Beady eyes

Mountainside Planetarium - Clutch Only 
Beauregard had tried in the past to read in bird form. There was something charming about the idea of a little mockingbird turning pages.

But it was difficult to get the angle right, and the distance, and once he was far enough away to properly read, he was too far to turn a page. That task in itself was frequently difficult, and the fragility of paper became clearer with the relative clumsiness of a beak.

And so, unfortunately, he was forced to read the ordinary way. Slouched slightly in an arm chair, legs outstretched to rest on an ottoman before him. But after some hour or so, he found his eyes needed a moment away from text in a somewhat dimly lit space.

Placing the book on his chest, he tilted his head back a tad and let his eyelids close.

Not napping, of course. Vampires did not nap.

But to say that he eventually drifted close enough to it to lose track of his surroundings?

That was very possible.


Entering the Planetariums common room, he hadn't truly expected to see anyone, not instantly at least, and certainly not the Dominus. Eyes widening just the slightest, he was both surprised to see that Beauregard was both simply lounging, and that there was a book about Chinchillas resting upon his chest. A smile immediately made its way to his lips as he made his way closer, curiosity keeping him from just letting the man rest.

"Are you planning on getting a pet, Mr. Beauregard?' Voice cheery as the smile on his face.

He wasn't napping. Truly, again, a vampire could not nap.

But he was startled, jolting up with a sharp breath, an old habit.

Forrest was not the vampire he expected to see, but it was not an unpleasant surprise. Blinking himself into awareness again, he realized the book had fallen into his lap.

"Adopted one, actually," he said, looking the boy over. "Have any pets of your own?"

Forrest had to swallow down the cue that tried to escape his throat at the mention of the man actually already owning one of the cute fuzzy creatures, his eyes however, were unable to hide the awe he felt. Shaking his head, Forrest waved his hand as if swatting the question away, a slight laugh escaping his lips.

"Ah no, while I love to look at them, I don't have near the amount of patience needed to care for one properly." Even a goldfish required some sort of effort and cleaning on his part that he wasn't quite sure that he could manage. "I think I'll stick to my antiques. Did you name them yet?" He asked, easily moving the topic along, sorta wishing that the furry baby was right in front of him as he spoke.

The amusement had him smiling. There was joy in defying expectations. He nodded toward one of the other seats, inviting the vampire to sit.

"Her name is Annabel, though I cannot claim to have named her. It felt rude to change it after the adoption."

There was something comical about adoring the look of a little beast so utterly dopey. Beauregard found it a pitiful sort of charming, he would admit.

"Antiques, you said?"


Forrests eyes glittered at the sound, having met quite a few girls with the same name in his life time. It was cute, almost like what he would see some of the grandmothers of this time have. "It was kind of you to consider her feelings then." He answered genuinely, believing fiercely in the fact that all things, even plants, had some sort of feelings within them.

"Yeah, I suppose most of them would be from around the time I was born, but sometimes I find a few good knickknacks that were before even that time." He wasn't the oldest vampire out there, but artifacts were harder and harder to find the older they got, especially when they weren't around the great wars.

He chuckled. Such sincere words from Forrest. Apparently the way to the heart of every vampire was kindness to animals. Beauregard recalled the report of Samuel's thoughts on the matter.

"When was it you were born?" he asked, tucking some scrap of paper he'd left on the chair into the book to save his place.

There was much to learn about the bizarre creature Beauregard had brought into his home.

It was strange, almost like some sort of hellish entity had taken over his thoughts for a brief moment, but he was back now. Moving towards the offered seat, Forrest swiftly sat his butt down, hands naturally folding into his lap as he made to answer the question asked of him. "Born in the year 1914, transition during the second world war." Eyes shadowing just the slightest as he remembered the time he had spent there, it was only a brief moment, eyes returning to their original chipperness.

"It feels like yesterday to be honest." Strange how time seemed to still speed by, even as a vampire. "How about you, Mr. Beauregard?"

Beauregard had heard many tales of soldier turnings. He could only imagine how quickly they would have to desert it all, permanently nocturnal. A story for another day, given by the brief dip in the boy's demeanor.

The question was politely turned back on him, but a correction had to be made first. "Mr. Beauregard" had been forgivable once. It was nearly cloying a second time.

"Just Beauregard. Mr. Bertrand or Dominus, if you insist."

He smiled gently, a softening of the blow of a direct fix.

"Born in 1866. Died... some years later."

His tone was light, a man not entirely driven to reveal his exact age before death. He accompanied it with a wave of his hand.

"We're both rather youthful in the scheme of it all."

Oops, Forrest took no offense to the correction, simply taking a mental note so that he might not make the same mistake towards Beauregard again later. Returning the smile, Forrest ran a single hand through his hair offering a chuckle at the statement that was made. "Still strange to think that over 100 years is still youthful to us." He doubted it was something he would ever get used to, watching the world continue to age, as he stayed exactly where he was now.

"It is nice to find other though, makes it a bit easier the handle." And by it, he meant vampires, because honestly it wasn't something he'd really wish on anyone. Immortality was not as fun as they made it out to be in the movies.

It was strange, perhaps. But Beauregard had always felt youthful, and he assumed he always would. He was an energetic man, lively in most moods.

"I have spent very little time away from the company of other vampires," he said. "Turned by a clutch, myself. I think you'll find you grow stronger, faster here. What power was it that you had again?"

They all blurred together, save for a few notable ones that worried him.

Forrest hadn't joined for any sort of power, but the knowledge that strength would come from his joining was relieving. He had honestly been feeling a bit useless since his encounter with the cheetah man, having little to no power in stopping him, and even allowing for his bloodlust to get the better of him. It was quite embarrassing to recall, and he was a bit grateful when Beauregard came with another question.

"Ah, I can create and manipulate ice." Forrest answered easily, holding out a hand as he formed a small chunk of it within his palm for demonstration. "I can create much more than this, but it does tend to get a bit messy when it melts." Crushing the bit in his hands, Forrest wiped away the lingering moisture on his jeans.

"What kind do you have?" He asked, looking up once more, thoroughly intrigued to find out what power this man held to hold such a position of power. It, no doubt, had to be something pretty strong.

Ice. Beauregard couldn't claim he'd have been particularly thrilled to have such an ability. But certainly there had to be uses for it.

Could the liquid in someone's veins be frozen, perhaps?

"Very curious," he said, already full of questions but needing to take his turn.

Though did he, truly?

"I have a thousand questions for you first," he said, teasing but ultimately focused. "What sorts of uses have you found for it?"

Could he sculpt from ice with his... mind, essentially, or was he limited to natural formations?


Forrest was sure the disappointment showed on his face, even if for only a second, as his thoughts immediately began to mule over the second question asked of him. The uses he had found for ice, which, while a basic question, was still a bit harder than Forrest had suspected to answer. He seldom found any need to use his power outside of fights, and even then, he had so many other 'abilities' that it was hardly ever needed.

It wasn't like a human could out run him, or beat him in strength, and he had never really fought against another vampire... Maybe he had just had a pretty easy afterlife compared to some others.

"Well, I can freeze walls and floors, making it harder to move..." He began brows furrowing just a bit. "Typically I just freeze peoples feet if I dont want them to get away, I don't have to be particularly close to use my power. I guess I could also just sorta trap them in an ice box if I needed to... I can also make things out of it, but I tend to keep to the basics, a large shard of ice does just as well a prettily carved knife would." He explained, giving a small smile. "Unfortunately my power is more for attacks than anything else, can't really heal with ice as far as I know."

Beauregard listened with interest. Forrest seemed... gentle, perhaps. Soft. It was not an insult so much as a fact. As the other vampire rattled off uses, Beauregard came up with far more.

Black ice on roadways. Dangerous icicles. His mother, all those decades ago, had cracked her skull on stairs after a simple slip on frozen pavement.

"Can you make any shape?" he asked, thoughtful. "A knife? A... giraffe?"

A knife was an understandable suggestion, but a giraffe, well that caught him a bit off guard.

"I can do most shapes and designs." Forrest began a bit warily. "However, I doubt that I could do a life sized giraffe iced sculpture that would be stable. I have a bit of a limit to how much I can use comfortably." He explained, and then feeling like Beauregard would have questions, added. "My limit sort of varies from a lot of different factors. The weather, my own stamina and how much is used in one go. My body just starts to freeze if I use it too much, not in the literal sense, but I can't move as freely."

Forrest continued, though the results were just a tad disappointing. Beauregard wanted even further detail. Did artistic ability play into it? Or was it simply a work of the mind, something that could be pictured and created with that alone?

Too many questions, he knew, and pushed away for the sake of some remaining politeness.

"Curious, all the different side effects," he said, tilting his head thoughtfully.

One last question, he swore, and then he'd answer the one originally posed to him.

"What's the most impressive feat you've managed with your power?"

Ice didn't really come to play in everyday life, and therefore led to Forrest not using it very often. There were not some great accomplishments that he had achieved with his ice, simply because he had never thought to really make any. Chilling glasses, creating small sculptures when bored, and other small things like that were all that he had really ever done.

Still, he had tested it in the beginning, pushed himself to see just how much control he had over his creation of ice, and just how much he could produce in just a small amount of time. It was such a messy trick though, and so the places he could practice with little clean up were quite limited. "I don't push myself often with this power, or even use it that often, and so I am afraid to say my 'impressive feats' are quite limited, if there are any at all." He gave an apologetic smile before continuing on.
"Still, when I was first created, and learned of this power. I did test it a bit, and in those tests I did manage to freeze a whole van. Covered everything from the exterior to the spark plugs in a sheen of ice and still managed to move." Yeah, it wasn't that cool, but it had showed Forrest just how well he could manipulate his ice around things, and it had taken a few times before he had actually managed to do it without fucking up.

Beauregard wondered why Forrest didn't push himself, but he supposed ambition was not for everyone.

"That is impressive," he said sincerely. Then he chuckled. "And destructive, I imagine."

Liquid stretching metal, bending it. Where did the water come from to coat something in ice? Simply... the air?

"My abilities are a bit less visual. I can read emotions and, at times, adjust them some. The second power is less interesting: stopping others from using their abilities when near me."

It had been useful, if nothing else.

Forrest wasn't quite sure about the whole destructive part, but he did smile at his power being called impressive. There was very little that Forrest saw impressive about himself, and to be told that something was, well that was just heartwarming to say the least. At the mention of Beauregards powers, his eyes widened a bit, now realizing that Beauregard had probably sensed his anxious nature on more than one occasion. It was a bit... Intrusive, honestly, but at least it wasn't as bad as reading thoughts or something like that.

"Those sound like some good defenses." Forrest concluded. "Do you have to actually focus on someone for their emotions, or is it second nature." Just so Forrest could have an idea on just how much the man was aware of.

"Defenses" was one word for it. Beauregard wasn't sure if it was a word he favored.

"In crowds, it tends to blend unless I focus," he said. "One on one, it is very difficult not to notice. But I've lived long enough with it that I've truthfully forgotten what it's like not to mind the small things."

A smile, and he glanced down to the book at his lap.

"Only works on people, though. No chinchilla insight."

Forrest couldn't imagine that he would like having others emotions clouding his mind constantly, for while Beauregard had gotten used to it, Forrest was very easily distracted. He would be in the constant state of 'whats that' until it finally settled into background noise. As Beauregard looked towards his book, Forrest couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Well, luckily, animals do not tend to hide their feelings like we do." He was pretty sure they didn't have the brain for that sort of thing.

Was that true? Beauregard was uncertain. Perhaps they just weren't expressive enough to reveal whatever inner miseries they held. And showing... despair was certainly some sort of weakness, wasn't it?

He was no animal psychologist, nor did he have any desire to be. Maybe he could ask a shifter if he wanted more insight; the thought amused.

"Transparent little things. Perhaps that's why we like them."

A slight chuckle, and he cracked open his book again, wondering where he'd left off.

"Perhaps." Forrest chuckled, raising himself to his feet.

"It was nice speaking with you. You should show me Annabel sometime." But for right now, he had some more looking around to do.

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