Date: 21 February 2005 (late evening)
Characters: Sanguini and Rita Skeeter
Location: Streets of Stoatshead
Status: Private
Summary: Sanguini goes on one of his late night walks and meets someone unexpected.
Completion: Incomplete
(
Lonely Moonlight Nights )
When he saw the woman standing on the sidewalk, Sanguini smiled softly, careful not to bare his fangs. Some were intimidated by him flashing that particular vampiric asset, and he wasn't fond of frightening strangers. Just being himself got him in enough trouble.
"Good evening." He said softly. "And let me congratulate you on sneaking up on me. That is the first time such a thing has happened in quite a few years."
Actually about a century, and that was his sire who had pulled it off. His smile widened a bit more as he took in her appearance. She looked vaguely familiar to him...perhaps he had seen her in a paper or some such, but a name wasn't instantly coming to mind.
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"I must just be special," she smirked, taking in the look of him from this more sensible vantage point - the form with the human-sized brain.
He was definitely not human, or not entirely. It wasn't anything she could really pin down. His skin did seem slightly different, as did his eyes, his colouring, but none of those things on their own were overly remarkable. Combined, however, the picture was rather... startling, different, maybe even beautiful. Her mind threw out words to describe him.
"Who might you be? Someone as fond of late night wandering as I am, apparently."
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Sanguini's eyes traveled down the woman's form as he tried to remember just where he had seen her before. It had been in a newspaper...the Daily Prophet, perhaps? He felt rather foolish when a name didn't come to his lips, but his mind was focusing more on the way she was looking at him, as if she was trying to figure out just who he was. Obviously she had never met a vampire before, or she likely would have known instantly.
"I go by Sanguini, and my kind are only suited to the night, I'm afraid. May I ask your name? I feel as if I should recognize you from somewhere."
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But he seemed more cautious about scaring her than he did planning to attack her.
She supposed one would never find a place to live if one went about killing residents of towns one passed through.
"I'm Rita," she said. "Rita Skeeter. I wrote for the Daily Prophet before the war." She studied him. How old was he? Impossible to tell. As old as Ollivander? Older? She had no idea how old he was either, actually. Only guesses. But however old he was... "I suppose you have quite a few stories of your own," she smiled.
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Sanguini saw her staring at him, and it seemed that she had figured out what he was. And she hadn't turned and ran hell-bent in the other direction. That was always a good way to start. He realized seconds later that it was likely she was the beetle that had been fluttering about moments before she had appeared behind him, and felt slightly annoyed at himself for not realizing it sooner. Things like that could get a man killed, depending on who you ran into. She didn't seem to be the type to start transfiguring stakes out of sticks and stabbing them through his chest. He remembered some of her articles, ones he had read when he used to get the paper, and remembered her acidly sharp skill with words.
"A vampire should have stories after four hundred years. Any one worth their fangs, anyways."
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Her curiosity could be likened to that of a cat. Although pleased by her aniamgus form in most ways, she'd initially been surprised, having almost expected something feline. She'd wondered since whether one's teacher had anything to do with the form one ended up taking - whether her first successful transformation would have turned out differently under the gaze of someone like Minerva McGonagall, rather than Carmilla.
She was incredibly curious about this man. Curious about what kind of stories he could tell her, what he'd experienced, what kind of things he'd done in the past to sate his appetite. What he did these days, come to that.
She took a cautious step forward, turning every ounce of control of her posture to appearing open and non-threatening. It was a stance she'd often had use for, as a journalist. "Four hundred years? That's quite a life. I'd love to hear about it."
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Sanguini chuckled softly. The way Rita held herself and the way she spoke belied a confident demeanor that he found appealing. She reminded him of Narcissa vaguely, albeit a little more flamboyant. He watched her carefully take a step towards him, and was slightly amused by her caution. The only blood he drank came from silver flasks like the one in his trenchcoat, not from live victims. That had ceased to be true during the war, when he was desperate with hunger, but he had stopped doing so once he came to Stoatshead.
"You would?" Sanguini smiled. "Would you care for us to talk on these dark streets or in a more welcoming venue?"
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Still, if he was out for a reason.
"Well, I wouldn't want to end your walk prematurely if you don't wish it. Do you know of anywhere that might accommodate us?"
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He smiled, tempted to offer his arm to her as a friendly gesture, but he wasn't quite sure how she would take it, considering her caution towards him, and kept his hands to himself.
"We could find a back booth in the Five Alarm if you believe it would be private enough for our needs."
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"The Five Alarm would be fine," she said, "As long as it's still open. I suppose we can go that way and find out."
When she was beside him, she found she had to look up at him at quite an odd angle, so she settled for looking ahead instead and starting to walk.
"How did you come to Stoatshead Hill? Are you living here?"
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Sanguini smirked, briefly baring his fangs as they began to walk towards the Five Alarm. He caught her looking at him oddly and realizing their difference in height, wasn't surprised when she decided to look forward rather than gazing up at his face.
"I came here due to rumors that this is where the rebuilding of part of the Wizarding world was to begin. I had had enough of casually traveling the world and thought I might find a place to settle down, if only for a few months."
He smiled. Although he had planned to leave after a few weeks, befriending Narcissa had caused him to change his mind.
"I live in the basement of Copper Towers currently. It's the only place that doesn't seem to have windows."
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