Meeting: Remere & Alexis
And so the hunter became the hunted.
He’d been scouting for the entire afternoon, but to no avail. Alexis’ boots now drag wearily against the grass as he makes his way from the bridge, scythe rested lazily over a shoulder like it’s entirely weightless despite its tremendous size.
There’s a sudden rustle of leaves nearby—not his own footsteps—but that’s not what snaps him fully alert. It’s the restless stomp of a nearby pegasus that gives him pause; the creature lifts its head from where it grazes and exhales a nervous breath.
Alexis moves before he even sees the person in the ruins nearby, weapon drawn as he sprints forward. With a flurry of dexterous movements, he poises himself behind the unfamiliar person, facing their back, the blade of his scythe poised just shy of their throat. The implication is obvious—a single sharp pull of the weapon would leave Remere lacking a head.
“I don’t suggest moving,” Alexis says dryly. “But I do suggest telling me who you are, and what you’re doing wandering out here this late.”
Remere had been doing what they often did late in the evenings: searching for suitable quarry. Subtlety did not matter at this hour, having grown accustomed to blending in with the creatures who preyed upon the naiveté of others. Provided they had iron on their person, and did not step into a fairy ring in error, Remere was as much a danger as the natural inhabitants of this realm.
Or, they would be. If they didn’t have a blade to their neck.
They remain still, the bump on their throat that protrudes from their collar pushes against the blade as they swallow in disinterest. When their lips part the thing that escapes them is not a plea for their life, but a melodic laugh. It cuts through the stranger's threat like mockery, smooth and alluring all the same.
“That’s no way to greet someone here. Has no one taught you manners?” They remain still, and continue to speak.
“Remere, Witch and Scholar. I study the things that go bump in the night. Would you be a doll and lower that, for me? My back will start to ache if I stand like this for too long.” They lick their lips, a glimmer of gold shining beneath in the dim evening light.
A smirk twitches the corner of Alexis’ mouth, but with their back to him, Remere would not see it. He relents much too easily; with a short breath of laughter, he takes a half step forward to create distance between blade and throat, and then draws the weapon away with a showy, graceful twirl of motion.
“You’re right: wherever are my manners?” he answers in kind, but it's unclear if the mockery is playful or cautious on his part; it seems practiced all the same. Alexis finally strolls forward, brushing nonchalantly past Remere to move to stand in front of him.
As he looks the curious individual over one or two times, he processes the greeting offered to him. “Remere,” he repeats softly, restlessly tapping gloved fingers against the haft of his scythe. “Oh! You mean... the famed vampire researcher I’ve heard mention of?” Alexis sounds doubtful, a brow raised, like he had expected something entirely different of Remere.
The short laugh does something to Remere, softens them too easily. They roll their shoulders in place of audibly sighing in relief, brushing a stray hair from their face—as though the action made a difference. They bend down, then, and retrieve a single rose from where it had fallen during their scuffle, holding it close. They have no regard for thorns or otherwise, or that the petals seem trapped in a flawless state of existence.
Sorcery, no doubt.
“I wouldn’t say I have a reputation, but your recognition flatters me. Yes. Vampire researcher.” Their eyes drift lower, towards the rosary upon Alexis’ chest. Their lips curl upward, in softness.
“You arm yourself with trinkets worn without faith, and a blade that you lift with too much ease. Tell me your name, fair hunter.” A pause. “Do not worry. I am not one of the creatures here who will take it from you. I’m asking as a courtesy.”
Alexis leans too comfortably against his weapon, making it plainly obvious that he’s disgustingly easy to sway with flattery and a sweet voice. He’d certainly never been accused of a sharp wit or a strong will.
Rather than question Remere’s perception, blue eyes drop to his own conveniently-exposed chest and settle upon the rosary in question. Gloved fingers lazily lift it to examine passively as he speaks. “Mm, I suppose you must be as wise as I’ve heard people say.” He does not precisely confirm if Rem speaks true of his lack of faith. “The fairest hunter, actually,” he then answers with a wink. “Alexis Ashford. I've been recently traveling these parts following claims of a vampire stirring trouble nearby—not that I’ve found much luck.”
He pauses and a faint smile softens his features. “Until now, I suppose.”
Remere watches in fascination as the rosary is lifted between Alexis’ gloved fingers, head tilted. Curiosity gets the better of them, and they reach towards it in interest. They feel no discomfort as their fingers inch closer, and closer still. Before their gloved fingers can touch it, they halt and withdraw their hand, fingers curling inwards and arm hovering towards their own chest.
Best not to touch the hunter with a weapon, they must have decided.
“Ashford.” They repeat, and their lips flatten into a straight line as they digest the implications of the name. “I have heard of the family’s accomplishments, and I have heard of their young prodigy hunter with a more... altruistic disposition. That must be you.”
They extend their hand again, this time to shake. “A pleasure, fairest Alexis.” It comes out with more familiarity than it ought to, characteristic of a Witch. “I shall endeavor to help you find this trouble.”
Alexis stills very visibly at Rem’s description of him, barely shielding against the impulse to flinch reflexively—not because he is unaccustomed to the biting criticism of his various unconventional virtues, by any means. He’s heard it all, for better or worse, and likewise sees less and less of his father as a consequence of his practices.
What shocks him is Rem’s complete lack of judgment.
His surprise is short-lived, hopefully short enough that his momentary falter in expression escapes Remere’s notice. He promptly but delicately accepts Rem’s handshake, and yes—he goes there, in fact. Remere’s hand is raised as he elegantly bows forward to press a light kiss to knuckles, and then their hand is carefully released.
“A pleasure as well,” he purrs, poising himself upright. “And your aid is most welcome, Remere. I will gladly do whatever I can for you in turn.”
Remere loses composure for the first time during their meeting, the scandal of having a hunter’s lips upon their unholy hand nearly enough to send them into a frenzy. It masks the giddiness threatening to betray its murmuring heart as best they can, the hitch of breath swiftly followed by a small cough as their hand is subsequently released.
“Yes. Of course.” They take a moment to consider their next words. Traditional expressions of gratitude were a danger in these lands. Many things were, themselves included.
“I will offer you information. Our quarry seems to feed primarily on cattle, wildlife, and the occasional... unfortunate. Said unfortunates tend to be ne’er-do-wells, no-goodniks, or otherwise unsavory folk. Nonetheless, people do not take kindly to other people going missing, regardless of their character.”
Remere allows Alexis to draw their own conclusions. It is likely they already have this information, but offering it voluntarily at least allowed them to test the waters of what this altruistic hunter deemed acceptable.
For Alexis, the charming display is as mundane as anything else in his day. It’s practiced and necessary for a favorable relationship of any kind, and Rem had criticized his lack of manners besides—fairly so, of course, considering the blade that had been aimed at his throat. Alexis did not blame him, by any means, but he also had pride and a point to prove.
When he leans against his scythe once more, he looks meaningfully contemplative. “Interesting,” he says softly, tapping the side of a curled finger to his chin in thought. “I was aware of the drastic increase in the deaths of local fauna—bodies drained partly or completely of blood, all the rather obvious signs.” He peeks up at Rem and pauses his tapping in favor of lightly gesturing toward Rem—not in accusation, but in speculation.
“But the particulars of the backgrounds of any human victims—that, I had not known.” He huffs a small laugh. “I... admittedly have yet to do all my research. I wanted to immediately venture to the last known area a body had been sighted, on the small chance I could catch them in the act.”
He shrugs a shoulder and exhales a brief sigh, looking almost shy when he speaks again. “I suppose gathering information first would be more beneficial to me…”
Whatever lack of manners that was perceived by a blade or otherwise had apparently been replaced by goodwill, or as close to goodwill one might receive from a vampire scholar—definitely not a vampire scholar who was seeking a potential meal, companionship, or a way to occupy their time in what was otherwise a meaningless existence.
When they speak again, there is something distant in their voice.
“It helps to understand them. How they think. How they feel. To see through their eyes... taste with their tongue.” The latter remark has a bitterness to it, a distaste. “I’ve taken samples from cattle, spoken to slaughterers, processors... the proprietors of businesses where targets were last sighted. I keep records, and I can give you access to my residence in these parts, should you need it. Conjure temporary lodging.”
It sounds more like a statement than an offer.
“I have a study that can be accessed from the premises. You may come and go as you see fit. Does this sound acceptable to you?”
“Moving me in on the first date?”
It’s spoken with no hesitation, not a beat missed following Rem’s very accommodating and trusting offer. Alexis punctuates his teasing question with a smirk. There is no other remark made about Rem’s description of their own investigative efforts, which must imply that Alexis believes Remere completely.
“I’d consider ‘acceptable’ to be an understatement,” he then answers plainly. “That’s quite generous, in fact. I ought to strive to match your kindness.” For the first time in their conversation, there is something authentic about the gentleness of his tone and the soft way he smiles. “My travels lead me to various rare magical artifacts and materials. I can bring you anything of interest I find, or I can keep an eye out for something specific.”
A small pause follows, but he doesn’t allow Remere to answer. He smiles and speaks promptly. “Actually, I accept no opposition to this arrangement. It’s a deal.” He casually lifts his scythe then, only to rest it lazily over his shoulder. Blue eyes glance up toward the sky quickly to assess the time. “Speaking of lodging, I ought to get myself somewhere to rest.” His eyes fall on Remere again. “I’m grateful we had such an auspicious chance encounter. I do hope I was able to make up for my rather lacking first impression.”
There is no goodbye to follow. Alexis simply winks at Remere once again before calmly walking past him, toward the bridge from where he originally wandered, to take his leave.
The above was conjured in the Realm of Awenia, owned by the lovely Gwen Enchanted. Thanks for letting us play vampire barbie in your home!