Artistic Promenade

The following RP will contain vampires, thus blood. Don't come crying to us if you get squeamish, because I've already warned you.

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Benji White often sought refuge in the dark, musty, dusty walls of his library. It was in a large part of the city, and he lived right above it. It was massive, a sprawling Victorian style, mixed here and there with Gothic aspects, but all of it was darkly painted, warm, with heavy furniture and a combination of dark hardwood floors in the hallways and restrooms, and heavy, thick carpets in the main rooms. The upstairs third and fourth floors were built to house the librarian, Benji, acting as both business and home. And while he loved existing there, even on the rooftop garden, he did enjoy the city's largest park---Memorial Park. It was a lovely place, rather new to the city and a real competitor to the beach the city rested on. But most of the time Benji preferred the park. It was a quiet place, even if it was new, heavily shaded in the many oak trees and willows that had been brought in fully grown, often very old.

Benji sat under one willow tree in particular. It seemed this place was so secluded from the rest of the park people didn't often go here, especially not alone. But he could handle himself. The pale skin and naturally shaded eyes warded humans off, despite his ordinarily calm and friendly disposition. This afternoon was quiet, since it was just after noon and most people were back to work from their lunch breaks. His hands were busy, working with a pencil on a plain white paper protected by a thick leather cover. Every now and then he looked up, because sitting in front of him was a white, fluffy dandelion. It was a perfect, round form, not disturbed or harmed by the breeze that shifted the willow boughs. It swayed, but otherwise stayed perfect. He squinted his pale blue eyes, softly biting his tongue, studying the very faint outlines of its fluffy seeds.

Art was something Benji truly enjoyed. While so many things failed to keep his interest, he loved to write, to draw, to play instruments and listen to music, study the stars at night and watch dancers. He had taken to drawing whatever might be in front of him, and today, as he sat against the thick trunk of the tree behind him, a simple weed had caught his attention entirely. Not many living things managed to do this, unless it was deep into the evening and he had centered his focus on a particularly artistic type whose scent was more than enticing. Of course that only lasted, at the most, an hour, and the human's memory would be wiped clean of the situation afterward. Thinking of that, Benji ran his tongue over his very sharp canine teeth before refocusing on the weed.

Wren's dreamy eyes lifted from the ground as he forced himself to take a peek at the people passing by in the city's newest attraction. He studied how their clothes fell, their features as they laughed and spoke with each other. Some people found the way he looked at the unnerving, but that was just the way he was. He studied the world, all the better to put it upon paper in any variety of ways. Today he toted a homemade sketchbook, bound by hand and with an intricate design painted upon the cover with white and gold.

Today, Wren's day off, the lanky young man was searching for the perfect spot. It varied day to day, what he thought of as perfect. On that particular afternoon he wanted someplace secluded, secret. His feet brought him around a bend, and it was with delight that he saw exactly the kind of spot he was looking for. There was just one problem though ... It was already occupied. Tentatively, the artist stepped forward to take a peek at the other man's sketchbook.

Tilting his head to the side, he studied subject and reproduction while biting his lip. "The shading .... It seems a it off on the left side." Wren crouched down, quite oblivious to the fact that he'd just widened the rips at the knees of his jeans. "See how you've drawn a pretty solid line, and used cross hatching? It takes away the softness of the flower." Even so, he couldn't help but admire how deftly those strokes had been placed upon the page, without hesitation.

Benji had bent over the book and was focusing a bit more on the background now, sprigs of sharp grass he drew quite softly to make sure it simply added to the image rather than took the focus off the main point. When a voice spoke, Benji snatched up his hand as if the paper had bitten him and looked around to whomever had managed to sneak up on him. That was a rare thing, for anyone of human origin to sneak up on him, but he had simply fallen into a trance over his work. Glancing around, he shook his golden-blonde hair out of his eyes and studied the newcomer. For a moment it felt as if he had come to a party far overdressed, but that was immediately overridden by a very sweet, slightly musky scent, something no one else nearby would be able to pick up. The scent of an artist. So sweet, and yet, awfully rare in men around his part of the city. Most read their books, fretted over their computers and writing, but were never really dedicated to their works. This one was so sweet, though. So strongly oriented to art.

For an instant Benji's eyes had glazed over, but he shook his head and refocused. "Um... that's actually how I see it..." True to the fact, Benji's eyesight was quite acute. Everything was sharp, clear and stuck out quite well, the weed's every sharp point and fuzzy end perfectly pointed out to him even at a passing glance. It was how he could replicate every stray stalk of grass and a few of the boughs that swept the ground farther away. His acute vision made it easy for his drawings to be considered intentionally over-saturated in a way, as if he had taken a filter to it on the computer or a camera, but he used neither. In fact, he didn't even own a cell phone and the only phones in his home were tabletop, corded phones with a dial wheel.

The brunette shook his head slightly. "Right, well in that case sorry ... I didn't mean to criticize or anything." Wren scrunched up his eyes and leaned forward in an attempt to see what the other man did. "What did you do, use a magnifying glass to get so many details?" The artist was genuinely curious, and half tempted to start asking more personal questions ... Like names.

He lifted a hand to tug at his overly large sweater, and pushed up the grey sleeves absentmindedly. He was always moving, touching things, as if trying to figure out their texture by such simple actions. It had made finding a job difficult, but Wren had managed, despite his eccentric little quirks. The people who'd hired him to clean for their company didn't really care about any of that, and those who received the services cared even less.

Benji ended the sketch well enough, if a bit rushed, and closed the book. "I, ah... I don't use anything extra... I just look at it and draw what I see. It's, um, a little clearer than others see, I suppose." After the initial sketches, Benji tended to soften out the edges and ease the lines where they were boldest, giving it a slightly easier tone for others. Over the years he had learned where to take the boldness off edges, ease up where he thought ought to be darkly shaded or brightly highlighted. But then again, he had never taken professional classes---he had taught himself to draw, sketch, from memory or from pictures. He would sell these, alongside running his library, placing them with their appointed price tags in the entryway depending on intricacy or size of the picture. It was a nice secondary business, and did well with the people who came in from day to day who enjoyed the quiet serenity of a real fireplace, heavy, soft chairs and couches, and the fact that food and drinks were allowed in as long as the person cleaned up after themselves. So far Benji had had no problems in that manner.

Hugging the item close to him for a moment, Benji put the pencil through its holder between the binding and the rest of the book. "I don't mind criticism." He added quickly. "It, ahm... Helps me figure it out. Makes me reevaluate my drawings." He smiled, and stared at the weed a little more. Usually he didn't add color to certain sketches or drawings, but this one did need a bit. He made a note of that for when he returned home.

"Probably because you're a better observer then most," mused Wren aloud as he studied the weed from his crouching position. It wasn't really a weed though, the fluffy dandelion. The plant was a flower, a misunderstood one. Smiling slightly, he reached out to poke at it gently.

Then he sat down and flipped open his own sketchbook. Inside it were more fantasy drawings then anything else, but the occasional attempt at observation dotted the pages. Wren's pencil strokes were as soft as a feather, and just as detailed. His lines were pale, nearly none existent... For the moment. Later on he would darken everything. "I draw too. Would you like to take a peek at my sketchbook, once I'm done this?" He signed his name on each piece, writing the date when it was completed.

Benji smiled a bit, brushing back his hair until he recalled the slight and natural point they came to, and put it back the way it was. Most knew what he was within a few moments of seeing his ears, so Benji grew his hair out a bit to hide that from others. He leaned slightly back to see what the stranger was referring to, catching sight of light but well-defined and intricate lines that didn't resemble anything in the real world. All fantasy, by the look of it, scenes and creatures alike, each signed with the stranger's name on the bottom of the page. Catching himself, Benji sat upright, running his left index finger along the binding of his sketchbook. "I'm Benji White." He said after a moment's hesitation. "I own the library on the east side..." The only reason he said this was because he didn't recognize this person, Wren, if that wasn't an assumed name. He was usually good with faces, and was sure he would remember this quite unique one.

"Very nice sketches, by the way." He added quickly. "I've always loved fantasy." But he'd never painted, drawn, or wrote fantasy. There was just so much to capture and Benji got overwhelmed, unable to catch any one or just several things at a time. He always felt all his thoughts were too extensive to stuff into one picture or story.

He noticed the way the other man was leaning forward, peering at his imaginary world. Wren held his breath, amber eyes wide and hopeful. The young man relaxed only when his art was praised, smiling brightly at the compliment. "Thanks. Some people think fantasy takes away from reality ... but the opposite can be true too. " The young man would have gone on, but he realized what Benji had said before.

"The library? I've .. been intending to go since I moved here, but I could never find it. I love reading about as much as I do drawing, which is saying something." Wren laughed a little. He loved books. Many were featured in his observational sketches.

Benji raised a brow. Could never find it? That meant he was looking for the place, then. Upon request? It was nice to know people might be talking about his abode, since it was so oriented to older styles in a world of modernization. When night fell the rooms grew cool, and the fireplaces came in handy not just for winter, but for those chilly hallways and downstairs rooms. "You've not found it yet?" He asked. "Perhaps you've not been through the whole east side? It's probably one of the largest buildings you'll see..." He snapped his mouth shut. Often that had been taken as bragging, and he certainly wasn't. He'd worked hard to save the place from demolition, worked hard to restore it, worked hard to turn it into what it was today.

"I could show you the way, if you're still searching." He offered quickly. "I keep the doors open all day and night..." Some said it was dangerous, but with his heightened senses he would wake quickly and do away with anyone who felt the need to attempt to steal from him. It had gathered a rather high reputation for him, rumors of constant high-tech surveillance systems keeping close watch on those that came and went, but at least it kept him from needing to put a heavy lock on the heavy doors and windows.

"I moved here six months ago, but ... I've been working, so I haven't had the chance to really explore the town." He'd moved there trying to be an artist, to live on his art. What a foolish notion! Wren shook his head, sighed, and flipped his book closed. He wished he didn't need to work, but that was a futile thought. There were so many wishes in Wren's mind, so many dreams, but not a one seemed close to becoming reality.

He did perk up at the thought of finally seeing the library he'd been looking for. "You'd do that? I really do want to see ..." But he felt like he was imposing on the other man. Finding such a nice person, it was rare for him. No that wasn't right. Wren wasn't used to finding people who wanted to pay attention to him as more then someone on the sidelines, or something like that.

Nodding, Benji stood and stretched. It seemed almost impossible that this sweet-scented artist hadn't figured out what he was yet---but perhaps he considered Benji's rather interesting look---from the light shadows around his too-pale eyes and the points to his ears that were seen only briefly when the wind would manipulate his hair---to be more of what made him an 'artist'. Most did like to add to their looks to make others notice them.

"Sure, I'd be happy to!" He replied. "A pretty good amount of my money does come from monthly memberships to my library." He ran it a little differently than most, and that was a bit of the charm that sent people flocking. "I, ah, have a sign-in sheet that members sign before taking out books, and they return them when they're done. No cards are necessary like in most places." It was nice to know that the members of the library were respectable enough to write down what books they took and otherwise follow the set rules he informed them of when they signed their signature at the bottom of their memberships.

"Wren spoke as he stood. "So how does it work exactly?" He took a few moments to put away his sketchbook in his backpack, and smiled slightly. "I'm thinking of signing up. The public library, the town one, it isn't as extensive as I was hoping." That was an understatement. Though there were many books, most of them weren't the type of things Wren liked reading.

He shifted a little impatiently as he waited for the other man to take the lead, noting absentmindedly odd little things about Benji's appearance. Probably just make up, though Wren almost hoped it meant his fantasy books were actually reality in some way.

Benji tucked the book under his arm as he stepped out from under the tree, standing slightly downwind of Wren so that the breeze wafted the sweet, strong, musky scent of his blood and humanity toward him. He clenched his teeth when he glanced away from the young man, calming the lightheadedness that came with stifling his nature. It had been a couple days now, and it was difficult now more than ever to resist luring Wren into an alley to be out of public eye. It took a moment to recognize he had spoken.

"Oh, the... the application form is simple, takes about fifteen minutes to complete. It allows you to take as many books as you like out of the library for as long as you like, so long as you return them within a year. I have more modern books on the first floor, to entice more modernized readers, but upstairs I've got unique and very old texts from Italy, Germany, the Greek and Roman empires, Japan, countries in South America, the UK, and in the U.S. I've collected them for d... years..." He caught himself. Decades was true, he had begun collecting these old, dusty books almost fifty years ago, but it would sound odd for him---a man that was by all accounts only twenty four---to say that he had been gathering books for half a century. They stepped out of the park itself and onto the sidewalk. Benji had walked to the park, since his library was only a few blocks away.

The idea of such a wide range of books made the young man smile as they continued towards the library. He was so excited to see what waited in the building! Wren fidgeted excitedly with his sleeves, tugging them over his hands. Such a collection ... The moment they were before the building, he looked hopefully to Benji's way. "I really like the sound of that. Can I sign up?" He didn't even need to see the books.

Benji tilted his head curiously. Usually someone would ask to look around the place, study the books, listen to what they would and wouldn't be able to do in the building. "Well, come on in. I'll tell you about it." He stepped up the stairs that led into a small outer alcove. The heavy, thick double doors were ornate and well kept, polished every week. He didn't have to unlock them, since they were rarely locked unless he was out of town entirely. Stepping in, the cool air of an old, restored building met them. under the iron ceiling lights sat paintings and drawings, lining the walls on wooden and metal frames, each of either a town street or a park or the ocean. Each was priced according to the time it took to complete, how large it was, and the type of medium used to make the frame. Moving out of the entryway, he led Wren into the main room. It was the largest of the first floor rooms, and marble and slate pillars that kept the ceiling and upper floors sturdy.

The carpet was dark red, and the stone slab that made up the hearths around the fireplaces were brown. The walls were wooden and ornate, and beyond bookshelves sat chairs and sofas, low coffee tables and through a few hallways were kid-friendly rooms and a couple unisex bathrooms, all in a style that was long forgotten. To the left was a bar-style counter, full of books and paper, most unused. A sign-in book lay open, meant for the members of the library to sign out the books they were taking.

going behind the counter, Benji dug out a sign-up form and slid it and a pen to Wren. "So, depending on whether you want to try it out or take a full dive, you have a choice. Just check what box you'd like: On month trial, six months, or a full year, at ten dollars a month. When your membership expires I'll let you know." He didn't quite realize his breathing was shallow---it kept whatever drifting scents at bay for a moment.

He knew it was strange, but if Wren was honest with himself part of what had prompted him to such eagerness was the library owner. He wanted an excuse to visit Benji, to say hi and start conversations. The artist was all the happier for his eagerness when he saw the building's interior. It made him smile and grin, his fingers itching to reach for the pencils hidden in his backpack.

There was so much to draw! Speaking of which, pieces of art kept catching his eyes. Wren recognized certain pencil strokes, a way of line, which reminded him of the sketch he'd spotted earlier. He almost didn't notice Benji walking to the counter and fishing out a form. Licking his lips absentmindedly, the young man moved and bent over the piece of paper. Shoulder length hair drifted around his features as Wren read the lines of letters before finally signing with a flourish, and plucking money from his pocket to pay his membership for the next two months, in cash of course.

With a smile Benji accepted the form and payment, signing the date in the top right box and sliding it into a metal box under 'August'. There were a few dozen other forms in the August sleeve as well, one near expiration. The payment he sectioned that away in a smaller lock box kept in a drawer he locked as well. While he did trust the members of the library, there were always those strangers or those who came in at least several times a week whom he didn't trust. "Okay then, I'll let you know on the fifteenth of October that your membership's expired, if you don't come in before then to renew it." Benji said, absently breathing in deeply. Immediately Wren's scent came to him, so strong in this enclosed area that he almost gasped, bringing up a hand to halfheartedly attempt to block it.

"Um..." His thoughts had scrambled in the intense sweet artistic smell of the human's blood. "Uhm, the... the older books are upstairs if you search for those." Shaking his head, Benji went back around the counter. "Take as many as you like but sign them out before you leave... There's no closing time here, really, so you can stay as long as you like." He felt putting a closing time on what he considered his home was a little odd, anyway.

The brunette listened intently, still half crouching over the counter. Wren didn't even notice he was biting his lips as he tried to memorize the workings of this strange little library. He only snapped out of it when Benji started sounding so uncertain. "Hey, is something wrong? You seem nervous...." That strange little lift of the hand came to mind quickly enough.

Now that he thought about it, the other man was rather pale, with unusual dark circles around his eyes, as if he was in perpetual lack of sleep. Of course, Benji also had strangely pointed ears, which at first Wren had thought were nothing more then fake additions to imitate the no longer mythical night walkers ... A vampire. Could it be he stood before one now?

Benji nodded quickly, holding his hand under his nose as if it would settle him down. If his heart beat on its own, he was sure it would be racing now, and he just couldn't figure out why this one in particular was so strongly scented. Benji could hardly keep himself under control! He desperately wanted to leap at the human, pin him down and sink his teeth into the soft throat... And Wren wouldn't fight back, no human did after a vampire's teeth were latched on. He didn't know why they loved it so much, describing it as a euphoric sensation they could rarely find elsewhere. It was why he, and others like him, made it a habit of wiping the recent memory of the human afterward, if they didn't rely on a single, willing human.

"No, no... I'm fine." He waved off the obvious concern in his voice. "Just... dust. You know, being here so often, you can never get rid of all the dust."

"Is that all?" Wren wasn't surprised to hear how disappointed his voice sounded. He was that, and far too trusting to think that the other man might be pulling the wool over his eyes. "Would you give me a tour of the place?" The young man refused to leave just yet. Tomorrow was his day off, and being relatively new to the city he didn't really have anywhere to go. He didn't know anyone either, for that matter.

The amber eyed man's lips quirked up slightly. It would be really nice if Benji became his friend. To hide his thoughts, he sniffed the air. It was dusty, but the scent of pages compensated for that. There was just something about the way a library, books n general, smelled which couldn't be replaced by new fangled e-books and a computer screen.

Benji nodded quickly, thankful that Wren took it as truth. Still, he shivered with the mental effort it took to keep himself from lunging at him. "Sure, I can do that..." He waved Wren along, stepping away from the counter and to the first of the shelves, which stretched upward to the ceiling, and the highest shelves could be reached using rolling ladders. "This room holds recent books, all the way back to 1950, from all over the world. Plaques on the start of the shelves indicate the country each shelf is oriented to." Now that he was in front of the young man, the strong smell had ebbed a bit, though he was sure it might soak into anything he touched. They walked through one in a series of archways. "Back here you'll start to get a bit older and more philosophy-oriented. These books are from 1940 to 1890, and tend to lean more toward college-level texts and things written in Latin or near-dead languages. It was hard to find these, actually..." He drifted off, shaking his head as another shudder ran through him.

Through a hall with vaulted ceilings, they went upstairs. "Up here the books are all from 1880 to the very early 1400s. Not many people come up here, since I believe they can't quite understand what's written in at least half the books, but both known and unknown authors are up here. Most of them are originals, and some are very well-made reproductions." Suddenly Benji had to swallow hard. He was almost drooling---Wren was close by now, and up here, where it was quieter, so much more secluded, a voice in his head was screaming for him to jump the human. But he grounded himself and jammed his hands in his pockets, shaking the voice silent vigorously.

The young man walked through each section, his eyes filled with awe. There were so many books of every kind... His fingers itched to flip through the pages. It didn't matter that he wouldn't be able to understand even a third of the older texts, so long as he could study the illuminations and illustrations. There was so much to learn from the works of old, which translated could bring so much to his own work. Clothing styles, colors used .... He couldn't wait to look.

When Benji stopped in the oldest section, the younger man moved. He didn't notice how his arm brushed against Benji when he reached out to let his fingers run over the book spines, halting upon a heavy tome with gilded binding. This one, he was sure, held a wealth of information of all kinds in its pages. The binding too, was fascinating. What kind of cord had been used? What paper, what had been used to press the pages down so the glue of the time could do its work? "It's so beautiful ..." All of the books were, but the oldest held a charm lost in their descendants.

Benji's breath caught in his throat when the human's warm body heat drifted so close to him. He was always cool, not necessarily cold, but it was enough to let others know something just wasn't right. He quickly turned away, stepping just a bit away from Wren. "I'm... I'm glad you like the place." He managed. "I've not changed a thing unless... unless it was absolutely necessary." He gritted his teeth hard. No, he couldn't do this anymore. He was bottling up his very nature, and that was unnatural. His body knew it and was fighting his mind. He growled quietly, clenching his hands in front of him until he shook. Wren's smell was so much stronger than others. He was just so personable, friendly, outgoing, that came out in the smell of his blood.

The darkness that came when he closed his eyes was welcome, but it opened him up to visions and images that came along with having not eaten in a few days. Visions and images that would have had his heart pounding if he had blood for it to do so.

Wren was grinning when he turned his attention back to Benji. The expression fell soon enough to be replaced by one of confusion when he noticed the way the blond acted. "Are you sure you're alright?" Without thinking bout it too much, Wren reached out to brush his fingers lightly against the other man's hand. It was so cold ... Frighteningly so, really.

"You're so cold ..." It was more of a murmur then anything else, as his imagination began to run in overdrive. Could he be speaking with a vampire? He was more curious then afraid, had always been that way. Wren had always wanted to meet one of the undead, but they were so rare in those parts. Most still preferred hiding, it seemed, to living out in the open. The young man couldn't blame them for that, though it disappointed him.

For an instant the touch lasted, but it was just enough to snap Benji's head around to meet Wren's gaze. The blue in his eyes tended to take on a steely, silvery tone at this point, and they did. "I'm fine." He grasped Wren's hand, reaching around for the other, and grasped them both against the human's chest. "Now I... I just need you to stay nice and still." With his free hand Benji held onto Wren's chin, bringing him close so he could hold onto the human. It wasn't unusual for a human to become weak, faint. But from what, specifically, a vampire was want to know. Brushing back the human's hair, Benji bent down slightly enough for his fangs to pierce through soft skin and hit the largest vein, cause four points to begin bleeding.

He didn't draw deeply, it would force too much blood to flow at once, shorten the experience, which was as sweet as the blood itself tasted to him. The world before his eyes swam in the sudden life that exploded through him, warmed his skin, made his heart beat again, shudder through his ribs. Color burst into the world, waving like thin flags, flowing over bookshelf and wall and window like water. And after a minute his heart fell into pace with Wren's, a little fast, but even, suddenly working as if both were one.

Benji had no idea how much time had passed, but he was able to release his teeth and draw his tongue over the four points to quickly heal the wounds. He was vibrating with warmth, life, his heart beating again, and it would continue for some hours while the human's blood circulated. Now the initial desperation had ebbed away, leaving Benji's ears ringing a bit. This energy came after a feeding, and was usually worked off if he went around on a cleaning and organization spree. He didn't usually seek out human or other vampire companionship, and especially not with the humans he fed off of. He would have to wipe this memory from Wren in a moment, after the shock wore away.