Another night in this carnival of souls
The pair fell into an almost easy conversation between close friends rather than men that had only just met in the most unusual predicaments. Why Adrien chose to share such nonsense with the man he hardly knew. But it was surprisingly easy, the man felt compelled even if he couldn't suspect why. It felt foriegn, but somewhere in the pack of his mind that it felt nice to share that simple friendship with another. It just went on to show you how swallowed up he was to his own blind mission. It was as though the vampires had taken more than just his family. Perhaps asking the fae out on a date wasn't the worst thing he could ever do?
However, life it would seem, hardly stopped for anyone, if you didn't take the time for yourself you would lose those vital parts that made you distinctly you in the first place. Adrien's thoughts soon drifted. Surely he had someone who would be worried about his whereabouts. That sudden recognition flashed upon the newly turned hunter as if he had remembered something important. Ah, so there was someone. At the very least he could return to them other than just a memory of what they once were. "You gotta call her, or else half the city will be out looking for you. Although, the cops of this city seem to have a short memory when it comes to missing persons. It's unlikely they would have much if she did call them." He uttered his voice grim, after all, in Sacrosanct going missing was, unfortunately, was nothing short of common place.
There was so much more the man wasn't privy of, so much Adrien had yet to be able to teach him, or for him to learn. It was far too much to cover over dinner. It was enough to give the man a headache. But yet another thing he forgot to mention, the shadowy hunter probably not the best communicator in the word forgot to mention that he had collected some of his things from that alleyway. Instead, Adrien thought only of his stomach, offering some more food. It would seem the mention of the world that still went on outside this apartment seemed to bring Alistair back to the land of the living. Good. He would be fine. He seemed mentally strong and capable enough. It would take some time but Adrien had no doubt in his mind that the sooner Ali clung to his routine, the better it was for him. The change would certainly take its toll and would certainly be no easy feat to navigate, but like all things all one needed to do was take it one step at a time. It was that recognition that cleared up any concern of him returning home.
The first week that had proven the most overwhelming while the body adjusted to the enhanced sensory overload. With a nod, Adrien deftly cleared their plates and stuffed the leftovers into Tupperware. It felt odd, caring for someone else's needs other than his own. Yet, that responsibility for the man hardly diminished.
Part of him felt even reluctant to even let him leave. It was suddenly that grip of panic that Adrien knew all too well. It was to be expected. His shadowy purple eyes scanned the room as if on instinct alone as he walked over to table placing the Tupperware before the distressed dark-haired man, his demeanor remaining calm. He rose a singular brow in question, curious as to what caused such panic, his artwork.. Oops. Perhaps he should have told him.
Artists... always so worked up over their little black books. Adrien remembered Harley nearly biting off his head for writing in it to write down a brief message from a phone call. It stuck with him. Perhaps that was why he didn't steal a peek despite his own curiosity of what lingered within those pages. It felt wrong to rummage through the man's private belongings, although he had to admit his own curiosity of them all the same. Adrien seeked to calm the panic riddled artist. "Ohh. I don't know what those pencils look like, but I collected your bag and book... and your phone is in there too. It got a little beat up... but it's by the door. Some of it might have gotten a little bloody. But it's a small price to pay, right?" Adrien rose a singular hand to gesture toward that very bag as a near sheepish look crossed his features, that hand-drew to the back of his neck. Of course, he had to change an artist into a hunter of all professions! The man's stature was hardly built for this line of work... he would need to train. Adrien's eyes scanned over him idly as if considering the thought and work it would take to transform him into what he needed to be in order to survive. Although, he supposed it hardly mattered what he was. If the desire and effort was put forth, anyone could shape themselves into anything with the right instruction and hard work. Just how much time he had put into his own physique, to ensure that he was ready and able to take down near any foe. He put the time in daily to craft himself into the perfect formidable weapon. There was not an ounce of fat on him, his whole body nothing short of hardened muscle for a reason. Training, food, and discipline that he was sure Alistair could benefit from. But that was not a conversation for today.
"Oh.. before I forget... take this." He went into the kitchen plucking a piece of scrap paper, scrawling out some numbers. His personal number was on the top. Adrien found the green eyes of the hunter he created, his expression thoughtful. "Call me if things feel a little weird.. Or you see anything suspicious, you let me know. The second... if you can't reach me.. It is the number for the Council. It's an organization of hunters, think of them.... As your 911 phone call. Just say you know Adrien Westward, they will know who I am." It felt odd sending the man off into the world. They had been nothing more than strangers just a few days ago? Why did he feel that pang of need to ensure his safety? It was an impossible thing to truly offer and yet he wanted to all the same. "Come on I have a car, I'll take you home. Things feel a little intense the first time you leave the house." He was hardly lying, nor did the look in his eye offered any room to protest.
These memories are like shadows
I can't seem to find my way home