"A socialist in America, how this country does enjoy a child's dressing game." His tone dripped with dismissiveness, and it wasn't truly because of what her political beliefs were, nor that she had slighted Roman, a child that Lestat had just met. No, he didn't like her vibe, her sense, and he was glad to take the slight she'd extended as an excuse and run with it. Just as she seemed more than pleased to continue the antagonism she'd started with him. Something about her felt off, like she had a foot in two worlds and might drag him into the other if he let down his guard.
Roman, for his part, accepted the cheek kiss. Warily, but without the desire to rip off her head that Lestat would find normal. Instead he just said quietly, "I want answers more than drinks." He spoke so much more plainly than Olivia did. Was he that desperate, or that inadequate? He couldn't tell. He just knew that he wanted to know what Lestat did, and even though he didn't want to harm Destiny now, it... it had felt nice to have someone on his side so openly and brazenly. He was pathetic. But it was nice.
"I think Under Pressure is a crowd pleaser," Matt confirmed, and it had the Foggy connection. "I'll leave Lestat's songs to him. My range isn't that large." He'd done Broadway duets with Foggy in the past but only because his best friend asked it of him, not because he was good at them.
"I wasn't going to sing," Roman muttered as he sat back down. "I can't sing."
"If you cannot reach the notes, that is a problem. A skilled listener will notice. However, if you can perform... your shortcomings may be forgiven by most. Something tells me that you are used to performing."
"Not on a stage."
"All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
"That from one of those shit reality shows Kate watches?" The look Lestat gave him might as well have driven Roman into his grave if he wasn't already dead.
Lestat looked at Kate. "Have it noted I will need a pitcher of wine if I don't kill him before I get him on stage."
Even Kate seemed offended at Roman's illiteracy. She remembered him making a show at class, bitching about the Brontë sisters or Austen.
Grabbing a napkin, Kate made a ball out of it that, as expected, hit Roman right between his eyebrows. A perfect shot. "We all gonna need more booze. Besides, Rome, this isn't about hitting the notes right."
Even if Lestat's taste begged to differ.
"This is about having fun. Who gives a fuck if you can't sing? Most people here in this building can't sing and nobody cares."
As if to prove Kate's point, a solo could be heard in the background. Elphaba's famous Defying Gravity had indeed, flown too close to the sun and was meeting the ground. It was that, or some wild animal's mating call.
"You did hit some notes that time when we dropped that thing and it hit our feet." Peter noted, bumping Roman on the shoulder. It wasn't a comment meant to embarrass his friend. Just a stupid memory of their days being the skeleton crew of a Scooby Gang.
Thankfully, the waitress came back with Lestat's wine. Along with a Bloody Mary. On the house.
Destiny perked up, ordering herself a Martini while Peter got himself a beer.
Roman had never made a show, ever, about ridiculing female authors in particular. He'd ridiculed classic literature in general, but he hadn't targeted female authors. It had all been partly to be a little shit and partly because he was playing a part, living down to the idiot expectations set for him.
As the balled up napkin bounced off Roman's forehead, as his refusal was dismissed and ridiculed around the table, as even Peter joined in on the antics, Roman's shoulders tightened. Perhaps meant as a joke but right now felt like a dogpile. A serpent coiled, not just any predator, ready to strike. Yet Roman seemed as willing to bite and poison himself as he was to feed off the humble offerings of those around him who claimed to care about him. He was of the mindset where his fists were proverbially raised, where he wanted and welcomed a fight because being understood and accepted felt more foreign.
A plague upon society. A wounded and malformed animal who should be put down, whose misery would just bring about that of others.
'You shouldn't exist.'
Across the table, Roman's head slowly rose to give Lestat a look of glazed, icy knowing.
'They know it. You know it. So why do you persist?'
"Isn't proving them wrong enough?"
Such a spiteful little creature. Such a being full of rage and fight. Ah, Louis. You would have had such fun with him. Personally, Lestat knew he'd grow maddened by such a being, but it was hard not feel a certain small, very small, measure of understanding.
Something wasn't right, though. It wasn't just spite. 'You are wishing to prove someone right. It isn't yourself, though. A word of advice. Living for anyone else will only end in your death.'
Kate chatted with Matt excitedly, reminding him that there was a chance that their favorite oldies they danced to at home were probably not on the karaoke machine. As if Matt had not figured it out yet.
She was as oblivious as Peter was, as he downed his beer. To them, they were simply joking around, trying to make the evening feel light, missing out the inner turmoil Roman was dealing with the same ease as they didn't even suspect the exchange between both men with quiet hearts.
It was Destiny could sense what was going on. She's seen it before. Too upclose. She'd felt the pull. The words conjured in one's mind, battling with your own self as you had to question your own sanity.
The group was again discussing songs, bringing up classics from decades ago and newer melodies she did not recognise by name. Her attention was on Roman, however.
A hand came to his arm. Gentle but firm. Almost motherly.
"Don't let it get to you," she spoke softly, well aware that Lestat was listening as well. "You're here to learn about who you were born as. Not who you are."
It was a very different type of nature. Not unlike who her baby cousin is. The wolf might eat Peter's flesh every full moon. But Peter walked back home in two legs. Never letting himself lost in his own instincts. Never a vargulf.
Roman might have been reborn a monster. But there was a reason why he had helped Peter. Why Kate had welcomed him in his life and why he protected his sister. Destiny saw through him and, as much as accepting an upyr seemed to go against her nature. She knew that Roman was more than his hunger.
"Relax a little." Was her last piece of advice as she rubbed his arm. "You're here with friends that love you."
Laughing at a clever comment Matt made, Kate turned her attention towards them. After Peter refused to be the first on stage, she moved onto Roman. "Wanna sing with me? Come on, we can be lame together. Please?"
Youth these days. Lestat sighed as he drank his wine, listening to Destiny. He wasn't even being mean. At least, not in his mind. They were all abominations, monsters, what went bump in the night to discredit what was different and, worse, powerful. A combination that could lay civilizations to rest, so he understood it in some ways. Yet most vampires chose to hide in shadows even now. Thankfully not sewers, but not loud and proud. Strength in numbers meant acquiescing to a coven leader, and in-fighting ate away over time whatever power might have been procured. He'd seen it. Experienced it. Manipulated it, even. Relax. One was with friends. A tale older than time, and therefore, one with a time limit.
Roman watched Lestat, saw the other man's reaction, even if he didn't want to think him right. Not about Roman finally having found people who loved him. A home for himself and Shelley. Yet Lestat had been right that Roman wasn't living to prove himself right. He lived for giving their family meaning for Shelley. For all Roman cared, the Godfreys might as well burn. He had no loyalty to the name. To the legacy. Just to one person.
Which wasn't fair to her. What if Shelley wasn't enough when his hunger kept spiking?
Was it fair to put that on Peter and Kate to stop him when it happened, so Shelley didn't have to?
When, not if.
"I love them, too." The words came out just for Destiny and Lestat to hear, words that sounded like they belonged during a eulogy.
'There are ways to die. As there are ways to survive.' Lestat's eyes turned to Destiny, and he let her into their little psychic chat. Because he could. 'Bear witness if you wish, I offer advice from the heart. It needn't be beating to be sincere.'
In his head. He didn't like it. Yet... a part of him did. Was this what it was like for those he mindfucked? No. Lestat wasn't controlling him... so far. He was just... there. Talking.
He didn't want to sing. He didn't want to look like an idiot.
Lestat eyed him and then offered, "I can sing with you. If you wish to have a partner. Let the boy take in the evening and his choices."
Oh, she had no doubt he was being sincere. Just like children didn't consider themselves cruel when crushing ants under their feet. Destiny could understand why Roman could be lured by this bond. By what they could, ironically, call a lifestyle.
Her drink arrived along with Peter's beer. Destiny instantly seemed to perk up, finally breaking physical contact with Roman as she took her Martini, thanking the girl.
It was Peter who was now reading the tension between them. Mostly, because he knew his cousin. If she had stopped to murmur something to Roman, if she was suddenly all business, it was because she had noticed something.
He patted his jacket, making a show of it. Giving up, Peter tilted his head towards Roman.
"Hey, got any smokes on you? I forgot mine." No, he had not. Peter had felt them in his pocket, as always. But that was another invitation. If Roman wanted to have his little duet, he could go along. If he needed a break, he would recognise how they had used this strategy before.
There were few people who could anchor Roman these days. Shelley, always. Kate, in their newfound dynamic. Then there was Peter. Antagonistic and faithful, breaking and creating. A sworn enemy and an unlikely friend. Roman knew he didn't matter. Couldn't matter. Olivia did. Her schemes were plots he had to undo, but there were no grand designs beyond that. The caul was a fallacy. A farce. It might have meant something with Shelley, but not the petty prince heir. He was here to undo what had come before him. Building something up beyond that? It felt like a farther away dream the more he felt his monster rise to the surface.
Smokes.
Such a stupid request.
The lifeline he needed, to put what Lestat said into perspective. A small headshake, as he accepted the offering. The leash. If he kept a watch out when Peter needed him to on full moons, whether Peter asked him to or not, he now put himself in Peter's hand. Stupidly. Faithfully. A moth to a wayward flame.
"I've got you." A promise or a threat?
He took Peter's cuff, took him outside and paced a little back and forth. "I don't belong here." With Peter and Kate. With Lestat. With Olivia. He didn't fit in anywhere. "I shouldn't be here. You should stake me." He stopped then, frozen by guilt. Peter had endured so much. It wasn't fair to add this onto his plate. "You would. If it came to that. I'm trying not to let it come to that." He turned slowly to face his friend. It hurt so much to exist sometimes. "Do you ever feel wrong?"
Blue and pink neon lights shone above them like a retro halo, painting the puddles that still clung to the street after an afternoon of nothing but rain. It was a gloomy atmosphere, matching the weird-ass feel of this weird karaoke party.
People passed by, some walking into the building, all of them ignoring them as they found the closest thing to privacy on an alley at the corner. Peter took his smokes out, glad to have something to do with himself as Roman begun rambling.
Peter followed every word, blowing a puff of smoke as furrowed brows joined in the chat. He couldn't hide the unease that came with watching Roman scavenge for the closest thing to having control.
You should stake me.
Peter was well aware that the words were not coming lightly, this was not some jackass promising he'd jump off a bridge just to get some attention. It's a real request of someone very much aware of how a situation can escalate.
Just like the situation had escalated with Christina. It had been right there, right under Peter's nose all that time. And he missed it, missed every scent and every signal. All those girls had died, she had murdered them all because she was as alone and lost as Roman is.
And that was on Peter's tab. Just like the pain of having left his friend behind, alone.
The end of his cigarette glowed as Peter took another drag. "I won't let you become that." Peter quietly agreed. His voice sounded hoarse for a moment, as if that cancer stick in his mouth had been there for fifty years.
He meant it. He owed it to Roman.
The question caught him by surprise, making Peter lift his head again. But he soon eased again into that calm silence. "We have a word for that," he finally conceded. He couldn't remember if he had ever explained it to Roman, even though he knew his friend had once asked about the 'g' tattoo over his ribs. "Gadje. I am that among my people, a gadjo. So was Nic." Nicolae, the grandfather that had been closer to a father figure. "Did I ever tell you what happened to Nic?"
Peter was calm, at least from what Roman could see and sense. The raspy quality to his voice bespoke how cigarettes affected him, perhaps in a way that would get worse as years went on. It wouldn't for Roman, though. He could smoke and drink and nothing would happen to him now. Technically, he was already dead. Still, it was the quietness and stillness of Peter that finally caused Roman to stand still. The proximity helped, being around a force like that. He stopped pacing and turned to study Peter.
At the question, Roman thought for a moment then gave a shake of his head. "Not in any detail, no. Just that he died, and that he was a lone wolf." A common phrase that he could say out in the open because it meant something different than the literal meaning to the public. Not that anyone was paying them any attention. In New York, people were used to crowds and minding their own business. Most people were either chatting with those they were walking with or talking on their phones if they were alone. They had no idea these two men were predators in a very different sense than what usually walked the streets.
"You also never really told me why you're an outcast among your people." He'd always wondered about that even if he hadn't outright asked. From the outside looking in, he didn't see any reason for it. Peter, his mother, Destiny, they were weird but a weird that seemed suited to their nomadic lifestyle. Yet Roman knew how deceiving outward appearances could be.
Peter felt like his back was against the wall in more than one way. But this had nothing to do with Roman - Well, he hadn't cornered Peter into it. He had offered it freely. Coming out here, talking. Five minutes of honesty in a night where everyone was pretending they were not drinking with monsters and there wasn't a fucking telepathic conversation going on.
"Nic was one," Peter explained. Ashes fell by his feet. "It started slowly, he would change during day time. Spend more and more time in his other skin." A vargulf. "Then the time came when he almost couldn't tell the difference." When he started forgetting their names. Who his grandson was. "Vince had to end it." His uncle Vince, who had lived in that trailer at the back of the Godfrey's property before Lynda and Peter arrived to town. "I had to cut his head off."
He had been a child back then. But the men had to take care of it. Specially Peter, having inherited the curse from Nic.
"Our family knew what we were. That's what made Nic and I gadje."
Roman absorbed the information. "Must've sucked." Having to cut off the dead man's head. What did one say in the face of childhood trauma except acknowledging that it sucked? Saying he wished Peter hadn't gone through that wouldn't change the fact that he did. It wouldn't undo the man he'd become. Both their childhoods had been brutal and violent in different ways. With the Godfreys it had been more insidious and manipulative, minus his father's suicide and the murder rumors that always swirled around the family. Death and the Godfreys became synonymous, perhaps ironically so given the upir heritage that ran through his veins. His brow furrowed though as he asked in confusion, "You're not a vargulf though, are you? Just have the potential to become one?" Or had Peter always been one? He'd thought his friend was a werewolf, but maybe he'd just called himself that as a cover.
Many things had sucked for Peter growing up. Knowing that one day his bones would break and his skin would be torn apart had sucked. When he was a little kid he had looked forward to it. After all, if Nic did it then so could he. Peter had dreamed of running together under the moonlight. Howling and hunting and spending the night up awake.
But the vargulf had taken Nic away first.
"Of course not," Peter huffed, eyes narrowed as he looked at Roman almost as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "I can't control it. Nobody is born a vargulf." But Roman wasn't wrong. The potential was there.
It was a choice, Lynda once said.
"But if I ever turn, you can return the favor and cut my head off."
Throwing the butt of his cigarette down at his feet, Peter stepped on it.
Roman held his hands up when he heard Peter huff. "Hey, my bad. I'm just confused then, I guess. Why are you an outcast if you're not a vargulf? Just because Nic was?" If every werewolf had the potential then it seemed very weird to him that they'd single out Peter for having the potential to become one. If it was all just because his family was disliked because of Nic, then that made more sense to Roman. After all, his family was hated because of what his mother and father had done with the company and all the lives they'd ruined through their greedy, harmful practices. Oh, Roman had certainly copped an attitude that carried the air of someone who should be hated, but it had been born out of already being disliked because of his last name. He'd simply fed into the narrative until he'd finally taken over the company. Now he was trying to turn it around into something that meant more than the past slights and sins.
"I tried to murder my mom, so if you needed me to, yeah. I could cut your head off." The words came out simply, a reality that Roman had realized about himself. Just what he was capable of doing, when he felt it was needed. "I dunno if I'd call it a favor. But I know you wouldn't want to be that, so if it came to it, I'd do what I could to stop you." Even odds on him being successful, but he could promise his friend that much. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though."
He took a cigarette himself, lit it and inhaled deeply. At the question about Lestat, Roman gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I guess I like that he doesn't seem to give a fuck what people think." That was something Roman could relate to, an attitude he'd adopted and worn like a shield for many years now. "I want to hear what he has to say about what I am. But I don't know yet if I can trust what he says. It's also weird as fuck to be sitting down with someone whose music you listen to and find out oh hey, they're also a bloodsucking fiend and maybe a monster cousin of yours or some shit." The flippant words used didn't hide the obvious way that Roman viewed himself these days. "What do you think about him? I'm guessing nothing good since he and Destiny don't get along."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 08:41 pm (UTC)Roman, for his part, accepted the cheek kiss. Warily, but without the desire to rip off her head that Lestat would find normal. Instead he just said quietly, "I want answers more than drinks." He spoke so much more plainly than Olivia did. Was he that desperate, or that inadequate? He couldn't tell. He just knew that he wanted to know what Lestat did, and even though he didn't want to harm Destiny now, it... it had felt nice to have someone on his side so openly and brazenly. He was pathetic. But it was nice.
"I think Under Pressure is a crowd pleaser," Matt confirmed, and it had the Foggy connection. "I'll leave Lestat's songs to him. My range isn't that large." He'd done Broadway duets with Foggy in the past but only because his best friend asked it of him, not because he was good at them.
"I wasn't going to sing," Roman muttered as he sat back down. "I can't sing."
"If you cannot reach the notes, that is a problem. A skilled listener will notice. However, if you can perform... your shortcomings may be forgiven by most. Something tells me that you are used to performing."
"Not on a stage."
"All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
"That from one of those shit reality shows Kate watches?" The look Lestat gave him might as well have driven Roman into his grave if he wasn't already dead.
Lestat looked at Kate. "Have it noted I will need a pitcher of wine if I don't kill him before I get him on stage."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 09:21 pm (UTC)Grabbing a napkin, Kate made a ball out of it that, as expected, hit Roman right between his eyebrows. A perfect shot. "We all gonna need more booze. Besides, Rome, this isn't about hitting the notes right."
Even if Lestat's taste begged to differ.
"This is about having fun. Who gives a fuck if you can't sing? Most people here in this building can't sing and nobody cares."
As if to prove Kate's point, a solo could be heard in the background. Elphaba's famous Defying Gravity had indeed, flown too close to the sun and was meeting the ground. It was that, or some wild animal's mating call.
"You did hit some notes that time when we dropped that thing and it hit our feet." Peter noted, bumping Roman on the shoulder. It wasn't a comment meant to embarrass his friend. Just a stupid memory of their days being the skeleton crew of a Scooby Gang.
Thankfully, the waitress came back with Lestat's wine. Along with a Bloody Mary. On the house.
Destiny perked up, ordering herself a Martini while Peter got himself a beer.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 09:33 pm (UTC)As the balled up napkin bounced off Roman's forehead, as his refusal was dismissed and ridiculed around the table, as even Peter joined in on the antics, Roman's shoulders tightened. Perhaps meant as a joke but right now felt like a dogpile. A serpent coiled, not just any predator, ready to strike. Yet Roman seemed as willing to bite and poison himself as he was to feed off the humble offerings of those around him who claimed to care about him. He was of the mindset where his fists were proverbially raised, where he wanted and welcomed a fight because being understood and accepted felt more foreign.
A plague upon society. A wounded and malformed animal who should be put down, whose misery would just bring about that of others.
'You shouldn't exist.'
Across the table, Roman's head slowly rose to give Lestat a look of glazed, icy knowing.
'They know it. You know it. So why do you persist?'
"Isn't proving them wrong enough?"
Such a spiteful little creature. Such a being full of rage and fight. Ah, Louis. You would have had such fun with him. Personally, Lestat knew he'd grow maddened by such a being, but it was hard not feel a certain small, very small, measure of understanding.
Something wasn't right, though. It wasn't just spite. 'You are wishing to prove someone right. It isn't yourself, though. A word of advice. Living for anyone else will only end in your death.'
Time resumed.
Lestat sipped his wine.
"So, who is going first?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 09:50 pm (UTC)She was as oblivious as Peter was, as he downed his beer. To them, they were simply joking around, trying to make the evening feel light, missing out the inner turmoil Roman was dealing with the same ease as they didn't even suspect the exchange between both men with quiet hearts.
It was Destiny could sense what was going on. She's seen it before. Too upclose. She'd felt the pull. The words conjured in one's mind, battling with your own self as you had to question your own sanity.
The group was again discussing songs, bringing up classics from decades ago and newer melodies she did not recognise by name. Her attention was on Roman, however.
A hand came to his arm. Gentle but firm. Almost motherly.
"Don't let it get to you," she spoke softly, well aware that Lestat was listening as well. "You're here to learn about who you were born as. Not who you are."
It was a very different type of nature. Not unlike who her baby cousin is. The wolf might eat Peter's flesh every full moon. But Peter walked back home in two legs. Never letting himself lost in his own instincts. Never a vargulf.
Roman might have been reborn a monster. But there was a reason why he had helped Peter. Why Kate had welcomed him in his life and why he protected his sister. Destiny saw through him and, as much as accepting an upyr seemed to go against her nature. She knew that Roman was more than his hunger.
"Relax a little." Was her last piece of advice as she rubbed his arm. "You're here with friends that love you."
Laughing at a clever comment Matt made, Kate turned her attention towards them. After Peter refused to be the first on stage, she moved onto Roman. "Wanna sing with me? Come on, we can be lame together. Please?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 10:12 pm (UTC)Roman watched Lestat, saw the other man's reaction, even if he didn't want to think him right. Not about Roman finally having found people who loved him. A home for himself and Shelley. Yet Lestat had been right that Roman wasn't living to prove himself right. He lived for giving their family meaning for Shelley. For all Roman cared, the Godfreys might as well burn. He had no loyalty to the name. To the legacy. Just to one person.
Which wasn't fair to her. What if Shelley wasn't enough when his hunger kept spiking?
Was it fair to put that on Peter and Kate to stop him when it happened, so Shelley didn't have to?
When, not if.
"I love them, too." The words came out just for Destiny and Lestat to hear, words that sounded like they belonged during a eulogy.
'There are ways to die. As there are ways to survive.' Lestat's eyes turned to Destiny, and he let her into their little psychic chat. Because he could. 'Bear witness if you wish, I offer advice from the heart. It needn't be beating to be sincere.'
In his head. He didn't like it. Yet... a part of him did. Was this what it was like for those he mindfucked? No. Lestat wasn't controlling him... so far. He was just... there. Talking.
He didn't want to sing. He didn't want to look like an idiot.
Lestat eyed him and then offered, "I can sing with you. If you wish to have a partner. Let the boy take in the evening and his choices."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 10:44 pm (UTC)Her drink arrived along with Peter's beer. Destiny instantly seemed to perk up, finally breaking physical contact with Roman as she took her Martini, thanking the girl.
It was Peter who was now reading the tension between them. Mostly, because he knew his cousin. If she had stopped to murmur something to Roman, if she was suddenly all business, it was because she had noticed something.
He patted his jacket, making a show of it. Giving up, Peter tilted his head towards Roman.
"Hey, got any smokes on you? I forgot mine." No, he had not. Peter had felt them in his pocket, as always. But that was another invitation. If Roman wanted to have his little duet, he could go along. If he needed a break, he would recognise how they had used this strategy before.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-21 11:02 pm (UTC)Smokes.
Such a stupid request.
The lifeline he needed, to put what Lestat said into perspective. A small headshake, as he accepted the offering. The leash. If he kept a watch out when Peter needed him to on full moons, whether Peter asked him to or not, he now put himself in Peter's hand. Stupidly. Faithfully. A moth to a wayward flame.
"I've got you." A promise or a threat?
He took Peter's cuff, took him outside and paced a little back and forth. "I don't belong here." With Peter and Kate. With Lestat. With Olivia. He didn't fit in anywhere. "I shouldn't be here. You should stake me." He stopped then, frozen by guilt. Peter had endured so much. It wasn't fair to add this onto his plate. "You would. If it came to that. I'm trying not to let it come to that." He turned slowly to face his friend. It hurt so much to exist sometimes. "Do you ever feel wrong?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 07:15 am (UTC)People passed by, some walking into the building, all of them ignoring them as they found the closest thing to privacy on an alley at the corner. Peter took his smokes out, glad to have something to do with himself as Roman begun rambling.
Peter followed every word, blowing a puff of smoke as furrowed brows joined in the chat. He couldn't hide the unease that came with watching Roman scavenge for the closest thing to having control.
You should stake me.
Peter was well aware that the words were not coming lightly, this was not some jackass promising he'd jump off a bridge just to get some attention. It's a real request of someone very much aware of how a situation can escalate.
Just like the situation had escalated with Christina. It had been right there, right under Peter's nose all that time. And he missed it, missed every scent and every signal. All those girls had died, she had murdered them all because she was as alone and lost as Roman is.
And that was on Peter's tab. Just like the pain of having left his friend behind, alone.
The end of his cigarette glowed as Peter took another drag. "I won't let you become that." Peter quietly agreed. His voice sounded hoarse for a moment, as if that cancer stick in his mouth had been there for fifty years.
He meant it. He owed it to Roman.
The question caught him by surprise, making Peter lift his head again. But he soon eased again into that calm silence. "We have a word for that," he finally conceded. He couldn't remember if he had ever explained it to Roman, even though he knew his friend had once asked about the 'g' tattoo over his ribs. "Gadje. I am that among my people, a gadjo. So was Nic." Nicolae, the grandfather that had been closer to a father figure. "Did I ever tell you what happened to Nic?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 01:53 pm (UTC)At the question, Roman thought for a moment then gave a shake of his head. "Not in any detail, no. Just that he died, and that he was a lone wolf." A common phrase that he could say out in the open because it meant something different than the literal meaning to the public. Not that anyone was paying them any attention. In New York, people were used to crowds and minding their own business. Most people were either chatting with those they were walking with or talking on their phones if they were alone. They had no idea these two men were predators in a very different sense than what usually walked the streets.
"You also never really told me why you're an outcast among your people." He'd always wondered about that even if he hadn't outright asked. From the outside looking in, he didn't see any reason for it. Peter, his mother, Destiny, they were weird but a weird that seemed suited to their nomadic lifestyle. Yet Roman knew how deceiving outward appearances could be.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 02:27 pm (UTC)"Nic was one," Peter explained. Ashes fell by his feet. "It started slowly, he would change during day time. Spend more and more time in his other skin." A vargulf. "Then the time came when he almost couldn't tell the difference." When he started forgetting their names. Who his grandson was. "Vince had to end it." His uncle Vince, who had lived in that trailer at the back of the Godfrey's property before Lynda and Peter arrived to town. "I had to cut his head off."
He had been a child back then. But the men had to take care of it. Specially Peter, having inherited the curse from Nic.
"Our family knew what we were. That's what made Nic and I gadje."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-22 03:00 pm (UTC)Many things had sucked for Peter growing up. Knowing that one day his bones would break and his skin would be torn apart had sucked. When he was a little kid he had looked forward to it. After all, if Nic did it then so could he. Peter had dreamed of running together under the moonlight. Howling and hunting and spending the night up awake.
But the vargulf had taken Nic away first.
"Of course not," Peter huffed, eyes narrowed as he looked at Roman almost as if he had suddenly grown a second head. "I can't control it. Nobody is born a vargulf." But Roman wasn't wrong. The potential was there.
It was a choice, Lynda once said.
"But if I ever turn, you can return the favor and cut my head off."
Throwing the butt of his cigarette down at his feet, Peter stepped on it.
There was a silence.
"What do you think of this guy? The vampyr?"
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Date: 2026-03-22 03:12 pm (UTC)"I tried to murder my mom, so if you needed me to, yeah. I could cut your head off." The words came out simply, a reality that Roman had realized about himself. Just what he was capable of doing, when he felt it was needed. "I dunno if I'd call it a favor. But I know you wouldn't want to be that, so if it came to it, I'd do what I could to stop you." Even odds on him being successful, but he could promise his friend that much. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though."
He took a cigarette himself, lit it and inhaled deeply. At the question about Lestat, Roman gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I guess I like that he doesn't seem to give a fuck what people think." That was something Roman could relate to, an attitude he'd adopted and worn like a shield for many years now. "I want to hear what he has to say about what I am. But I don't know yet if I can trust what he says. It's also weird as fuck to be sitting down with someone whose music you listen to and find out oh hey, they're also a bloodsucking fiend and maybe a monster cousin of yours or some shit." The flippant words used didn't hide the obvious way that Roman viewed himself these days. "What do you think about him? I'm guessing nothing good since he and Destiny don't get along."