December of 1965
He was not fond of winter. It snowed in Japan, in most of Europe, and in the northern United States during their respective winter months. Thus, when Isabella-sama had made the request that he send an inquiry to Eskra about documents in their possession—a small island country between The United Kingdom and Ireland—he’d in turn requested they locate themselves somewhere utterly lacking in snow while awaiting a response. After all, the back and forth correspondence could take weeks, or months—forcing them to settle somewhere right through winter and into spring.
His initial preferences had leaned towards the Bahamas or Florida—the lower area of North America—but they’d compromised on New Orleans, primarily because the lady in question was not overly fond of places lacking in expensive creature comforts. It was still too cold for his liking, but it wasn’t snowing; and that, really, that the most important insofar as he was concerned.
And he hadn’t been wrong; months of letters sent and received, negotiations back and forth, had forced them to stay for nigh on half a year in the city that was considered neutral territory for those belonging to The Other: vampires, were-creatures, mages, fae, etc. All because he and Isabella-sama had gotten wind that a certain cluster of documents that had once belonged to the Ebon Courts of the European branch had been discovered. Old documents. Ones that had fallen into the hands of the Eskran government. Not that this was the first time such a thing had happened. They’d sought other sources before, all leading to dead ends. Though... he silently hoped this time was fortuitous.
It had to be if Eoghan O'Rourke, their contact, was meeting with them at their current place of residence. He’d be stupid to have wasted their time otherwise. At his own insistence he’d taken a flight to them. Not that Marcus had any need to complain; he’d much rather meet the man, obtain the documents, where he was comfortable—his own territory, however temporary it was. Once he saw them, enough to know they were authentic, he would make arrangement for their half of the bargain.
They’d rented a good sized townhome just off Bourbon Street with a balcony, two floors, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an open floorplan that Isabella-sama had filled with European and Asian antiques. Well... he’d filled it—at her request. In her present form she was incapable of doing so. But it wasn’t like she could wander the streets on her own, not in this modern age. People tended to scream at the sight of a large white wolf. And one of the few spells she could use—invisibility—was good for only so long with her capped power.
At present, his silvery orbs—ones faintly laced with cool blue—were scanning the streets below the iron and stone balcony. He kept to the shadows, arms crossed over his chest as he watched shoppers and party-goers meander about. Bourbon Street was always busy; which was likely why Isabella-sama preferred it here: all the easier to blend in and hide from those she’d rather not be known to just yet. It was a rich benefit of neutral territory that also happened to be crowded. No one really gave a damn, dare they risk you finding out too much about them in turn.
The chill in the night air forced him to don a heavy gray and black silk kimono with geometric patterns. He wore it like a robe, unbound by an obi. Under it was a pair black gauze pants and shirt, both black and well made. His hair, a long wavy mess, was loosely tied in a ribbon and hung over his shoulder in unkempt braid. He wasn’t always so lazy about his dress, but when he was ‘home’ he simply didn’t care. Better to be comfortable, especially when he didn’t have the advantage of soaking up the heat somewhere further south.
Well... if he didn’t see someone heading towards the front door soon he was going to put some hot water on the stove and make some tea. Five more minutes.
That was that.
Time passed, and with a sigh towards the full moon, he turned and went inside through the open French doors.
He was not fond of winter. It snowed in Japan, in most of Europe, and in the northern United States during their respective winter months. Thus, when Isabella-sama had made the request that he send an inquiry to Eskra about documents in their possession—a small island country between The United Kingdom and Ireland—he’d in turn requested they locate themselves somewhere utterly lacking in snow while awaiting a response. After all, the back and forth correspondence could take weeks, or months—forcing them to settle somewhere right through winter and into spring.
His initial preferences had leaned towards the Bahamas or Florida—the lower area of North America—but they’d compromised on New Orleans, primarily because the lady in question was not overly fond of places lacking in expensive creature comforts. It was still too cold for his liking, but it wasn’t snowing; and that, really, that the most important insofar as he was concerned.
And he hadn’t been wrong; months of letters sent and received, negotiations back and forth, had forced them to stay for nigh on half a year in the city that was considered neutral territory for those belonging to The Other: vampires, were-creatures, mages, fae, etc. All because he and Isabella-sama had gotten wind that a certain cluster of documents that had once belonged to the Ebon Courts of the European branch had been discovered. Old documents. Ones that had fallen into the hands of the Eskran government. Not that this was the first time such a thing had happened. They’d sought other sources before, all leading to dead ends. Though... he silently hoped this time was fortuitous.
It had to be if Eoghan O'Rourke, their contact, was meeting with them at their current place of residence. He’d be stupid to have wasted their time otherwise. At his own insistence he’d taken a flight to them. Not that Marcus had any need to complain; he’d much rather meet the man, obtain the documents, where he was comfortable—his own territory, however temporary it was. Once he saw them, enough to know they were authentic, he would make arrangement for their half of the bargain.
They’d rented a good sized townhome just off Bourbon Street with a balcony, two floors, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an open floorplan that Isabella-sama had filled with European and Asian antiques. Well... he’d filled it—at her request. In her present form she was incapable of doing so. But it wasn’t like she could wander the streets on her own, not in this modern age. People tended to scream at the sight of a large white wolf. And one of the few spells she could use—invisibility—was good for only so long with her capped power.
At present, his silvery orbs—ones faintly laced with cool blue—were scanning the streets below the iron and stone balcony. He kept to the shadows, arms crossed over his chest as he watched shoppers and party-goers meander about. Bourbon Street was always busy; which was likely why Isabella-sama preferred it here: all the easier to blend in and hide from those she’d rather not be known to just yet. It was a rich benefit of neutral territory that also happened to be crowded. No one really gave a damn, dare they risk you finding out too much about them in turn.
The chill in the night air forced him to don a heavy gray and black silk kimono with geometric patterns. He wore it like a robe, unbound by an obi. Under it was a pair black gauze pants and shirt, both black and well made. His hair, a long wavy mess, was loosely tied in a ribbon and hung over his shoulder in unkempt braid. He wasn’t always so lazy about his dress, but when he was ‘home’ he simply didn’t care. Better to be comfortable, especially when he didn’t have the advantage of soaking up the heat somewhere further south.
Well... if he didn’t see someone heading towards the front door soon he was going to put some hot water on the stove and make some tea. Five more minutes.
That was that.
Time passed, and with a sigh towards the full moon, he turned and went inside through the open French doors.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
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