goneawayworld | I'm still the talk of this town, I'm still the roll of their dice.

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dan sagittarius

I'm still the talk of this town, I'm still the roll of their dice.

Who: Dan Sagittarius and Beckett
What: Dan and Beckett bond(?) over poker.
Where: The library.
When: Prior to the attack.
Warnings/Notes: None here yet.

Dan feels a little bad underplaying how good he is at poker to Beckett, but on the other hand, he trusts that people who describe themselves as “decent poker players” are generally people who are well into the upper percentages of adept poker players. After all, if you describe yourself as a good poker player, you’ve already indicated that you don’t really know what you’re talking about. Dan’s a very good poker player, so long as they’re only using one deck at a time, because he’s got a fantastic memory for the cards and a practiced, fluid poker face. He’s financed many a trip back and forth across the continent on hustling poker games.

He still hates the library, though, which is why as he waits in one of the little alcove areas with the recliners he’s preemptively shuffling the deck of cards. Being completely illiterate - old school illiterate, the kind that signs that name with an X and needs a witness - is usually just a background handicap in his line of work, but occasionally there are places or things that throw into stark relief that he’s in a world where he’s intellectually got one arm tied behind his back.

But it’s quiet, and he has a bottle of wine, which the lady at the cafeteria gave him after he flirted with her enough to establish a “connection”. It’s not just in her head, either; Dan’s absolutely willing to get unprofessional with things. Anything to break up the tedium of the rig, which so far has been a corporate nightmare full of schedules and fluorescent lights.

He’s looking forward to an evening with Beckett. As far as he’s concerned, they have at least a few things in common, and there’s always something to be said for someone who mentions chess, poker and dancing in their introduction. That’s someone who has at least some kind of taste for intellectual stimulation by the way of both strategy and expression. That’s someone who can tap into both worlds.

“Beckett,” he says with a grin as he sees his new friend enter. “It’ll be a pleasure to get to know you better, and an even greater pleasure to kick your ass at Texas Hold ‘Em.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, it ain't even that I got a reputation. It's just that I've got connections, and it turns out once you have those you have to maintain them. It was easier when I was my own boss."

Where is Dan going with this? At this point he doesn't totally know, and that's a bad sign to him.

"Fold," he says, tucking his cards, unseen, back into the deck. He'll take the loss this time.

Beckett sweeps his winnings over into his pile with a manfully understated smirk. It's not much of a victory, but he's been Kindred too long not to take what he can get.

"Go on, then," he says, shuffling for another hand.

Dan starts to deal the next hand. He has a pair of kings, so Lady Luck is already being much kinder to him this time around. He racks his brain for some sort of story, something innocuous that says more about his world than about him.

"I have a friend back home, you know, a werewolf. Nice guy, name of Lionel. When we first met about ten years ago he was so surprised that I didn't care he was a werewolf that he started crying, that's how much he'd been put through the wringer after getting turned. We ended up on quite a few hunts together, probably more than me and almost anyone else." The exceptions being his friend The Ancient One, and his adoptive sister Eliora - and he has no intentions of bringing her up to Beckett or to anyone else on the rig, ever.

"So, about a few months ago, we were on a hunt together and it turned out it was a conspiracy of blood magic wizards trying to use other supernatural creatures to increase their own power. They had this whole complex full of werewolves they were going to use as fodder. And my friend Lionel, my friend Lionel who was too shy to speak to strangers when we first met - he rallied the whole bunch of them and convinced them to stop hanging in the dungeons with their tails between their legs and to bust free. And they did. We got every single one of the werewolves out safe, and he became their new alpha."

And Dan ended up having rough sex with one of the freed werewolves in the bathroom of a Chevron, so really, winning all around.

"Goes to show you how people can surprise you."

"An conspiracy of blood mages, hmm? Where I'm from, we call that the Tremere." Beckett snickers at his own joke, because it's a very good joke and Dan might not get it.

"And yes, people can. I'm pleased your friend did so for the better." It's a rare thing, in his experience. "Do werewolves suffer much prejudice in your world, then? In mine, the existence of the supernatural is kept strictly secret. I find myself rather fascinated by yours."

Beckett risks complete honesty. He's trying to imagine the results of similar transparency in the world he knows. It comes up bloodshed and death every time, and most of it in pursuit of self-fulfilling prophecy. Camarilla, Sabbat, assorted cults and sects - all aspects of a greater culture, in the end, a parasitical one determined to surrender free will to superstition. Convincing itself that monstrosity is only natural, when you can't possibly help it.

And the worst thing is, despite knowing that what he's in is water, he's still drowning in it like all the rest. It would take courage he doesn't have and resources he won't sacrifice to do anything else.

Maybe some of this shows on his face, in all its bleakness; this is frankly to his advantage, because he's just drawn the queen and ace of spades, which isn't a half-bad start.

Edited 2020-10-15 02:25 (UTC)

Dan does not, in fact, get it, but he laughs politely, that way you do when you don't get a joke and want to make it gentlemanly clear that that's your fault, not the joke-teller's.

"Well, it depends. A good most of the people in our world don't know about anything in the Weird - that's the supernatural, the monsters, the magic, all that - and they think anything that does come out is some animal with rabies or mutant from a lab. Those of us that do know about the Weird, maybe like a single percent of us at most...I wish I could say that we were kinder to those who ain't precisely human. Like I told you, I'm one of only a few hunters that bothered to learn Common Tongue. Most just see anything that goes bump in the night as subhuman, unless it's a magician."

Dan doesn't dislike magicians, but he dislikes the power they hold and how, in his opinion, as a whole they use it irresponsibly for petty feuds instead of for any kind of community betterment. In the Weird, they hold all the power, and they never let "mundanes" like him or the supernatural creatures in their community forget it.

First card in the river is a seven, useless to Dan.

"Ah, so there is some secrecy. In my world, each supernatural type tends to keep to itself. Aside from my own kind, I know of the existence of werewolves, mortal mages, ghosts, and mummies. Werewolves loathe kindred for reasons they don't deign to explain, mages hold themselves entirely aloof, I've only ever met one mummy, and ghosts are usually being enslaved or tortured by a necromancer, and in no mood to chat. Oh, and every now and then someone claims to have met a fairy, but I'm quite certain that's largely intoxicants speaking."

Beckett is quite pleased to see another ace as the second card. He disguises the pleasure with an uncomfortable cough.

"There are some - ordinary mortals," Beckett catches himself before referring to the kine as such; there's a slim chance Dan might know the word means livestock, "who come to be aware of the existence of the supernatural. Usually they're dealt with, usually not pleasantly; those that survive long enough to try to and turn the tables may pose some threat to the weak or foolish but, in the end..."

He trails off, trusting Dan to guess the conclusion. And perhaps not wanting to go further down the halls of memory then the subject already requires. It wasn't that long ago, by his standards - Berlin in flames, the Beast raging in his heart, an old friend dead for nothing and that woman the only one nearby to blame.

He's paid for it. He'll pay again, he suspects. Some debts have higher interest than others.

"I can hardly blame them for their attitudes. Mortals are - generally not highly regarded or of great concern."

Edited 2020-10-15 03:31 (UTC)

"Oh, we got everything. Werewolves, vampire, mummies, ghosts, mages, wraiths, phantoms, hide-behinds, mimics, wendigos, shapeshifters, ghouls, soul-eaters, dragons, djinns, lamias, crocottas, chupacabras-" he counts off on his hands absently, "-and yeah, faeries. I spent a few weeks in the faerie realm, actually. Got some good intel from the Faerie Queen for running errands for her."

She gave him a heads up that the witch who slaughtered his family was coming for his soul. He wasn't able to figure out enough about the situation to make that warning useful.

"We "mundanes" aren't held in high regard in our world, either. Some people get bitter about it, but I try to think of it as a matter of trade-offs. We may not have magic or strength but we can go pretend the Weird doesn't exist, usually, and assimilate with the larger culture."

Not Dan, though. Something about being cursed for nearly a decade makes it hard to ever truly feel at home in a milieu that doesn't believe in witchcraft. It's not that he ever talks about what happened to him, but the difference is that people who know The Weird know how to turn a blind eye, and ignorant normal people require a fakey explanation like "cancer runs in my family".

"For the record, I don't work with many other mundanes. Like I said, a lot of them takes slights more personal than I do. Bad mindsets."

"It's just that you tend to have such a hard time keeping up," Beckett says, with surprising apology, and perhaps the hint of a joking smile. "Situations do evolve quickly."

That, and the kindred have spent seven thousand years entrenching themselves in the mindset of mortals-as-cattle. They're not going to budge just because it's rude. But he rather likes Dan, so far, so there's no need to get into it.

"What sorts have you worked with before? Do you know much about the vampires in your world?"

"You'd be surprised." Dan says that mildly, but it's true; the skills he brings to the table are often ones his magic-wielding, supernatural comrades overlook until they truly need them. Having a foot in the "mundane" world and being able to use it is an underrated and yet incredibly handy trait. "When a certain type of person runs ninety-nine percent of the world, being able to speak their language gets you real far."

And the language Dan speaks is very encompassing, from seduction and persuasion to more utilitarian skills like firearms and working his way around explosives.

"I've never worked directly with a vampire, but I fought a few. I know the basics, which I imagine are different from the ones on your world." His face is blank, not letting slip that that's where he suffered one of his greatest losses, one that he still has nightmares about almost daily. "I've worked with ghosts, werewolves, wraiths and magicians, mostly. Sometimes a few odds and ends from the other side of the supernatural world. I guess most folk call them 'touched'."

Next card in the river is a seven - a pair for them both.

Edited (hrrdrrtypo) 2020-10-15 05:16 (UTC)

Dan doesn't need to let it slip. The careful stillness of his face and the fact that it was a vampire tells Beckett enough. He'd lived; someone else hadn't. It was ever thus. He could probably guess at details if he tried, but he's done with carrying other kindred's sins.

"Well, the relevant details if we need to work together are thus: Fire will kill me, and sunlight - thought not here, for some reason - and may make me beserk with fear, so do be careful about them. Stake through the heart causes paralysis. As for the rest - running water, invitations, briar thorns, that rot - irrelevant."

He looks at his cards, looks at the river, and pushes five sweetener packs forward.

Beckett won't get any more from Dan than that accurate but indistinct impression. Dan hasn't talked to anyone about Eliora. He hopes he never does. He hopes if he can hold her there in his heart, locked down away from the memory of her death, eventually he'll be able to feel just how much he loved her, as if he could seal her in there where his grief can't touch her anymore.

"I appreciate you giving me the primer on if I ever might need to kill you." Dan smirks. "As for me - well, you've met one mortal human, you've met them all when it comes to how easy it is for us to die. We're pretty fragile for the species that runs the world, for better or worse."

He meets Beckett's sweeteners and raises two more packets, seeing if Beckett will take.

Beckett smirks right back. "I've told you how to kill the kind of vampire I am. Killing me is an entirely different proposition - beings far more powerful than either of us have tried and failed."

Mostly through luck, rescue, or having never been that big a priority in the first place, but it still counts.

"In all seriousness, however, do be careful with open flame. When I'm pushed far enough into fear or rage, I lose any sense of friend or foe - we call it the Beast. Mine is well-disciplined, but the danger is always present."

Beckett meets the bet, and when the next card come, smiles just a little. The queen of hearts, in all her glory.

"Fair enough. Good thing I got no reason to want to kill you, or anyone else lately."

That queen does nothing for Dan, but he still has a two-pair with kings high, which is hardly a hand worth complaining about. He feels confident throwing a sugar packet in, expecting Beckett to either fold or meet him.

"I'm familiar with people having similar impulses, and I'll be considerate. I was actually wondering if you minded me smoking in here, but I can hold off until we're done tonight, or just light it behind a bookcase." Dan's almost done with the wine, and he's not someone who feels comfortable without substances.

"I'm not hungry, wounded, or under more than ordinary stress at the moment, so a cigarette won't bother me. I would appreciate it if you turned away while lighting, however, just as a courtesy."

It won't panic him, but that doesn't mean he likes it. The invention of electric light had come as profound relief every kindred alive to see it.

Beckett meets his sugar packet, and resists the urge to raise. Dan's caught him out once before, and he does have his pride to think of - although he doesn't see how he could be hiding anything that beats two pair, aces high.

"Absolutely. I'd hate to add extra stress to anyone when," he gestures into the air, as if to say 'the rig'. Has he mentioned he hates the rig? He hates the rig. He doesn't go for a cigarette yet, though.

Dan shows his card, and then laughs upon seeing Beckett's. Dan's hand was good, but the only way he could have won that hand was with a seven or a pair of them.

"You keep playing this well and I'll have to eat my reputation. Alright, a story." Dan taps his lower lip as he thinks.

"Well, I reckon you might could figure my real name isn't Dan Sagittarius. I mean, the Daniel is real, but I have a much blander surname." Which he isn't giving away, but whatever. "It's a stage name, honestly. Usually when I say that, people assume I was a musician or something - which I was, I played piano at a bunch of bars and churches for years to keep gas in the tank - but I actually got it when I was an exotic dancer at The Zodiac.

"The Zodiac's this little gay bar in downtown Austin, everything themed after stars and planets and constellations and stuff. It's not the first place I stripped at, but it's probably my favorite. Cash tips, dependable bouncers, safe equipment, patrons who don't get too drunk but don't mind if you do. I'd get off each night with four hundred, five hundred, and that was after making sure the kitchen got their cut. That was the longest job I ever had in my life, besides hunting. I was there six weeks and a day. There aren't that many spaces that use the pole for men, but I learn fast and they had a soft spot for a pretty face and athletic know-how, so they caught me up quick. The other dancers there were like family."

But not actually family. Dan still cut and run as soon as things felt too cozy.

"Anyway, I wasn't even born in December. My birthday's actually Halloween. But there already was someone using Scorpio as their theme so I just took what I could get, and then I decided I liked it."

"Thank you, it's appreciated." Beckett allows himself to show pleasure at his victory, chuckling a little as he sweeps up his bounty and surrenders his cards for the shuffle.

"Goodness," he says, at the end of Dan's story. "I suppose your line of business means taking work where you find it. Why did you need to leave Austin?"

He's assuming the answer will be typical: a fight, a hunt, an intrigue gone south.

Dan starts to deal again.

"I got involved with a woman there and she wanted to make it something more official, so I figured it'd be best by everyone to move on." Because Dan would rather nuke the good thing he's got going on and burn his new life to the ground than deal with the emotional complexity of a relationship that's lasted a few weeks. That's totally normal behavior. "I'd have gotten bored there anyway soon enough. I get antsy being in one place too long."

He's out of wine, which means it's time to move on to smoking. Mindful of Beckett's request, he makes sure to hide the flame while he lights up.

"The skills I picked up came in handy, though. I got to take a break off waiting tables and washing dishes."

Beckett looks elsewhere when Dan lights up, even though he's turned away; vampires really don't like fire, and he was bluffing a little when he said he wasn't under more than ordinary stress. But he looks back before Dan does, or at least he thinks so.

"Probably for the best," he says, accepting his cards. "This line of work doesn't leave much space for personal attachments."

He's in perfect agreement with Dan. Relationships are burdensome, and slow you down. He'd trusted Anatole, even with all the weight of centuries and madness, and look what that had got him. The whole thing would have been much easier if it hadn't been someone he cared about who'd betrayed him.

Dan’s conscientious to always blow the smoke away from Beckett. The truth is, Dan’s been racked with nerves since he got here, all tight chest and pained stomach and tension headache. Smoking‘s one of the few things that distracts him from it, when alcohol, cocaine, sex and action are so far off.

“It really don’t.” The river starts to unfold with a three of clubs, which does nothing for the mismatched ten and six in Dan’s hand. At least it precludes making the stupid decision to try for a straight.

“And even if it did I don’t know I’d want it. I’ve never really wanted to be with anyone that way for longer than a few days.”

"I have, but it was a long time ago. And in hindsight - "

He hesitates, staring at his hand to buy time. Four and a jack, inauspicious.

In hindsight, none of them had been worth it - not Anatole, not de Laurent, not Lucita, not even - it's still nearly impossible even to think her name. As Caine was cursed, so are his children: they shall eat only ashes, and in their arms all love and friendship turns to dust. And he's a child of Caine, no matter what he does or believes. The last century has made that perfectly clear. It tastes, as it must, like ashes on his tongue.

But he's getting maudlin, which Dan certainly does not deserve.

"Well, what's done is done."

Dan listens attentively, both to what Beckett volunteers and what he doesn't. And he does absolutely no judging, because that's a foreign concept idea to him, the notion of somehow being on high and having figured it all out and thus being able to compare oneself to others and find them lacking.

"Very true. Can't change the past, and most times wouldn't want to." Ten of hearts in the river, which gives Dan a pair. No complaints here.

"That's, I guess, our gift for getting older. We get a consolation prize of regrets."

"That's one word for it, certainly." Beckett looks up and flashes a brief smile, intending to reassure the mortal that all was well. Which it very much is, of course. He studies his card, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

No love, so far. Lady Luck was in a mood tonight, apparently.

"I fold," he says abruptly, tossing in his hand. He doesn't pay attention to how the fall. "Which means I owe you a story. Let's see..."

"I was in South Africa, investigating rumours of a Ba'ali cult infesting an apartment block in Johannesburg. Infesting is the right word, because Ba'ali are a particularly nasty species of demon-worshipping vampire cultist, and among their many dreadful tricks is turning living bodies into insect hives - usually human, though animal will do in a pinch. This is, unfortunately, relevant information.

I'd made my way up to the thirtieth floor, finding nothing of particular interest aside from clear evidence of cultist activity and a lot of dead bodies." He spares Dan the gorier details, and the nature of the activity. Slaughter mortals, raise demons, nothing terribly novel. "I found there a balcony with a pool, and something stirring inside it. That thing was as staked kindred, terribly mutilated, whom I attempted to revive - only to find that it had been turned into one such incubator, implanted with things that don't bear speaking of, frankly."

Horrible little amoebic leeches that had clung to his legs, squealing and biting. He'd born holes in his flesh for a week.

"And I wish I could tell you I did something clever and heroic, but I actually fell backwards into the pool, lost my pants, and spent a very anxious few hours huddled on the diving board until the thing lost track of me."

He lies fluently and without a moment's hesitation. The point of this is very much to not mention the others who were with him at the time.

Dan doesn't bother showing his cards, instead taking the card back and the sweeteners from the first buy. He shuffles Beckett's hand back into his deck, then starts to deal again. He's got a three and a jack, both hearts.

"Well, I ain't ever been to South Africa, and that sounds a wretched type of vampire." Dan's dealt a few times with creatures that used other living things as breeding grounds, and it's always distinctly upsetting. It's one thing to kill a person possessed and find them full of blood and organs; it's another to do so and find them full of eggs and larvae.

To tell the truth, he's never even been outside North America, unless the faerie realm counts. He's never had enough identification to want to risk getting on an airplane, and teleporters in his world typically can only manage a few miles at a time.

"That sounds horrible. You must have been sitting in terror for hours." Dan sounds, and is, genuinely sympathetic.

Edited 2020-10-22 04:33 (UTC)

"Long enough," Beckett agrees. "It was blind, though, so I knew it would lose track eventually."

That specific statement is true. But "long enough" had only been a few minutes, as Lucita had been in the next room and heard his very-much-not-high-pitched-thank-you cry of distress. She'd come at the thing with a blowtorch, it had escaped down the pool drain, and then their biggest problem had been where he was going to get new pants at three in the morning.

Well, that and burning down the building. There'd been nothing in there but corpses and corpse-hives, and evidence of attempts to raise something that very much should not be raised.

"And yes, the Ba'ali are a truly wretched lot. No sane Kindred gives them succor."

First card in the river is the king of hearts, and Dan considers if it might be wise to bank on a flush.

"I take it the Ba'ali - that's how you say it?" It isn't, the way Dan pronounces it, but he's never had a way with words and that gravelly voice tends to strip most sounds of their beauty. "I take it that making hives of people is their pleasure, as opposed to a necessity. Nasty either way, but inexcusable for the latter."

He decides to hope for the flush and tosses a sugar packet in.

I'm still the talk of this town, I'm still the roll of their dice.

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cw body horror, death, devil worship, loss of pants

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