03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Tristan was quite enjoying exploring the quaint little town, taking his time exploring the main strip and meeting new people. Today, he intended to go food shopping. But his nose took him in another direction. It was a scent he hadn't smelled in a long while. Not since his time in New York. Here, in the cold of Colorado, he almost didn't trust himself. But ever since he lost his hearing in his right ear, he'd know the scent of masquerading death anywhere.
It wasn't the first time he’d sensed it here. But it was the first time he had enough of a trail to follow. It led to an art gallery. Part of him was pleasantly excited to find the little studio buried in the heart of the town. It was also very…right for a vampire. They were often old souls, even some of the younger undead. Opera houses, museums, art galleries, national parks, places of old history were often safe havens to them. Tristan hadn't understood when he was young.
He pushed open the door, the corner of his mouth twitching in discomfort at the bell sound. Why did humans need those? The young pup at the desk didn't look up until he approached. The vampire was here, somewhere. He could smell them. “Is your proprietor present?”
“What?" The blonde at the desk looked up from his phone. "Uh…Mr. Ettore is one of the studios. But you can't bother him. He’s working.”
Tristan eyed the boy up and down. His enhanced senses could pick up the residual marijuana on his clothes and coupled with his mess of hair, he didn't quite fit into the stark finery of the gallery. Perhaps the blonde wasn't one of the vampire’s toys just yet. The werewolf nodded simply and moved around the desk to look over some of the art, just as interested in the visuals as he was in the texture of the materials and the aroma some of the artists tools left behind. He was a hound following a scent trail, certainly, but he had long ago learned to enjoy the trail.
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Dec 21, 2023 16:36:19 GMT
Giacomo was indeed working. Though not on a painting today. It had been some time since he'd picked up a chisel but for some reason he had been feeling the urge to sculpt lately. Perhaps it was a way to distract himself from his recent loss. His sire, who'd he spent countless years with, had suddenly abandoned him in this place. Some days he questioned why he even stayed but he knew the answer. Part of him hoped she'd change her mind and return, and staying put was the best way to be found, just like little children are taught to stay in place when they are separated from their mother. That wasn't the only reason though. Sweetwater had something charming to it that he quite enjoyed and there were people here who had not yet lost his interest and whom he did not wish to abandon the same way he'd been abandoned.
He had the general shape of the sculpture but was working on some of the more minute details of the hands when he heard the bell over the door chime. He ignored it, sure that West would let him know if it was important but it wasn't much longer before something far more interesting caught his attention. A scent. Of a werewolf. Well that was odd. There was no shortage of werewolves in Sweetwater, that wasn't what was curious. However, the large majority of them tended to avoid the scent of a Vampire. It was a rarity indeed for one of them to walk into the gallery.
He furrowed his brow and looked towards the door, the tool in his hand freezing as he lifted his nose to take in the scent. He felt both curious and on guard. It was quite possible that it was someone looking to pick a fight. Yet there was a thrill in the mystery of it too and if he had a beating heart it would surely be picking up speed right about now. He set down the chisel and stood from the stool he'd been sitting in. He walked towards the door slowly, as if the wolf might be right on the other side. He opened it slowly, finding no one there. He was almost disappointed.
An idea came to mind then and he quirked his lips in a little smile. If by chance the wolf was actually looking him, then why not make a game of it and test out those senses? Gia walked quietly down the hall, away from the scent of the wolf, dragging his palm slowly along the wall to leave his scent there. At the end of the hall where there was an three way intersection he let go of the wall and used his speed to almost instantly move into another one of the studios. The speed wouldn't break the line of his scent completely but it would certainly make it harder to focus on.
This room was filled with mannequins. One of the very few interns he had was working on a clothing line and each mannequin was dressed in something different, some more completed than others. Gia stood directly behind one of them in the corner of the room that was mostly hidden in shadow from where the windows let the light in.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 22, 2023 3:24:54 GMT
Had Tristan heard the door open down the hall, the vampire's game might have ended by the intersection in the hallway. But it being on his bad side meant he only noticed the strength of the scent moving away a few moments later. From the stench, he had guessed he was close. Clearly his presence was known, but had he really startled the undead so much? In a town full of werewolves? He doubted it. From his understanding, normally his kind gave undead a wide berth.
The werewolf turned, letting his nose direct him. Very curious, considering the source of the scent trail didn't seem to move that far away. If the vampire wanted to run, Tristan couldn't catch him. Which meant he wanted to be followed. He wouldn't put it past the vampire to toy with him in his own sanctuary, though the purpose of such games was...not something Tristan understood. He walked down the hall, in no rush to catch up. Tristan trailed his fingertips along the purposeful scent trail on the wall. This was definitely a trap.
The three-way intersection caused him to pause, the trail suddenly cold. But it hadn't ended. The werewolf sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It was perhaps a good thing that the gallery was so deserted. The smell of lingering death permeated the entirety of the building, a sort of dull fog of decay. But if he let the scents come to him, rather than trying to force it... He could taste the leftovers of an intern's old lunch in the hall trash. A half drank strawberry banana smoothie inside another door to his right. A vast array of charcoal for sketching in that room as well. the synthetic plastic of a hot glue gun still plugged in on the other side of the hall. And somewhere to his left...the acrid smell of undeath.
Tristan approached the door and turned the handle, pushing it open. Natural lighting broke through a dark room full of vaguely humanoid shapes was...not what he was expecting. But he knew well enough from scent and the lack of heart beats that there was nothing living in this room. A human, or even another werewolf, hiding from a seasoned hunter was laughable; be as quiet as they could, the living always made noise. The softest exhale, the faintest echo of air pulled into the lungs, a telltale heartbeat. Vampires had no such tells. He scanned the room, looking for other exits. He leaned on right side of the door frame, purposefully avoiding taking up the entire exit and presenting a much less confrontational silhouette. He waited.
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Jan 16, 2024 2:10:01 GMT
It didn't take long and Gia hadn't expected it too. He knew the werewolf would find him, he simply wanted to see the creature in action while he did so. The door to the room opened and Gia didn't move. No steps were made to enter the room but they weren't made to leave it either. In the shadow of the corner of the room he remained silent for long enough to study the distinct scent of this wolf. They all smelled like dog but over his long lifetime he'd started to notice that each had something unique about them.
After a moment he looked out from over the shoulder of the mannequin to see the man leaning against the door frame. A strip of light was cast across Gia's face from the window, the strip only about an inch or so in width and hitting his face at slight angle, mostly lighting up his eyes. It made the light grey color eyes stand out even more sharply. He stared intently at the man for a long moment before speaking, moving to the side of the mannequin and draping his arm around the shoulders of the plastic ungendered form.
"We don't get many of your kind in here," he stated casually.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jan 16, 2024 5:16:12 GMT
Tristan was reassured by the silence. The vampire's scent soaked this building, but in the confined room, he too could study this one's specific markers. Some things, such as how long ago and how he died, were part of that composition. the parts that made his nose scrunch in distaste. But not all vampire's scents were so detestable. He'd known one that smelled of wet decaying leaves which was soothing, in a way. This one...he smelled closer to fermenting flowers or fruits. It was difficult to place, but also not entirely abhorrent.
Tristan's own scent was of slate, frost, and vanilla, though especially in the wet and those with better senses of smell, the aroma of dog was unavoidable. The flicker of movement in the slice of light from the door caught his attention. Pale skin, harsh, hungry silver eyes, sharp feminine features and bold eyeshadow and accents. He smiled without showing off his teeth. He always enjoyed vampires' flare for the dramatic. He was a fan himself.
"And yet you allow my kind to remain," he countered, both for himself and for the town at large. He straightened up from the doorframe and stepped into the room. His hands stayed in his pockets, his dark eyes never leaving the figure behind the mannequin, though he trusted his sense of smell to follow him faster than he would trust his eyes. He tilted his head slightly to better hear the other. He noted the use of the word 'we' and took a moment to determine if there were any other scents in the building. Faint, perhaps?
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Jan 23, 2024 16:55:38 GMT
Giacomo's gaze never left the strange as he stepped fully into the room. He wasn't feeling threatened, not yet anyway. He was confident in his abilities but he also wasn't getting a particularly threatening vibe from the man. Instead he found the werewolf...intriguing. The 'we' had been a generic one. Him and his employees, which was usually just West or maybe an intern or two working on their stuff. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, it was also a habit taken from when 'we' always meant him and Annika, his sire.
"The choice does not rest with me," he replied, speaking of Sweetwater as a whole and not specifically his shop. He wasn't part of the coven here and thus had no specific say on who was allowed to remain. "Though I don't hold the same prejudices as most do." Specifically most of his kind but he didn't specify that.
"So what brought you into my shop today, good sir?" he asked, releasing the mannequin, tucking his hands behind his back, and taking a couple casual steps towards the door and thus the man standing there.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jan 23, 2024 19:57:53 GMT
His own dark eyes met the vampire's, somewhere between challenge and equals. While the initial chase the man had led him on had been...uncertain, there was nothing uncertain about the frosty, beautiful being before him. Despite the scent, Tristan had always found something...alluring about vampires. This one in particular, with his make-up and the art gallery and the way words moved past his lips.
The answer was not one he expected. In his limited understanding, that meant he was either beholden to the whims of a sire or coven, but then he would have thought more scents would fill the building. Or the town. He had scented the...*suggestion* of other vampires, but this was the first fresh scent he had stumbled upon, the others being scarce, as vampires were often want to do.
He relaxed as the vampire made it clear this wasn't a confrontation. Not directly. He watched him glide with a sort of regal air a bit closer. He supposed this building was his palace, after all. "You," he said simply, his eyes never having strayed from the other's. "I am admiring the art."
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Feb 23, 2024 15:16:47 GMT
"Me?" Giacomo was genuinely surprised by the answer at first. Though with the way they had begun their little game he started to wonder if he ought to be more cautious. His forward steps halted and his brow furrowed. His gaze never left the man, even at the mention of the art in which he might have normally looked around to take it all in himself. "Are you a hunter or something?" he asked directly. While the man's demeanor didn't make him seem like a threat, it was definitely possible that he was just that good and coming across as something innocent and safe.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Feb 24, 2024 0:20:03 GMT
Perhaps his words had been too indirect. But the werewolf was unsure how else to phrase it. He found the vampire quite beautiful and considered him just as much art as anything in the room with them, perhaps more. Tristan stood his ground, preferring to let the man come to him. Even in the way the vampire hesitate, there was something so graceful.
The notion of being a hunter was nearly enough to make even Tristan laugh. It was more that the man asked the question than the truth of it that he found so amusing. Asking him so directly if he worked for the Pope or some other dark organization or was simply pursuing a personal vendetta. The later was usually how most werewolves viewed it, direct or indirect. Tristan pulled a hand from his pocket to press it to his chest as if the man's mere words wounded him. Or perhaps he should take it as a compliment to his charisma. "Not now, but I have been." He had fought vampires before. "We have no quarrel," he added, eyes still drinking the pale man in.
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Feb 27, 2024 15:47:04 GMT
Giacomo studied the man's every movement, assessing him deeply. Every blink, every glance, the smallest movement in his fingers or shift in his weight. The way the wolf's hand pressed to his chest as if he'd been offended by the question though then admitted that he once had been. Yes, Giacomo could imagine him as quite the adversary with charm and appeal like that.
He assured Giacomo that he was no threat but still didn't give a good reason for why he was even here. Gia found that...fascinating. But it was more than just the vague answers that was drawing him in. There was an aura about the man that Giacomo was finding intriguing. He looked at him for a long, drawn out moment. His pale gray eyes assessing with a sense of curiosity and an urge for discovery.
Gia seemed to hesitantly relax in his posture and moved gracefully closer to the man until the stood at a normal distance for conversation. He looked him up and down thoughtfully before meeting his eyes again. "Would you like me to show you around the studio?" he suggested, still unsure what had brought this stranger into his shop and trying to accommodate. Especially since he was realizing he had no desire to simply ask him to leave. Perhaps curiosity would kill the cat one day.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Feb 27, 2024 23:05:34 GMT
Tristan enjoyed that his own intense study of the vampire was returned. There was a sharpness to the man's gaze and features that the werewolf more than liked having directed at his person. The silence that hung over them for a moment was full of questions and intrigue and Tristan still was impressed that after their quick game of cat and mouse, the man hadn't either chased him away or pounced. Perhaps he really didn't get a lot of werewolves approaching him, despite the town's population.
He returned his hand to his trench coat pocket and nodded once, pleased to see the man much closer. He studied the cut of his shirt and the waves in his long silvery hair and those grey eyes. "I would love for you to show me around the studio," he said firmly, each word given the same weight. That wasn't at all why he was here, but he very much wanted a personal tour from the vampire himself. Not just of the studio, but of himself.
With a small step to the side, Tristan offered a bow, gesturing for the vampire to lead the way, though he didn't directly remove himself from the man's shortest path to the door. "Far from home, are you not?" he asked softly. Of course, he could say the same of himself, but he meant more the time than the distance.
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Mar 10, 2024 16:44:25 GMT
Gia couldn't put quite put his finger on it but there was something about the former vampire hunter that was holding his attention far more than the average person in Sweetwater had ever come close to. There was a hint of danger there but while he wasn't naive to it, he also found that to be incredibly exciting. This town could get so dull on a regular basis but this man was far from dull, even if their conversation didn't necessarily prove that. It was more the feeling in the air around them. Perhaps no one else would even notice it should they have any other observers.
Gia made his way towards the door, his arm brushing against the stranger's as he passed him and a glance tossed his direction that quite clearly told Tristan that it was not accidental. "Sweetwater is my home," he replied though as soon as the words left his lips they felt wrong. Sweetwater had felt more like home when Annika was here with him but even then he had never felt quite comfortable enough here for it to feel like 'home'. "I have not been back to my birth place in far too long." Perhaps a trip was in order.
"What's your name?" he asked as he led them out of the door.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Mar 11, 2024 1:17:08 GMT
Tristan stiffened as the vampire's arm made contact with his sleeve. Perhaps it was not the full-on contact of Cisco walking into him at the shopping center, but it still made the werewolf's hair stand on end. Of course, where he had hauled the human away to a secluded corner to exact an equal trade, he could not exert the same power over the vampire. Or rather, he could certainly try but logically, unless the man let him, it was wasted effort. Especially as those grey eyes confirmed that this infinitely small contact was no accident.
There was something in his tone that expressed to Tristan this might be a physical home, but the word meant something else to the vampire. Something the werewolf understood well. Home wasn't a building or often times even a defined place, after all.
"What constitutes as 'too long' for a vampire?" he asked softly. He was curious about the man, following him out of the room and down the hall, though this time the chase was much closer. Being so close to a vampire, the scent of death could be unnerving for many, like the smell of gasoline to some humans. But there were subtleties to it and Tristan quite enjoyed the challenge of attempting to read the man. To guess where he was from and when.
"Morrigan," he said. He opted for his family name with the likes of other supernaturals. Because that meant more to him in a way he could not explain to most normal humans. "Yours?"
Post by Giacomo Ettore on Mar 27, 2024 15:59:45 GMT
Gia was very acutely aware of the werewolf as they walked down the hall. Everything from his scent, to the sound of his voice, to the way his lips moved as he spoke. Even when he wasn't looking directly at him, his presence was the vampire's full focus. "Hmmm," he hummed, trying to remember exactly how long it had been since he'd been back home. "At least a century." Saying it out loud made it hurt. How had it really been that long? He remembered asking Annika if they could go back again to visit but she had always turned him down. They had other places to be that she felt were more important. Perhaps it was time for a trip back to the motherland. After all, what was holding him back now?
It was possible that Morrigan was a first name but Gia had a feeling it was his surname. It didn't matter to him one way or another, as long as he had something to call the man. "Giacomo Ettore, at your service," he said, offering his full name in contrast. The didn't go far before Gia pushed open another door. "We have several studios here as artists come and claim a space for their work. Most rooms still belong to me, but partly because it's such a small town and I'd hate to see too many empty rooms. The room we left was someone who designs clothing. This one is used by an abstract artist." The room wasn't particularly big but it was filled with color. At least a dozen different canvas were in various spots around the room, all with large swatches of bright colors in various arrangements.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Mar 31, 2024 5:37:10 GMT
Tristan hummed softly at the man's answer, continuing to follow him down the low-lit hallway with easy measured steps. He was plenty comfortable in the vampire's company, though his attention was just as focused on Giacomo as Giacomo's was focused on him. He himself might only live to be a century and a half compared to the potential eternity of a vampire. It was a bit surprising that this vampire's 'too long' was even something Tristan could comprehend. Of course, he hadn't asked many of them.
There was something too in the tone the man said it that seemed to indicate this bothered him, enough that Tristan felt no need to press. Clearly the man longed for a visit to wherever home was. His attire and the gallery he resided in suggested he had made a space for himself here. Perhaps that was what kept him. Though, as Tristan himself knew, more likely the reason involved other people.
"Giacomo Ettore," he said, trying out the enunciation and weight of his name. It was familiar, in a vague, European way. Tristan wasn't entirely certain of the origin, but he would guess French, Swiss, Italian, something around those parts. The first name leaned more toward the later. But that was only assuming the vampire was giving him the name he had used as a mortal. There was something to be said for both attachment and reinventing oneself. Besides, what he latched onto more was that the man was 'at his service.' The werewolf smiled.
He nodded as the man explained both the workings of his studio, his claim to the space, and few particular rooms. His gaze lingered on Giacomo as he stepped closer to the vampire so that he could look through the open doorway. The spread of canvases and various stages of finished (or perhaps they were all finished works?) littering the room was a mess. While Tristan enjoyed abstract pieces, seeing the work in progress space they were kept him made him itch with a desire to clean. One blue, gold, and teal watercolor piece was particularly interesting. He stepped back and this time, it was his turn to brush up against the other man 'accidentally.'