Noble Pursuit [In Italia]

[Damon Fauci]

[Posting to this thread is welcome for characters with access to Damon at his home.]

The ringing of his cellular was muffled, but against the current backdrop, amidst the tranquility of twilight, it might as well have been glass shattering. Yet, he answered. “Pronto.” Listening to the quick and apologetic words of his steward, he shared a smirk with the view before him. “Basta, basta. Sono sul terrazza. Fallo salire. Si, si.*” Without a thank you or goodbye, the call was ended and the phone slipped back into his pocket. His staff was used to it; Damon showed gratitude in far more meaningful ways.

Besides, the unexpected arrival meant he only had a few more minutes of solitude with the hills.

Most of the great palazzos of Italy had since become museums or hotels, depending on whether the noble family in question preferred to be charitable or entrepreneurial. Damon, on the other hand, chose to be loyal. Palazzo Fauci kept his father alive, if only in memory, so a residence and vineyard it remained even though most of the time that meant the sprawling palace housed no more than his staff. Though it was his boyhood home, the few people close to him who’d been here agreed that out of all of his residences, this one ‘fit’ the sleek Italian the least. Indeed, it was enormous, grandiose, antiquated, and certainly impractical - besides serving the prideful purpose of being larger than any of the palazzos in the neighboring city-states, that is. And yes, no amount of modernizing could bring its majesty into the current day. But those who knew Damon, even those who knew him for centuries, had not known him before he was changed by the blood - and that was a crucial piece of this puzzle.  

With that piece hidden in history, Damon stuck out like a sore thumb in his own home. Especially tonight, his jeans, white t-shirt, tousled hair, and bare feet almost offensive to the eyes against the backdrop of the ornate stonework of the central terrace. He hardly seemed to mind. Glass of sparkling wine in hand, and a half-empty bottle at his feet, he was too busy contemplating the rolling peaks that stretched as far as his preternatural eyes could see. These hills. They were the only thing that could slow down his calculating mind and encourage him to take a break from being the living incarnation of the philosophies of Uncle Niccolò.

Well. Almost the only thing.

His sigh was long and lingering before he acknowledged the arrival of his oldest friend. "A house call doesn't bode well..." He lifted his glass. "Prosecco?"

"Sure, I guess?" Moving to stand beside Damon, Dominic gave him a baffled look. It was like watching a tiger eating an ice cream instead of an antelope. Once Damon passed him a glass of his own, he warily peered at the fizzing liquid. "This is new."

Damon's laugh was more like a hoot. "Hardly. My first taste was given to me by my father, right here. He said to me, ‘Il buon sangue giammai non può mentire.’**." It was meant as a reflection on the rise of the family to influence, an influence that ran through Damon’s veins as a Fauci; considering how his blood had since changed, the words held ironic meaning for him now. "He was framed days later." He polished off the rest of his wine in one gulp. Shaking his head in dissatisfaction. "Innovation has made these bubbles dry, and bitter. Is nothing sacred?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

He stared off, counting the rise and fall of each hill until they blurred into the darkening horizon. "No. Just another thing that makes me glad my appetite has changed."

"Good. So how long have you been the Enforcer?"

Dominic had found him out. Damon nodded, a wolfish smile offered to his friend as he refilled each of their glasses to the brim. He didn't ask how - in this instance, it didn't matter. This was a day he knew would come. "Since I left there."

"Eight years?!” Dominic crowed. “You sat back and let me plead with you to take a post you already held for eight years?"

"Yes.” Damon made it sound so simple. To him, it was. “You wanted me to take the job publically to forward our noble pursuit. I took the job in secret to keep myself occupied.”

“God dammit, being the Enforcer is not a hobby - “

Suddenly they were nose to nose, without Damon spilling a single drop of wine. He wanted Dominic to regret taking the conversation in this direction. "Wasn’t the one victory enough? You insisted her life would be better lived without me in it. Listening was not easy. Believing it was harder. Without the Authority to meddle with, my will would've broken years ago."

“Hop off your high horse, Damon. You kept me in the dark out of spite." When there was no reply, only silence, Dominic turned away, glaring at the picturesque view. “And now. Not answering the phone. All my messages. More spite.”

He wouldn’t argue. Dominic wasn’t wrong. “Be glad I don’t want to discuss the state in which I found her. Your advice was wrong. Inexcusably wrong.”

The icy quiet of Damon’s words gave Dominic pause. “Is she here?”

“Don’t play coy.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Such a novice game is beneath you. Is that the real purpose behind your visit? Cajole me to let you have audience with her, so you can implore her to implore me to grant you forgiveness? No.”

"Fine." Dominic didn’t bother to stifle the sigh. Or the agitation behind it. “Now what?”

“Back to business, now that you’ve found me out?" He shrugged. "Present me with a suitable option to replace the apex, and I'll agree to resume our noble pursuit.”

“Damon, you are the - ”

“Don’t.” He interrupted, punctuating the word with a warning look. “And if you want to be welcome here, resist the childish temptation to blame her for my unwillingness. You know my grudge with thrones is nearly as old as the stone beneath your feet.”

“Fair enough.”

“Cheer up, mio fratello,” Damon urged with a beastly grin. Clinking their glasses, he lifted his to his lips. “Remember, il buon sangue giammai non può mentire.”

Translations:
*Ready. Calm yourself, I’m on the terrace. Send him up. Yes, yes.
**Good blood always shows itself.”

[Epiphany]

It was good to travel.  Since Epiphany had met Damon, all those years ago, she had envisioned what his home would look like. Now she had been given the chance.  Growing up she had traveled to many places as a Cabin Boy (for she had pretended to be so then) on her Fosters pirate ship. She couldn't recall if she had ever been to Italy or not.  Even if she had she wouldn't have been able to appreciate it as now.

Damon's place was huge. She likened it to the great castles in stories or tales of the Vatican, but this was better than all of those.  Even if she spent years at this place she doubted that she would know all the secrets it held. Perhaps she didn't want to discover them, for a place without mystery often lost its life. And, for an estate owned by a vampire, life here was abundant.

Epiphany had been a bit nervous at first, not knowing what the residents at the estate would think of her.  She spent her first few days trying to act like, what she thought to be, a proper Lady. After a while, this facade dropped and she pitched in with the upkeep. Epiphany wanted to know more about this place and the easiest way to do so would be to mingle with the staff. Besides, helping out in chores wasn't foreign to her and she fell right into the various tasks.  While they may have been a bit apprehensive about her at first, her ready smiles, light attitude, and tales reached through to a few people. Epiphany would casually ask them about the estate and weave a story around what she was told, adding a bit of 'color to the ground's history' as one of the older staff members had called it.  All of it helped her to feel more at home, especially when Damon was off tending to his business.  

She was still processing a lot of things, and keeping herself busy was a good way to think about it when things started weighing on her too much. Epiphany had even taken to locking herself up in the library and steadily trying to teach herself Latin. Studying had never been her strong point.

The thing she enjoyed the most was her nighttime strolls through the vineyard. She would dress in a long simple gown of white lace and pull her hair up off her neck, and secure it in a bun. Needless to say, she chose this color because it stood out in the night, despite the extra work it may have taken the staff to clean the dress later. With her, she took a journal and a collection of pens in a small bag.  

Before she went out this night and she sought to take in the landscape from a high vantage point.  Capture her bearings and try to pinpoint where she would go. She walked quietly, but not slowly, through the hallways, peeking into room after room to determine if it was the right fit for what she wanted. While looking at one of the rooms someone had passed through the hallway. A visitor? At this hour? Epiphany peeked out the door and saw the retreating back of a man. Who could Damon be entertaining at this hour?

She stayed in the room until she saw the man disappear into a different room then, clutching her journal she sought out the first servant she could find. Unfortunately, they were not apt to tell her anything. Fine, she would find out on her own.

Epiphany made her way back to where she had been before. Distant voices drifted through the hall though she was unable to make out what was being said. One speaker was clearly Damon - no mistaking that - but to whom did the other voice belong?

This had the makings of a story all its own. It's rude to eavesdrop, I shouldn't do it, is what she told herself, but her feet had a mind of their own.  Snatches of words made their way to her ears. Grudges? Thrones? Words in Latin (for she was sure that's what it was)? what did any of this mean?

Epiphany eased as close to the door as she dared, peeked in, and caught a look at the one standing next to Damon. She still did not have a good look at his face, but he wasn't anyone she recognized. She then leaned a bit too much on the door and it swung inward. Caught off guard Epiphany teetered forward and dropped her small bag and journal on the floor as she clamoured for the handle to keep herself from falling into the room. Now stabalized she held her breath. Suddenly she overwhelmingly guilty for spying, and secretly hoped that the two men were too engrossed in what they were doing to notice the door.

Epiphany slowly pulled on the door's handle to begin closing it because, surely, no one would notice a door closing on its own.

[Damon Fauci]

The staff certainly found her to be a...unique guest. Among themselves they debated which version of this female was stranger - the first version who attempted to walk and talk as nobility, or the current version who spent time laboring with them as if she was the newest hire. They made no definitive conclusion, but as the days passed those that spoke her language followed the example set by Damon’s Estate Manager, sharing information, conversation, and allowing her to join in the many tasks that came with maintaining a place of this side and age. None of the staff were a match for the Estate Manager’s ebullient welcome, however. A man unimpressive in height but rapturous in personality, Master Giacomo was the linchpin of the house and the overseer of the entire staff, and he made it not only look effortless, but joyful. His pride in the history of this region, the Palazzo and its grounds, and the Fauci lineage was obvious, and in all these subject areas he was an expert. Epiphany would find, however, that when it came to the topic of Damon or any of the Fauci family, Giacomo spoke in showy generalizations and provided little in the way of actual detail. This phenomenon was mirrored by all of the staff. A house rule, perhaps.

Even the library was devoid of any scrap of family record, save one ancestor in particular. To one side of the room, framed by a great archway painted and carved with the same late-Renaissance style as the rest of the house, there sat an ancient desk from the 15th century. While its partner chair was long gone, its surface was set as if someone would sit down to do work at any moment - two quill pens, a bottle of ink, three books that were contemporary for the time (two of them in Latin), a leather journal tied with a cord, and a stack of papers written upon in what was now rather faded ink. Above the desk was a framed poem, restored so it was readable, written in Italian by the same hand. On either side of the frame were two shelves which held a printed edition of every work by that same author: Niccolò Machiavelli, Damon’s Great-Great Uncle. Damon had many more of his Uncle Niccolò’s belongings in his possession, but they were locked away in a room far more secure than this one.

But tonight wasn’t about books, it was about the two men standing outside on the grand terrace. While Damon’s sleek looks and charisma made him the kind of man who could sway the attention of a room without lifting a finger, Dominic was the opposite, a sort of understated ‘everyman’ who blended in wherever he went and faded from memory soon after. It wasn’t that he was homely; on the contrary, his lean build and angular face made him the epitome of clean cut. Add to that standard wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and a rich skin tone, and one could easily pin a dozen cultural origins on him, useful in his travels and his covert line of work. Currently, Dominic was dressed better than Damon, in well-tailored brown pants, a fitted black collared shirt, a tan blazer, and shoes made of Italian leather. Chosen so he’d fit in while he was in Damon’s home country - whenever he was in Italy, the natives presumed he was one of them without a second thought.

Right now, Dominic knew he had a choice to make. He could push the issue, and find out if this was one of the days where that gamble would pay off, or he could make a jocular gesture to start mending the rift between them. He chose the latter, after a long drink. “The favorite saying of my clan was ‘gæð a wyrd swa hio scel’ - fate goes as she must,” he clarified in response to Damon’s questioning look, “but Faeder assured me that was a crock of shite.”

Odd, wasn’t it, that their resulting laughter stopped almost as soon as it began? Without shifting their positions, both men glanced over at the terrace doors, then back at one another, Dominic’s brow slowly arching at the scent which drifted to their noses. Dominic had never met her in person, but he’d caught the remnants of that scent on Damon plenty. It had catalyzed quite a few arguments, in the past.

Which is why Damon’s dark eyes lingered pointedly on his friend, a wordless warning that anything less than good manners wouldn’t be tolerated. His tone, in contrast, was as balmy as the night. “Buona sera, Angel,” Damon called out to Epiphany while she was not-so-subtly trying to cover her tracks. “You’re right, on a beautiful night the doors should be thrown open.”

And so they were. Pulled free from her grip, the double doors soared open at the bidding of Damon’s telepathic will, framing poor Epiphany in the resulting archway. The easy smirk that wore upon his lips was a clue that he suspected she might be less than pleased with him for that, but he obviously didn’t mind.

“You look radiant,” he offered, as his dark eyes drank the sight of her in. He did his best not to linger on one spot in particular, but such willpower was always thrice as hard when she tied back her hair. Polishing off the rest of the wine in his glass, he set it on the ledge and approached her. “Have you come to join us? Dominic is my oldest friend.” Which for vampires usually meant centuries old, rather than decades. “Dominic, Epiphany.”

If only someone was available to capture a photograph of the stunned look upon Dominic’s face; as it was, Damon was halfheartedly trying to keep a lid on a distinctly smug grin. The way his ancient friend gaped at Epiphany, one might think God himself had just walked onto the terrace. But Epiphany was an apple who didn’t fall far from the Lord’s tree, and that is why Dominic found himself struck with silence despite all the days he’d spent debating with Damon about this particular woman; while Dominic had lived for more than a millennium, he'd never come face to face with one of His celestial beings. In fact, he was quite adept at avoiding them. Hence the very complicated mix of emotions on a normally forgettable face.

“Yes,” Dominic said finally, nodding to fill the silence as he pushed through the remainder of his shock and found his usual well-mannered smile, “yes, Epiphany. Hello. I’ve heard - well, Damon and I have often - how nice, to finally meet you in person. I’m sorry, for your most recent ordeal.” Folding his hands in front of him, he bowed his head as his chosen gesture of greeting. It wasn't the smoothest start, but it was sincere. Dominic was far too old to have a temper like Jade’s, or to think aggressive posturing was useful like Sean. He was passionate and exacting about the covert work he and Damon accomplished, but otherwise mild-mannered in nature. An interesting trait, for a vampire.

Still, Damon cast a skeptical look at his friend. It was Dominic’s apology that drew such a look, and the cool words that followed. “Are you? I’m going to ring for another bottle of prosecco.” And he moved to slip behind Epiphany to do just that.

[Epiphany]

Epiphany had only briefly tried to hold to the handle, but let it go when it was clear that if she didn't, she'd tumble into the room.  The sudden rapid fire of her heartbeat gave away the sudden surprise, and anyone else would be able to see it in her wide-eyed expression.  She could have at least have done with a warning!  

Without the protection of the door to hide behind a score of reactions ran through her mind at once and resulted in her giving an immediate smile while she held her hands down in front of her. as Nonchalantly Epiphany attempted to push the dropped book and pencil pouch behind her with her foot while she took a few calming breaths.

Damon had moved closer, and she took a few forward steps away from the door. When she laid her eyes on Dominic that was when something shifted. Epiphany's smile wavered slightly and the grip she had on her hands tightened; her vision now trained on him. It wasn't too surprising that another Vampire was about - but she was seeking to get a handle on her other half which she felt trying to push its way to the surface. She had heard Damon's question, but at the moment it was hovering right outside her hearing.

Ever since her ordeal in the trunk she had a bit more aversion to things not of the Light. Like Vampires. It wasn't anything new, her dislike of Jade was no secret, and the intensity of the feelings he harbored for Damon worked in his favor. But Dominic? He was old, she could tell that much, and it likely meant that he was strong in his own right. Her chin tipped up slightly as she continued to study Dominic, bits of her Celestial nature coming through and warming her by a few degrees. For a moment, just a moment, Epiphany was something other than the bright and cheerful girl Damon knew her to be.

She blinked a few times to break her attention from Dominic. Epiphany's bright smile and disposition returning almost immediately as she returned to normal. She took a step closer to him.   "Dominic. Damon's friend." She said this more to herself to confirm who he was. From what she read today, Italian culture said to shake hands or kiss cheeks when meeting someone. However, she avoided that in regards to him at the moment. "I've heard you mentioned before. I'm sure my presence here ruffles more than a few feathers." Surely the beings on her side were less than pleased about this situation as well.

It was certainly glad to be able to put a face to the name, but she wasn't exactly sure it was good to meet him for anything other than that. Wasn't he one of the people who wanted her to stay away from Damon?

Subconsciously her left hand reached up and her fingers lightly graced along the right side of her neck.  It as a thinking gesture. "Thirsty?" A soft trickle of laughter came from her before she took a quick step back and approached Damon.  

To his free arm to sough to loop hers in his and stand close. Epiphany was wanting to maintain some type of proper social decorum - even if she didn't know what that may be - yet she wanted to be close to him as well to help settle her own internal battle. Her smile was genuine as she turned her head up to look at him. It was smile just for him. "Hello." Her voice to him soft and light. "Che piacere vederti." So Italian didn't roll quite so easily off her tongue as she tried to say it was good to see him, but maybe he understood it anyway.

[Damon Fauci]

They were predators, Damon and Dominic both. Excellent ones, though that likely went without saying. So when the shift in Epiphany transpired, they both took notice. It was something that their preternatural senses could almost taste in the air, almost smell, and it was keenly witnessed. Neither of them said a word, however, not even telepathically, nor did they exchange any glances. They had been friends long enough that they didn’t have to - the event itself was enough to tell Damon that he and Dominic would have yet another discussion about Epiphany in the near future.

Wonderful.

But Damon wouldn’t allow that future lecture to hang over his mood like the Sword of Damocles. After ringing for some more prosecco, his charming, beastly smile remained as he watched the encounter between the two of them with interest. It was useful to observe what came over Epiphany when she encountered another vampire. Necessary to know for the future - for allies, for unexpected encounters, but also for himself, should something transpire that flared the holy light within her to rise against him. As that force retreated, he wondered if it was the result of her will, or if it was of its own accord, like the passing of a storm. He also knew this was not the time or place to ask.

For Dominic, her step closer to him was a gesture of greeting enough. Dominic did not reciprocate that step, nor did he unfold his clasped hands. What he had just seen rise up in her was all the proof he needed to confirm that his initial instinct to keep a distance was correct. Especially when under his mild-mannered surface there was an ancient beast who wanted nothing more than to establish dominance against this affront to its nature. The lid he kept on that beast was tight, and steady. He was an old one. It was a frequently used muscle.

“I know Damon well enough not to hope that he said only good things.” Calmly spoken humor, with a politely offered smile, both selected as a traditionally accepted way to lighten the mood. “To me he has always made it clear how much he values you. The ruffled feathers...Damon was surrounded by ruffled feathers the day I met him, and has been every day thereafter.”

“Spoken like a man who’s often ruffling them with me.” Drawled with his trademark smirk, his raven black gaze lingered on Dominic’s. Until Epiphany drew attention to her neck. That certainly caught his eyes, though he was quick to meet hers when she drew near. And quick to bring her in close to him, when she sought to be. “Ciao, bellissima,” was his playful reply to her, returning her private smile. “La tua voce,” a finger traced just under her lips to indicate the mouth from which her voice came, “è musica. Bravo.” Italian rolled off his tongue as smoothly as the surrounding hills rolled into one another - but it was his native tongue, and she was doing well in her practice.

A wolfish note crept into his smile as he addressed the matter of thirst. “Parched is a better word. Being here, it has a way of uncovering wells that have been long dried up.  And the wine Dominic and I are drinking, it was a favorite of my father’s.” The sun had set only an hour ago, perhaps two, but Damon had already fed. This was the case every night they had stayed here, he was swift in taking care of his appetite so that he wouldn’t otherwise be tempted.

In theory. His desire for her made her blood an ever-present temptation. All his vigilance ensured he didn’t act upon that temptation and break her skin. What had come over her a moment ago, as well as the remnants of the holy fire that had itched through him their first days here, told him they must be cautious.

The only problem was that Damon didn’t much care for being told what to do. And so, his deft fingers slipped under her chin to urge it upward, enough that he could press his lips to hers. Decorum was the farthest thing from his mind, even with Dominic forced to stand there as witness to the moment. This was his palazzo, so he made the rules.

[Epiphany]

She had said it right!  That was a boon to her confidence right there.  How she struggled with any language and, while he may have simply been being nice in his compliment, she knew it was sincere. Her head had turned to slightly follow the movement of his finger upon her face. Whereas the two gentleman were centuries old, Epiphany was still young and could get easily taken in by simple gestures like Damon was doing.  Her eyes drifted half way closed and her smile brightened.  Lips start to move and give a response to Dominic but then they were busy.

Epiphany’s heart rate increased with the sudden rush she received from the kiss. It is amazing the effects a bit of affection can have - especially if given by the right person.  She had been wanting to get a better grip on her internal battle and this helped.  It served to help her quiet the celestial side in favor of the human girl. Epiphany held tighter to his arm and her fingers worked down to find his hand, for she wanted to take it. Perhaps she had become a bit more ‘touchy’ since her rescue, but it was only because it helped her remember where she was. She was free. He wasn’t an illusion.

When she felt the rise in her to go for more than this simple kiss she did. Closer as desire crept more to the forefront of her mind.  Epiphany’s lips parting as she took in more of him, but that is when memory of his teeth flashed in her mind and a spark of her other nature flared up inside. she shifted her head to kiss the left corner of his mouth, even if the action exposed her neck to him.  Here she paused, her lips staying on his skin a moment while she breathed and willed her heart rate back.  She was going to say something before.  What was it?

“I can be quite wicked…” it was basically a whisper.  Spoken more to Damon’s ear even though the words were meant for Dominic.  

Epiphany moved her face in more, her cheek now to his. She was enjoying the closeness, even if there was another here, she took the kiss as a sign that it was okay to do as she wished. Then came her second set of words.  “I’d like to know more of your father.  Your servants do not tell me much.” Those closed lipped people  Part of her suspected that they did speak of the family, but only in Italian so she wouldn’t quiet understand.

[Damon Fauci]

Such simple gestures were one of Damon’s many lures, cast with an expert’s cunning. It was with Epiphany only that these ensnaring little teases were delivered with greater meaning - and yes, sincerity.

That same sincerity was present in his kiss. The sentiment was delivered with unabashed earnest, increasing in fervor when her heart beat quickened. They were not quite close enough where he could feel her heart beating against him, but its rapid march was enticing to his ears. Fueling increased desire, yes, but also tempting his beastly hunger. The two were always intertwined when it came to Epiphany. The only difference now was that he was tempering it, instead of acting upon it.

His cool fingers locked smoothly with hers when she reached for him. She had always been warm, but since finding her in the church he’d taken note that the nature of her heat was more than human. He even felt the moment when it flared. Most others of his kind - Dominic, for one - would have taken that as a sign to move away. Damon, on the other hand...as soon as the supple curve of her neck was exposed to him, he circled his other arm around her to pull closer and bent his head to breathe her in deeply. In response to her whispered words, he pressed a single kiss to the hollow of her throat. The quiet, rumbling growl that followed was really meant for her ears only, but such was a hard thing to achieve with Dominic looking on.

“Of that I have no doubt.” Those words from Dominic were seemingly as innocuous as his smile, but with them came an almost indescribable shift in energy. An additional heaviness in the air that was neither good nor bad, but unmistakably old. Perhaps the vampire’s way of saying without saying, ‘Child, this is a block I have been around before.’ Not with one of her kind, true, but well into his second millennium there was rarely a time when he didn’t find himself encountering a turn of events he’d witnessed before. Life was full of patterns.

“Perhaps we will learn more about each other another time.” Again, Dominic's words were so innocent when there was no mention of the myriad of ways that this learning might come to pass. He bowed his head, following general customs even if they were too busy in each other to notice. “But for now...Ci rivediamo, Damon. Epiphany, molte benedizioni.” Carefully chosen words for each of them.

It was Epiphany that Damon chose to address first. “Good. That means I don’t have to fire them.” Pressed cheek to cheek against him as she was, she likely missed Damon’s wolfish smile, but perhaps she heard it in his voice. He demanded his staff to be tight-lipped, and refused to tolerate anything less.  Slipping his hand downward to settle just over her hip, he gave a squeeze there, willing himself not to turn his head though he wanted to graze his teeth against her smooth, blushing flesh.

Instead, he lifted his eyes to catch Dominic’s as he gave the man a flat, loaded, “Ciao.” As far as Damon was concerned, between them there was still much to repair.

[Epiphany]

Epiphany could almost pretend that she and Damon were the only ones in the room. Despite her recent changes he still accepted her and that was its own cure.  It kept her from feeling as though she did not belong in this world.

As she grew older her celestial nature sought to come through more, and it made it difficult to fit in in a world where Darkness was everywhere. She had even withdrew from the Inn as her presence there had started to cause problems. Even the Sisters and Monks of the orphaned had even began to treat her differently. Not Damon. From waking up in the Fae house, to bringing her here, he was still her vampire.

Epiphany leaned against him now, her hand on the outside settling on his upper arm by the shoulder. She was fully aware that she was exposing her neck to him and when he kissed her there she wouldn’t deny that her breath caught for a brief moment with the resurgence of a memory.  There was something in the air and it hung around until Dominic took his leave. She thought she understood what he said, she got the gist of it anyway.

Once he was gone she lifted her head off Damon’s shoulder only to lightly nip the side of his neck first and then looked at him. “I do not think it would be best for me to be alone with him,” she began, a curious tilt of her head. “There’s something about him. Dominic. Bringing trouble?”

Before her thoughts tried to take her in a direction she did not want, she snapped it to the matter of information. She poked him on the shoulder and her mouth dropped open in slight surprise. “You told them not to tell me? Why? It’s only a little bit.”  She held up her thumb and forefinger, which she spaced about three inches apart. “Just a little.  Like that.  Maybe you can tell me?”  Suddenly sounding hopeful.  “It will help with my story I am making.” She gave a nod behind her towards the door. Outside it was where she dropped her sketchbook and pencils.

This was Epiphany. That she was making a story shouldn’t be a surprise. “Your home is full of hidden history.”  She brushed her hand down the side of her dress and fluffed out the skirt. “And I was going to find a spot amongst your vineyard to lay on the ground and write about the Night Creature that comes at the Midnight hour.”  She had this image in her head.

[Damon Fauci]

Vampires had within their blood a great capacity to adapt. What got in the way of many who’d been changed by the blood was the nostalgia of their own mind – clinging to and yearning for what was, they dug their heels into the past, so to speak, and grew more and more distant from the present. It was ironic that Epiphany was asking about his father, because the day of his execution cured Damon of any risk of such nostalgia or sentimentality long before he became a vampire. In his mind, when it came to the living and the societies they’d built, change was inevitable; just as he’d taken Jade’s recent changes in stride, so he would with Epiphany. She was here, and he was here for her and with her, and that was that.

“Mmm.” The low, pleased sound rumbled from him after she gave his neck a little bite. “You should consider doing that again. But harder next time.” He cast a wolfish smile at her. Playful, it was one that put the sleek sharpness of his eyeteeth on clear display. As he considered how best to respond about Dominic, his hands moved to pet up and down her sides. “For you, unlikely. For me, perhaps. He and I have been playing the long game on a…revolutionary enterprise. Now that he knows my current position, he will relentlessly urge for action, I’m sure.” Why that could cause complications Damon chose to leave unsaid – it was his dilemma to deal with, she had enough on her shoulders.

Her sincere consternation regarding his staff nearly drew a laugh. It certainly drew a smirk, and that deviant glint of amusement that often flickered in his dark eyes. “Epiphany, I tell them not to speak of the family to anyone. It’s one of the terms of their contract. My home is full of hidden history, yes, and I’ve gone through great lengths to keep it that way.” Many an ally and adversary had attempted to dig up information on Damon and his family, and what little they were able to find couldn’t be considered scratching the surface.

Then he lifted his brow, asking with a clear air of suspicion, “Are you making me into a midnight-obsessed night creature?” Had to be asked. His eyes briefly leaving hers, with a light flex of his power he bid her book and pencils to rise and travel over to them; there they hovered patiently in mid-air, waiting for Epiphany to claim them. “What is it you want to know?” He wasn’t making any promises about answering her questions just yet, but the fact that he was even entertaining the idea was farther than anyone else got with him.

[Sponsored content]