start of vampire story
May. 27th, 2008 07:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrCombining the third idea with the first is working verra nicely ^___^ Two pages.
It was going to be a long day.
London shoved the papers away, refusing to acknowledge them until he'd finished his coffee. Some things should not have to dealt with until coffee was had. Like breathing. And dealing with vampires.
Or, at least, stupid vampire hunters.
He would get stuck working with Paris. It was just that kind of day.
Not really having much faith, he picked up the sheet of paper and began to fight his way across the office, weaving and wending through desks, copiers, printers, coworkers, delivery men, and what looked suspiciously like Lena had snuck into her cat into the office again.
Shooting the boy delivering flowers – seriously, who got flowers this early in the morning? – a nasty glare for nearly tripping him, London righted his skewed glasses and pushed open the door to the boss' office.
"No, I am not changing your assignment, London," his boss said, not bothering to look up from the morning paper he was reading. "Finish your coffee, grab another on your way out, and I had better get a report of a job well done when you get back next Monday."
"Next—" London froze. He looked down at his sheet again, only now noticing that there were three vampires to approve, and they all lived a good distance away, and not even remotely close to each other.
He gave his boss a look that would have made the flower boy wet himself. "I don't suppose you'd accept my letter of resignation."
"No."
"Yes, sir," London replied, and resisted an urge to slam the door shut as he turned around and made his way back through the chaos to his own desk.
He sat down heavily and drained his coffee. Stared morosely at the piece of paper that spelled out a week of living hell.
Why now? He didn't need this. If he absolutely, positively had to work with Paris, why couldn't it have waited until next week? He thought about going to ask if it could, in fact, be put off, but immediately dismissed the notion.
Did Paris already know?
Of all the hunters in the world, why Paris? The complaint played over and over in his head. There were other options available, and Paris would in fact have been pretty low on the list of options. His territories were nowhere close to here; he'd be going out of his way to come this far to help approve vampires for licensing.
Rubbing his forehead, London fumbled with his desk drawer, finally yanking it open and reaching blindly for his aspirin.
His fingers landed instead on a padded envelope, and he froze, slowly opening his eyes to glare at it. With one thing and another, he'd almost managed to forget about the damned thing.
Honestly, he didn't know why he hung onto it. Like he needed to be reminded of how spectacular Paris was, and what an abysmal failure everyone considered London to be.
Still…
It was a good picture. Hell, they looked like the best of friends in this one. Once upon a time, they had been. More than, his memories whispered, but he ignored them. Life had been grand, up until that last summer when they'd turned eighteen. When the picture had been taken. Two days later, he'd announced he wanted to go into the licensing section of the vampire business. No one had forgiven him – one of their family, a stupid paper pusher? What of his hunting skils? What of his brother?
Of everyone, he had thought Paris would understand, would be happy – would be relieved, because hadn't that been the whole fucking point? Except no one had listened, Paris hadn't listened, and they hadn't spoken a single word since that day.
Twin brothers, once they'd been the very center of each other's world.
Now they were virtual strangers, going to approve vampires for licensing – and during their birthday, no less.
Someone, somewhere, was finding this all incredibly hilarious.
Picking up his empty mug, London went to go find more coffee.
Now, keep with this, or switch back to Regency? I do not know. They are both being rather cooperative.
It was going to be a long day.
London shoved the papers away, refusing to acknowledge them until he'd finished his coffee. Some things should not have to dealt with until coffee was had. Like breathing. And dealing with vampires.
Or, at least, stupid vampire hunters.
He would get stuck working with Paris. It was just that kind of day.
Not really having much faith, he picked up the sheet of paper and began to fight his way across the office, weaving and wending through desks, copiers, printers, coworkers, delivery men, and what looked suspiciously like Lena had snuck into her cat into the office again.
Shooting the boy delivering flowers – seriously, who got flowers this early in the morning? – a nasty glare for nearly tripping him, London righted his skewed glasses and pushed open the door to the boss' office.
"No, I am not changing your assignment, London," his boss said, not bothering to look up from the morning paper he was reading. "Finish your coffee, grab another on your way out, and I had better get a report of a job well done when you get back next Monday."
"Next—" London froze. He looked down at his sheet again, only now noticing that there were three vampires to approve, and they all lived a good distance away, and not even remotely close to each other.
He gave his boss a look that would have made the flower boy wet himself. "I don't suppose you'd accept my letter of resignation."
"No."
"Yes, sir," London replied, and resisted an urge to slam the door shut as he turned around and made his way back through the chaos to his own desk.
He sat down heavily and drained his coffee. Stared morosely at the piece of paper that spelled out a week of living hell.
Why now? He didn't need this. If he absolutely, positively had to work with Paris, why couldn't it have waited until next week? He thought about going to ask if it could, in fact, be put off, but immediately dismissed the notion.
Did Paris already know?
Of all the hunters in the world, why Paris? The complaint played over and over in his head. There were other options available, and Paris would in fact have been pretty low on the list of options. His territories were nowhere close to here; he'd be going out of his way to come this far to help approve vampires for licensing.
Rubbing his forehead, London fumbled with his desk drawer, finally yanking it open and reaching blindly for his aspirin.
His fingers landed instead on a padded envelope, and he froze, slowly opening his eyes to glare at it. With one thing and another, he'd almost managed to forget about the damned thing.
Honestly, he didn't know why he hung onto it. Like he needed to be reminded of how spectacular Paris was, and what an abysmal failure everyone considered London to be.
Still…
It was a good picture. Hell, they looked like the best of friends in this one. Once upon a time, they had been. More than, his memories whispered, but he ignored them. Life had been grand, up until that last summer when they'd turned eighteen. When the picture had been taken. Two days later, he'd announced he wanted to go into the licensing section of the vampire business. No one had forgiven him – one of their family, a stupid paper pusher? What of his hunting skils? What of his brother?
Of everyone, he had thought Paris would understand, would be happy – would be relieved, because hadn't that been the whole fucking point? Except no one had listened, Paris hadn't listened, and they hadn't spoken a single word since that day.
Twin brothers, once they'd been the very center of each other's world.
Now they were virtual strangers, going to approve vampires for licensing – and during their birthday, no less.
Someone, somewhere, was finding this all incredibly hilarious.
Picking up his empty mug, London went to go find more coffee.
Now, keep with this, or switch back to Regency? I do not know. They are both being rather cooperative.
