Las Almas Heart made of glass
#1

house



Estienne wasn't sure what to make of the house. It was nice, possibly nicer then his mansion had been in France. His room as well had been empty of windows leading to a perfectly safe sleeping area. A thoughtful sort of house, from thoughtful people he didn't know. Kesi had told him he was free to decorate as he wanted, and the garden and greenhouse was ready for any plants. Apparently he had a perfume making hobby he didn't remember. It was the reason he was out in the garden in the dead of night. He'd never see the place in daylight.

There was a spot on the grass that felt dry enough so thats where he was sitting, gazing at the place where the flowers would come in. A chill on the air and a frost over the ground. Why was he out here? He wasn't sure. Wasn't sure of a lot of things lately.

Still it was better then the cabin.


outfit

#2
Carlyle drew the curtains of his bed back to the four posts. Quietly tying the heavy forest green curtains to their proper places, he went to change. He decided on a simple pair of black jeans, a red t-shirt, his usual leather jacket, and boots. Making his way downstairs he headed towards the living room. As he passed near the windows he paused, noticing the figure out. With a wary gaze he crept closer to the window to see who was sitting outside. The familiar silhouette of Monty or now Estienne put him at ease.

The front door creaked as Carlyle stepped outside. He didn't bother hiding his vampiric speed as he was suddenly seated in the grass beside the man. "Uh..hey. What are you doing out here?"
#3
He could feel the others inside the house of course, a constant humming in his mind that he'd had to tune out after the first night. So he'd paid little attention to one getting closer. Until a figure was suddenly at his side. Being a man who had dealt a lot with danger he was perhaps not the best to surprise. His hand went for his knife, except he didn't have it. The normal spot in his shoes was not that, considering he had forgotten to where any shoes. The fumble was enough time to realize who was sitting next to him. Or at least recognize the man, as he didn't know his name.

"Je regarde les fleurs"
T: Looking at the flowers

He deadpanned waving an arm at the imaginary plants. The ground was very much covered in frost still.
#4
Carlyle followed the motion of the other vampires arm and quirked one eyebrow in response. The french language was not one he was familiar with, perhaps he'd have to ask Kesi for some pointers. The one word he could mostly make out was fleurs, putting that together with the gesture he assumed it meant flowers. The assumption only further confused Carlyle as the ground was still barren until spring. Grinding the heel of his palm against his forehead he took a deep breath, gathering himself before responding.

"Ah..yes. Do you want to plant some?" He offered the question, head cocked to one side. He didn't know fully if he would be understood in English or not.
#5
His grasp of the english language was better after his stint by himself, so he could for the most part understand what the other was saying even if he could not speak the language fully. He supposed it was his fault for not learning when he could from Roberts. What could he say english hadn't been as wildly spoken as now and Roberts had spoken french and welsh more then english to him so they'd mostly got on fine.

"I go plant the flowers more later, it is too cold"

Clearly the man had not completely understood his previous expression of sarcasm.

"What want you of me?"


He's speaking english but structured as he would french

#6
Carlyle blinked slowly as it clicked together into his head. Oh. It had been sarcasm. Brushing off the embarrassment he briefly felt, he uttered a quiet sigh."Right yeah, too cold."

He didn't know how exactly to interact with Monty with the other vampire not remembering much. They weren't close to begin with but he still had felt protective of him. As he did with many of his friends and fellow clutch members. He'd stand with his little family no matter how broken it has become.

"Nothing. Just to talk. I'm Carlyle, I don't know if you remember me."
#7
Carlyle, a name to a face. It did not ring any bells. If he had known the man before those memories were gone, or at least out of reach. He was remembering some things, smells bring flashes of moments for him.

"I not me remember of you"

It took him a bit to string the sentence together the english not coming easy. He even manage to feel a bit bad about the fact he did not remember Carlyle at all.

"Perhaps that you could me tell of you and I go remember things"
#8
Carlyle drummed his fingers against his leg, taking a moment to think. He wasn't sure where to begin and how to navigate the situation. Dragging a useless breath into his lungs he looked at Monty again.

"I met you after I joined the clutch we were both in. We didn't talk much but you were nice. Its alright if you don't remember the past. We can become friends in the future right?"
#9
He didn't remember the clutch, or honestly what a clutch was. It seemed foreign, although there was a itch in his mind. He was sure he had heard the term somewhere.

"What age are you? We are we met before the clutch?"

He tried, really he tried but the english was getting even harder to pull together and he was tempted to just switch completely to french. If only he could be certain Carlyle knew french.
#10
"I'm 209. If we met before the clutch I don't remember." Sighing he shook his head. This wasn't going as well as he had hoped it would.

From what he remembered of the other vampire, he was french. Carlyle had been taught french by his sire ages ago and was quite rusty at the language. "Comment trouves-tu ta chambre?"
#11
209, it sounded old to him. Although if he went off the year they said it was then he was in fact older. 300 still felt an unbelievable number to him. He was starting to remember more, the revolution, the cottage on the sea with its fields of lavender.

The French was a delight, mostly as it meant he could fully give up the struggle with English.

"lC'est une belle pièce. J'aime le cercueil. Où as-tu appris le français?"
(t: that is a nice room, i like the coffin. Where did you learn french?)
#12
Carlyle hummed in amusement as Monty or now Estienne mentioned the coffin. The question made him frown a bit, it didn't come with an easy answer.

"Ah..uh mon créateur. Andres De Léon. Il m'a appris. Je ñ'ai pas eu besoin de le parler depuis longtemps.
(T: My uh creator. Andres De Léon. He taught me. I haven't needed to speak it for a long time.)
#13
It was a surprise, to here a name he knew. De Leon, it brought to mind the image of a man who had shared in his cottage life for a little while. A fellow vampire, perhaps that was why he remembered the name. Though if it had been but a few months ago he likely would not have this recollection.

"De Léon? Je ne savais pas qu'il avait créé d'autres vampires. Il est resté à mon chalet pendant deux semaines."
(t: De Leon? I did not know he created any other vampires. He stayed at my cottage for two weeks.)

Andres, he was a handsome man if he remembered right. With haunting green eyes, and hair even darker then his own. They had talked about many things, but Andres had seemed more interested in his perfume business then his pirate past.
#14
Carlyle recoiled sharply when Estienne mentioned he knew his sire. His eyes flashed silver for a moment, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. After a moment he slowly reigned back his reaction and the molten silver color receded from his eyes.

"Désolé. Ç'est un sujet sensible. Il m'a créé et m'a laissé derrière lui."
(t: Sorry. It's a sensitive subject. He created me and left me behind.)

Rubbing at his head he took another deep breath. The anger felt less at the surface the more he breathed. With everything Estienne had gone through lately, Carlyle did not need to attack him too.
#15
The reaction was sharp. Carlyle's eyes flashed and for a moment Estienne was sure the other would break out in claws. He wasn't really in the mood to be clawed up so he threw himself to the side, hitting the ground on his back and rolled up into a crouched position with practiced ease.

He regarded Carlyle with suspicion even as the other regained control.
#16
Carlyle raised his hands, palms out, in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible. More soft apologies murmured in a mix of English and French. He took a slow step backwards to try and keep more space between them.

"I'm good. I'm good. I have control." He reassured out loud, still speaking gently.
#17
It took a few apologies before the tension would fade. His body relaxing from the spring of action it had been ready for. Slipping backwards he resume a seated position. The frosted dew had been disturbed from all the movement and now lay scattered about them. Still frozen from the lack of body heat.

"Il t'a fait quelque chose?"
(T: he did something to you?)

He'd seen a great deal of panic in his life. Of people being triggered though he did not at this time know the word for it. There were things that caused the same reaction within him.
#18
"Il m'a transformé. Il m'a promis des choses qu'il ne pouvait pas donner. Puis il est parti."
(t: He turned me. He promised things he could not give. Then he left.)

Carlyle pressed his lips into a thin line, irritated at the memories. "Il ne se souciait pas de ce que j'étais devenu."
(t: he didn't care what happened to me.)
#19
Oh Monty knew that type, knew it all to well. Bartholomew had been like that, always wanting more, always promising more and then empty words when the time came. He didn't think it was something worth deserving claws and fangs, but maybe Carlyle was more sensitive or there was more to the story.

"Oh, il en fait partie FuckBoy"
(T: Oh, he's one of those Fuckboy)

It was one of the new words he'd picked up.
#20
The tension snapped as Carlyle laughed. The use of the term 'fuckboy' to describe his sire was intensely amusing. "That's one way of putting it. It's a long story."

He shrugged and straightened up, fully relaxed. He felt calmer and more in control now. His gaze was softer then as he regarded Estienne. "je suis désolé si je t'ai fait peur." (t: I'm sorry if I scared you.)
#21
It got a laugh though he wasn't sure exactly what was funny about it, at least the air seemed to clear up and Carlyle eased up.

"Vous n’avez pas à me le dire. J’en ai rencontré plus qu’assez de ce genre. "
(T:You do not have to tell me. I have met more than enough of those kind.)

He shrugged a little as he spoke. There were more than necessary of those kinds of men. He supposed he had been lucky with Tempest as much as his emotion towards her was on the iffy side. She was like many things that involved his memory loss, he remembered how he had felt at the beginning of his vampire journey but also some ideas of what had evolved from there.

"Tu ne m’as pas effrayé ; Je suis toujours prêt à être attaqué"
(t:You did not scare me; I am always ready to be attacked)
#22
Carlyle was much more relaxed now that things seemed back to relative normalcy. "Merci. vous êtes très compréhensif." (t: Thank you. you are very understanding)

Taking a deep breath he continued to speak. "Comment l'as-tu rencontré?" (t: how did you meet him?)
#23
He wasn't sure it was understanding or just paranoia. Afterall he'd heard that most people did not live thinking that others were going to attack them. Maybe it was a human thing to not feel that way.

"Je vivais sur la côte, dans un chalet avec des champs de lavende. Une nuit, je l'ai trouvé en train de se nourrir de mon Philippe, alors je l'ai éventré, et lorsqu'il fut guéri de ça, je l'ai fait rester loin de moi... bon, en fait j'ai pointé un fusil en sa direction pendant la première semaine, mais après ça, les choses se sont détendues et il est resté pour un autre mois."
(t: I lived on the coast, in a cabin with lavender fields. One night I found him feeding off of my Philippe so I gutted him, when he healed from that I had him stay with me.. well I did rather point a gun at him for the first week but after that things mellowed out and he stayed for another month.)
#24
The mention of his old sire being gutted by Monty effectively erased any remaining conflict he had felt. A low chuckle started and evolved into full blown laughter. After a moment he pulled himself back together, the grin still fixed on his face. "ce salaud le méritait."

Schooling his expression into a more serious one, he spoke again. "Je suis désolé qu'il ait blessé quelqu'un que tu aimes"

t-the bastard deserved it
t- I'm sorry he hurt someone you love


#25
There was a laugh again. This time he could understand the reasoning. Who wouldn't be happy about the pain of someone they hated.

"Oh, c'était juste un pauvre soldat que j'avais accueilli. Le chalet était celui de ses parents."
(T:Oh, he was just some poor soldier I took in. The cottage used to be his parents.)

He rubbed his finger against the dormant grass. Thinking if he should get lavender again.
#26
Carlyle huffed at his fumbled French and smiled apologetically. "Ah, mon erreur."

Glancing back to the lawn and the grass he frowned a bit. "Le jardin peut-il être sauvé ?"



t - ah, my mistake
t - can the garden be saved?


#27
It was a nice if barren yard. Once spring came he could plant whatever he wanted. Some lavender, some belladonna, anything really.

"Oui, une fois le sol dégelé, je pourrai planter des fleurs"
(t:Yes, once the ground is thawed I can plant some flowers)
#28
Carlyle nodded with a faint smile. "Good. I look forward to it. Passe une bonne nuit."

Nodding to Estienne he headed towards the house itself, ducking back inside. His mind buzzing with the new information he had learned and the emotions that came with.

t - Have a good night
Good to fade ?


#29
He'd give a good night in return before turning back to contemplate the ground and think about what sort of flowers he wanted. What had he liked? He still made perfume, maybe he'd ask Kesi what he sold recently and figure out the scents from there.
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