Time to forget. {Open}

[Ollie James Eldridge]

Ollie staggered out of a back door. The full-dress rehearsal had taken a lot out of him. He wasn't physically tired, as he was emotionally, and he'd sat in his room for half an hour after the practises were finished. The play was a serious tragedy, set during the eighteenth century. It was regarding a small boy who's parents had been killed, and who was on a pilgrimage to some church in England. His parents talked to him, and appeared before him as ghosts to guide him.

Ollie found the whole ordeal relatively sad, especially as he was playing the father, and the boy cast to play the role of the child didn't understand much of the story. He got pretty upset at some parts of it - their director put it down to good acting, and Ollie put it down to fear. He tried to console the boy as much as he could. His parents had obviously pushed him into acting.

He was very good at it, though, so Ollie couldn't complain. He walked along the street, until the glaring lights of Manhattan were upon him and he squinted as they stabbed painfully at his enlarged pupils.

He skimmed the thoughts of those around him, to see if there was anything interesting going on, but to no avail. He sighed, and shrugged his coat tighter about himself, looking for a starbucks. Ollie hated coffee but he wouldn't have minded a decent hot chocolate at that moment in time.

He was jostled by a gang who were carrying knives and were obviously up to no good. He reached out to them with his mind, and noticed that they were looking for someone to stab, because he hadn't bought drugs from them. Ollie used his telekinesis, and the gang found that their weapons were suddenly ten feet in the air, and three seconds from falling point first on their heads, and they scattered. He proceeded to make the knives fly into a garbage bin, and bury themselves deep inside.

He carried walking as if nothing had happened. What he had just done was against a few of his golden rules as a style coach. However, he found that he had remained anonymous, and the gang would probably blame each other for it, and not even consider the super-natural. They couldn't go to the police and tell them, as the police would ask why they were carrying knives in the first place.

Feeling somewhat smug, he walked onwards. He felt rather bitter that he didn't know anyone in New York - there was no one he could just ring up and go for a drink with or something, like there had been in London. But, it was a place of new beginnings for him, so maybe he'd meet some people here.

[Halvor Orm]

Halvor had watched the show from the safety of the shadows, manipulating himself so that he matched the old reddish color of the crumbling brick building perfectly. If he was at all seen, it would be because of his eyes, which he had not yet been able to completely blend in yet. He’d watched this kid lift the knives up with his mind (he couldn’t have lifted it with anything else, could he have? No, of course not) and scare off the people holding them and dump them in the garbage, apparently under the impression that he was not being watched. Silly of him, really. If he had Gifts, he must’ve suspected there were others with gifts too.

Still. Halvor wasn’t going to sit around and silently criticize people. He emerged from his hiding place. He wondered if the man was human. If he was, things could go bad. Halvor didn’t suspect they would, because he’d fed lately, but there was always that chance.

He wondered, as he walked silently up to the guy, if he would notice his accent. If he didn’t, he was stupid. If he did, he would probably make fun of it. As far as Halvor cared, he could be stupid and make fun of him.

“My, that was impressive,” he said, flexing his hands in his fingerless gloves in the pockets of his heavy jacket when he came close enough to the figure. “Truly it was. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

[Ollie James Eldridge]

Ollie looked at him, wide-eyed. He knew. God damn it. And he was the one preaching to his students about not using their powers like super-heroes. He turned to the person, ready to knock him out, and make him think that it was all a dream when he stopped. There was something not-quite-right about this guy. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. He inspected him more closely in the half-light. Then he realized - he was a vampire.

Ollie had been trained by the academy to recognize vampires. There was a scare with the bresis coven not too long ago, and he had been instructed to keep an eye on alien vampires. He looked him up and down and decided his previous course of action was less than wise. Maybe the man wasn't a vampire, but the way he had come out of nowhere, was out at night, and looked decidedly vampireish, lead Ollie to assume. If he was wrong, the guy would pass him off as a nutter. So be it.

"Yeah. Then again, turning into a bat seems pretty cool, too." Said Ollie, coolly. He did not, in fact, have any idea whether or not vampires actually could become bats. He guessed that the vampire might take it as a joke, if it wasn't true.

"If you want, I could give you a little demonstration, but not here." Said Ollie cautiously, for lack of anything better to say. "Too many..." He hesitated. "People." He said, nervously. Whoever this man was, he was unafraid of Ollie's talents, and so he couldn't be normal. Unless he was ambushed, Ollie could usually stop a bullet from exiting a gun, and even get it to backfire of it's shooter. This lead him to assume that he was supernatural himself, somehow. Ollie thought that there was no harm in befriending the man, and he could intercept any evil intentions in his mind without actually having to go rooting through it.

"So, fancy a coffee? I think there's a starbucks down the road." Ollie smiled. "I'll pay." He offered.

{{OOC:Sorry so short a post! No muse!}}

[Halvor Orm]

“Yeah. Then again, turning into a bat seems pretty cool, too.”

A muscle in Halvor’s jaw jumped; he assumed that this guy had overlooked it and tried to act normal. Vampire jokes; how disgustingly tasteless. With some difficulty, he read the kid’s mind; he was older than Halvor had originally assumed and he knew that he was a Vampire. He’d learned how to recognize Vampires too; Halvor ground his teeth together. Other than the lifting of objects with his mind, he didn’t seem all that threatening.

He’d also noticed that Halvor had suddenly appeared, so he had pieced together the fact that he was not normal. This guy wasn’t normal. That could go without saying. Good. Normal was boring as hell.

"If you want, I could give you a little demonstration, but not here. Too many…People. So, fancy a coffee? I think there's a starbucks down the road. I’ll pay.”

There was a moment where Halvor felt offended; he was not the best dressed person, but did this guy think he was homeless, stupid… poor? He reasoned with himself immediately and laughed at his shoes. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He’d been doing a lot of that lately; watching the stupidity of humanity play out while he loomed in the shadows in humored silence.

“Your name’s Oliver, isn’t it?” he said simply to freak him out, reading his mind again, feeling surprisingly tired afterwards. “How do you pronounce your last name? Elmridge?” He hadn’t gotten a good look at the name. “Earlridge? Something E-ridge, isn’t it?”

He looked around absently. “A coffee would be fantastic. For you, I mean. I’m not much of a coffee person. Drink one cup and you’re up until morning; bitter cups of crack if you ask me.”

His voice had sped up surprisingly as he spoke. It happened when he was nervous. He didn’t know why he was nervous; physically he could probably overpower Oliver and in terms of Gifts, he was probably stronger. Probably. You never knew with guys who randomly used their strengths in order to show off. But for god’s sake, Havlor could disappear completely. Take that, Darwin.

“So,” he twiddled with the cross hanging from his left earlobe, which was extremely cold and almost painful to touch, “shall we go in or should we stand around in the cold for a few more minutes and stare at each other blankly?”

{OOC~ hey, no problem; mine can be a little bit short as well}

[Ollie James Eldridge]

"Eldridge." Said Ollie coolly. He did not appreciate people plucking thoughts from his head. It was rather impolite, and Ollie always asked for permission before simply reading people's thoughts. He had assumed that all telepaths were the same. Evidently not.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that." Said Oliver. "Most telepaths know that it's impolite. Wasn't it ingrained on you when you learnt about it?" He asked, spitefully. Oliver may have used his powers in public, but there was something oddly personal about it. He guessed that it was a result of his mother not being a telepath, so she couldn't send, or receive thoughts. He and his father would rarely take thoughts from head, or communicate with each other in her presence - it just wasn't done.

Ollie led the way into the vastly deserted coffee shop. It smelt of coffee beans, and of warm milk. It looked rather civilized - it wasn't a starbucks, or any other chain. He had seen it across the street, and had instead chosen this place - he'd been there before, with some of the actors he'd been working with.

"One hot cocoa." He asked the pretty girl who was serving him, before giving her a disarming smile.

"To stay or to go?" She stuttered, desperately trying to prolong the conversation.

"To stay." She smiled and went to prepare his drink. He called over his shoulder to the vampire, not particularly caring of he was there or not. He'd already shown to be quite liberal while using his gift, and so Ollie had no doubt that he'd try it again. He kept the rest of his mind hidden, while throwing the thought out - unable to actually send it to Halvor, but making it so that he would hear it, being telepathic.

Ollie knew exactly how telepathic projection worked - but he just didn't have the ability to do it. he couldn't tell why - he just didn't have the ability. But he kept that secret now, as the thought of someone reading his thoughts was not pleasurable.

{{OOC: I very much apologize for the lateness. I've been low on muse lately. Unusual for me.}}

[Halvor Orm]

Halvor was leaned on the wall and smirking to himself. While he didn’t have a problem offending Oliver with his gifts, he did not feel like he wanted to read his mind again, or do anything else screwy. It had been a long time since he’d met someone with gifts. He was lonely, as much as he despised to admit it.

Oliver got a hot cocoa. Halvor didn’t get anything. He was weary for some reason of this man, unsure of what he was exactly doing in the universe. Halvor liked to know these things; who these people were, what ‘side’ they were one (gifted or not) and what their master plan in life was.

Oliver was charming. Halvor found no shame in thinking this now, watching him. He had charmed the cashier, whether he wanted to or not, and he had charmed Halvor in a way. It was what had caused the vampire to approach him in the first place; he was a simply charming character.

Not that he knew anything about him.

Halvor approached him cautiously now as he waited. His instincts told him to handle the situation delicately; it was the conversational equivalent of doing open heart surgery. He’d already offended Oliver and alerted him to his gifts and Havlor wasn’t exactly the best person to have a conversation with. He was blunt, sarcastic.

“I apologize,” he came up and stood right next to Oliver, looking straight ahead at the wall behind the counter. His fingers drummed on the countertop anxious; even pretty much abandoned, a shop with people in it made him iffy. He doubted his own control. “The mind numbing introductory phase of a conversation is painful for me. And it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with people. I’m rusty.”

Damned excuses; he shut his mouth and looked at his nails, rapping on the plastic countertop.

“I hope you haven’t taken too much offense to it,” he turned to look at Oliver. “It was not something I did to affront you.” He paused. “And I’m sorry I’m talking so much.”

He was talking too much; plenty too much. He didn’t like talking but he felt that his actions required a sort of…explanation of sorts. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked at his shoes.

[Ollie James Eldridge]

"It's ok." Replied Oliver as soon as Halvor apologized. He wasn't one to hold grudges. He listened to his next few words, chuckling softly as he finished. "Rusty, eh? Well, I'm sure I can fix that." He promised, bowing little short of extravagantly to the woman, and taking his drink, and leading Halvor over to a table.

Ollie actually found that past the first-impression that he already liked Halvor a little. He was quick - maybe a little too liberal with his gift, but he proved interesting, and Ollie was more than prepared to forgive his previous mistakes.

"Actually, you're saying relatively little." Assured Oliver. "Don't worry about it - I tend to blather on a bit as well." He smiled. "And don't worry - we weren't all raised the same way, and we all do things a little differently. I guess I'm just a little tired - that makes me fairly cranky." He said, sipping his cocoa.

"I'm only good with people because I can't help but read their emotions, sometimes." Oliver admitted. "It gives me something to talk about, and of course, it makes reassuring women a lot easier." He said, a sort of crooked smile on his face. He remembered having to assure the woman that was playing his "wife" in their current piece, that the child that was their "son" was going to be ok. He partially knew that because he could read his mind, but she'd been really worried about the poor boy.

"It's always a useful skill to have in theatre." He said coyly. "You do acting at all?" He asked, for the sake of conversation more than anything else. "Rather... what do you do? I mean, fiction tells of your kind indulging in polygamy, and leading lazy lives doing whatever you want... I assume that it's just fiction?" He asked, leaning forward, intently.

[Halvor Orm]

Halvor was a little overwhelmed. No one had ever asked him what he’d done. No one had asked much about him at all. Oliver, this Oliver, was interested in him; such attentiveness was interesting and more than a little uncomfortable.

“I’m…sort of in a holding position right now,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair and rapping his knee with a spoon that had been left on the table. “I haven’t ever acted either. My memory isn’t too good.”

He frowned at Oliver after that, looked up at the ceiling and let out an unneeded breath through his nose, long and heavy. “As for the polygamy, we might as well not even talk about it. I have no wives or husbands, although,” he lifted his head and looked at the man sitting across from him, “it would be bizarre if I did.”

He was thinking hard. By nature he was suspicious of why Oliver was asking these questions. They weren’t, if Halvor remember correctly, not normal conversation sparkers; most people did not begin conversations inquiring about ones spouses. Was he nervous—uncomfortable? Havlor was both. He didn’t want to get up and leave; once in a while it was nice to actually talk to people.

“Your gift is impressive,” he said to the ceiling in a low voice. “I’m more than a bit envious. I would love to do what you can.” He looked at Oliver solidly. “It’s a pity it’s one of those things that everyone would notice if you used it. So do you use it all the time to juggle knives or was I just special enough to see a demonstration?”

OOC~Sorry it’s so short.

[Ollie James Eldridge]

Ollie laughed. A holding position. What a fantastic way of describing it. He smiled at Halvor and sipped his cocoa.

"That's fine. And acting isn't for the faint of heart. You're quite pale too. It'd take a ton of make-up to make you not look like a vampire or something." He laughed, taking another sip of his hot chocolate, casting a sideways glance, and the woman that was peering anxiously at them.

Oliver was despicable, he knew, but he couldn't help it - he was still getting over his previous relationship, and he was still making new ties in NYC.

"This is New York city, friend. Marriage isn't necessarily a part of the arrangement." Ollie realized that Halvor could be actually quite old, and in whatever time he was born, it just wasn't the done thing. But he could just be quite conservative. But was it REALLY any of Ollie's business?

"You know what Halvor? It's my second job to preach at kids not to do exactly what I just did. So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go spreading rumours." Ollie laughed, taking yet another sip of the cocoa, and reclining slightly in his comfortable chair.

"So yes, you're special. Very special." Ollie gave him a deadpan look. "Believe me, juggling knives isn't the sort of thing I do on a regular basis. I'm good enough to be subtle, yet effective." Ollie laughed. "It's something you learn with time."

He chose to throw some key words with his voice, so that the conversation sounded a little normal. "preach at kids" was one of them, as was "juggling knives isn't the sort of thing I do on a regular basis." He knew all about the verbal manipulation gift, but Ollie was such a good actor, he didn't really need it.

[Halvor Orm]

Rumors. Halvor forced out a laugh and folded his arms over his stomach. He wasn’t a teenager who went around spreading rumors for his own amusement. There wasn’t any point to do so, anyway, in New York. No one would care; rumors, unless they were very big, usually fell on deaf ears in New York.

He lurched up; marriage. It had just struck him; you needed—on most occasions—a woman for marriage. Damn it. Stupid kid, bringing up marriage now.

Don’t think about it, he chastised himself, digging his fingernails into his lower arms and gritting his teeth behind a pointed, polite smile. Don’t…damn it…

He felt like he’d been doused in boiling water and he reached out and took a hold of the edge of the table, dug his nailed into the polish of the synthetic wood and trying to focus on that. He grunted—groaned. Someone glanced at him; he heard their curious thought. They were staring at him; he figured he looked like he was undergoing some sort of intense internal torture. If truth would be told, he was.

His anathema; he hated that he had just a common object, or person, as his anathema. It pissed him off to no end. Marriage…marriage… Oliver had to bring it up.

He read people’s thought around him; it calmed him down, took his mind off of it. Inhaling deeply, he shut his eyes and concentrated on the people around him. He would’ve read Oliver’s mind, but he decided that, with how negatively he’d reacted the last time, his mood would not improve; he kept away from that. Someone was thinking about his job; a young teenager was brooding about some girl. The girl behind the counter was thinking about how she could catch the eye of the man sitting across from the man who looked like he was seizing.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he could grasp the capability of speech, still looking at the ceiling with his eyes shut, fingers still digging into the once-perfect glaze atop the plastic painted to look like wood, “I was having a moment.”

He opened his eyes and angled his head back to Oliver. “I-I’m not p-plotting....”

Stop stuttering. He’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll know I can’t…Don’t. Think. About. It.

He ground his teeth and calmed himself down, dislodged his fingernails from the table and wiped the curls of it off onto his pants.

“I’m not plotting on spreading any rumors, Oliver,” he tried again, and this time it was successful, trying to cover up the attack he’d had all within a few moment; the thought, the seize, the reading of minds, the return the conversation. He knew that Oliver had noticed his distress; everyone who looked at Halvor had. He despised this thought; the last person who inquire about such actions had ended up with a broken nose and lost three of his teeth. Helvor prayed he would not lose his temper this time, scare Oliver off.

“It wouldn’t do anyone any good,” he finished absently, “not here. So…” He turned to Oliver now, confidence regained. “Tell me about yourself. You’ve tweaked my interest.”


OOC~I apologize that it’s such an odd post.

[Ollie James Eldridge]

Ollie had heard of anaethmas, and Halvor's reaction seemed pretty close to what a vampire would experience upon coming in contact with their hated object. Ollie looked around - but there was no-one that had moved. Everyone was looking at them strangely.

"I understand. I'll try not to talk about it." it was almost like speaking in code as Ollie murmured his apologies. Himself? Evidently Halvor hoped to change the direction of the conversation direly.

"Well," He paused, for a second, before brushing his mind against Halvor's - Ollie had not known his name until that moment, and he screamed an "I'm Sorry" that he hoped Halvor could hear telepathically, even if Ollie couldn't project the thought himself. "Halvor, I moved from London a couple of months ago." He said, using the vampire's name casually, as an indication that they were to pretend that they knew each other a little. "A few things happened." He sighed. "Mother died, I spent six months trying to sort my dad out, and by the time I got back to London, my girlfriend had moved on, and my friends all had jobs. I moved to New York and I've been teaching and acting ever since. I've actually managed to become quite famous in the world of broadway, but, of course, you know that already." He said, lying casually.

"The producers asked Richard to hire me for this production, and that's how I became the closest thing to a leading man." He joked about his role in the way of the boy. It was a serious play, not to be taken lightly - however, he found himself accidentally advertising himself as an actor, and the show he was in.

"I used to be in a jazz band, too." He laughed. "We were called Fish Scratch Fever. My girlfriend and the guy she ran away with were in it. We still keep in good contact." he smiled, thinking of his letter to Danni, and of Angela. He played with his fingers a moment, thinking back to that adorable baby.

[Halvor Orm]

Halvor wasn’t sure what to make of the information he’d been given. He’d asked about Oliver to turn the conversation away from himself and hadn’t expected such an answer.

Oliver looked truly sorry, uncomfortable now. He hadn’t run screaming, though, like Halvor had expected him to when he started having his little fit. He polished his fingernails on his jeans and grimace at them, then at the crescent scars on the table. He looked upset now after replaying his story.

“Oh,” Halvor said intelligently, looking at him for a long moment with a sort of curious helplessness. He felt it a lot; he was not close to Oliver, so the news of his deceased mother and eloped friends did not have much of an effect on him. It had been quite a long time since he’d been with his own mother. He doubted that she was even still alive.

“I’m sorry.”

That sounded right to say. ‘I’m sorry’ was the universal way of saying anything anymore. Havlor looked at Oliver, at the knees of his jeans, then back to Oliver. His fingers still tingled from his fit and he drummed them on the table almost anxiously, almost angrily. He didn’t know why he’d gotten so moody lately. He didn’t like being moody. He twiddled with the cross hanging from his left earlobe. He wasn’t a Christian. He wasn’t an anything.

“About your mother, I mean,” he added quickly. He paused for a moment, thought, then said, “I lost my mother as well. A long…long time ago.”

Why did he say that? What was the point of saying that? Did he was reassurance from Oliver; telling him that it was alright that his mother was dead? His mother had died when he was young; he didn’t remember anything about her; it hadn’t been much of a loss. His grandfather had raised him most of his life. His father, he didn’t know about. He didn’t care about him either, but that was besides the point.

Halvor stopped talking for the short moment, scratched the almost nonexistent scar on his right eye to supply him with something to do. Then he spoke again, swallowing hard.

“Do you have a family, Oliver? Littler Oliverlets running around?”

{OOC~It's short...again...*sigh*)

[Ollie James Eldridge]

Oliver burst out laughing. Oliverlets. It was something he himself would use in a bad pick-up line, designed to amuse rather than entice. There was something about Halvor - maybe it was just the way he looked, or the way he acted, or that cautious way with which he said things.

"No, I'm afraid not." He said, a broad grin taking over his face. "No, any hope of Oliverlets went out the window when I left to look after my dad." He laughed. "But, I think I'll use that one if you don't mind..." He said, winking. "Halvor... you're brilliant." Said Oliver, biting his tongue which was in between his teeth.

"What about yourself?" he asked, genuinely curious. Halvor might not want to talk of marriage but what about kids. "You ever have a kid?" Ollie decided to skip the Halvorlet bit. He didn't want the vampire to think he was a creep, be reiterating his every word.

"I mean, considering, what you are your life must be a bit more interesting than a drama student from London. Ollie laughed.

{{Ridiculously short post. Sorry.}}

[Halvor Orm]

Brilliant, huh? Halvor thought, popping his knuckles. He almost missed the next part, Oliver asking about his own social life. Was he a father? Did he have little kids around? He looked down at himself. He didn’t think he looked like a father. When he saw fathers, he thought of overweight middle-aged men whose hair was falling out and who had little toothbrush moustaches and a couple of spawn weaving through his legs, chattering incorrigibly. He felt irritated just thinking about him.

“Kids and I don’t get on well,” he said in the frankest was possible. “As far as I know, I’m not a father. Or a mother, but you knew that already…I’m hoping. If I am a father, there is a woman out there who had a lot of explaining to do, because I have no recollection of the fact.”

He looked at Oliver now with curiosity. He’d mentioned leaving somewhere to take care of his dad somewhere else. In his numerous years, Halvor had learned that using dead family members as a conversation tool was usually not a good idea. Was he dead? Havlor wanted to ask, then decided not to. It would be wiser. He’d upset Oliver once before, and although he’d inadvertently made him laugh a few times, he would probably upset him again by asking.

“Hmm,” he leaned on the table on his elbows, brought one hand up and covered his eyes with it. Parting his fingers to peer at Oliver, he spoke with his voice muffled because his nose was scrunched against his face. “How old are you, Oliver? Ollie? Olive? What do you prefer? You can’t be much older than thirty, can you—not likely.”

When Halvor was done, he closed his fingers again, feeling his face go red. He’d completely ranted by accident. It happened when he got nervous. He wasn’t nervous, though, not really. He didn’t want to make Oliver mad again. It wasn’t grounds for nervousness. It was just…he didn’t know what it was. He swallowed hard listened hard to Oliver, trying to tune out all other noises in the shop.