Living Life in the Shadows

Tonight, all Ashton felt like doing was forgetting her past and, if she was lucky, who she was. Or more like, what she was. She found a bar that wasn't without power and wasn't closed from the snow storm they had. There were only a couple of other people awake at this time of night. She could feel their eyes on her when she pushed open the door and walked up to the bar, her heels making soft thuds on the dark wooden floor. She paid them no mind and they quickly lost interest in her. She sat down as far from them as she could get and ordered a Swamp Water. She wasn't really in the mood for much execpt for the alchoal to go to her head. She could still feel a pair of interested eyes on her, from one of the humans, and she turned her black eyes on him in an icy stare and he quickly looked down. She continued to glare at him even when the bartender set her drink down in front of her, making sure the man got the hint not to come over and bother her. Once she was sure she wouldn't be bothered, she turned to her drink and sucked about half of it down right there.

The presence of the Serbian kindred is felt before anything else. It is the distinct and unmistakable smell of another Beast, reacting to another predator in its presence. It's not clear how long Vukasin was at the booth, making careful notes in a journal, but it he does notice the arrival of Ashton. He releases the control that cloaks his Beast from observation, and calmly studies the other kindred with sunken, almost disturbing eyes.

The Nosferatu rises slowly from his booth, folding his papers into the pocket of the battered military coat he wears on the cold nights, and picks up his hat from the table. He approaches Ashton calmly, holding his hat in his hands. The red bearded kindred's brow twitches up just a moment. Once he is within earshot, he speaks. His voice is accented, but his tone is low.

"You, I do not know," he says simply in English, as if that is all the greeting he needs to offer.

She turned to the other kindred. "That's because we haven't met yet." She said simply. She sighed and pulled out a stool next to her for him. "Have a seat if you'd like." She offered, finally feeling the alchoal give her a bit of a buzz.

For a moment, Vukasin regards the woman evenly. He gives a faint, curt nod, and steps in to take the seat. As he does, the cloaking of his Beast resumes, though it gives his countenance no less eeriness.

"I make it a habit to... keep track of new ones," states the Serbian slowly. "Are you new to Manchester, or simply a... survivor from the time before?" Before Mr. Dillinger, the Prince, would be the unspoken continuation of that sentence. He is careful to watch his words in public, as if expecting prying ears. There is a pause, however, and then Vuka tilts his head. "Or are you the one Mr. Varney mentioned... the one he encountered in Goffstown?"

She stared at him with dark eyes. So far Manchester has been quite the adventure. "Keep track of the new ones...How wonderful. I hope that doesn't mean following me wherever I go and planting bugs in my phone or on my new car." She said, biting sarcasm coloring her voice. "I am new to Manchester." She sighed. "As for the other things you mentioned...I suppose I am those too." She rolled her eyes and downed the rest of the drink. "And my reasons for coming here are mostly bordeum, desire to travel, and meet other kindred."

There is a faint chuckle from Vukasin, and a lifted eyebrow.

"Two things our kind are not particularly known to enjoy, and the first our truest bane," states the Serbian with a bit of wry amusement. He gives Ashton another study, and puts a hand to chest. There is a near bow. "I am Vukasin Ilyich, of Sarajevo, lately of Manchester. It is a pleasure. And do not worry. No bugs, nor following. I merely seek to ensure that those of our kind who are in the city are treated peacefully, should they arrive in peace. We have enemies, yes. It is best that someone ensures our kind are not unduly harmed? And what is the American saying? If you want something to be done right?"

The name is distinctly Slavic. Vukasin. Pronounced 'Whoa-ka-sheen'. The countenance and mannerisms are enough to clearly mark the blood of the kindred to be a Nosferatu. Regardless, though, he still seems... pleasant. A little formal, but pleasant.

Ashton nodded. "Ashton. Ashton Grey." She introduced. She held out her hand in an offer to shake, though she was unsure if he would.

For a moment, Vukasin stares at Ashton, and the extended hand. Finally, he says quietly "My apologies, but I do not shake hands. I mean you no insult, it is simply a custom I... do not enjoy."

It appears that he would not. The Nosferatu glances around for a moment, and then focuses back on Ashton.

"If we happen to meet where there are less ears, there are other questions. The first and truest rule of our kind, after all, is discretion."

Ashton lowered her hand. "My apologizes as well. It is an American custom to shake hands when two people first meet, so I thought I would just offer." She gave a him a small smile. "It was nice meeting you." She hesitated, unsure if he was leaving, and then ordered another drink, slapping a five dollar bill on the counter, glancing over at the other kindred and then at the clock hanging on the wall. It was still only 11:30pm. She had time. Maybe she would meet another interesting kindred.

"I understand the offer, as well as sentiment behind it," comments the Serbian with a faint tilting of his head. "It is simply something I do not practice."

Vukasin seems to be remaining for the moment, as he regards Ashton evenly. He follows her gaze to the clock on the wall, and then looks back at her.

"My apologies if I intruded upon your nightly requirements. I sometimes forget how the Thirst truly remains foremost to those still enslaved to it. If you would like for me to depart, I shall. My... studies regarding this locality can wait for another night."

She was silent for a moment as the bartender set her second drink before her. "No. It's alright. Actually, if you'd like, I'd buy you a drink." She paused, looking over at him. "Or don't you practice that either?" She asked.

With a glance at the bartender, Vukasin gives a faint shrug.

"It is a habit I admit that I have grown out of," says the Serbian evenly. "But if you wish to buy me a drink, I will not deny you. If I remember correctly, I think I prefer whiskey... umm... I believe the English would be 'neat'?"

There is a lifted brow over a sunken eye, and Vukasin regards Ashton, expression curious as to whether or not his words seem to make sense.

"Well, I won't force one on you if you really don't want one." She said. She grew silent for a while, running her finger over the edge of the glass in circles, trying to come up with something more to say. "You mentioned you were from Sarajevo? Mind me asking where that is? I'm not familiar with...the other side of the World, as it were."

"It has simply been... a very long time since I have imbibed," comments the Serbian kindred with a shake of his head. "Please. You are not forcing anything. I am simply... unfamiliar with my tastes in alcohol."

There's a bit of a silence for a moment, before Vukasin continues.

"Sarajevo is... was a beautiful city. It was the heart and soul of Yugoslavia, called the Jerusalem of Europe. It was a city where many peoples, of many religions and languages could come together. Are you... familiar with Europe at all?"

Vukasin lifts his brow as he regards Ashton. He seems distinctly curious, and is considering just how to phrase it.

"We were... behind the Iron Curtain. Are you old enough to remember that?"

"No. I don't think so." She said thoughtfully. She ordered him a Whisky and then took a drink of her own. She wracked her brain for something she knew of Europe or the Iron Curtain, but then sighed, shaking her head. "I may have heard the name before but I don't know it. I really don't know anything of Europe either." She confessed.

Vukasin sniffs a bit at the whiskey, before taking an experimental sip of it. He blinks, once, as if trying to recall whether or not the taste is incongruous with his expectation of it, and just seems to consider it before drinking it further. As he does so, he speaks with Ashton.

"After the end of the second World War, there were several socialist republics who emerged, rejecting the interference of the capitalist West. This lasted until about twenty years ago, when due to economic and social pressures, the communist systems began to collapse. The early to mid 1990's saw the fall of the Soviet Union, as well as the destruction of Yugoslavia... what had been a nation of many cultures and peoples split apart into several squabbling factions, which soon broke out into open war."

The Serbian does not seem keen on explaining the geography, but more the social history of his city. He lifts the whiskey up again, studying it further. He turns slowly towards Ashton, eyes narrowing to see if any of his words find purchase with the woman.

"Sarajevo, which was a home to the Serbs, the Croats, and the Bosnians, became... divided. Orthodox, Catholic, Jew and Muslim started killing each other, despite having known each other their entire lives. Milosevic's death squads began to genocide the others, while other ethnic armies took to murdering men in their homes, and raping their wives to beget mixed race children to shame them into suicide. It was... terrible."

There is a sound of actual sorrow in Vukasin's voice, and it is clear that there is an ideal of his homeland where the things he is describing simply are impossible. The disconnect between that ideal and what happened, apparently, had a profound impact on him.

"I was a stranger, then, in my own home. It did not matter that I had been born in Sarajevo, and dwelt there... all my time. I was Serbian, and thus, a monster. It was no longer my home. And so, I left."

Ashton was silent for a long time, staring down into her glass. She could only imagine what horrors must have gone on in his homeland, and she couldn't even guess how he must have felt to have to leave when he hadn't done anything wrong. Where there just no laws on the other side of the World? She wondered.

"But that is our burden, yes?" offers Vukasin, lifting the glass to his lips. He downs the whiskey in a single go, remembering how to do so with a practiced ease. "Not even the stars over our heads are eternal. All things change. Embrace this, and move forward. And now, I have Manchester."

There seems to be a certain bit of wryness to the Serbian's tone as he says that. He glances over at Ashton, and lifts brow.

"So, child, what is your story?" asks the Nosferatu, lifting a brow. He slips easily into a tone better suited for a professor as he regards her. "What has driven you to this city in the heart of New Hampshire? You do not sound French, so I assume you do not come from the north. I do not recognize you, so you are not likely of Boston. By what ways have you come to this city? I am curious."

Ashton shrugged slightly. "I don't really have a story to be honest." She grew quiet, thoughtful. "I like to travel. And staying where I was was driving me crazy. Plus there aren't many other Kindred that I've seen where I'm from." She paused to down the rest of her drink, feeling the buzz. "And all I'll say where I'm from is the US."

"As you desire, Ms. Grey," offers the Serbian thoughtfully. He glances at her again, and gives a polite nod. "In parting, I feel it may be necessary to caution you. This city is not as... ideal as some, and as I said, there are significant threats to our kind. Should you need help, or protection... Look for me. I will make no promises, but as I said, I endeavor to ensure our kind are not unduly harmed."

And with that, Vukasin stands slowly, straightening his jacket.

"Thank you for the whiskey, and for the conversation. It has been pleasant."

She gave him a nod. "Likewise. And...thanks for the offer of protection." She sighed. There it was again. Although the way he said it, it sounded like there was more then just the Moon Children out there. Where there more then one enemy besides the werewolf? She frowned and rubbed her forehead.