Valerian & Moira - Valerian's personal chambers at The Haven
It made sense. And it was a thought that had occured to
Valerian earlier. In fact, it was one of the first thoughts that had crossed his mind when he'd laid eyes on regal beauty infront of him.
The reserved, almost professional air
Moira had had about her at first, during the very birth of their first meeting, the aura that had now retreated to only peak through her slightly more relaxed exterior every now and then, leaving the warmth in her smile able to dance freely across her lips at will. The elegant posture, laced with pride and calm confidence, the wisdom shimmering in her eyes as she studied her surroundings, studied
him, with a knowledgeable depth.
A Primogen.
But one that didn't wish to flaunt it. Perhaps she didn't even want him to know it? Judging by faint shadow of surprise that momentarily lowered itself over her features, it was an observation, or rather a question, that she hadn't seen coming. And granted, perhaps his imagination had gotten the better of him. He had been far from sure, he had only been guessing, but with the air that had surrounded her, and her choice of words when mentioning the Antideluvians and the Primogen Council of London... All the pieces had seemed fit.
"Yes," she replied, confirming that even if his imagination had gotten slightly carried away, his instincts were not mistaken. "Toreador Primogen of London. Tonight however I wish to be just Moira, a guest in your Haven."
The young man simply inclined his head, as if saying that her wish was his command. Not because she was a Primogen, but because that was simply how he would've granted any request, no matter who had asked something of him. To be perfectly honest, he was more than happy to have her be 'just
Moira', as it laid the foundation of getting to know her on a personal, relaxed level, and not just a professional one.
Like with
Jessica... He had only had the pleasure of
Moira's company for a little while, and already he felt far more of a connection with her than with his own Primogen, who, he felt, had never really taken an interest in knowing him as anything but
Valerian, club owner and loyal subject. He had yearned for a closer relationship with her, but never gotten past that professional shield she always seemed to be carrying, at least around him. At first, being the sensitive young man he was, it had hurt him that much like Claudia, she seemed to see him as little more than a ditz. Though in Claudia's case, it was more about how she chose to treat him, than how she really thought of him. She was well aware that he was far from dull minded, and that he had a charisma and a magnetism that could bend the will and the perception of a human mind without resorting to Kindred abilities. She was even convinced that if he would just try, he'd even be able to have the same effect on some Kindred. But much to her dismay, he refused. Effecting the minds of others to uphold the Masquerade was one thing, effecting them for reasons far less noble, was another. One that he would not do.
However, in time he had accepted that
Jessica just wasn't a Primogen that he was meant to relate to, and so her chilly detachment stopped hurting.
But it never ceased to bother him.
"Many years indeed have passed", Moira continued, changing the subject as if to show that she had no interest in discussing her title, "since I've been surrounded by such a vivid, encompassing and multi layered talent such as your own, centuries even. Or such creative ardor. It reminds me of the Renaissance..."
As her voice slowly faded, and she surrendered herself to the memories that surfaced in her ancient mind,
Valerian couldn't help but experience something as rare and unfamiliar to him, as a small sting of envy.
The Renaissance... The word alone conjured mental images in his head, of what those times must've been like; the era that he had always felt he should've been born into, the era whose essence was in his very soul. It was a time he had never experienced, and yet he mourned it like the elderly mourn their long lost days of youth. Growing up in Victorian England, he had been a dreamer in a time for realists. He had never fit the ideals of his time. Even those who hadn't known him had been able to see that. If nothing else, then simply because the split from the rest of his family had spoken loud and clear.
"I wish I could show you a true glimpse of it," Moira continued as though she had read his mind. "It was the rebirth of many artists, and not only in a metaphorical sense, a driving force that even today I cannot quite describe, but I believe you will understand. There was also... a girl, a Muse incarnate. She inspired my greatest work."
Ever since their introductions,
Valerian had sensed a fleeting sadness about her, a sorrow well hidden, but too great to be fully suppressed. He had caught glimpses of it in
Moira's eyes, glimpses that had been growing stronger and more frequent ever since they stepped through the doors to his studio and chamber.
Now, her words about this girl, who had been, offered what to him sounded like an explanation.
Moira had only referred to her in past tense only, telling him that no matter who the girl had been, she was no more. Mortal or Kindred, she no longer shared
Moira's eternity, other than as a memory.
And at this very moment, he could feel her sorrow so vividly that it made him wince. Much like he had done with
Beyonca last night at the ball, when she had spoken of the punishment she expected to recieve for her boldness. A mental flash of pain or grief, even one that wasn't real... No more was needed for
Valerian to pick up on it, and feel it in every inch of his cold body, to have it ripple through his soul as though the anguish was his own.
He wanted to reach out, and touch her; pat her shoulder, or stroke her arm, in a gentle way of showing his understanding and his empathy. But before he could even start the motion, Moira suddenly turned and her determined gaze locked with his compasisonate one.
"Would you like to see it?"
Unexpected and firm, those were words that made
Valerian's eyes almost widen with surprise. She was inviting him to see not just any work, but her greatest achievement, the piece that if she was given a choice to have only one work of her art define her as an artist, would be the one?
How could he possibly respond to such an offer, and not fail to fully express the honor she had granted him? He knew so very well that to some painters, it would be impossible. Many of them would choose to keep such pieces to themselves, sharing them with no one else. Sometimes out of jealousy, as though sharing this particular piece of exceptional art with the world would be like sharing their the person who had stolen their heart, and sometimes out of fear that the rest of the world would not see it's greatness.
"I...", he started, obviously overwhelmed and struggling to find a way to express it. "I... Words can not begin to describe... I would be so very delighted, and deeply honored, to see it."
He inclined his head once more, almost making it a full bow this time, and then glanced at the windows before turning his gaze back to her, his pale sapphire eyes slowly filling with heartfelt joy and enthusiasm, yet holding just a tiny hint of disappointment. One which was soon to be explained.
"I am far too eager to see it, to not be pained by what I myself am about to say," he continued. "But I fear tonight leaves us far too little time. Tomorrow perhaps, if you can spare the time time? If not, I will gladly make myself available at your earliest convenience."
(((ooc: Everyone - Ghanima has submitted her two characters to the site, so keep your eyes open for them, as I will be adding them within the next couple of hours. )))