antiquecritique

[antiquecritique]

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t offer it? If there is, I am not aware of it.” Duncan countered, letting Ruby have a moment to rethink this entire encounter and regroup. After all, she was the one seeking him out. Duncan was a graceful man, he would not let a fellow vampiress get ahead of herself. In the meanwhile, he took short, puffing inhales off his pipe, fogging up the air around him with fragrant smoke. “Ah, how do mortals sometimes say it… ‘Unbothered. Moisturized. In my lane’, was it?” Things one could overhear with a supernatural hearing, even when one did not try. “And yourself?” He reciprocated then jutted his chin out at the sitting area in the room. “Care to sit yourself down? Or does nervously standing about make you feel more comfortable?”

It wasn’t that Ruby had remained a complete unknown to Duncan since he’d found out about her some few decades ago in France. Nothing could remain an unknown for long if in any way, shape or form related to Duncan. He’d investigated her, enough to paint a picture of her to Duncan not influenced by whatever Ruby wanted to show of herself. He was aware of her history with Anne, the vampire man she was in Greywood with, and how her outbursts of loneliness and bitterness had left a trail of devastation behind her in the past. Thinking about it made Duncan sigh disappointedly. He’d always tried to instill into his progenies the importance of picking theirs very carefully. Alas it seemed to be a mistake all of them were bound to make sooner or later. With Anne not around, Duncan supposed it was his duty as a grandsire to correct some wrongs in her stead. However, the ancient vampire had his own ways of going about things like these. And it usually started with refreshments and hospitality. “Thirsty, child?” He asked in form of an offer.

The bond with a sire was unlike anything else. Despite hundreds of years having passed, Ruby still frequently thought about Anne. She wondered if her sire, and lover, was still alive, and if she was, if Ruby would ever see her again. She mused about killing Anne sometimes, too, although that was complex. Being abandoned had done its number on Ruby, and until she met John, Ruby had often wondered if she were the only vampire left alive. It had been horrifically lonely, and the villages she levelled in her anguish and anger, well… Ruby didn’t regret that exactly. Vampires were created to cause chaos, and if she bothered with morality so black and white, she likely would have staked herself years ago.

During those long nights spent wondering about Anne, Ruby had eventually began wondering about Anne’s sire. All she had was a name, but the vampiric community in Europe had been small, and Duncan was frankly prolific. Eventually that had lead Ruby to France and meeting him face to face.

That, of course, had been intentional but hearing that her sire’s sire was in Greywood had been shocking. Ruby acknowledged that coincidences in such a long life were regular, and rare, all at once. She tracked Duncan down to his antique shop, and there, she stared at him blankly for a moment. Any person associated with Anne so closely felt like a punch to the gut, but somehow, Duncan strangely also felt like family. God, Ruby hated such complexities. “Pleased to see me?” Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow. “I expected a far less warm welcome, but I suppose I appreciate that.” After a pause, she asked, “How have you been? It’s been ages.”

#::DuncanxRuby #I am so sorry I am so slow T.T

[antiquecritique]

Duncan would’ve left Theodore to his own devices to explore to his heart’s content for as long as he wanted to, but the younger man seemed to have gotten his eye caught by a very specific piece and latched onto it. As he read what was engraved into the wood the bookshelf was made of, Duncan’s gradually released attention returned to Theo to be at his disposal. “Unfortunately not who J.W is. But Evelyn? Yes, I recall her. She was the one who brought this piece to me and left it to be sold.” Duncan revealed as he took slow, deliberate steps roundabout to where Theo observed the bookcase, his dress shoes clicking crisply every time they hit the wooden floor. 

“You are interested in this piece?” He asked but in the next moment he was advising against it. “I do not recommend it. It is not for you.” Why though was left cryptically unexplained. “But if you truly desire it, I will sell it to you.” A concession Duncan rarely made for anyone. Usually the old vampire had no qualms over denying to sell something to someone just because the item didn’t feel like it was ‘right for them’. He rarely explained his reasoning behind it though.

He nodded his head, small smile quirking the corners of his lips. The casualness with which he asked the question almost felt amusing to him. It was a pretty normal sentence, but to him a divorce was something serious, something that hopefully only happened once, if at all. To imagine that it could be only the first time out of many was absurd to him, but that was only because of his romantic nature. He also wasn't immortal. He would live longer than humans probably, but that thought hadn't crossed his mind yet.

In that moment, as he stood in the store, the realization washed over him, even when he could choose for himself, he still tried to ask for someone else's opinion. It was almost ironic how he told him that he wanted to pick something without help for once and then immediately asked for his help. Maybe the fault wasn't totally on his ex-wife after all. He fully smiled at him, at his encouragements and started looking around.

His gaze wandered, landing first on a beautifully crafted bookshelf. He loved reading in his free time and thought this could add character to his living space while also being a great way to display his book collection.

He noticed something was engraved into the wood of the old bookshelf, when he got closer he could read: ''To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.'' Right next to the quote was an even smaller inscription, barely discernible: ''For Evelyn, with everlasting affection - J.W''

''Wow! I wonder who are these people.'' Even after his divorce, he still found this gesture beautiful, he felt lucky even to be able to witness it. He was hoping this story didn't have a terrible ending. ''Did you know them?'' He asked the owner curiously.

#::DuncanxTheodore #no rush whenever you have time for it <3

[antiquecritique]

|| Naia & Duncan ||

“Thank you for indulging me.” Duncan expressed his gratitude to the siren he had arranged to meet up with, an old acquaintance he had lost touch with perhaps some eighty years ago, give or take. He’d always believed the saying that all roads lead to Rome but it seemed like there was another town all roads could guide to, going by the quaint name of Greywood. “Next time we meet, you may choose a place that is more to your liking. Though if there are excessive amounts of water in it, I cannot guarantee how comfortable I will be.” He admitted as he motioned for Naia to take a seat in one of the Elysium’s private booths, a good spot Duncan had rented out in advance as he preferred not to get in contact with too many people in one evening if he could help it.

“I understand you’ve been in town for a while but we never seem to have managed to properly catch up until now. So tell me, how have you been? Have you found your legs yet, so to speak?” Of course, there was no rush for immortal beings, Naia could take all the time in the world to finally find her place above the sea. But Duncan was curious to investigate how someone who’d spent the majority of their supernaturally long life being almost completely isolated from the rest of the world would adapt to these modern times and everything that came with them.

@siircn

#::DuncanxNaia #I hope this works! #sorry I am forever slow T.T

[antiquecritique]

It wasn’t the first time Duncan had seen people quite literally kneel on the ground in his presence although he’d never achieved a status that unquestionably required it. There were instances when he was the one kneeling too, although rare and far between. It was not his aim to bring this other vampire down to her knees but such a reaction was far better than none, so he took it as an opportunity. However, he hoped that this opportunity was taken wisely because it could determine how him and this particular vampire would coexist in this town. Besides, there was the human to think of as well. There was already a lot he had seen to erase. At some point it may become impossible, even for Duncan. So it was of utmost importance to have this done sooner rather than later.

All the tension he’d intentionally built up within his tall, broad-shouldered form was gradually but visibly being released and with it, the shadows began retreating, crawling back into dark corners and cracks of the house, dormant again now that they were no longer needed. The next time he spoke, his tone was calm and almost velvet smooth, the complete opposite of its earlier intimidatingly imposing cadence. “Then I will do it, and you will not bring people who do not wish to be brought here again.” He switched to the English he was used to, very subtly refined by the generic British accent he’d adopted over the years.

He stepped around his desk, approaching the two, namely the terrified human being kneeling down with Seo and shivering where he’d gathered himself in as small of a ball as a person could possibly curl into. Duncan glanced at the vampiress before he would do anything with the human though. “Step away and observe.” As good a time as any to show her what she herself confessed that she couldn’t do.

His questions confused her, wondering if perhaps he had misspoken or used an incorrect word. In her mind there was no such thing as a willing donor as there were no such things for her, merely victims that were left with blank eyes and cut off life threads somewhere in a dark corner where they can be found in days. And she highly doubted that there was anyone who would volunteer for that. She was about to contradict him and say it when the air seemed to get denser. She did not need oxygen, not like a human may need it, not breathing for a very long duration was nothing to worry and in fact at the start she remembered learning how to breathe and appear as if she in fact did still need to do it. So that she could appear human enough, despite her bone pale skin and the dark redness in her irises.

It felt as if she were back in the cave, back into the inescapable prison... and she wasn't sure if it was the voice that was so alike Maurin at this moment when he scolded her as if she were a newborn making a detrimental mistake, or if it was the feeling of being imprisoned once more, but she found her legs give out and she obediently half-kneeled, half-sat on the floor, dragging the man along with her, all decorum forgotten in this moment. "I do not know how to do that," she said with an apologetic tone as she looked up at the man who seemed as if he were becoming one with the shadows around him. She switched her language as if to make sure that she was understood, like she would have done once when the man in front of her would not have known how to understand her native tongue.

#::DuncanxSeo #murder mention tw #blood mention tw

[antiquecritique]

“Of course I will keep it. Maybe you will want it back again after you regret giving it away to be sold.” Duncan responded absently, without any deeper thought behind his own words and how easily he had fallen back to looking after Jean-Claude and being a safety net under all of the younger vampire’s recklessness, even if just for a moment and out of thoughtless habit. After all, he currently had more pressing matters to pay attention to. It came as somewhat of an oddity that maybe the apparent hadn’t occurred to J.C - that Duncan had let a tear out. Or at least Duncan hoped Jean Claude had not considered this or would kindly pretend it was anything else but crying. It was such an inconvenience that he wasn’t able to produce clear tears anymore, instead leaking blood out of his eyes, their dark redness impossible to hide on a deathly pale face.

“It seems like… renewing the bond and keeping my influence on you is not without consequences.” He mused, marveling still at the finger slick with red. He had not seen his own blood like this in an age. He was absolutely itching to retreat to solitude and slowly, carefully think through and analyze this phenomena, like an insane doctor performing surgery on his own open heart. It took him a moment to pull his gaze away from the unfamiliar sight and reach with his clean hand into the inner pocket of his vest to produce a handkerchief to wipe his fingers and face with.

duncan's response was predictably duncan, with jean-claude rolling his eyes in a somewhat fond manner at being told he shouldn't offer gifts without caring about what happens to them. it was a tone used with him many times before though, j.c could only really remember a handful of them, yet even now the urge to disobey the advice grew inside of him like an unruly child. "i know what'll though - you'll end up liking it sooo much you keep it for yourself instead of selling," j.c noted playfully, still rummaging through boxes.

some things weren't brought out, the vampire happy to keep them away until they were at home with him, eager to find two extremely specific items amongst the others. it was in this flurry that he didn't notice what had happened to duncan, curls popping back up with a grin as he finally got one of the items he'd been searching for - a pale green jacket with beautiful golden embroidery that started at the lapels and framed the entire piece, the buttons appeared as small pearls, carefully folded and kept in wax paper and a sealed plastic bag. at one time, it may have been an exceptionally beautiful piece of clothing but, time had run its course on now dulled fabric. yet, to j.c, it would never be anything other than the same as when it had been tailored.

that's when he looked up, eager to show his sire when he saw the trail of red, how touching it had smeared it. "duncan?" the younger vampire did sound concerned, getting up from where he'd been son engrossed in discovering memories. "you alright?" it was always disconcerting to see him in a state other than stoic, after all.

#::DuncanxJean-Claude #blood tw

[antiquecritique]

A soft, knowing and somewhat resigned sigh escaped Duncan’s lips - of course the thing will happen as soon as you warn of it potentially happening. It was simply the laws of the world. Yet, save for that single sigh, the vampire remained outwardly unbothered. Imagine, sauntering into a place that sold old things and not expecting to find dust? How positively naïve. “Of the shop? Yes.” Then he added, belatedly, as he closed the book he’d been reading, letting its hard cover rest upon a bent knee crossed over the other leg. “Bless you. How can I help?” The eyes that had looked up were eerily mismatched in color - one cerulean blue and the other with a pool of deep forest green around the iris. The contrast was made all the more harsh on a face as pale as a sheet of paper. Behind Jesse's back, a clean microfiber rag slithered across the table’s surface like a snake, silently and very diligently running over things the human had sneezed on. All on its own, without a person to hold and guide it. 

Okay, he jumped. Or rather, flinched. Jesse hadn't expected some deep dark voice from the depths of nowhere to come out, so it was only natural he jerked and twisted that direction to clear up that it wasn't a ghost. "Huh?" The human had no idea what piece was being referred to, but was that any surprise? This person sat with a level of sophistication that Jesse Cowen would never reach. All he knew was that his nose-- the tickles caused him to rub the area several times and right as he was ordered not to--

Achoo! Achoo! Achooachooachoo!

Jesse sneezed everywhere in rapid succession for several seconds before finally gaining control of his senses. "Ugh-" He used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe his nose off and then offered a pathetic, "my bad" for apology. How was it his fault? This place was dangerously coated with a thick layer of dust hiding in all sorts of places, he'd wager. It was straight out of a haunted museum or whatever. With a tug on his jacket, as if to straighten himself out, Jesse approached the other by several steps until he stopped. There was still a wide gap between them. This guy seemed busy, with his book and all, but he was also the only other person there right now. "Are you the owner?"

#::DuncanxJesse

[antiquecritique]

Duncan motioned with a very polite gesture of his hand when the napkin was offered back to him, refusing it and allowing Min-Ji to keep it. “A painting.” Duncan revealed finally, turning back to the stairs that lead up to the last level of the house - the attic. “Of a man whose pursuit of eternal beauty had cost him his soul.” As he spoke, he ascended the stairs, opening the widened trap door to let himself pass through. He did give Min-Ji a glance and extended a hand for her to hold onto, should the young fae woman need any help going up. The stairs were pretty stable and converted to an actual staircase instead of the usual pull down stairs. But the faerie had her wings out which might influence her balance. Duncan had always been a gentleman enough to mind these details, even for a stranger, and she’d given him no reason so far to become intentionally neglectful of this. 

Once up, should Min-Ji choose to go through with it with or without Duncan’s help, she’d find herself in a much more spacious than otherwise suspected place under the house’s roof, illuminated by a large round skylight that appeared perfectly plain from the outside but on the inside was painted into a colorful but faded vitrage. Had the colors been more vibrant, they would likely paint the whole space in luminous patterns. The loft was very obviously converted into an artist’s studio and storage, most items were stacked crates and boxes but there was also few pieces of furniture covered in flowing white cloth. Some were quite oddly shaped under their eerie veils of fabric, indicating that the item underneath was something extraordinary. The rest was scattered art supplies, work benches, professional craft tools and many easels either with a finished piece drying on it or work in progress. To explore every nook and cranny of the space would likely take half a day. 

|| Min-Ji & Duncan ||

#::DuncanxMin-Ji

[antiquecritique]

This was somewhat peculiar behavior. Instead of sitting down at the comfortably arranged sitting space around the coffee table to have the tea, she chose to bring both Duncan’s cup and the creamer to him, so they now stood awkwardly near the doorway with steaming cups held in hands. Even the old vampire had to admit that he found this highly odd, although his unchanging poker face never showed it. Once she stepped away from him, Duncan gave the woman a long look, then walked around her, his cup of tea perfectly balanced on the little tea plate he held pinched between his fingers. The surface of the cup barely stirred as he sauntered. “It is old, yes. It can be considered antique.” He admitted, approaching the sitting area and placing his cup down in front of the seat he’d take in the next moment. 

“Why would something be wrong with a bracelet? Why did you feel the need to… check it?” He asked. Some people, he found, were better off finding their own answers. One just needed to give them a little nudge out of the door. As he relaxed comfortably in the broad overstuffed leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, he waited for her answer.

"Oh? It's... it's very beautiful," she said as she looked down at the cups she was holding to both look through the drawn on flowers and to observe the sugar the man said he did not want. She quickly turned back, complying with the request as she had learned to do, carefully putting them back in the bowl from which she had taken them, looking around the table for cream and carefully adding it to the items in her hands. She rarely though of her short time as a waitress or a bartender but it seemed like she didn't need to as he hands did remember what to do and how to balance things.

Helen quickly returned towards the shopkeeper, giving the cup and the creamer while looking down and trying not to spill as she unhooked the milk jug from her pinkie finger. As she stepped back a respectable distance, Helen held the plate with one hand and the handle of the mug with its golden details. "Does the bracelet look as something that might be... antique? I just wanted to... to make sure everything is alright with it I suppose," she asked, keeping her voice low as the music - now in the other room - was faint and she didn't want to sound as nervous as she felt.

#::DuncanxHelen

[antiquecritique]

“Do not feel bad for me. All I do for you is done willingly. My choices are my own. No one can force those upon me.” Duncan reassured and although the phrases said would otherwise be comforting, his tone made them sound cold. But then again, Duncan rarely managed to truly sound warm and compassionate unless he was acting. He did not feel the need to act now, Kayla deserved the real him, his faults and practically non-existent emotional capacity alike. What was the point of acting in front of her anyway, she knew him well enough, as much as anyone could truly know Duncan’s mysterious ways.

“Joseph?” Duncan said, with as much interest as he displayed for anything else - low. But it was genuinely only his tone that made it seem that way in this particular case. “I can imagine a few troubling things relating to your relationship with your son.” He confirmed, although he didn’t know the details, he could assume. “We learn for as long as we exist.” He stated it as a simple fact while he circled back to where Kayla left the refreshments, the smell of peppermint tea spiked with blood entering his nostrils. The strong scents were hard to miss. His nose was not as sensitive as that of a werewolf’s but it was sensitive to blood.

“Do you wish to share your thoughts on either of these subjects with me?” He offered, sitting himself down at the kitchen table, popping the button of his old fashioned suit jacket open to allow free movement while seated.

Kayla couldn't really fault him for the lack of prior connection, he was a old fashion soul trying to conform to modern society norms or at least that's how she had always viewed him, and even though she wasn't as old the transition from nothing to mobile hand held devices was a difficult one even from her but luckily for her she was around for the creation of most of them but some people might not have been so up to date with what had been going on and Duncan was always a person she expected a letter from even in today's society; "It's okay no big deal, I would have just hated to not have been home when you came over, I would have felt bad granted what you have done for me"

Hoping the house wasn't in such a bad of a state that it would garner any judgement from him she prepared herself and him a beverage, the fridge was stocked with all types of blood for the guests that came into her home but was that too casual? Should there be something more formal? "Well, no, I mean I guess what you identify as trouble, it's nothing with the transition just more so with my son but I do think I know the solution and I think it just requires a lot of patience on my behalf but I think that's the only trouble that I have at the moment, that and just trying to navigate everything as a vampire. There is still a lot I don't know"

#::DuncanxKayla #blood tw

[antiquecritique]

|| Elena & Duncan ||

For Duncan, there had not been an issue of a shortage in a very, very long time - he had been on this earth for far too long to not plan way ahead and have a backup even for his backup. Very few things were of a major concern for an old undead creature aside from the one thing his entire unlife basically revolved around - blood. And that was something Duncan always made sure to have in a steady supply. So although with many donors available on a call, Duncan still made regular trips to the Greywood Hospital, for the blood packs supplied by a specialized department who took care that the residential vampires and even businesses catering to them were well supplied by clean, healthy blood to consume and on a regular basis too. It was the most legitimate way anyone in Greywood could get blood for consumption, as long as they were registered, able to be reached out to if needed and had proven that they were of a species in need of it with papers signed that they would not waste the precious donations for other purposes. 

So, in essence, Duncan had going on his weekly shopping to the hospital with, essentially, vampire food stamps to spend it on. He would’ve found it funny if humor were still working on him. Since it didn’t, he just found it very convenient. There was no need to hide, no need to hunt, no need to charm a human to give up what kept them alive without a fuss. Truly a golden age for vampires in this town, save for the black plague when availability, although grim and depressing, was much more abundant. 

There was another thing to look forward to - as much as an emotionless vampire could look forward to anything - on these weekly errands to the hospital. An acquaintance he’d made there, out of a nurse who works on the floor. To her, it would all seem like a very accidental story, how they first met and started chatting and how the vampire seemed very friendly and perhaps even pleasant to talk to while he was waiting for his request to be processed and her work was too slow and she had nothing better to do than to humor him. For Duncan, it was a way to keep an eye on the family. Not progenies or alike, but the real family, the mortal one that descended from the numerous branches Duncan was the ancestor of. By now, he knew her schedule and had picked times to come in when she would be around in her night shifts. He had no specific interest in her but instead in her son, who through Roman carried still the Creeds’ ancestral bloodline within the Baudelaire branch. 

So there Duncan was, in his usual old-fashioned best, occupying the same seat in the waiting room he always would as he waited for his name to be called, knowing that sooner or later Elena, the mother of a Baudelaire, would be passing down the hallway and maybe notice him and come up for a chat.

@elena-delacruz

#::DuncanxElena #blood mention tw #pandemic mention tw #I am sorry I took a while! #I hope this is okay! #don't worry about matching the length!

[antiquecritique]

Once again, Valentina displayed levels of polite sensibility Duncan could very much appreciate. After all, with Duncan’s bluntness and lack of emotional response, he very much valued another’s ability to remain concise, down to a point and considerate of time, place and purpose. He then patiently kept silent, to allow her to respond to everything he’d just said, speaking up only after she was done presenting her case and reasoning behind her potential request.

“That is a very common reason for wanting eternity. Eternity, if nothing else, can provide plenty of time.” He began, at length, leaning an elbow against the armrest of his chair, the hand of that arm rubbing idly under his lip as he pondered over her words carefully, his mismatchingly-colored eyes unfocusing from her to a spot in the distance beyond her as he processed their conversation and how to further approach it. “You would have to renounce the daylight. A charm will be acquired for you, but it may not be possible for you to use it properly from the start. You will be drinking blood, perhaps at first every night, as sustenance, instead of the food you are so far used to. You may change in ways no one, not even yourself, may expect to. You will experience death and remain dead, animated only by the blood of the one who turns you and the blood you consume. You may also experience a bond with the one who does so, unlike any other bond you have ever experienced before. It may be faint and barely there but that bond may also be very invasive. It is on an unpredictable case to case basis. You will gain abilities beyond your imagination - speed, strength, agility... You will no longer be afraid of sickness or old age but you will also turn cold to touch and be tempted to lure people to do your bidding and if that existence questions any of your morality and points of view, it may lead to deep inner turmoil. You will see your mortal family, friends and acquaintances age and eventually perish, while you remain unchanged. And as years pass, you will experience loneliness and perhaps even regret because once you make this step, you can never go back to what you once were.”

This was a lengthy speech for Duncan, he could hardly remember the time when he last spoke this much with another person. Perhaps it was the last time he’d sired a progeny and delivered pretty much this exact same speech, small differences here and there to adapt to the one he was speaking to. But Duncan knew that no matter what he’d said, it were just empty words in comparison to the experience a newly created vampire would go through. And each and every one of them had an experience that was uniquely their own. At the end of it, no matter Duncan’s prudence or care for the future progeny, they would go down a path he would not be able to or want to influence or sometimes could even make easier for them. He could only say yes or no now, and deal with any potential consequences later.

"I have had a progeny whom I had to... put down for they have ghouled. Become feral. But... that is a story for another time." Duncan leaned away with a soft sigh, dropping his thinking posture in favor a more relaxed one. He was done thinking over it.

Valentina could understand where Duncan was coming from as the lawyer didn't tend to voice her inner thoughts and monologue with everyone she met but it was a inkling she had and like flowers in the spring, it started as a seed, something that was planted there one day in the depth of her brain and over time the more she thought about it the more sense it made to grow into what it currently has right now; "it's definitely not a overnight thought but I wanted to make sure that this was something I wanted and that it made the most sense to me as a person before seeking you out. I know your time is valuable regardless of how much you have so I didn't want to meet with you without good reasoning"

Relaxing more into her position allowing the cushion to conform around her posture she listened to what Duncan had to say, soaking up his response and wordings; "I don't think anyone can really plan for a transition such as this and it's not something I ever claim to be prepared but one of my big benefactors to wanting a drastic change like this is the fact that I do want more time" taking a breath before further explaining.

"I feel like there are still a lot of things I want to accomplish in my life and I feel like the human timeline is just not enough for me" almost feeling like she was pleading her case to him, wanting to really solidify his concerns with her solutions; "And while yes, I hear what you are saying, that eventually time seems eventual and extensive, I am one of these people that plans meticulously up until I can't any more one can't ever really plan for forever. It's not possible"

And the way Valentina wanted to handle it was try and do what she wanted to do and figure the rest out at a later date, or so that was her game plan at the moment, see where her new eventual life would take her "I do appreciate you discussing the darker or not so positive lights about this transition though as it's something that has been keeping me up for the last couple of months or so and I would like to hear more about the challenges that maybe someone of your age and experience would have and face being a vampire" really wanting to hear him out and consider every little facet of this decision before making the ultimate choice.

#::DuncanxValentina #blood mention tw #death mention tw #murder mention tw #omg don't worry about it! #you know I tend to write a lot too XD

[antiquecritique]

“And placing a value on something otherwise priceless is diminishing it.” Duncan countered readily, a simple checkmate casually played. “An odd perspective, to think giving credit equates to putting a price tag on a masterpiece in the artist’s stead. Do tell me more about it.” Although the tone used did not at all sound like Duncan was excited to hear more about this point of view. It tends to get really old listening to people ramble away about things Duncan not only held in his store but actually seen being used at the time of their making.

“Yes, truly, my mistake indeed to overlook another’s lack of expertise to differentiate between a replica and an original. IKEA is not too far away from here, you see. They display prices there. I’d offer more precise directions but I’ve truly never been. Apologies.” As he said so, he put the last book he held away and slowly turned to face this particular boisterous customer, clasping his hands neatly behind his back as he gazed indifferently at the man. One light blue and the other greenish eye held an emptiness of an abandoned home in them, with dim lights still flickering soullessly.

Hal was not a businessman. He disliked crunching numbers. He despaired over invoices. He didn't posses the magnetic personality all good salespersons curated, even if his trade depended on a calculated winnowing of a source's information.

He did have an eye for art, however. This was a piece in need of its due.

"But why?" Hal protested. "Hiding the value only artificially enhances its worth. To give credit to its maker and all the work performed to create it, you must show the price. These rugs laid in palaces and mosques throughout history. To allow your product to be mistaken for a run-of-the-mill replica is a strange choice indeed, sir." It was just...unusual, he supposed, glancing at the owner who had yet to turn around. Odd elsewhere, but seemingly at home in Greywood...he should start getting used to it.

#::DuncanxHalil

[antiquecritique]

Done with the lamp, Duncan retrieved his hands off it, making sure that all was in its place first as this was an oil lamp - mishandling could mean a fire hazard. As he did so, he continued to listen to Charlie with his back turned to him. Eventually, he made a slow turn to give the detective a glance. “No one steals from this house.” He asserted, a claim as sure as the fact that the sun rises in the east and sets down in the west; there was no wavering of doubt in Duncan’s voice, as if this fact could not be changed even if the rest of the world ended up turned upside down. “I have, however, noticed something that could be related to the reports you speak of.” He added casually, almost as an afterthought.

At Charlie’s compliment for the things Duncan kept in the shop, the old vampire made a graceful small bow of his head in gratitude. “Thank you for your flattering words." He had not bothered telling any of the stories because with the number of things in the shop, they’d probably get stuck in there forever if he tried telling even half of them. After all, Out of the Attic was constantly overcrowded by all sorts of stuff. They circulated, most didn’t find a permanent home there as this was a shop after all, but there was rarely a time when Duncan didn’t have something else to pull out to replace the gone item with. Taking an inventory list merely by glancing around would not be possible.

Charlie watched Duncan for moment, as he changed the lamp over. He moved forward slightly, leaning his hip on the counter. "Just wanting to follow up on some reports we've had." Charlie said, with a slight smile. "Been reports of break-ins in the area, have you seen anything or..." Charlie looked around the shop for a moment taking in the inventory before he looked back to Duncan. "Or have you had anything stolen in a past few weeks." Charlie straightened up slightly, as he looked at the lamp again. "You have some nice things in here." Charlie moved over to where Duncan was standing and looked at the lamp. "I'm sure there are a lot of stories to go with them."

#::DuncanxCharlie

[antiquecritique]

“Really, what?” Duncan asked, genuinely unsure what Tony was asking. He remained indifferent in the face of their enthusiasm but then again, Duncan always appeared indifferent, it was not an exclusive behavior coming from him. “Yes to Ramones, nay for Germs. I am afraid that I was much less inclined towards the American punk rock bands. I was simply not on the continent as often to fully appreciate.” He answered truthfully.

It seemed like the old vampire gave out a deep, rumbling chuckle then, but it sounded hollow, like just a sound without the emotion behind it. “You mean I seem like too much of an aristocracy to enjoy the revolution? I suppose I understand why you see it that way. But as I mentioned, it was the landmark of its time. I support what punk and punk rock represent. It’s historical as well as monumental. Like any of the other similar artistic movements.”

Usually, Tony got a feeling about people.  It was one of the things they prided on themselves.  However, since coming into contact with Duncan, they still weren’t sure about the man.  Not in a bad way, just Duncan was shrouded in mystery and Tony wanted to figure the vampire out.  “Really?”  For whatever reason, it excited Tony. Perhaps because there was some small part of themselves that thought Duncan found them annoying.

“WHAT?  Oh mah gawd,” they exclaimed, just completely taken back by Duncan and completely in awe.  “Have you ever seen The Germs?  Are you big into The Ramones?  Like, I started with The Ramones and moved towards British punk from then and of course punk rock  here.  Oh The Vandals are wild.”  It even amazed them how Duncan lived during that time and actually got to see it all in person.  “No offence, but wow!  Just you seem so classy and proper and yet you support punk!”

#::DuncanxAnthony

[antiquecritique]

“Let us put it this way - would you spend forever letting me know when sarcasm is used and when not? Sure it is manageable for an afternoon but for a severely extended period of time? I doubt it.” That was the first knowledge Duncan had solidified during the long centuries of his life - the wants of now cannot be a promise for forever. Perhaps this was why Duncan’s friendships easily passed, his nine marriages all expired and none of his progenies remained by his side for too long. The older vampire had never bothered to maintain or hold onto anything and let all things run their course.

“Aren’t we conversing about it already?” Duncan countered, looking away from the painting to Noelle now at his side. He glanced back at the painting as his friend continued to list potential conversation points the piece might trigger. “You’re a natural.” The older vampire encouraged, his blank face making it very difficult to figure out whether he was being ironic or genuine, but knowing Duncan it was likely something between both. “What style are you enjoying in your sitting area, by the way?” Duncan wasn’t easily convinced to leave the comforts of his own haunted home, preferring to stay in his shop or its upper floor where his custom-made coffin-like bed was so he genuinely had no idea what Noelle’s home looked like.

Noelle nods as clarification." Yes, my friend, it is sarcasm." The vampire chuckles lightly." Not that pleasant? I should be offended that you do not want my company Duncan, but since we are good friends I will let it slide, I'm sure that I have a line of those that wish to hear me go over my many silly decisions. What shoes to wear in the morning, what to get for breakfast, the list is long and my worries great." They say playfully, the former witches mood far too high in spirits.

The vampire joins Duncan's side, glancing over at the painting, eyebrow raised in question." Really?" They weren't one to questions others tastes but Noelle really couldn't help themselves." How will this spark conversation about the room?" They frown slightly, it was a beautiful panting, well made but they couldn't picture it in their living room." Maybe I could comment on their form? Elegantly shaped?" Noel really wasn't made for such conversations. " The brush strokes bring about their movement?" They stop talking pressing their lips together in a thin line to look over at the other." How am I doing?"

#::DuncanxNoelle

[antiquecritique]

The old vampire was usually terribly dismissive towards anyone really - after all, why invest into mortals who would be around for merely a fraction of Duncan’s infinite lifespan or bother with someone who didn’t have Duncan’s mileage behind them. Even most humans would not go out of their way to hang out with children. Unless they were their own. Done staring and committing how Theodore had grown up to a fine young man to memory, Duncan proceeded to display interest and patience he rarely had for anyone, which to someone who did not know him would just come off as moderate politeness really, when in fact it was a rare honor. More important people had been in Duncan’s company and it had only earned them the vampire’s early exit out of the room they both occupied, no better treated than a piece of furniture collecting dust on the side. But the difference was with whether they were important to Duncan or not, and there was nothing more important to Duncan than family.

“Ah, a first time divorcee?” He inquired, completely glossing over the awkward apologies. “So this time, you may pick whatever you like.” The vampire sauntered closer, hands neatly tucked behind his back. There was no smile on his face but there was a trace of it in his tone. “Walk around some more. Pick what you like. Do not think too deeply on it. Be a man free of a spouse's judgement to your heart's content.” He suggested with a small nod of his head.

The firefighter was looking around, hoping to find something, but he didn't know how he was supposed to know what would be perfect for him. ''Not really, I mean, everything in here is interesting, but...My wi-ex-wife used to pick all the decorations. She didn't really like anything I picked so I thought I would prove her wrong by picking everything myself this time, but- Sorry. You don't know me and you didn't ask to know my whole life story,'' he laughed a little, realizing that he was talking way too much. It was strange, he felt like he already knew Duncan. His smell felt familiar, but he was probably just tired.

''The short answer is no, but maybe you have some recommendations?''

#::DuncanxTheodore

[antiquecritique]

|| Ruby & Duncan ||

Against all odds, Duncan’s antique shop had become quite lively ever since its reopening in Greywood. ‘Lively’ was probably a bit of an exaggeration but it was lively according to Duncan’s standards. He’d been used to the places he inhabited being completely deserted save for himself. But an antique shop in a supernatural town seemed to draw in quite a number of people despite its eerie, almost haunted look. Or maybe it was its ancient owner who’d gotten quite around during his long years on earth. The world was actually a small place and when you had plenty of time to meet plenty of people, it became even smaller.

With a glossy wooden pipe in hand, puffing out thick clouds of fragrant smoke by the open window, Duncan sat under generously lit candelabra with an engaging read on The Sonnets of Michaelangelo Buanarotti, translated into rhymed English by John Addington in 1904. As he drifted between its letter-like format that ranged from formal words of thanks to passionate arguments, he heard the door chime announce someone’s arrival into the store. The familiar face that had walked through surprised Duncan unlike any other he’d discovered in Greywood. After all, Ruby and himself had lost touch since France, where she’d tracked him down and announced that she was his grand-childe. Not an impossible thing as Duncan had turned many who had, in turn, turned others. The man’s vampiric bloodline was very prolific to say the least.

“Well, if this isn't a very pleasant case of deja vu. Different place, similar circumstances.” He closed the pages of his book softly, expression unchanged from the serene indifference it always seemed to wear. Perhaps Ruby would find Duncan slightly changed - he had always been stoic, mysterious and seemingly impossible to rile up but now, he seemed to have reached new levels of detachment.

@rubydavenport

#::DuncanxRuby #I hope this works!