtedly would remain so unless Rosalind had a reason to say otherwise.

“Pity there are still those stronger than me or I’d be off hunting in Brazil or the like. While I was never fond of life, I’ve become quite accustomed to this one and I’d like to avoid a stake to the heart. You still tending to your maker then?”

Avery laughed dryly. He was. Unfortunately. Had Avery had no maker…there was no question that he would have been a much different vampire. His maker Brennan, had on occasion, forcibly and physically restrained him from doing things he felt Avery should refrain from taking part in. At least when he caught him. Almost like a rebellious school boy, all those years ago Avery had once run away. It was how he’d met Rosalind. Then together the pair of them had embarked on a mission of bloodshed and disregard for mortal life wherever they so fancied. Avery sighed, looking distantly out of the window for a long moment. He had been on the cusp of being the greatest vampire in the world, his humanity all but a shred remaining. Then Brennan had intervened, as only a Maker could. Dreams came crashing down. And now look at him.

“Yes it is a pity.” Avery responded after a long moment, his disappoint genuine, expression regretful. The nagging imagery of Leah still remained, but Avery was determined to quash it, turning the subject onto the past - a place he knew both he and Rosalind would much prefer to be in. “I feel we were on the edge of something beautiful. Unfortunately there are those that intervene…” He met her gaze, mouth pursing. “Tell me, however did you rid yourself of your Maker. I’m rather tired of mine.”

[rosalind dillon']

”Leave if you don’t like it.”


It wasn’t unlike Avery to be so forward, in fact she could expect nothing less from the vampire. He’d no more need for her company, than she of his – though it had little influence on her decision to remain seated. For once it would seem, she had nowhere better to be. Rosalind never took much to heart, in partial consideration to the fact that any emotion that had once lingered there had long worn away. Besides, she liked the cold clarity she received from Avery and it left little room for interpretation. “Given the circumstances, I’ve really no better place to be.” She stated simply, offering a curt shrug of her shoulder. And it would seem you’ve no excuse to rid yourself of my company. In fact, I’m sure it’s more tasteful than the dreadful contents of your cup.”

“I am partial to blonde at the moment…“

A smirk played at the corner of her lips as his gaze met her own, his features set with a sharp smile. Thought that might snag your attention. She toyed, tracing her finger against the grain of the wood as she spoke. Though I seem to recall you fancied brunettes. She queried, her gaze trained on those features she’d known so well all those years ago. Or has my memory finally forsaken me? I’ve always fancied blondes, so you’ll hear no complaint from me. In all actuality, she found she really favored no one over the other. Human was her only fancy. Hunting had never proved much a struggle for her, or Avery either for that matter, it was hard to find a girl that didn’t fall prey to astonishing features. Their ignorance was humorous really, how easily they lost themselves to a charming face. Clearly. She stated matter of factly, eyes turning once more to the mug curled in his fingers.

Huffing she let her arm retreat from its place on the table, drawing it back to her lap. Rolling her eyes at his delighted smirk, she settled back into her chair. Rosalind had no doubt that Avery knew she would rather be any place but here. If she’d been here by her own choice, the circumstances most certainly would have been different. Her priorities were not the same as those around her. Rosalind had no interest in keeping with the times nor did she have any interest in keeping low key. She was a vampire and she was meant to hunt. It was perhaps the only thing she particularly enjoyed.

Why you’ve let it is the more important matter at hand. Brennan or no, I’d hate to see you go soft. Brennan was perhaps the only thing that had pulled the two of them apart. In all the years she’d known Avery, she’d never much cared for his maker – not that she cared for anyone. If anything had ever held Avery back it was him. She let a smile skirt her lips when he spoke again. We were something beautiful Avery. And indeed they had been, roaming the streets where they pleased with no abandon. Mine was much too forgiving. What’s a vampire with a heart. She said laughing, her maker truly had been weak. A compassionate human, but he’d not made it long in their world. He’d suffered, his life having been a monstrosity in his eyes, but not before he’d sought to save the sickened girl from her sure demise. He’d been better off leaving me for dead, perhaps he wouldn’t be there himself. Too bad Brennan himself isn’t quite so pitiful. Makes ridding of them an easier task