Welcome to Gaia! ::

He found the darkness within comforting, the assault of lights outside was beautiful but also overpowering, loud. The dim lighting instead wrapped the entire tent in a blanket of comfort and seclusion. As if the world of the Faire stopped and another opened up just beyond the entrance. The smoke was a little thicker, but not enough to cause discomfort, nor was it harsh enough to burn the lungs. It smelled warm and spicy, a hint of something vaguely altering lacing the air along with it. It wouldn't be anything severe, a harmless herb. Just enough to loosen inhibitions and coin purses. People who felt good tended to tip better, and the dancers knew it. The members of the Kumpania knew it too.

Rares slipped like a shadow to the back, finding himself a seat that wasn't quite so cozy among the city folk. Soft torchlight barely illuminated the area, just enough to throw shadows across the floor and walls. His claws slid, fanning through the fur of his collar, splitting the lush hairs before he grasped it and pulled it closer to his neck. The last dancer had just left and he'd come in at a lull between performers. He spotted movement at the entrance and his eyes began to drift but the sudden strike of a drum split the silence and his gaze returned to the stage, the drum was followed closely by the steady rise of the violin, the accompaniment of a santoor and the chime of traditional bells.

A lithe form glided, serpentine, from behind the veiled curtains that separated the main event from the dancers quarters. The Meanki took center stage in the small arena, the layered fabrics of her skirt blossoming as she spun. Unfurling like a rosebud in bloom. The small bells, coins, and charms adorning her lower half sang musically with each movement, the chains across her toned belly glinting in the torchlight. She moved like water, her hips weaving controlled patterns as she engaged her core and broke into another spin. Rares watched, his attention captured but easily broken as he realized the other figure was still standing near the entrance. The vampire's brows furrowed gently, uncertain why it bothered him, he couldn't quite see them clearly through the haze. He pulled his attention back to the performance, trying to ignore the sudden and unwarranted curiousity.

The dancer was talented, beautiful, and an obvious veteran of the stage, but Rares was still bothered, and he found he'd lost interest entirely. He felt nagged by the presence at the entrance, a sense of annoyance that it was apparently such a distraction shattering any relief he'd been steadily cultivating since he'd arrived. His eyes wandered back slowly, trying to keep his physical movements to a minimum, but the figure had finally changed location. He found himself searching the crowd. He had a habit of needing to know who was near him in a confined space. His gaze roved the faces of the awestruck patrons subtly, trying to figure out who was different. When they got to Vadoma, he felt his body stiffen, his gut suddenly a knot.

There was a moment where his expression contorted in confusion, his eyes narrowing, brows furrowed faintly. He couldn't remember a time when setting eyes on someone had caused a physical reaction like this. Aside from the night he'd seen his sire approaching for the first time, but that had been a reaction rooted in survival, this was different somehow. Rares tore his gaze from her, trying to focus on the dancer, but he found it wandering back, his expression now unreadable. She was beautiful, whoever she was, and he found himself unable to stop staring. Even as his gut told him to look away. Long dark hair adorned with gold, braid spilling over her shoulder. He couldn't see much of her attire, but it looked familiar. Was she with the Kumpania? It would be his luck if she were. He wouldn't even be able to speak with her if he'd wanted to should that be the case.

The one thing he could see very clearly, however, was the red of her eyes as they caught the firelight before she closed them, her body swaying to the rhythm. Stunning. He exhaled sharply through his nose and looked away again, his agitation suddenly palpable as it began to twist in his chest. She was just a girl. There was nothing to get excited about. But the fact that she illicited such a strong reaction in him made him uneasy. People didn't get under his skin. It wasn't like he hadn't ever seen a woman before. Hell, there were plenty around. He'd even had Kumpania women, needing a sense of adventure and danger to flush the staleness of life from their veins, flirt with the forbidden by seeking him out.

Rares was handsome, another reason it made him easy to hate he supposed. He wasn't one to judge his own looks as anything worth mentioning but he must have been, because even his reputation didn't stop an occasional woman from trying to seduce him by knocking on his vardo door in the middle of the night. Some he turned away, others... well, he'd been flesh and blood once upon a time. Not that they would even acknowledge him once they'd left in the morning. He was back to being a pariah. He rolled his eyes and chose to ignore her, keeping his gaze deliberately locked onto the stage as his sharp claws gripped the other side of his fur collar and pulled it close. Maybe it was for comfort, more likely it was to block his view of her.

The dancer was partway through her act, but Rares was already considering leaving. He suddenly felt suffocated beneath the weight of the tent, like the smoke had gotten thicker or the fabric had begun to creep in around them. The Vampire could feel his hackles raise slightly, the sensation of eyes upon him searing. His gaze darted to Vadoma, expression cold and guarded, stomach knotting tighter. She'd been looking at him. Somehow, he just knew it.

He thought he saw movement, something small close to her shoulder, but it could have easily been the shifting of the light over the smoke. He had a decent ability to sense entities from beyond the veil, but his skills had never been nurtured or developed, so he didn't interact or try to strengthen them and most of the time he dismissed them as tricks of the light or rogue shadows. He didnt really understand them at all and it was rare one decided to appear in the woods around his Vardo. Even then he never followed and they never persisted in getting his attention.

He felt hot, the decision to leave now paramount in his mind. Rares quietly stood, adjusting his jacket, his claws slipping into the pocket buried beneath the fur to seize some coins. He tossed a few at the moment other patrons did and slipped to the back of the tent, melting into the shadows. The entrance parted, letting in the faintest kiss of night air, and Rares slipped out. Suddenly the Faire was too much. Too much noise. Too many people. He needed seclusion. He felt angry. At her. Why? He couldnt say. Her existence had suddenly tilted the frame of his evening askew and he wasn't used to people doing that to him. His reaction at feeling powerless was generally anger.

He paused for a moment at one of the stalls that sold spices and traded his coin for several varieties. The vendor didn't speak to him, in fact he practically glared daggers at the Vampire during the entire transaction. While reluctant to take his coin at first the transaction ended up being large enough for the vendor to brave the possibility of being cursed, apparently. Rares collected his goods, completely ignoring the other male as he crossed himself and slid the coins into some kind of mixture. Probably to cleanse them, just in case. He turned on his heel, speaking not a word and receiving none in return, and began to head out of the fairgrounds and towards the woods.

There wasn't any moon tonight, just darkness. The woods changed from thin, sparse foliage to dense and thick the further in he ventured. He had worn a path over time, making it easy to traverse since he didn't have any reason to hide. His existence deterred most nosy Kine and Vampires alike, the only ones, aside from thrillseekers, who took this path were those desperate enough to seek his services. Rares moved silently but felt a prickle along his spine, a presence close behind. He wasn't certain at first who it was but the anger flared again in his chest like a hot ember, teeth set firmly as he clenched his jaw. Who was following him? He wasn't in the mood. Rares stifled a hollow smile at the thought. As if he really ever was in the mood for people who sought his time.

He needed to relax, let the earlier encounter go before he scared off whoever it was. They could very well have been a customer too afraid to speak to him at the Faire. It happened. They always followed him into the darkness to beg for his help, unwilling to let others see what they truly were. As he reached the Vardo his gaze lifted to take it in. Refuge. It was quite large, probably one of the largest in the Kumpania his family had originated from, long before they'd set their wheels here and never moved again. The outside was constructed from cherry wood, the trim and carved ornamentation stained black. It bled into the cherry, as if over time the beautiful carvings themselves had wept. Shedding tears for the bloodline that once constructed it.

He stopped before he reached the door, kicking a log into the embers glowing in the fire pit, and turned his head to stare at the smoke beginning to billow beneath it as the fire struggled for life. Her voice made his pupils dilate, and as the flames shattered the darkness they constricted again sharply, his figure bathed in the haunting glow blossoming before him. He could see her clearly out of the corner of his eye but he didn't turn, his nerves on edge, it was her. Thankfully she stopped, not seeming to come any closer, he didn't know if he could stand it if she did. His voice was low, the response biting. "What do you want?" Rares had little experience with pleasantries or small talk, considering he didn't talk to anyone often if at all. But his tongue felt dry in his mouth, like he was suddenly parched. Who the hell was this woman?

The glint of gold as it caught the light of the fire made Rares turn his face more towards the woman. His strange, dark amber gaze flicking up to take in her face as he did. He felt it again. His gut twisting in a knot, jaw clenched, the muscle high on his check flexing in response to the tension. God. Why did that keep happening? Just looking at her he felt like he was going mad.

He broke the stare abruptly, returning his attention to the fire and, using his boot, shoved a second log in beside the first. The glowing coals jumped, shooting small sparks of light into the air as the new wood hit them. He waited for her to answer, his patience already razor thin. Normally he could at least be somewhat hospitable if he knew he was getting paid. The problem was that he didn't understand what he was feeling when she was around, which only fed his ill mood.

His hand slowly balled into a fist, squeezing as she finally gave her reason. His expression completely puzzled at first, at a loss. How the hell could she know that just by looking at him? How he was feeling? He'd never had anyone understand him in any real meaningful way before, let alone see him so briefly and read him so well at a glance. The alien concept frightened him in the moment, until he swallowed it, burying it deep. His eyes narrowed and he exhaled sharply through his nose in a contemptuous laugh, lips curving into a cold smile as he once again turned his head, finding those beautiful red eyes and letting his anger cut through the feelings they seemed to stir up.

"That's not my Kumpania. This is." He unfurled the fist he'd been absently making and gestured to the Vardo briefly. "And what do you know of it anyway? I thought maybe you belonged to the Kumpania as well... but it looks like you're just a Gajo. Then again.." Rares turned his body to face her, his strides deliberate, quick, as he approached. There was an aggressive quality to the gesture, like he was trying to push her away, to make her uncomfortable. He purposefully stepped into her space, very close, close enough that the fur of his jacket was almost touching her. His scent was strange, like campfire smoke mixed with some sort of heady spice that was hard to place off-hand, especially if you had little experience with spices.

Rares lifted his hand, his claws sliding beneath her brain as he lifted it absently, his intense gaze locked onto hers. The strange feeling was so intense now that for a moment he worried he'd made a mistake in playing this game. But his resolve steeled, shoving whatever strange energy she exhuded away. "I don't think you're exactly a Gajo either." He leaned forward carefully, his mouth close to her ear. "Go home before you get hurt, tânără." Obsidian claws slid down her braid, gently flipping it over her shoulder as he turned on his heel and headed back towards the fire. Maybe she'd get the message now and leave him alone.

The sound of his native tongue spun back to him from her lips and the male was at a loss again. She didn't appear to be frightened of him at all. That alone began to ring some warning bells as he realized she hadn't even flinched, her face had remained so even, she'd even smiled at him. He ignored her attempt to try and sympathize, whether she was sincere or trying to use what she'd managed to glean, he couldn't tell. He always assumed the latter.

The more she sought to comfort him, the more guarded he grew. The more suspicious that she wanted something. So, she knew more about his clan than he did, huh? Obviously, not enough to know the signs that she was stepping into trouble. But her words presented him with a burning question. If she wasn't with the Kumpania, and she wasn't part of the clan, who the hell was she? Rares made a dismissive sound, his gaze narrowing again, this time at the fire. "So, what? You followed a stranger out into the woods because you felt sorry for them?"

His voice was cold. No one was that naive. At least no one he'd encountered in a very, very long time. There was no way she'd chosen to follow him all the way out here to offer him comfort. That wasn't something people did. At least not the types of people he'd spent lifetimes surving, as far as he knew nothing else existed beyond them. Rares began to set up the spit, moving to grab a bag from a hook on the side of the Vardo. His hand slipped in, producing some very dark, very thorny looking herbs. He threaded them along the metal, weaving them around it, and then set it to dry over the fire.

Fingers that had been intricately weaving froze suddenly, hovering over the spit, sharp claws poised to continue but unable. His eyes widened, like he'd been struck. 'I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sad for you.' He couldn't remember anyone ever saying anything like that to him before tonight. That wide gaze relaxed after the moment passed, narrowed not in hostility but more begrudgingly. "You don't even know me." Came his reply, he couldn't think of anything biting, feeling extremely out of his element.

When she asked why he was alone, if he was sick, the male once again gave a sharp exhale through his nostrils, his expression bathed in something akin to morbid humor. "You could say that. Though the Kumpania might not necessarily call it an 'illness'." Why was he talking to this girl? He didn't owe her an explanation for living on the fringes of society. "Go ask them if you want to know. I'm sure they'd be more than eager to fill your ear with gossip."

Rares had resumed weaving when she asked him where his family was. He stopped again. That air of agitation returning abruptly, masking a grimace trying to form as a result of the stabbing feeling briefly searing his heart. He didn't react otherwise, refusing to look at her. "I don't believe that's any of your business." The words chilly, final. He wasn't going to talk about that. He'd noticed her getting closer, and closer, but he wasn't deterring the advance. She was persistent, he had to give her that. His brows furrowed at her inquiry into his current task and he let out a chuckle, the sound straddling the line between exasperated and incredulous.

"You ask a lot of questions, tânără. That's risky, you know. Especially with strangers." What might have otherwise sounded like a statement made in concern was worded more like a threat, though something in his voice kept it from being exactly that either. It was a hard truth. He finished securing the final bit of plant material, a pungent smoke rising from the pit as a small piece fell and sizzled among the coals. The vampire leaned back, avoiding it entirely. The flesh above his nose wrinkling as he did.

Vadoma. The word jumped out at him, her name. She'd suddenly introduced herself. His attention shifted to observe her as that lovely hand extended forward, like their encounter was some sort of social function. If she could read the energy he was putting off she was outright refusing to accept it, that alone made him smirk. She either had some serious guts or was extremely oblivious. He wasn't quite sure yet which it was. The male turned his head away from her again, not reciprocating. An oppressive silence grew between them until, with his eyes set firmly upon the flames and the light illuminating the fiery flecks of his eyes, he responded. "Rares."