Fraternizing with the Enemy (Daci)

[Silas Rosier]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top]	[rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;]  Aaaaand it was freezing again. Fuck. Winter was a bitch. At least there were only two more weeks of February before he could officially bid it goodbye. Silas had been forced to dig up his coats again and was mentally cursing the chill all the way down to the Hogs Head. He hated to give Ed credit on anything, but hell, at least the pub was warm, if not bordering on stifling at times.  The Hogs Head almost seemed trapped in time. There was always the same types of people around, the same faces, the odd tourist, a guy that had fallen asleep on a table, and everything was in the exact same place and position that he’d seen it last time. The only conspicuous difference there’d been in weeks was the sword vanishing form the wall. Other people might have found the familiarity comforting; Silas was starting to humour the idea there was a spell on the place.  Or, no. It wasn’t exactly the same. Where usually Ed – the barman and proprietor – could be found standing in the exact same spot wiping what always looked like the exact same glass, he was now becoming a rare sight. Silas wasn’t sure if Ed was intentionally avoiding him or what. Didn’t make sense if he was. Where Silas once used to be a regular sight around the pub he was now lucky to visit once a month, what with both Scores and Jac keeping him busy.  The change was unappreciated. Niggling at Ed was really the only reason he had to come down to this dump, even if for some reason his banter with the barman had been less vicious than usual. Oh well. Screw it. He was here already, he might as well stay for one drink to see if the man came down from wherever he was hiding, and leave if he didn’t.  One of the smaller tables near the center was empty and Silas made himself comfortable, draping his coat over the back of the chair and taking a seat. He didn’t even have enough time to start digging for something in a side pocket before there was a quiet feminine voice speaking to him from his other side.  “Good evening sir. Vot vould you—”  Silas looked up and the girl broke off midsentence, her grey eyes narrowing in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. She was about Jac’s height, young, dark hair, and she also looked uncannily familiar.  It took Silas’s brain a moment to click. Shit on a stick. He did know her, although the last time he’d seen her she’d been unconscious and drenched in her own blood. No wait, that hadn’t been the last time. The last time was when he’d caught a glimpse of her fleeing before he tortured Dacian.  Christ. Of all the people to run into, it had to be that vampires little fucktoy.  Hang on. Shit double. The look of suspicion on her face was suddenly worrying. If she’d seen him as well that night then she’d know—  “Do I know you?” she asked uncertainly.  Aaaand, saved. Thank God for that.  What was her name? Virtue? Something V. Fuck. What had Connery called her?  “Doubt it,” Silas replied. “I’ve been in the paper though. That’s probably what you’re remembering.”  The girl was quiet for a few seconds, her pen hovering uncertainly over a small notepad. Judging by the white shirt with the nametag, she had to be a waitress. The name ‘Vivian’ was written on it. Ah, right, that was it.  “Fair enough,” Vivian said eventually, deciding that was a plausible enough explanation, although the uncertainty was still present. “Vot vould you like, sir?”  There was another pang of familiarity about the name too.  “Oh, the usual. More pay, a better broom, not having to wait in queues anymore,” he joked, stalling for time until he worked out what the fuck to do. “But, I think I’ll settle with whatever you have that’s suitably expensive and not too ostentatious. Surprise me. I’m up for something different.”  She pulled an odd sort of smile before shrugging apologetically. “I don’t know vot sort of drink you like, sir,” the girl pointed out.  ... Hum.  “True,” he conceded. “But you know the stock, and you know what sort of clients usually order what. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you responsible for a bad selection.”  The girl hesitated again before replying with “One moment” and vanishing.  Silas kept his eye on her until she was out of sight. Well, shit. Talk about coincidental encounters.  Since dealing with Cain, Silas hadn’t spared the girl a second thought. Probably because it hadn’t even occurred to him. Hell, what use did a fifteen year old changeling have? He leant back and rapped his fingers tersely on the table, still eyeing the door she’d gone through.  Hell, he’d think of something. For now there was no reason he couldn’t be polite until he came up with a course of act—  Shit! That’s why the name rang a bell. Seph had mentioned something about meeting a Vivan at the Hogs Head in one of her frequent and occasionally amusing rambles. The plot thickened.  The door started to open and Silas resumed the hunt for his wallet to look like he was busy. He needed the time anyway. This was the second time in a month he’d lost track of where he’d put it. It wasn’t until a bottle landed on his table that he looked up again.  “Tequila?” he read sceptically before looking up at the girl with mild amusement. “Alright, you’re clearly trying to kill me,” he laughed, deciding that he might and well act like he wasn’t a complete alcoholic while he was there. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”  The girl suddenly looked like he’d been called to the Headmasters office, biting her lip and wringing her hands anxiously. “U-um,” she stuttered, her voice about an octave higher. “Vell, vhen people come here alone, they tend to vant to get drunk fast, so I thought something strong. And it’s usually the... errr... ” The girl went red and made a vague hand-gesture, clearly unsure how to word herself. “Older... sort... of gentleman–” Silas smirked “–that that order zeh firewhisky, but if you vanted zhat you would haff just said so. So, I vent for something more unusual. Zhe tequila types are usually more chatty, so, I thought...” she finished, before hunching as though fearing she might be chastised.  Good God, no one could be that much of a mouse.  “Close enough,” Silas replied, trying to keep a tone of voice that wouldn’t send her fleeing under a table. “Correct on the drunk, correct on the whiskey, wrong on the here alone,” he said, spotting an opportunity. “I’m waiting for someone to show up, but it looks like she’s fashionably late, as always. Apparently she’s a regular,” he added, successfully extracting a number of galleons from his wallet and dropping them into Vivian’s outstretched palm.  “Anyvone I’d know?” the vampire asked conversationally, quickly thumbing through the coins to recount them before dropping them into a little pouch on her hip.  “Possibly. Does a Sephora ring any bells?”  Vivian looked up, eyes widening a little. “Yes!” she exclaimed, tone brightening considerably. “I know her! She vos nice.”  Silas gave an easy grin and leant back again, asking a follow-up question about how they knew each other. Now that she had a familiar topic to work with the girl seemed to ease up considerably and the conversation found itself drifting, the girl eventually taking a seat precariously on a corner of a chair so as not to look so awkward standing up. The pub was mostly empty, so she had a moment to talk.  Silas quickly made up his mind that Vivian was one of the strangest people to talk to he’d met in a while. Everything she felt was reflected clear as day upon her face like a mirror and any comment even slightly disparaging had her withdrawing as though she’d just been yelled at. She was twitchy, nervous, and for some reason kept alternating between answering questions happily and closing up again distrustfully. Her return questions were personally probing and although he kept his answers vague it didn’t take him long to get the impression something was steadily spooking her. Maybe she did remember something about him. What had Dacian told her already? It took some work but eventually she started relaxing again, the suspicious glances wearing down. Or, at least, until she looked at her watch and a mildly alarmed expression crossed along her face. “I should get moving,” she said nervously, glancing around her. “I’m still on zhe clock. ... It vos nice to meet you, at least.”	[atrb=valign,top]
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[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]He was missing prime stalking time by being here in London, but vampire politics were long-winded and unavoidable when you were involved with the coven. After antagonising Samuel, he’d had to attend a few hearings, and endure some slaps on the wrist for his behaviour. He’d been here a week, and thus missed out on seven nights of tailing Silas Rosier, his nightly custom since discovering his place of residence in Hogsmeade. So far he had been undetected, but he had not gathered nearly enough information to satisfy himself. He wanted patterns, habits, anything that could come in useful. While he couldn’t do anything under the watchful eye of the coven, it was always better to know more about your enemy than they knew about you, and Rosier had a head start. Dacian had never been one for gossip, and generally avoided it and the social drama it inevitably prompted when a group of people lived together. It was a tradition the coven maintained and Dacian had spent a great deal of his youth avoiding it. It generally caused more trouble than it was worth. This piece of gossip gold (or dirt, depending on how you saw it) however had reached the vampire’s ears when he’d been scurrying through the rat maze of corridors in the London coven’s main office and it was impossible to ignore. Samuel Jacobs had sponsored a new changeling. Stale news to Dacian. The fact however that this changeling had apparently killed a man and raped a girl when he awoke was fresh news – still dripping with juices fresh. And to top it off, the girl was now pregnant with a half-vampire child. That had stopped Dacian dead in his tracks, and he’d had to fight not to burst into the hushed conversation and demand details. Scott Kovac was a murdering rapist, and he was within 100 miles of Vivian. Hogsmeade had never felt to impossibly far away from London. He’d taken the hated Floo Network direct to the Hog’s Head and burst out of the fireplace in a blast of green flame with a look of bloody murder on his face. A quick rake of his gaze over the patrons put Vivian on a small table near the centre of the room. She’d turned to face him and looked startled as usual. The man she sat with however was the only one in the room that didn’t seem to be waking in surprise from their stupor. Silas Fucking Rosier. Fuck. Dacian’s expression was stony, the anger he felt for Scott fleeing in the wake of the sudden rush of fear. Fear for himself, but primarily fear for Vivian. Left alone with Silas? Who knew what danger would come to her. “Hell.” He muttered under his breath. Silas’s expression was smug, amused, the cat that got the cream, any term that would describe what maniacal laugher looked like without the cackling. The rest of the patrons seemed to have lost interest when Dacian did nothing after bursting into the room, and the vampire spared a glance to the bar. Edward wasn’t there, naturally. He couldn’t possibly be expected to look after Vivian successfully. After half a minute of staring, mouth slightly agape as if he’d been about to speak and forgot what he was about to say, Dacian finally shook off the cold dread to move across the room to the table. Voluntarily moving closer to Silas was like trying to force two matching poles of a strong magnet together. The urge to flee was paramount, but he was not leaving Vivian in danger. He kept a steady eye on Silas, looking away only briefly to check Vivian. Unharmed, good. “Upstairs. Now.” A command, but a quiet one. He set his glare back on Silas, moving between him and Vivian as she got up to scurry away. The older vampire tried his best to black the wizard’s line of sight, but a Lumos Solem would have them both dead in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t shield her from the sun. The man before him was a snake. A slippery slimy eel. Dacian had given him an inch, and he was taking a mile. Until now he’d barely given Vivian any notice, for which Dacian had been glad, but now Silas had her in his sights, was there any way Dacian could keep her safe?

[Silas Rosier]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top]	[rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;]   Ordinarily, Silas wouldn’t even have paid attention to the rush of flames – people flooing in and out was hardly uncommon – but Vivian’s reaction was interesting. The girl jumped violently with an expression of shock like someone had stuck her in the arse with a cattle-prod, staring at the fireplace like she’d just seen a ghost. He pushed his chair back and looked around automatically; turning to see what had startled her to find everyone in the pub looking at the same thing.   Dacian was standing in the grate, drawn up to full height, his hands balled into fists and generally looking like he was a split second away from crashing someone’s skull in with a quidditch bat. His initial surprise wore off just as the vampire caught his eye and Silas was inundated with a tremendous sense of smugness. He lifted two fingers to give Dacian a casual salute, self-satisfied smirk firmly in place.   Well well well. It had been a while. This should be fun.   He was tempted to turn his back and pay attention to the tequila bottle again to write Dacian off completely, dismiss him as if he didn’t care. However, that would require him to trust Dacian not to try and jump on him the second he was out of sight, public place or not. As a result Silas’s eyes and smirk never left Dacian as the vampire made his seemingly laborious way forwards. It would have looked like a tense staring competition between two old enemies, either waiting for the other to make a move of attack, if not for the fact Silas looked so damn amused.   Silas Rosier ways always did have a problem with playing with fire.   “Upstairs. Now.” Dacian was still staring at him, but it was obvious the order was meant for Vivian. Silas just slouched back in his chair and looked up pleasantly with the impression of feigned innocence.   The girl made an indistinct protest and Dacian repeated his request more firmly, pushing her in the direction of the stairs. The girl seemed to acquiesce – albeit unwillingly – and slipped off, lingering at the top of the stairs.   “Dacian, darling, please, you look tense,” Silas said, left slipping his hand casually into his pocket where his wand was lying. It wasn’t meant to be a threat, just a precaution. “I’m glad you made it. Here, take a seat; Vivian was kind enough to get us some tequila,” he added brightly, resting his other arm on the table. “Shame to waste it.”	[atrb=valign,top]
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[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]The sensible thing to do once Vivian was out of immediate danger would be to follow suit, but there was some mystical force keeping him in place. It could be likened to once of Silas’s binding spells, but Dacian knew this was his own doing. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Silas had breached Vivian’s sanctum, and Dacian would not stand for it. He certainly wouldn’t sit, either. Nothing but being at wand point would make him sit at Silas’s request. Dacian stayed standing. His gaze followed Silas’s hand as it moved under the table, presumably for his wand. The vampire took an automatic step back. No, he couldn’t show fear now. On the other hand, he couldn’t aggravate Silas and risk another dose of Lumos solem. Fucking Silas Rosier, the most impossible man on the planet. Even when he tried to avoid him, it seemed to attract him. Dacian’s lip curled, “Taunt me to your black heart’s content, Rosier, but you’ll keep away from Vivian. This is between you and me.” Denying his relationship to Vivian now seemed redundant. Silas had an uncanny knack of knowing everything there was to know. Argh. This was impossible. First Cassie, now Vivian. Silas had all the leverage he needed to put Dacian in some very uncompromising positions. There was always the bleak hope of appealing to Silas’s honour and sense of fair play, but Dacian doubted the man had either of those.

[Silas Rosier]

  “Oh Lord.” Silas replied, rolling his eyes theatrically at Dacian’s pseudo-noble and shockingly cliché diatribe. Where did the vampire get his material from? 90s comic books? “Love, look: I love you too, but we really need to start seeing other people.”

  Somewhat reassured that Dacian wasn’t going to try anything in public, Silas turned to survey the tequila bottle. He gripped the neck lightly with his fingers to drag it closer, glancing at the label as he did so. Hum. Apparently what he’d said before wasn’t entirely in jest: wasting such a thing was bordering on a criminal offence. (Especially considering the substandard quality of Ed’s usual stock.)

  “Besides, Jealousy isn’t a good look for you,” Silas added almost as an afterthought, drawing the wand from his pocket and rapping the lid of the transparent bottle firmly. He wasn’t about to leave the wand in his pocket to open the bottle himself; that was still a little too far down the trust spectrum.

[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Trying to instil some sort of emotion in Silas was like water off a duck’s back. The man was unshakable. And he insisted on making those damn comments and calling him by his surname. The vampire was about ready to tear his own hair out, and Silas’s too if he wasn’t trying his hardest not to provoke the wizard into the only other state of mind he did have besides flippant; bestial wrath. Dacian had no response to the comments from the other man (what did you say to a man obsessed with innuendo without prompting more of it?). Thankfully Silas then did something that Dacian did know how to react to. He drew his wand. Dacian stepped backward sharply, knocking a chair to grate noisily on the wooden floor. The retreat was short-lived as it was apparent the wand was not to point at him. Dacian gritted his teeth and reclaimed the step he had taken back. His jaw throbbed where the crucifix burn had not yet healed, but the pain was a welcome reminder not to lose his temper. The last thing he needed was another dose of Lumos solem. Fists balled by his sides, Dacian kept a steady glare Silas. What else could he do? Forsibly removing Silas from the building sounded like a good start, but there was the small issue of the wand, and for once Dacian was conscious about incurring more wrath. Silas had proven in the past how fragile a wand made a vampire’s life. There were a multitude of ways it could kill, and if you ran out of spells, a sturdier wand would make a decent stake. Dacian was trapped. He could not let Silas remain here, but neither could he remove him. His only feasible option was to leave Silas in peace, retrieve Vivian from upstairs and make an escape from the rear of the pub. That’s if Silas would let him escape. Well there was only one way to find out. The vampire took a voluntary step back and then another, keeping his eyes on Silas’s wand. If he got out of this, he was making a renewed effort to keep Vivian out of Hogsmeade. There was only so much fate they could tempt living on the snake’s doorstep.

[Silas Rosier]

  The reaction to the wand was instantaneous. Dacian leapt back sharply, his back colliding with another chair and sending it crashing to the ground. The wood clattered loudly against the floor, drawing another bunch of stares from nearby patrons. Silas merely laughed.

  “Woah, jumpy,” he observed amusedly, looking down at the displaced chair and ignoring the fact everyone was un-subtly staring and starting to drunkenly mutter a few none-too-kind words about Dacian’s disruptive presence. “Love, please, you’re making a scene. Sit down before you get kicked out for being a public menace.”

  Apparently the vampire had no such intentions. Dacian took a pointed step back, and when Silas made no word, he took another. Silas watched with a blank look bordering on disbelief.

  This had to be a joke. Really.

  “Oh come on. You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said, shaking his head incredulously and lifting his head to look the vampire in the eye. “I’m sitting here, I’m not casting spells at you, I’m being relatively polite, we’re in a public place, I spared your life twice now — three times if you count the Lumos Solem — and you clearly seem to see me as a threat to your girlfriend—err, daughter, whatever—and you react by what? Retreating? That really is a rather brazen display of cowardice on your part, and frankly, I’m disappointed.”

  Well, ‘disappointed’ wasn’t the right word. Try ‘victorious’. Since the day Dacian had fled from him in the alleyway he’d been fairly convinced he’d won the figurative dominance battle against the older vampire. Seeing Dacian retreat again even after he’d (indirectly) threatened someone close to him just about cinched it.

  Ordinarily Silas would be able to understand the need for self-preservation, but what little respect he had left for Dacian was slipping away quickly, and not in the way you’d expect. If he’d been the one to walk into Dacian talking with Jac, he wouldn’t be backing away, even if it was to smuggle Jac to safety. Public place or not, he would have bodily thrown the vampire out of the bar and staked him twice for good measure to ensure it never happened again.

  You couldn’t be too careful.

[Dacian]

Oh what he wouldn’t give to stake Silas twice for good measure. He’d halted when Silas looked him in the eye, standing a good six feet back from the table by now. His eyes lingered on the wand, before meeting Silas’s gaze. He tipped his jaw up, standing defiantly. “Sparing my life?” The vampire snorted, “You’ve been hell-bent on killing me. You’re just not very good at it.” He retorted in a hushed voice. He didn’t exactly want to include the whole pub in their conversation.

“I’m not playing your games tonight; I’m leaving, so you can suffer through your disappointment alone.” He had to try hard not to defend Vivian. Falling for the bait was what Silas wanted him to do. Anything for an excuse to unleash another bout of Lumos solem. He could convince his witnesses it was self defence. Who wouldn’t believe him? Dacian would try and kill him before he was burnt to a crisp.

Dacian leapt forward, catching Silas off guard and snatching the wand. He threw the instrument away as the momentum topped the chair back and spilled Silas onto the floor. Patrons looked on, aghast. The vampire followed the fall, landing on Silas and pinning his shoulders to the floor. With a victorious grin, his put one knee on the wizard’s chest, grabbed his head in both hands and wrenched.

He sighed as his imagination yielded to common sense, and in reality he turned away and retreated toward the stairs, raising two choice fingers without looking back as Silas inevitably prattled on behind him.

[Silas Rosier]

  Thank God Silas had a good poker face. He blinked once, the muscles in his face tightening a little, but he felt confident there wasn't enough to show that Dacian’s accusation about his incompetence may’ve been a bit too accurate. The most telling sign was a flash of red across his eyes, subtle enough to be a trick of the light were it not for the fact there was nothing for them to reflect. If the vampire had a lick of sense he’d shut the fuck up before he turned it into a dare.

  When Silas laughed, the tone sounded amused, but whether it was genuine or forced was another matter entirely.

  “Oh, sure. I let you go in the alley because I forgot the incantation for Avada Kedavra. Dacian, please, if I killed you what would I do with my life? You’re far too much fun to waste. Besides, I really don’t think you—”

  Evidently the vampire wasn’t having any of it. Dacian cut Silas off midstream with a growled equivalent of ‘shut the fuck up’ and turned on his heel, leaving Silas watching with an expression like he’d just been slapped in the face.

 ... Oh, fuck no.

  Silas’s wand was already drawn. Without warning a strap from someone’s bag lashed out, wrapping itself around the vampires ankle midstride. Properly secured, it yanked violently at his suspended foot, fully intending to send him crashing to the ground. Fuck vampires and their imperviousness to standard tripping jinxes.

[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]You’d think a public place would stop Silas Rosier. You’d think he could concede defeat just once. You’d think Dacian might be able to get out of a tight spot without scraping against the walls. Well if you’d think any of that, you’d be wrong, and probably regretting it as much as Dacian as he fell to the ground. The bag strap completely unbalanced him, and without warning the floor was coming towards him far too fast. Automatic reflexes had his hands out, palms down to stop him hitting but they only took the majority of the momentum. His chest hit the floor at the sternum and he grunted as the air went out of him. Pushing with one palm and folding the other under his chest, he rolled onto his back to glare up at Silas. Great, back on the floor, looking up at Silas Rosier. This was repeating itself with a frightening regularity. The whole room had stopped to look now, but they were peripheral to the danger he faced. He should really learn not to provoke the wizard, but he just couldn’t help himself. And he thought he’d been fairly restrained this evening. He was clever enough at least not to speak, or get up. Half-inclined on the floor, he looked up at the wizard with a deep hatred, a seething fury that he could do nothing at all to retaliate.