The Shadow Over London (Rea x Vinaein)

[Vinaein]

@Rea

Some traveled to the ends of the earth to find themselves. Lucian Frost had returned to London with full intent on being found.

When was the last time he had returned to England? It had been several years, indeed. Quite exciting ones, in fact...and before that, he could remember all the way to those years of fighting in the military against Old Boney as they had so derisively named him. He'd even managed to find himself in the elite Riflemen unit, known as "Grasshoppers" by the French. But few lived who even remembered fighting in the war and Lucian hardly looked the veteran. He was wearing a trim black suit, his hands covered by white gloves. But his features bore the handsome, youthful vigor of a man in his mid-twenties. His hair was short and black, face smooth and shaven. His eyes were a gleaming blue, almost burning with light as he walked along the street

And so, back in London now. The city had opened for him, with all its glory and its terrors. The great, towering majesty of the city, the squalid alleyways, the majestic estates of ancient families sealed behind gilded gates. And as for Lucian? He was just eager now, wanting to see exactly why he had been summoned by the organization for whom he worked for in the past. The Queen's Watchdogs, they had been nicknamed before. People lived such short lives, he thought; such short and uneventful lives, but others did find a way to keep it ever so interesting. Few could have guessed his age, the purpose of the painting he kept concealed whenever he traveled. To most, he just another man on the streets of London. He was to meet someone now, he thought; Not a friend, but someone he respected from reputation. Lucian himself bore a reputation in the right circles, though he he was not of a storied household- in fact, he had achieved what he had by deed than blood.

Still, there were even rumors that dark whispering echoed all through the shadows of alleyways. But was that not always the way of it? Lucian's lips curled upwards at the thought of anarchy and extremism. Violence was just too common these days, between men or between nations. Sometimes followed by peace, sometimes not. It was almost like, he thought, someone pulled strings in conflicts, inspiring some to the darkest acts a human was capable of, while others were inspired to perform the highest feats of heroism, to help to end conflicts and save lives. Well, he reflected with a wry smile, it was just trying to rationalize what couldn't be rationalized. Human nature and all, never changed did it? It had been like this through history and was unlikely to change now. He had witnessed enough years to see that were true.

He found his destination, just a pleasant looking office building that might have housed a la firm or a clerkship, looking upward to the windows up. The street was hardly a disreputable area, with men and women milling about. He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited, withdrawing a pocketwatch after a moment. "I don't have time to wait," he called.

Now that was just unfair. He had all the time in the world.

Franklin Beresford opened the door, wearing a dusty blue coat, his rheumy eyes alight as he swung the door open. "Mr. Frost, as I live and breathe!" He said with a shocked expression, a mystified look in his eyes. "You don't look a day older- "

"Let's save this until the end. This is the right place, is it not, Mr. Beresford. Where M informed me? I'm a hard man to find when I don't wish to be found. Now that my attention is gained, I wish to see what you do with it."

"Yes, sir, of course," the old man said, swinging the door open. Lucian chuckled and stepped in promptly, enjoying the warming sensation. "Inside, to the parlor...."

"But of course, of course," Lucian walked in, finding a more elaborate set up than he had expected. And people, men and women working on projects over desks or in offices, some giving him looks as he returned them with a playful grin. He had someone to wait for. Or perhaps she was waiting for him. "I'm told everything will be explained?"

"All in due time, sir!" The old man hurried after to show Lucian along his way, but the ageless man tsked coyly.

"I do remember where I am going, thank you kindly..."

And time was something he had plenty of.

 

[Rea]

London - the crown jewel of Europe! Advanced ages upon surrounding societies, population thick as a dense forest, jewels and riches abound!

Valeria emerged from the carriage with a tight lipped, unimpressed expression. Clad in an ankle length high collared black outer coat buttoned up, shielding a dark grey corset above a white long sleeve blouse and black pants, she casually tossed the long red scarf (loose from the ride) across her left shoulder. Luckily an overcast day, or Val would be tightening the hold upon that long thin fabric. The sun wouldn't kill her - little could - but it was still grating against eyes better suited to darkness and shadows. The attendant waiting for the carriage was quick to offer his hand as she stepped out but she dismissed it with a polite smile, in time with her heel hitting the pavement of the street on her own accord.

Valeria had been here once before, when called upon a stranger who somehow found her, and what she was. A little private adventure between her and him just after the Turkish War, shortly after her renewal. She helped him, and in return, he helped her dispose of a certain individual some months later. After the matter he promised to reconnect should another issue arise, in time.

What else did she have but time?

And yet the elderly male who asked for her hand (and dismissed) wasn't offended - he simply drew the empty hand toward the tall business-like building. It may seem so, but the mortals who walked the streets dared not glance at it, or those who entered, as if they pretended it didn't even exist. As a woman, Valeria was familiar to those lustful stares toward her young adult form - twenties, perhaps, as she hadn't cared to marry young like most of her community 'back in the day' - centuries ago, in Serbia. By the time she found a suitable husband …

That wasn't a story she wished to think about. He was long dead. So was she.

Supposedly.

Hard to believe it's been over a century since approaching this particular building - it may look different, have a varied vibe of perpendicular businesses, but the lingering atmosphere hadn't changed. Only those coming to and from would address the folks doing the same.

If you weren't invited, you don't acknowledge.

"M'lady, welcome back! Why, you haven't chang-"

Val cast a sharp glare to the elderly male, despite a soft smile gracing her red painted lips. "I know the way, Mr. Beresford, as we all do," Nonetheless, after he opened the door to the office, she bent slightly at the waist accompanied by a nod of her head, in an long-lingering mannerism Val would never be able to shake off. Pleased with that, at least, he let her lead the way while following in behind. "Mr. Frost arrived a few minutes ago," he explained, to which Valeria paused mid stride half way across the entry lounge.

"Did he?" Val frowned. "My apologies," she continued before he could speak, "Thank you, sir, I'll be a moment. Do let him know I'm here? A drink for the patient man."

"Of course, m'lady."

As soon as his back was turned, Valeria drew a small pocket mirror with inhumane speed from a hidden pouch in her skirt. With an expert flick of her wrist the oval shaped enclosed device was opened. Valeria's free hand lifted to make sure any loose strands of hickory tresses were kept up in the tight bun at the crest of the back of Val's head.

Valeria strode forward after replacing the mirror with confidence - shoulders were straight, head high, heels clicked lightly. Beresford was walking to Lucian with his ordered drink, then paused to nod his head toward her.

"Mr. Frost, I am pleased to introduce Ms. Valeria Bošković."

She came closer, her smile pleasant but somehow seemed to hold back an apprehension. Valeria had heard of him, but after all these years, she'd learned not to trust the words of others. It was the actions that make or break her impression of another.

"Due forgive my lateness, Mr. Frost," Valeria greeted, tone soft and apologetic, "I hope you have not waited long?"

 

[Vinaein]

Lucian exchanged little by way of word or pleasantry as he strode into the entry lounge. London was a city of enigma and mystery, of class and separation all in one. Where perfumed nobles danced and frolicked amidst galas and masquerades, not a mile from where indentured servants broke their backs upon the altar of progress and industry, drowning in oceans of sweat and soot. The chimneys breathed forth ebony fumes into the skies to cover the gentle blue fabric of heaven's firmaments.

Indeed, it had changed in aesthetic alone. Lucian knew well how like the old days it was in spirit. The thought twisted his lips, a curling smirk more alike to that of a predatory cat while he kept his hands neatly folded. He ignored the looks, stepping into the lounge where he beheld the seats, the desks, the men and women working rapidly as if the fates of so many depended upon them.

Barely had he entered when he heard the voice speak, a clarion call to carve off the ennui and introduce a measure of intrigue unto his life.

"Mr. Frost, I am pleased to introduce Ms. Valeria Bošković."

Introductions were such a quaint thing. They were, in fact, something Lucian Frost dwelt upon often. When you had nothing but time, you had to ponder first impressions. An introduction ever had the chance of making a difference in the dreary static of one's lengthy life, the first time someone might enter into the proverbial equation. Impressions could be positive or negative. They might cling to your life, weaving the words of their story with Lucian's own. Or they might simply be no different than the ants bustling about underfoot, unseen and unnoticed with the only hope they might possess being that a careless trod of a booted foot might not crush them.

But the Lady Valeria did come with quite the ample reputation. And reputation, Lucian knew, was one of the most important things in all the world. Centuries could be spent constructing it, moments could dash it upon the ground like a castle made wholly of glass; once shattered, it could take impossible hours to ever construct it anew. And even then, there would be cracks running through it.

Her surname was unmistakably Slavic, her gaze as sharp as the fashionable clothing that clung to her shapely body. Yes, the Lady Valeria had her reputations indeed. Professional and like so many of the best things in the world: dangerous. The way her eyes swept over the room reminded him of a predatory raptor. The ruby of her lips brought the tinge of a smile to his own.

Waiting long? Perhaps not long, but immortality had a way of making one count every second when they become aware of it. But if there was one thing he was certain of is that she had already shown herself to be worth the wait. "Why, perish the thought. For you, I could wait until a star burnt away," he said with a jesting tone and a glint to his eye, accepting his drink. The amber liquid was transferred from the glass to his lips as his wrist flexed, Lucian taking a fair sip and sighing out in almost ponderous bliss from the pleasant burn.

"I bid you pleasant greetings, good Lady Bošković," Lucian said with delicacy as he heard the approach of others...evidently they were to be informed in full of their purpose. "I would say that I trust all is well.

"But with the both of us present, I would rather doubt it."

 

[Rea]

He was handsome, Valeria could admit that - not aloud, though, as upon first impression she considered Lucian one that spoke such sweet nothings only to leave a broken heart behind. A playboy, aiming to impress solely for his own pleasures, deserting another as easily as an exhaled breath. The reputation she'd heard of the man hinted at that, but as aforementioned, she paid little to the words spoken behind the backs of others.

The first words from Lucian's mouth made Valeria cringe internally, and immediately, she decided not to like him one bit. Seemed rumors could be true after all; what else could he do besides woo a woman? Because it would definitely not work on Valeria.

Who only stiffened her mouth upon the 'compliment', biting back the urge to roll her eyes. No need to be rude - not yet, that is. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Mr. Frost. I am not here to endure flowery words from a man I gather says such to every skirt he sees."

All right, maybe she could be a little vicious. After all, what she said was true. They weren't here to flirt and drink the day away. Softly, Valeria sighed, sensing the approach of others from behind far before heading them. Thankfully, someone spoke up, freeing her from further forced conversation with Lucian.

"Valeria! Gods, it's been ages! Where have you been hiding all these years?" called a feminine voice, a woman dressed in a long sleeve, ankle length crimson dress, and an emerald corset pushing up the low cut front v-line. Unlike Valeria, her blond hair was loose and wild, tight curls bouncing with every step as she approached. Immediately Valeria's face softened. "Everywhere and nowhere, Maharet. I could say the same of you." The blond laughed - it was musical, yet somehow, held an undertone of a whistle through trees. "Ah, well, you know me. And here we are! With a handsome man beside you...why, Val, you minx!"

Valeria's face darkened; with a brief warning glance she dared Lucian to test the subject. "You know that is not why we are here, Maharet," Val replied lowly, to which the other woman only laughed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, Val, don't be so tense. I only tease! Come along, it looks like we'll finally see why we've been gathered."

Indeed. Beresford had begun to bring the group of a dozen closer together. Maharet was the only one Valeria truly knew, but a few she recognized from paintings or descriptions. A large, heavily muscled man, the seams of his plain shirt seemingly ready to burst with the slightest movement. A tall, thin almost skeletal figure, of whom Val couldn't tell the gender. All heads turned as Beresford cleared his throat to gain their full attention.

"We may not know each other, but we all have one thing in common. An acquaintance of ours,' he didn't have to say who, they all knew instantly even if the elderly male didn't voice it, "has asked to gather the most extraordinary of individuals for a particular task. Several, in fact, that will require teams to complete separate goals that will, in the end, serve a greater purpose."

Valeria laughed quietly; such vague words providing little explanation - a few others perked a brow, one called out asking what purpose, but she did not question it directly. M was known for acting in such ways; she wasn't surprised, merely annoyed. She had all the time in the world, but little patience for such things. Beresford heightened his stature, calling for some respect from those who chittered and whined.

"All will be revealed to the teams in time; it is of the utmost importance that those paired speak not of their task to others. Shall we begin dividing the group?"

Valeria stiffened. She already knew who her partner would be, and it wasn't Maharet.

Damn it.

 

[Vinaein]

There was a harshness in the good Lady Valeria's eyes that Lucian Frost found simply delightful. His eyebrow tilted heavenward as she stared at him. If he didn't know any better (and he was very good and careful at reading others, a product of living so long), he might think that Valeria did not quite care for him. Such a notion was absurd; he was the soul of charm, wit and charity. And at the first meeting? Heaven forbid that his erstwhile partner on a doubtlessly delicate diversion would dislike him almost at first sight.

Why, it was enough to bruise his ego. One of the only parts of him that could be bruised now. "I would scarcely dare to offer you words of empty flattery, your ladyship," he said with a delicate point to his smile, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. He was truly not trying to be rude. "Flattery implies a lack of sincerity. What I offer is merely honest praise." He straightened, looking almost resplendent in his suit.

It was then a woman's voice pierced the silence, while Lucian turned to see the stony face of Valeria soften at the sight of the woman before them. Maharet, she called the blond, with her long and wild curls. And who evidently had excellent taste in men to call him 'handsome.' Lucian chuckled, but he did not wish to fully cement himself with the identity of a useless playboy.

He would far rather be a useful one, if it came to it. "Charmed," he added to Maharet with an incline to his head, politesse especially before Valeria. He could bear witness to the figures that Beresford had assembled, all of seeming excellent reputation and pedigree, mused Lucian to himself. When Beresford spoke, Lucian simply listened, ignoring Valeria's laughter. In addition...

Partners. How quaint and droll. "Mr. Frost. You and the Lady Bošković shall form a pair of your own," Beresford began. "Your assignment shall begin in London." Lucian raised no fuss at the subject, merely folding his hands before himself with a glance at Valeria.

The others were being paired and parsed into teams. The tall, thin one of no determinate gender was placed with the strappping fellow with the bulging chest. Others were set together, neat pairs as Beresford cleared his throat. "I say then...the good sir and lady...if you would follow me, I might explain the significance of the recent activities of rather...disreputable figures. And a most peculiar theft."

Lucian turned his eyes to Valeria, not mocking, but polite and professional. She didn't like him. Fine. That could change later.

"Shall we, milady?"

 

[Rea]

Despite knowing that Lucian would be her partner, once it was vocalized and confirmed Valeria could not stop the twitch of her lip curling up with disgust; at least their assignment would begin quicker than others, as they were already situated in the city of London. Thankfully she managed to hide the soured expression by nodding her head at Beresford in understanding, just as Lucian glanced her way. Even if he did catch a glimpse of it, given her sharp tongue thus far toward the man it was already clear the lady had an aversion to their 'partnership'. If not for M, she'd have half a mind to dismiss the affair entirely. As it was, there would be no objections - from anyone in the room, for that matter, as they all had their own interests best kept private and to deny M would be to open the diary of their lives to the public. As little as Valeria liked Lucian, she would prefer to remain alive for the foreseeable future and not be hunted down as a traitor.

"Indeed," Valeria replied quietly, struggling to withhold the echo of annoyance lingering at the tip of her tongue. Before she could step forward, Maharet glided across Val's path with the grace of a dancer, her smile saccharine as her painted nails rose to sweep across Valeria's cheek. The brunette stiffened immediately, her eyes darkening to a savage black for an instant before shifting to their original hue. "Do have fun, darling," Maharet teased, yet the tone of her voice held an oddity to it, like a razor's edge on the other side of silk. "I can't always be the one to rescue you."

For the first time this evening, Valeria seemed ready to engage in physical violence. She had taken a small step toward Maharet but said nothing - the women stared at each other for a moment. Val's gaze dark and dangerous, Maharet's glistened and twinkled with unbridled mirth. Maharet's chosen partner made a call for her, so with a final musical laugh, the blond fled, leaving Valeria with Lucian and Beresford - the elder male pausing his movements to lead the duo and glancing at Val with an upturned brow.

Valeria closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then exhaled quickly; half a second was all it took for the lady to compose herself. "Let's go," she added in an angered, short tone which clearly had nothing to do with either of the men nearby, obvious by how she stepped closer to Beresford directly past Lucian. Perhaps she'd apologize for the momentary lapse of decorum, when alone with her 'partner'.

Perhaps.

Thankfully the older gentleman picked up Valeria's hint, by turning to lead them away from the parlor into an adjoining lounge area free of any other people. It seemed they were the only ones to begin their journey here; everyone else was being led out of the main entry by a secondary butler. The area itself was smaller than the parlor, evident by the lack of a bar and added furniture. A fireplace crackled softly against the opposite wall accompanied by a padded wooden rocking chair and a three seated plush couch facing each other. Although Beresford entered first, Valeria strode past him swiftly and took a decidedly chosen seat on the couch, albeit close to the edged arm. It was a silently conscious effort to apologize for displayed aggression to either men, though especially Lucian. She chose to let their instructor sit alone so she gave full attention to the task at hand while also acquiescing to sit beside her selected companion.

"So, my friends," Beresford began while reciprocating Val's efforts by taking a movement to the single seat. Valeria and Lucian were separate from others; the butler's calm higher pitched host voice was gone; it was a deeper baritone indicating decades of expert acting that followed. "The Bracelet of Anubis has vanished, and our benefactor believes there is a concentrated effort by a religious cult at hand. You must retrieve the token."

 

[Vinaein]

Lucian's own eyebrow tilted up, every movement and motion indicating an elegant disdain for his current circumstance. If he equalled Valeria's unhappiness, the immortal took pains not to let it show upon his handsome face, while he followed in Beresford's lead. He smiled pleasantly at Valeria, his eyes glinting with a touch of gentle playfulness. Partnership, perhaps, he thought. He had never known the organizations not to choose their battles and such wisely. Lucian had lived too long to allow petty disdain stand in the way of what he wanted and needed, however. He had known Beresford entirely too long and worked for the organizations for even longer.

If there needed something to be done for the sake of London, then Lucian would simply handle it. It was his way and he had long experience with the matters. Associations might be unpleasant in the short term, but like everything else in this temporal world, they would eventually come to an end. He moved on, with the endless flow of time.

It was, as they said, inevitable. Everything ended. Except for him. Though Valeria's irritation made him smile, even more when Maharet slid across the floor to trace her nails against Valeria's cheek. Evidently there was history in this, thought Lucian with an internal shrug to his shoulders. He was a touch intrigued, but not overmuch to pry. Well, not much.

The glint of hostility in Valeria's eyes and the set of her body told him all he might need to know for the time, though. His smile twitched and froze upon his face and he did idly wonder at their history together. What it might entail, how far back it went...history was a most intriguing thing, after all.. But to see Valeria so physically engaged? Well that was something new, he thought.

He made no remark, simply shrugged to trail along with Valeria through the velvet carpeted rooms, along into the subterranean depths of the operation that worked below London. Indeed, most on the London above would never be aware just how close they were to prospective annihilation without the efforts of those below. Or like Valeria and himself.

Upon the arrival in Beresford's office, Lucian's eyes turned to various trinkets and souvenirs across the place. The British Empire, of course, was known for its callous disregard for the rights of others across the world, taking treasures of other nations as they willed. Lucian had been a vast explorer, but he had never taken anything but freely gifted by others.

Still, he waited for Beresford, tilting an eyebrow up as he recognized the name of the object purloined from the British museum. "The Bracelet of Anubis indeed," he said with a twitching smile upon his lips. "Now there's a name I hadn't heard in a while, good man."

"You understand the significance," Beresford's face was grave. "The fact of the matter is we have reason to believe that the theft was committed by one Peter Rankin, a curator at the museum. He was last seen in the vicinity of another curator and..." Beresford set a picture upon the desk, Lucian observing the black and white photograph of a man butchered in a positively brutal ritualistic fashion.

"It matches the symbols of the old cults of the old ones," Beresford remarked. "And if the Bracelet is stolen, we can only assume they are active again, with intent to open pathways to realms...most unsuited for human longevity. Valeria, Lucian....both of you have dealt with this sort before. If you will accept the job? We will of course supply you and ensure you are given the leads you require..."