Work Text:
A cool and quiet darkness enveloped the haven, broken only by a singular lamp on a table. Small pans of watercolor were scattered across the table in a pattern that seemed both random and intentional simultaneously. Hand-cut cards of textured paper sat in a pile, ever so slightly misaligned. Alone at the table sat Claire, busily painting away, for once as cool and quiet as the short summer nights that always seemed to elude her so. A rare moment of peace and quiet.
This was quickly ruined by a sudden frigid touch on her shoulder, the previously moon-lit darkness seemingly condensed into a cold, clammy tendril. She screeched, grabbing the table to prevent her from toppling backwards. “That’s not funny, Hansel,” she chided. The only response she got back was a cackle from the dark. “How did you even get in here, anyways?” she usually grabbed at the dark to find him, “you could’ve at least knocked first.”
“You would’ve just ignored me,” Hansel said as he appeared out of the darkness trying and failing to gracefully leap up onto the table, his clearly unbrushed dark hair somehow getting even more messy in the process. It was almost like he wanted to look unkempt, “Besides, this is way more fun. You should’ve seen the look on your face! I haven’t seen you that scared since your sire was back in town.”
“That is not a good thing.”
“It’s a good thing to me!” He awkwardly clambered up onto the table, scattering the pans of paint about, “but I’m not just here to scare you, I actually wanted to ask you something.” Claire grabbed the now improperly scattered paints and dragged them closer to what was now just her side of the table. “If you want a vision you already know the answer-”
“C’monnnn those things are so useful. I mean that wasn't actually what I was gonna ask for but now that you’ve brought it up I want it.”
“What were you actually going to ask for?” Claire rinsed a small brush in the now only three-quarters full water cup.
“I wanted to know if you had any. How did Maria phrase it when I asked her. Hot gos?”
“You want to know if I have any info. About the prince?”
“Or really anyone in his posse. I’m looking for weak spots,” Hansel leaned over to look at the card in front of Claire, completely blocking her light, “hey whatcha painting?”
“Tarot cards. For the shop.”
“Like you’re going to sell tarot cards?”
“No, I’m just going to use them. Readings are more accurate with a familiar deck”
“I don’t get why you don’t just use your visions for that. It’d be so much faster and-” Claire glared daggers at him from across the table. “You really don’t get how bad those are for me, do you?”
“Well I mean I step into the literal void all of the time and I’m fine so I don’t get why seeing the future is such a big deal with you.”
Claire flicked paint into his eye, leaving a spattering of dark blue dots on the card she was working on, “Listen. Let’s stop the vision talk for now. I do have ‘hot gos’ as Maria would say it.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yes really. For how much thought you put into your little scheme you really do not put any thought into it at all,” she sprinkled water onto the dots of blue, trying to blend them out, “anyways, I heard that the current Tremere primogen is going to leave town for a while soon for magic reasons or something. I don’t know if that means anything to you.”
“I mean cool to know, I don’t think it would help. But you know what would-”
“No,” Claire didn’t even look up from her work. Hansel thumped his hands against the table, “You know I would sneak around and spy for you if you asked, right?”
“That’s different, you actually have a lot of fun doing that. I have one vision that's even a little distressing and all I can do is go to bed early or have a whole crying screaming mess about it.”
“Okay but what if I have a really good feeling about my future?”
“Then you don’t need a vision,” Claire pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “I can’t believe I have to talk to you like you’re some kind of child.”
“To be fair to me I’ve only been doing this whole cool shadow vampire thing for like half a year-”
“And you were an entire adult before that. I didn’t even get that.”
The room was filled with the sounds of cars passing by outside, the quiet hum of electricity, but no conversation.
Claire plunged her brush into a dark crimson, trying to ignore the conversation that just happened. She wanted to scream. She could feel claws grabbing inside her throat, begging her to let them out. She could feel vitae pool behind her eyes as she quickly tried to rebury any memories of her embrace she accidentally released. She shouldn’t show weakness, not now at least. In her mind it was ironic that in this moment she was painting the emperor, with someone she would expect to act like the emperor sitting on top of her table playing himself a fool. Not even a funny fool. Just a stupid one. Hansel slowly and quietly got down off the table, “Look, Claire, I didn’t mean to-”
“I liked it better when you weren’t talking.”
“I’m sorry for bringing that up.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you when you apologize.”
The near silence descended on the room once again. It held heavy like the deep sea. Hansel silently left something on the table and disappeared back into the darkness. Claire held perfectly still until she felt certain he had left. She didn’t want him to see anything. What he left on the table could be anything, danger or affection, or nothing at all.
The gift Hansel had left was indeed earnest, or at least Claire hoped it was. A small, reddish-orange, polished rock sat just at the edge of the lamp light. It was no bigger than any of the scattered watercolor pans. She reached for it, just a cautious touch at first to make sure it wasn’t a trap, but grabbing it with her whole hand as soon as she knew it was safe. She looked it over for any engravings or anything that felt like blood magic, but it was just a stone. Just a simple, mundane, but pretty stone. Claire couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t understand anything about Hansel, to torment her like this and then leave an earnest gift of what she assumed was friendship? To constantly seem so bumbling and stupid despite belonging to a clan known for extreme competence? He should mean nothing to her and yet. She started to scream, first a shrill and feral noise, but then sobbing. Disgusting, ugly sobbing, her face streaming with cold, sticky vitae. It spilled from her eyes, from her nose, even her mouth if she couldn't keep it shut. The card she was working on was absolutely ruined, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything specific anymore. It was all just indistinct, horrendously painful, all consuming emotion. She clutched the rock to her chest. It meant nothing and everything.