Alex Langford was a writer, and a damned good one too, if he didn’t say so himself – and he often did, at least to those of his household. He’d been writing for some time, and had changed his nom de plume over the years, as identity change required. His audience frequently shifted, as he tried to change up genres with each identity. His ghouls were part of his mainstay in the industry, acting as his publicists, proofreaders, and so on, as needed. Though he were still traditionally published, and only had three ghouls who worked with him. In addition to having other duties, they were a part of his process.
As of late, he’d grown restless. His muse was a fickle mistress, and as a direct result, ideas were not as forthcoming. It felt as though the font of his talent had momentarily dried, and it bothered him immensely. With a little courage, his ghouls banded together, and pointed out that stewing around at home was not helping. They were worried about him, and meekly suggested he head out, to experience what Las Vegas had to offer. When he scoffed at this idea, one of them, his publicist and majordomo, spoke up; simply saying, “Perhaps your muse is waiting to be discovered.”
This brief sentence was enough to inspire some ideas, a couple that he quickly jotted down on his phone, before deciding to head out into the night. He needed to feed anyway, and perhaps his ghouls weren’t wrong after all. In search of a muse, he headed out, trying to find the inspiration that was escaping him.
His muse eluded him that night, and the next several, as over the course of the week he searched the city for different shows and street performers for inspiration. Sure, he could draw a little quirk here, or a notice there and jot it down, but nothing that was letting the font be more than a trickle. After a couple of weeks, he was at a small club that offered live music. A variety of people had taken the stage, usually only for a song or two, before the crowd craved something new.
Due to this, he’d started tuning out the acts, and paying more attention to the people in his surroundings, jotting down notes here and there about particular conversations, outfits, or behaviors that stuck out to him. That was when he first heard the voice of his new muse, singing a tune that started smooth and gained roughness and raw emotion. He listened to the song itself, jotting down a flurry of his own thoughts and emotions about hearing it before he finally looked over, hoping that font would open more than it just had once he saw the voice’s owner.
He growled to himself when he noticed his view was blocked by others, standing in the way and applauding. He needed to see his muse! How dare they block his view! Peering through the throng of bodies, all he could see was a hand pick up a bottle of water to take a drink. Not unusual in and of itself, but he’d mostly seen performers pick up a beer. It was a little thing, but it caught his attention and piqued it further.
Eventually, he stood, since the crowd wasn’t letting him get a better look. The club’s set musicians were preparing for another song, and it took a moment to pick through the faces of those who’d been on stage all that night to find the new one. His muse’s back was turned, talking to the other musicians, presumably about what to play next. Alex took in as much detail as he could, before remembering the infernal device he held in his hand was also capable of taking photos. The singer was tall, standing a little over six feet. Alex also noted that he wore blue jeans, and a black tee that showed off some toned, strong-looking arms. When the singer turned around, the first thing Alex noted was the guitar he held.
So he’s multi-talented as well? Alex thought to himself as he continued to scan upward, taking momentary note of a tattoo on the inner left forearm, though he couldn’t make out what it was, exactly. When he reached the singer’s face, he took pause. Breathtaking! The man could be a model with looks like that. Did the voice he’d heard earlier truly belong to this man? He had to know, and was not above being rude to those around him, getting them to quiet down so he could properly listen, and discover that, yes, that tall man with the short blonde hair and lovely blue eyes contained that perfect voice.
Alex was enthralled, and lost to the bane that all Toreador face. It wasn’t until someone jostled him roughly that caused his eyes to tear away from the sight before him as he stumbled, noting a drink had been spilled on him, and an apologetic woman trying to help steady him. He was annoyed, but took note of her – she would be made a meal of later.
Alex made his way over to the bartender, to ask for the owner, pretending to have a complaint. When the owner made an appearance, he asked for some privacy in order to air a grievance, and so was taken back to the office. Alex had no qualms using Dominate on the man to get what he wanted – the performer’s name, and any other info that could be given about him. Several minutes later, he walked out of the office, having forgotten all about getting his meal, and happy with the name of his muse – Nicholas Jackson. Determined, Alex headed to Elysium to speak with Jerome. It was time to seek permission for the Embrace. He would not lose his muse!
It wasn’t long before Alex was able to match the name he’d been given with other information he wanted about the young man with a siren’s voice. He’d hired someone to look into it, as he didn’t have a clue where to start. He was, in fact, given the information on an Elysium court night from a Nosferatu who’d owed him a favor. This night was also where, publicly, Jerome gave his permission for Alex to embrace.
There were arrangements and plans to make now, such as how to approach the other man. Eventually, he opted to approach him after another of his live gigs at one of the clubs around town.
~ * ~
When approached after the show, Nicholas was polite, but unwilling to get into deeper conversation, trying to make polite excuses to get away from Alex. That’s easily taken care of he thought, and applied Dominate to his words, in an effort to try and get Nicholas to spend time with him. It took a few tries, but eventually the singer acquiesced. He was strong-willed and stubborn, if nothing else, and this pleased Alex for some reason.
Introductions had been made by this point, and Alex learned that his muse preferred to be called Nick. It took some persuading for Nicholas to agree to go somewhere they could talk quietly and alone, but he eventually got him there, though Nicholas refused any offer of a drink, save for water. Alex had a strategy prepared, however, and through applied and consistent uses of both Presence and Dominate, Nicholas began to open up about himself. It was through this method he learned about Nick’s talent, and why he was refusing drinks.
The alcoholism, was due to a vicious cycle of pain and depression. The depression, was largely due to a combination of loneliness and feeling useless. Alex resolved that he’d have to change that – it wouldn’t do for a muse to feel that way. Alex assured Nick that he wasn’t useless, leaning heavily on the application of Presence to help get this point across. Entrancement worked wonders for situations like this, after all.
Later in the evening, and embarrassed about having opened up so much to a perfect stranger when it had taken weeks to open up to his therapists, Nick tried to leave for the night, but Alex coaxed him back to his haven. Now was the time to embrace Nick, before anyone else could – and he knew there were others out there who had permission to create childer.
~*~
It hadn’t taken long after getting Nicholas to his apartment before Alex had himself buried fangs deep into his neck, drinking deeply, revealing in the taste of his muse’s blood. When he felt the body go limp, Alex licked the wound closed and quickly fed Nicholas his blood. It took a moment before his muse latched on and drank deeply – as much as Alex allowed him to have. Nicholas was still hungry, however, so Alex took him hunting, teaching him as they went.
Alex kept his muse that night, soothing him and starting the teaching process when he awoke the next evening, callously dismissing his freak-out about having killed while feeding his first time out. Alex was eventually able to calm him, and began the teachings, staring with what he was, and what that meant. Next, came the rules of the Camarilla, followed by clan history.
It pleased Alex that his muse was a good listener, and learner – even one interested in the clan’s history. He broke up the lessons with lessons in Auspex and Presence, all too happy as his muse began to apply himself. All to please his master; Alex thought, smiling to himself. Within a couple short months, Alex began taking Nicholas to Elysium, proudly introducing him around. Some were polite to both Alex and his childe; some were indifferent. The only one who seemed particularly angry about the ordeal was Kelly.
The bitch had always hated him, trying to undermine him, ever since she saw herself in a character he’d written. If she saw herself reflected in an ugly, shallow female character – well, why was that his fault? He paid her no mind, kept his muse away from her, and refused to leave Nicholas alone.
~*~
Over the course of the year, Alex spent some time writing, but spent most of his time with Nicholas – always refusing to call him Nick, feeling that it wasn’t a name befitting of a muse. In reality, he was obsessed with Nick’s looks and talent, wanting it to be cultivated; perfected. As much as he wanted his muse to grow his talent, he focused instead on Nicholas’ Kindred teachings, incurring favors to have Nick taught Potence and Celerity from a Brujah, and Fortitude from a Ventrue.
It was amazing watching his muse work hard and progress by leaps and bounds compared to others. Still, there were times when Nicholas grew restless – wanting to go back home, to his old life. Despite warnings, and the occasional letting his muse off the leash, he would have to reign him back in through uses of Dominate, Presence, or both to keep him close; keep him safe – keep him his.
To everyone except Nicholas, Alex was quite obsessed with, and possessive of, his childe. By the time rumors reached his ears that Kelly was trying to claim he’d broken the Traditions, it was already too late – Jerome was beginning to believe that he hadn’t given permission to Alex. Fearing for his own safety and that of his muse, Alex scrambled for preparations, trying to think of anyone he knew and trusted outside the city to protect his muse. That person ended up being one Dr. Benjamin Adams, to whom he owed a favor.
Commanding his muse to pack a go bag, he drafted the letter and handed it to him, telling him to head to the address on the letter. Once his muse was safely on his way out of the city, he turned his preparations toward trying to protect some assets for his muse’s behalf, if possible. Unbeknownst to him, the next night would be his last, as the Sheriff dragged him into Elysium to face execution – punishment for creating a childe without permission. His last thought was hoping his muse was safe.