Welcome to Gaia! ::

By the time they returned home, Thane was still fuming. The rest of the night had gone perfectly fine, civilized conversations veiled by polite words and double meanings, as it should be. None of this Malkavian madness with faucets and casual touching of very important persons and the complete inability for rational thought.

Thanks to an unlife of practice, Thane had kept himself together, through the rest of the party, during their travel home, right up until the mansion door closed behind them with a loud cluck

“I should have ripped her throat out!” he snarled, tearing the tie he’d worn for the occasion off his neck and tearing it into pieces instantly. “How dare she touch you! We need to burn the suit, take it all off and I’ll get rid of it.” It didn’t help that he was hungry, his belly a rumbling void.

“And they have our research! All this damn time!”

Thinking about everything he could have accomplished with that information just made him angrier.

It was all he could do to stop from physically removing Amadeo’s clothes himself but he refrained. As close as the many years had brought them, he’d never go so far as to manhandle his own Sire. “I can get you a new one,” he grumbled instead but Amadeo’s calm had settled his own rage down to more of a simmer.

Standing in the scrappy remains of his own tie, his shirt also slightly torn, Thane felt disheveled and horribly young, the arrival of the wraith earning a hiss in her direction. Of course she wanted to know how the party had gone. The kitchen was always the first stop when anyone returned home, hungry or not.

And he was most certainly hungry.

Mollified by the promise of a meal and still obedient after a few hundred years at Amadeo’s side, Thane instantly turned and followed the hallway around to the back of the house, where the expansive kitchens were located.

The smell of tomato, basil and garlic only got stronger as he approached and then arrived at the kitchen doorway. Not that he would be eating any pasta sauce today but even dead the smell was delicious and the pit his stomach grew more painful.

The kitchen itself was impressive, huge, expansive, with a large wooden table in the middle, two roaring fires, endless cupboards and racks of herbs and spices. There was even a cute little sign that said ‘Nonna’s Cucina’ hung up over the sink. It was somehow friendly and welcoming despite the fact that they were standing directly above a catacomb where mortals sobbed as they were bled dry.

And amongst it all, Nonna was there.

Waiting for them, arms crossed, a little smile on her face, red splatters on her apron, dominating the space with her presence in a way that Thane had never been able to replicate.

“Evening Nonna,” Thane greeted, a little stiff, standing aside for Amadeo to enter first.

“Ah Signore,” Nonna greeted them, as warm and friendly as any regular grandmother. Though there was a glint of something old and calculating in her eyes if you looked close enough. Her gaze slid from Amadeo to Thane. “Cucciolotto.” Thane’s eye twitched at the pet name. “Welcome home.”

Her arms unfolded as she stepped towards them, past the wraith-filled cabinet, her fingers brushing gently against the old wood. “Peace, angioletto.” Anybody, dead or alive, should beware before making a mess out of this kitchen.

There was no pretense here. Amadeo could relax, even if Nonna still liked to play the part. She came to a halt before him and tutted, her hand rising to gently cup his cheek. “Do they not feed you at parties anymore? What sort of host leaves their guests starving?” Though they all knew why. Giovanni feeding habits were better left at home.

“Come eat, I just cooked.” It was a long-running joke that still hadn’t gotten old over the many years they’d spent together. She walked across the kitchen and opened one of the bigger cupboards, stepping inside and pressing the hidden mechanism that made the back wall slide back, revealing dark steps leading down.

The sounds of whimpers and pain, the scent of blood, rushed up to meet them.

“Come, come,” Nonna urged as she started down the stairs, the winding path down into the dark. There was enough flickering torchlight from deep below for their eyes to adjust easily but even in the full dark, these steps had been walked so often any of them could have done it blind.

With the scent of blood thick in his nose, Thane’s gut twisted, his hunger spiking, suddenly painful. All the energy he’d spent today, the anger, holding himself together through that Malkavian’s nonsense, had taken its toll. He was hungry in only the way a vampire could be.

He nearly missed a step when Amadeo mentioned him and a wraith in the same breath. He recovered instantly, his gaze narrowing, focusing on the back of his Sire’s head, almost accusatory. They were talking about this now? There had been no mention or word of this before. Thane’s earlier attempts to ask about it (fifty or so years ago) had been completely ignored, and now it was coming out of the blue.

But he said nothing.

Amadeo hadn’t spoken to him.

No, he’d spoken to Nonna, who chuckled.

“Ah, the cucciolotto, is ready for his own pet? Are you sure?” She let the amused question hang for a moment, just for Thane’s benefit. “Si, signore, I’ll organize it.”

They stepped around the last corner and out into the catacombs, the warm scent of fresh blood was at its strongest here and beneath it all the smell of death, earth and mildew. There was death all around them, centuries old echoes, skeletons buried deep, wraiths left to rot, stones that had soaked up too much blood. To mortals it would be enough to stop their heart’s dead; for the Giovanni, it was home.

The first room was mostly empty, with arched doorways leading further into the darkness. Only a few torches flickered, providing enough light for them to make their way into the next room, where luxurious red lounges, a thick rug, bookshelves and embroidered pillows awaited them. Comfort for those who enjoyed feeding in a suitable environment.

“Sit, rest. I’ll prepare your meal.”

Thane took a seat stiffly in the opposite couch, watched as Nonna drifted away to another room and then steadfastly fixed his still angry gaze at the rug. His mouth was pressed in a firm line, shoulders tensed, as he traced every miniscule thread, rather than say anything he might regret like, ‘I can’t believe you would suddenly bring up a wraith before even mentioning it and you aren’t even going to do it yourself’. It was something he had been privately hoping for. If he did ******** it up and got sent into Oblivion, he would prefer his last moments to be spent with his actual Sire, and not Nonna. The old bag.

When Amadeo spoke his name, he was forced to look back up, his gaze flicking from that half-smile to the open shirt, the way his hand ran through his hair, and then promptly went back to counting rug threads with far more desperation than last time. But at least his anger had gone, replaced by an odd frustration that regardless made him want to claw something into a million pieces.

“I’ll do better next time,” he grunted. “She was charmed enough by you, even being utterly mad.” But Amadeo was just like that. Thane doubted that was something he could even learn. It had taken this long just to get his anger in check long enough to even offer social niceties. He didn’t ooze sophistication the way Amadeo did and doubted he ever would.

‘I’m not sure I want to get there,’ he had been about to say, as he planned to never interact with another Malkavian unless it was to tear their head off. But the words died before they even had a chance to be uttered, Amadeo’s approach banishing everything else from his mind. He stiffened, muscles turned to stone. His chin was lifted, gentle but firm. Thane’s gaze slipped sideways, panicked, then returned, knowing his Sire wouldn’t appreciate him looking away during such an earnest moment.

Something inside his belly unclenched with the assurance that Amadeo would be there. It had upset him far more than he could even admit. “I understand,” he grunted. He did. He would have understood even if Amadeo didn’t take part, it just would have hurt like hell.

Amadeo pulled away and Thane dug his nails into his palm, close to breaking the skin.

The gentle clatter of wheels and Nonna’s return was a welcome distraction. Or was it unwelcome? He really couldn’t tell.

The older vampire had stopped in the doorway, guiding an ancient serving trolley ahead of her. “Did I interrupt something?” She asked, always pleasant, smiling. Her gaze was too sharp and Thane looked away but not before he glimpsed the trolley contents. A large glass carafe full of blood. Hunger clawed at his stomach, his chest, his throat.

Nonna idled in the doorway for a moment and then pushed onwards. Thane had turned himself away, still such a child. So easily unsteadied. She guided the trolley towards the lounge and then stopped, lifting the carafe and pouring two wine glasses. The first one she offered to Amadeo, nodding respectfully.

“Signore, enjoy. This blood was freely given.”

Despite those words, there was fresh blood on her apron. Even with her many years of practice, extraction was always going to be a little bit messy.

For Thane, feeding was a different experience. He wasn’t anywhere near as old as Amadeo and while he’d certainly had enough time to grow accustomed to enjoying the taste of blood, even as an elder, the sudden rampaging need from having it so close was still a wild beast in his chest. He could clearly remember his first feeding, how desperate he had been, how hungry. There was always an urgency inside of him, that forced him to move with deliberate slowness, to ration each sip, cherish the way it slid warm across his tongue.

There was a deep frustration as well, knowing he would forever be denied feeding from the source. Knowing that there were many captives beneath the mansion, their blood ready for the taking. He didn’t know how Nonna did it. Every day, so close, draining their blood without ripping them apart.

The only way he’d ever gain such pleasure was if he embraced another but that desire had never been there. He might, one day, should the clan require it. But he would not seek it out. In part because of his bond with Amadeo, forged through that painful bite and the giving of blood, was something he didn’t wish to dilute.

Thane had just finished his glass, carefully placing it down, when Amadeo spoke those simple words: Augustus is stirring. Everything that had been said before it fluttered away like leaves in the wind.

He went rigid, gaze flicking between the two older vampires. He’d never met Augustus, he knew of him only through what he’d been told.

Nonna’s looked unfazed, the knowledge clearly coming as no surprise. Of course it wouldn’t. The catacombs were her domain. If anyone or anything was stirring, she would feel it. But Thane hadn’t even noticed, he’d been too preoccupied, always too full of his own anger and disquiet to know when it was an outside influence and not just himself.

He said nothing, just sat and listened, intent. Curious what this would mean for all of them. The hierarchy of the Giovanni clan was about to get a shakeup.

And a lot sooner than expected.

He felt it, like a yawning gulf appearing beneath his feet. A void of power that could suck him in.

Nonna clucked her tongue.

A wraith floated up out of the ground, one Thane had never seen before. It was the spitting image of Nonna, her twin in all except that one of them was somewhat more alive than the other. It nodded, mouth opening, a moaning sigh slipping out but nothing more.

Nonna flicked her hand dismissively and the wraith slipped back down again, following Amadeo’s deeper into the catacombs to welcome their master.

“He always does have impeccable timing, our Lord Augustus, for nobody but himself,” Nonna said, smoothing down her apron and straightening her glasses. Thane nearly jumped out of his skin when she looked at him next, her tone sharp and decisive, “You, back upstairs. Don’t let anyone down here, I don’t care who they are or how old they are. And have the servants prepare for a gathering. The whole family shall be in attendance.”

Nonna stepped forward and picked up the blood-filled carafe. “He’s going to be hungry.” She offered it to Amadeo to take. “This should keep him satisfied while I grab one of my boys.” She’d raised those mortals to be the perfect livestock, pretty, darling little things, waiting for the day their master would awaken. Their lives had always been temporary.

Together they had held the Giovanni together through the long torpor, awaiting exactly this moment. Now their fates would be decided.

“Shall we?”