Ambrose wishes he could be more demanding, more headstrong in these matters, when things don't suit well. It isn't a question of self worth or avoiding conflict -- it's a matter of instinct. If someone won't give up something, then it's not his for the taking. It keeps from disrupting the shared balance, but only up to a very specific point.
He thinks that point could be reached some day, with Leon. He finds himself a step closer every so often, and ever more quickly traveling as of late. It's a path that has lead Ambrose to Magnus, not away from him, not even now as the werewolf steps off his path so randomly. It's merely a fear that the monsieur won't come back to traverse by his side. Ambrose thought that his heart could break by losing Leon, which lead him to being wed in blood, but he wasn't ever really his to begin with.
Losing Magnus, on the other hand...could very well ruin the vampire.
He breaks away, palm sliding from Ambrose's face, and he watches with open attention as he fiddles with his lacquered cigarette case. The tone of voice he hears chills him, softer than Ambrose thinks he has ever heard from the other, but the words are what make him tremble gently. No surprise, no, not what Magnus states. That's been difficult to learn, to abide by, a fledgling dedicated to his sire, with a consciousness that won't be remolded. It's the very words themselves -- someone has said them to him recently, almost verbatim.
Lies, concealment -- what is the difference? Plenty. Concealing the truth can be deceptive, but Ambrose knows much better than to think the two are mutually exclusive. He sees a fault line here and wants to peer in. There is more to this, that much is admitted. Dare he?
"Magnus." It is not often that Ambrose addresses his secret companion this way, but it isn't said with any force -- low, even. "Other vampires have been restless about a supposed...impending event, of some sort. Leon is trying to arrange that we leave though he insists it's unrelated, that it's paranoia passing through other hives." But it's undeniable. Ambrose really does think Leon isn't certain what it is -- and that's why he's lying. If he was certain, he would be using that to fight, as opposed to simply running away.
But Magnus seems to know, know at least something. Ambrose reaches a hand out to settle on his arm, not to stop him from lighting a cigarette, but simply a silent request. "It isn't unrelated, then, isn't it?" Leon is seeking escape. From what? Ambrose can only guess -- other vampires have sneered in his sire's direction, and he can only guess who else out in the world has been crossed by his deceptively cherubic sire. There are plenty more forces in the world than demons and wolves in the bodies of men.
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He thinks that point could be reached some day, with Leon. He finds himself a step closer every so often, and ever more quickly traveling as of late. It's a path that has lead Ambrose to Magnus, not away from him, not even now as the werewolf steps off his path so randomly. It's merely a fear that the monsieur won't come back to traverse by his side. Ambrose thought that his heart could break by losing Leon, which lead him to being wed in blood, but he wasn't ever really his to begin with.
Losing Magnus, on the other hand...could very well ruin the vampire.
He breaks away, palm sliding from Ambrose's face, and he watches with open attention as he fiddles with his lacquered cigarette case. The tone of voice he hears chills him, softer than Ambrose thinks he has ever heard from the other, but the words are what make him tremble gently. No surprise, no, not what Magnus states. That's been difficult to learn, to abide by, a fledgling dedicated to his sire, with a consciousness that won't be remolded. It's the very words themselves -- someone has said them to him recently, almost verbatim.
Lies, concealment -- what is the difference? Plenty. Concealing the truth can be deceptive, but Ambrose knows much better than to think the two are mutually exclusive. He sees a fault line here and wants to peer in. There is more to this, that much is admitted. Dare he?
"Magnus." It is not often that Ambrose addresses his secret companion this way, but it isn't said with any force -- low, even. "Other vampires have been restless about a supposed...impending event, of some sort. Leon is trying to arrange that we leave though he insists it's unrelated, that it's paranoia passing through other hives." But it's undeniable. Ambrose really does think Leon isn't certain what it is -- and that's why he's lying. If he was certain, he would be using that to fight, as opposed to simply running away.
But Magnus seems to know, know at least something. Ambrose reaches a hand out to settle on his arm, not to stop him from lighting a cigarette, but simply a silent request. "It isn't unrelated, then, isn't it?" Leon is seeking escape. From what? Ambrose can only guess -- other vampires have sneered in his sire's direction, and he can only guess who else out in the world has been crossed by his deceptively cherubic sire. There are plenty more forces in the world than demons and wolves in the bodies of men.