Hidden Relationship

[heavypetting]

hidden relationship; The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both team mates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not supposed to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own. Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal. ...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other? how to play. Comment with your character, preferences, and information. Reply to others. Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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[macaire]

Isn't it strange? Magnus attended, from birth, the same chapel services as Ambrose: despite the difference in their ages, the Catholic faith's traditions are unchanged over centuries. The Macaire's had a specially reserved place at the front of the chapel, they took communion before the rest of the congregation, the priests stood closest to them, knew them all by name. They had personally attended his mother when she felt unable to go to chapel because of the chill weather, or for fear of rain. And yet, Magnus has no fear of the Almighty and no concerns over the state of his soul. To be likened to a divine creature causes Ambrose mild anxiety, but Magnus says it and means it without batting an eyelid.

Perhaps it is something to do with the length of their existence. Maybe it has much more to do with their class. The Macaire's were not peasants, their place in society almost guarenteed a place in heaven, whether it was deserved or not.

But Magnus knows nothing of Ambrose's thoughts, so he can not try to philosophise. That is probably for the best.

He looks at Ambrose a moment longer, expression serious as he recalls the events that swept through Paris, and then he shrugs, as if it is of very little importance.

"I doubt I have a place in the Deuxième Empire." He does not think France is as enlightened as all that, despite what the fashionable ladies tell him. He has no real desire to call it home again, but he will go, because there is an eagerness in Ambrose that he knows he can not dissuade, and to do so would be cruel. He will not manipulate the young vampire like that, not when he wishes, truly wishes, for something.

"But I am sure there will be many things to discover anew. If the stage can spare you for a few evenings." That is teasing, his hand moving to stroke Ambrose's cheek again, to emphasise the endearment in the words. "There is a great deal more to Paris than there is to London. But I am sure you will see that for yourself."

He still must delay their journey there. He has no desires for Leon to continue to have any sway over Ambrose, and while he has no solid confirmation on who pursues the ancient one, he has some ideas. It would be terrible for those shadows to catch up with him, but only for Leon. Ambrose and the others would surely get over it. But the timing must be right. If they have left England already than it may be too difficult to follow, and if they are already in France but Magnus has not yet joined them, how can he be sure that Ambrose will not get even more entangled? No, it is best to delay, just a little.

"What is it that worries you so, Ambrose? It is all in hand, all arranged. The public will clamour for another two nights, maybe three. That would be enough. And a play that has proved so popular in London will be even more so in Paris."

[immortalized]

Ambrose's face pinches in with a briefly fluttering intent for question, brows twitching inward as the expression shudders past. Doors shut upon his approach. What truths live within? What is it that can't be trusted in his gaze?

As reliably as always, Magnus' charm is a gentle guiding force back away from such doors, coaxing into different directions. It's comfortable for a while to be guided where he ought to be, but when done completely blind, Ambrose doesn't know how to reconcile the whiplash he's finding it affords him, more and more, as he encounters it.

All arranged, already, before Magnus had even come to Ambrose tonight. Was the werewolf really so confident in this discussion before it could even occur? Something deep in the pit of the fledgling's chest shifts, sleepy but stirring, beginning a slow-building coil inward -- not fully suspicious yet, but something much younger, curiosity, possibly concern.

"Not worried, mon cher," Ambrose assures softly, but maybe a little flatter than he would have liked. "You've put a lot of thought into all of this."

Something that Ambrose thinks he my have to do for himself, as well. He is resolute in his feelings for Macaire, that is of no question, and they would be hard-pressed to fall under re-evaluation. In Ambrose's heart, his beau is safe. Alas, this all rings dreadfully similar to a tune the vampire has heard before, and the air carries an unmistakable tension, thick and strained, a summer afternoon swelling until the atmosphere finally breaks, and all of heaven's wrath comes loose.

Overthinking it, perhaps. Ambrose draws comfort out of Magnus' touch upon his face, turns into it and plants a kiss on the heel of his palm. He hungers, and feels the fatigue from it, but he doesn't seek that here. "All this effort, just for us...I will have to see to it that it was all worth your while." Ambrose remains gentle, no weight carried in his eyes or his tone to suggest any scandalous intent, nothing more than a promise of devotion to their plot. Whatever it is that independently-inclined Magnus prefers to play, Ambrose can at least offer an idea of them working together, as much as they are their own movable pieces in this mechanism.

[macaire]

What Ambrose does not know cannot hurt him. It's a falsehood, but in some respects, keeping Ambrose as far away from the truth and far away from Leon is the best idea. But he can see, very clearly, that the titbits of information he has given Ambrose aren't enough. There are questions, silently weighing down Ambrose's tongue and he is swallowing them back. It leaves Magnus torn. He wants Ambrose safe. But if he tells Ambrose, he increases the likelihood of Leon finding out what is planned, and furthermore, he might believe Ambrose is part of that plot.

He isn't. He may well be an accessory, as the police would say, but that does not mean he would not be punished, possibly fatally. That is not what Magnus intends.

But there's a thin line. As much as Ambrose seems to trust him, how long can he ask for the young man to do so? How long with Ambrose accept that he is being brushed off? Not long. And Magnus does not like the fact he could probably be compared to Leon now: keeping Ambrose in the dark until it is too late. That... that is what really makes him think again, what makes him pull his hand back from Ambrose and reach for a cigarette case from his inner pocket. It gives his hands something to do as he speaks, taking out one and tapping it against the smooth black surface.

"Your sire has... caused a lot of people a great deal of grief." He says, words soft, too soft to carry beyond the pair of them. "I don't think that comes as a surprise to you, does it?"

No, it does not. Magnus is prepared to bet on that much. Ambrose is not happy, he has not come into this existence excited, in love. He has been cheated and discarded, used and forgotten while Leon ensures his own comfort and safety. The hives of London will not have that. Besides, there are mutterings, ghosts in the air from beyond London's smog that make even Magnus lock his windows at night. Leon is a plague amongst all of them, he'll have the mortals murdering them all and Magnus never wants to see a revolution again. He need to go, he must be dealt with.

"I would not lie to you Ambrose, I do not wish you to think this about you, or the others he has turned. There is more to this then you know."

[immortalized]

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.

[macaire]

Perhaps Ambrose will learn in time. Perhaps he never will. Most supernatural creatures become very determined and autocratic but it is hard to imagine Ambrose in such a role. He is a great actor yes, but even if he had to pretend to be such a thing it would only last while the deception was required. And then he would ease back into this form, quietly thiughtful, intelligent and unbelievable gentle in word and deed.

Or at least, that is how he has always appeared to Magnus, who has a very soft spot for beautiful dark haired young men of such a temperament.

He thinks he can imagine what led Ambrose to be in this situation. Bewitched and beloved, befuddled. Led down a garden path only to find it is a path towards hell. And then for all intents and purposes he is left, clinging to a thread from his sire's coattails. Leon has what he wants of course, abd believes himself secure. But no position is every as concrete as all that.

Magnus' eyes lift from the idle distraction in his hands. He sees understanding in Ambrose's eyes, his features beautiful like a Greek god, cast in marble and yet strangely animated as he talks, as he reveals what he knows and has seen for himself.

"I have heard the same. Panic and fear in the hives is bad news for us all Ambrose." A hive can normally withstand most things but whatever it is, and no one truly seems to know, has every hive north and south of the Thames in a state.

Magnus can feel it too, somehow. A cry wind on the edge of hearing, a crackle in the midnight air. He can not place it, it wouldn't bother him if the vampires weren't so concerned. If the hives hadn't pulled together to order a death warrant for the ancient known as Leon, it might never have come to his notice at all.

"It is not unrelated, or so the hives believe, and they are the experts. If they believe it is everything to do with him, then I am in no place to agrue."

[immortalized]

The vampire is seeing it all unfold, a blooming plot with petals so dark, illumination is still so scarce for understanding. Leon has laughed at the fear, the sneers and the hisses of outer vampires on the street, leaving Ambrose utterly bemused and alarmed. 'We make ourselves a higher kind.' Judgmental, archaic, paranoid, weak, unadvantageous -- Ambrose has been told many impressions of the other vampires, warned away from them, told that they are a failing breed in this day and age. Leon has claimed an intent to set his coven free from the stifling politics, the corrupt hierarchy. From Magnus, it's simply another level of order and politics. Boundaries -- Leon certainly hates those.

It seems as though Magnus speaks with them, often enough for it to matter, often enough to hear these developments. Ambrose feels a chill against his back, slow and gradual, building as he thinks. Magnus knows the scope of this, knows as much as Leon does -- if not more?

It doesn't feel like a betrayal. Ambrose stares at the werewolf and feels the shock of the notion, finding these two things parallel, but looking significantly different from one another. Ambrose may not be a fixture in these supernatural politics, but he knows how storylines work. Life is full of patterns, humans love them, and what they create are reflections of such lives and their events. He doesn't know how intrinsic to all of this the monsieur is, but he is a man with sway, with power. He has pressed to affect Leon's affairs, nearly from out of nowhere. Serendipitous, Ambrose has likened it. It would be foolish to assume he wasn't an agent in...whatever this is.

What is, all this, then?

"...The hives are harboring concern. They believe Leon to be responsible, or involved somehow, in this nightmare looming on our horizon..."

Ambrose's hand drifts, past the edge of Magnus' coat sleeve. His fingers ghost over the back of Magnus' hand. His secret confidant has urged Leon's escape to a halt, everything behind veils, every side, all of it. "They wouldn't come to a conclusion, and they certainly would not discuss it past their bounds, without a plan for action."

It is not a question, because Ambrose has had many questions dodged in his life, and in this life beyond. He won't put Magnus in a position of giving him anything more, if he felt that he couldn't trust him. Ambrose could not begin to guess what makes Leon a linchpin in this scenario coming quickly to an apex, and he feels stupid and sorry that he has nothing that he can give Magnus. Even worse that he doesn't know how to save Leon from himself.

Ambrose looks at Magnus, and doesn't quite know what to think.

[macaire]

The fact is that while the vampires and the werewolves in London do not get on, there are things which they discuss. There's certain things which affect all of them and information has to be shared, and Magnus makes a point to ensure that information comes to him as well as the official werewolf packs. And more often than not, as an outsider to both pack and hive, Magnus is the intermediary. Normally that is an unrivalled and beneficial position for all manner of reasons, but in this instance, he would rather not be the one trying to detain Leon and keep his nest here to accept his fate.

Not when he knows that the outcome may well deeply hurt Ambrose.

"Whoever is tracking your sire, the hives want them to find him. Once he is on the continent that becomes much harder. They fear him, Ambrose, what he will bring down on us should his madness continue. And they fear the repercussions of letting him escape."

Leon is a threefold risk. His ambition for power is not controlled, he turns humans against their will, his coven feeds with abandon and the humans will only put up with so much before they will turn on every supernatural. He disregards the hives, mocking them and their territory, disrespecting their ancients, and now... now there is something that none of the understands racing towards London, mere weeks after Leon's arrival.

The hand on his own makes him pause, before his hand turns to link his fingers with Ambrose's own, to try and offer him some little reassurance. Ambrose may well feel like his is just a pawn in these events, unwittingly betraying his sire, or worse, purposefully doing so. Magnus appreciates that such a thing feels near impossible: the bond between a vampire and its Sire is like the bond between parent and child, father and son, and it is difficult if not impossible for some vampires to ever break.

"I do not want you to think I see you as a means to an end, a... tool. This is not what you are to me, and I want to keep you safe from this. Please understand why I wanted to keep this from you."

[immortalized]

It would be foolish if Ambrose didn't think that there was a large world outside of himself, of his small coven of fellow fledglings who are much to happy to cut each other's throats, of his sire who so dangerously looks to topple everyone else's game pieces over. He speaks like a revolutionary, but wants the benefits of a monarchy. He is all too happy to have his enemies before he has the power to match them. Ambrose knows there is more to this all than simply coexisting amongst other preternatural beings, humans in the balance of it all. He's found himself seated in a court beyond his imagining, one that Leon has mistaken for his playground. He came into all of this with such little awareness, but there is just no avoiding it now.

But his curiosity has him watching Magnus, his words insistent and reassuring. It is such a different shade on him, rare in this environment they share. It's an easy, slippery slope into suspecting the worst, and Ambrose is so easy to entertain possibilities -- but Magnus is an anchor, a stone on the bottom of the pond, pinning the earth underneath the currents. Ambrose can't be swept up too far, even now, with a few soft words uttered here in the quiet theatre.

It makes it sound ever more important to stay here in London -- Leon will risk their safety, everyone's, with his hunger so insatiable still after these centuries he has lived. Additionally, Ambrose can remain closer to Magnus.

He squeezes his hand, slow and gradual, confirming. "I would like to think you don't romance just any vampire you come alongside in your tireless work," Ambrose teases softly, a smile breaking through in spite of the tension in his eyes. "My sight is clear...I was only utilized, not used. I only wish I could have consciously cooperated for you from the start, but I don't hold you at fault."

Magnus doesn't have any way of trusting him, not really -- Ambrose can't assure anything. That is what makes Leon a threat: he is a loose cannon ball. He may even be quite too close to the situation on the table.

Ambrose is hurt, but for nothing that Magnus has done. He's hurt because he can't do what he had hoped, was born too late to the game to change Leon's way of thinking. It was too advantageous for Ambrose to think he could do enough to affect him at all.

But he earned something else along the way, a treasure of immeasurable value. Ambrose brings Magnus' hand closer, plants a kiss atop his knuckles, skin tinged with the scent of tobacco. "I don't see our having met now sullied. I find it more serendipitous than ever."

What will happen to Leon? It's hard to track why it is Ambrose won't ask it -- whether he can't yet face hearing the answer, or because he already knows it.

[macaire]

If the hives truly knew how bad it was within Leon's hive, they might have opted to dispatch Leon and all his offspring. A hive does not exist for the benefit of one but for all. True, the queen or the sire is usually the focus of those efforts, but they do not look out for their own ends. Leon seems to be an autocrat of the worst sort. He cares not one wit for those who have lost their mortal lives to him, he probably would not give a damn about their immortal lives either: if their existence had to be sacrificed to further his own, he would not think twice. Magnus has no pack and no kin, the temptation to further his line has never taken that form, but he knows that what Leon is doing is abhorrent.

But Magnus knows well that such behaviour can not continue unchecked. It will not be, and Leon must know that something comes for him. He would not be in such a hurry otherwise.

Magnus pulls himself from those thoughts, back to Ambrose and their hands touching. He should not trust Ambrose so completely, and in truth at the start, he did not. That is why Ambrose is only now learning more because Magnus has assured himself of his fidelity. It's a terrible thing, politics. But even so, this is not simply about him, or even the pair of them.

"If you must know, I did not intend to romance any vampire at all. It just so happened that you changed my mind." Obviously, if he had met any other of Leon's hive, if anyone other than Ambrose had been made the lead in their little production, then it might all have been different. As it was, Magnus had fallen a little more night by night.

He smiles, gently, at the press of lips against his knuckles, his amber eyes following the slight bow of Ambrose's head.

"I'm not sure I would put it down to luck, perhaps fate." He says, with a slight shrug. "But I do not regret it, mon ange. And if we do not get to France before all this is done with, we will go after. I promise you, if that is where you would like to go."

[immortalized]

That is no surprise to Ambrose, and his fleeting shiver of an amused smirk says it for him; with how Magnus carries his business, he knows that romance wasn't even in the realm of consideration. Ambrose was hardly looking to betray his sire's heart, to be fair... Which hurts to think of, in such specific terms. Ambrose has never been one for revenge -- different from repercussion, comeuppance, he truly believes, because he is not an agent of the universal balance. But please, let him be allowed this, if he were to do anything worth judgement of moral or character, he will pay for his past sins, but absolve him of this. Leon takes whom he wants and at a whim, but Ambrose would take Magnus and no one else.

'Before all of this is done with.' Ambrose is cut into two halves, despairing and elated; then he is certain that by the end of it all, Leon will be no more. It's startling, it hurts deep where its rooted into the pit of him, and he will have a hand in weeding him out. That is, assuming all goes as planned on their end of things. Who knows what will actually occur? Leon is paranoid now more than ever, will it sharpen him against the potential of threat, or has it begin to unravel him?

He cannot know, though it is likely that Ambrose will needlessly entertain such possibilities as the time draws nearer. A man such as he who has always thrown himself to escapes and fantasy does not always slip into silken thoughts of paradise; his is a mind that sometimes slips on mud and finds pits of darkness instead.

But something about Magnus anchors him -- not quite 'something,' not just one thing, but perhaps more accurately, everything that he is. The vampire rests into Magnus' hand, eyes shut, an image of reverence, almost as if praying. He guides the gentleman's hand against his lips, his movements idle and thoughtful.

"...I would sell my soul a second time to let us leave this very night," he murmurs, nearly too soft to be audible, but he knows the wolf will hear him perfectly well. "Avoid all this trouble, to be far away when all comes raining down." There's a point to being vague: it tastes too much like Leon's superiority to assume one outcome over another.

The expression in Ambrose's closed-away face is still much too sober, as to almost appear mournful; he doesn't need explaining, he understands the reality well enough. The reality is the trouble. "...To have us, finally." There it is, the true conflict, Leon be damned. Ambrose can want plenty of things -- a way out of conflict, for his sire to let go of his stubbornness, to see a sunrise one more time -- but he wants nothing more than to be with the gentleman here at his side, as freely as he can possibly get away with. It may not be much, but it would be more than what he can take as it is, now.

[macaire]

If Magnus believes himself bewitched, then he must also believe Ambrose to be too. Perhaps their hearts cannot ever beat to the same rhythm, but is that to say that he does not feel his own heart swell or his breath falter in his lungs just at the sight of Ambrose? Does not the idea of him make Magnus' lips form a smile? Does the same not seem to be true of Ambrose? Do his lips against Magnus' skin lie? Do his eyes, dark as midnight pools, betray them?

No, he does not think they do. They are both of one mind, then. And as much as he wants to grant that wish, to take Ambrose away from this place, he can not. He could try to send Ambrose away, so he would not have to suffer what will come, the fate of his sire. But Magnus fears that Ambrose would not go alone, or if he did, Leon would find him and punish him. That is something that Magnus can not allow.

"I wish that were possible, ange. Even if it were possible for you, my feet are firmly on this path. But it is a path that has led me to you, and I owe it to the fates to see it to its end." What is a man who has no honour? No man, that is for sure, and Magnus has spent far too long trying to dispel the idea that all of his kind are beasts. He is sworn to finish this unpleasant task, and while the deed itself is awful, to have Ambrose free from a tyrant, to know that no other innocent can be harmed by Leon's madness, that will be worth it.

His free hand moves, gently stroking over Ambrose's cheek, pale and soft, even in the private darkness. He is so beautiful, elegant and pale, like so many statues. But Magnus has never felt so enchanted by statues, not even of the distant past. He is far more interested in the now, and as far as he is concerned, his now, his future, that rests with Ambrose.

"I dare not keep you longer. I do not trust that he would not suspect you, or that he would not hurt you if he did suspect you. We must be careful, and you even more so."