[WoD] An Unexpected Guest (COMPLETE)

It was not midnight, nor was it dreary – in fact, it was a bright mid-afternoon - when the raven landed on the roof of Timeless Antiquities. High in the sky the sun shone brightly, leaving the pavement below dappled with the swaying shadows of leaves. The bird, rather large for its kind, surveyed the area from its vantage, pacing carefully to the roofs edge. It's beady eyes darted to and fro, taking in all their was to see.

Once it was apparently satisfied, it took flight and glided on wide dark wings onto the windowsill of the top floor of the building, the floor on which the shops owner lived.

The window was open. The bird peered inside, its head cocked first to one side then to another, as it took in the empty room. It then hopped to the side, looking down once more into the street as a blue car – a Mustang - pulled into the curb beside the shop, music filtering out of its open windows. A young woman stepped out of the drivers seat and the raven watched curiously as she walked, arms full, towards the shops entrance.

:: Fiona opened the door and placed the package on the counter, then stepped out again and locked up the car. The shop was quiet today, only a few customers, but she had hired help to take care of things as she took the elevator up to the top floor ::

With a quick flutter of its wings, the raven drifted from the windowsill. It landed on the arm of a chair and eyed the rooms entrance eagerly.

:: The very first thing Fiona noticed after closing the door was the large black bird perched on her favorite chair. Her eyes shifted from the bird to the open window and back to the bird again ::

The raven cocked its head to one side then the other, as it looked between the window and Fiona, apparently mimicking her movements. It then gave a loud caw and hopped down onto the seat of the chair.

:: She raised a brow at the raven, turning her attention to the kitchen as she went to get herself a drink ::

While Fiona busied herself in another room, the raven did the most peculiar thing - it turned into a man. The man perched on the chair, much as the bird had done before him, with his arms crossed, his elbows resting on his knees.

:: Fiona blinked, and managed to hold onto her glass as she gazed at her unexpected guest. She had seen many things over the centuries, but occasions such as this were unusual, even in this city. She took a sip of her vanilla coke before speaking ::

"Who are you?"

“Kristopher Crowley... just Crowley to the world at large. Savant and collector by trade – but who I am is trivial in the grand scheme of things,” he said, with a dismissive gesture. “You, on the other hand...”

As he spoke, his eyes lit up. “I've heard so much about. It's fantastic to finally meet you in person, Miss Devlin.”

:: Her eyes darted to the clock. Michele would be home in a few hours. Taking a seat across from Crowley, she asked the next obvious question ::

"What do you want?"

Direct and to the point. Crowley smiled.

“Just to talk. If you're busy now, we can do so at a more convenient time... but there are some things I'd like to pick your brain about. People, places, things. You have a lot of stories to tell.”

:: She smiled back, almost laughing ::

"You think so?"

“Now, don't be coy. In all your years on this planet, you have seen things the likes of which most people can't even imagine. You have plenty of stories.”

Though hidden behind dark glasses, Crowley's eyes darted here and there while he was talking. He observed carefully Fiona's mannerisms, from the way she positioned herself, to the movements of her eyes and the subtle nuances in her expression. Observation was a fine art and one that Crowley's kind had been bred for.

:: She raised a brow again, observing Crowley just as intently ::

"Would you like a drink?"

Second only to his love for knowledge and all things shiny was Crowley's love for a good drink. If nothing else, it helped to loosen the tongues of those around you. People were more willing to spill their thoughts if they'd already spilled a few pints.

“A drink would be marvellous, yes, thank you for your hospitality.”

Seeing as it seemed he would be staying a while, Crowley decided to remove his jacket. It was black, and so was everything underneath. Black slacks and a black button-down shirt. It made him look very pale, and slightly ill, given his thin frame.

"What's your poison?"

:: She took another sip from her glass again as she stood up ::

The eyes of the dead. Crowley pursed his lips and bit his tongue.

“Whatever the chef recommends.”

"Right."

:: she went into the kitchen again and brought him back a Guinness ::

"You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Crowley. Have you been in the city long?"

“Ah, the black stufff – how fitting!” Crowley accepted the glass, apparently quite tickled. He took a long sip, the rich taste a welcome change from that of rain water sipped from puddles.

“Have I been in the city long,” he mused aloud, setting his glass down on the table between himself and Fiona. “I... travel a lot, though I have to say that I do find myself drawn back to Chicago frequently. As I'm sure you know, there's lots going on in the windy city, lot's to take note of. Every day is as unique and curious as the one before it.

...but what about you? How long have you been here?”

"Not long." she replied casually.

“I see, I see,” Crowley gave a couple of quick nods.

“It's good to see that you landed here on your feet,” he added.

“...what with the shop and all. Did you inherit it from your family?”

At this question, he had to suppress a grin.

"My dear old aunt left it to me ..."

:: the phone rang and she awnsered it ::

A knowing smile curved into Crowley's lips. While Fiona took the phone call, he looked again around the room. Everything seemed to be in soft shades and nothing caught his eye. Slightly disappointed, he began to twist one of his silver rings back and forth, whilst idly wondering who his newest acquaintance was speaking with. He glanced up, still turning the unusual sigil of the ring over and over.

“Nothing troubling, I hope?”

:: She sat down again after hanging up the phone, her eyes falling upon the ring as she awnsered ::

"No. My friend is having a late recital."

“Your friend... ah.”

The twisting of the ring stopped. The idea of an immortal being having friends was an unusual one. Keeping company amongst those who could not live forever must have been troubling and upsetting...but that's the price you pay.

“Do they know? About what you are, that is.”

:: She set her glass down and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed ::

"Ok, here's the part where you tell me exactly what you know."

:: Her gaze seemed to penetrate the comfort of the sunglasses, even though she couldn't see through them ::

“What I know about what, exactly?”

Once more mimicking Fiona, Crowley leant forwards and let his chin rest upon steepled fingertips, adding as an afterthought:

“We could be here quite some time.”

:: She nodded at the open window ::

"Not really."

Both eyebrows raised, Crowley sat back slightly and paused for a long moment.

“Fiona Devlin, born a Briton of county Cumbria. Suffered death at the hands of the Roman Empire, only to be reborn as an immortal. In her long life she is known to have fraternised many of histories great figures, from martyrs such as Joan of Arc and William Wallace to revered rulers such as Kublai Khan and King Arthur. Though not a Knight of Arthur's court, she was later dubbed as such by the that of the Seelie. In recent centuries she has become known as a prominent antiques dealer and collector, and within the last decade has even taken the bold move of opening her own blues cafe in Chicago... shall I continue?”

"No, that's enough."

:: She leaned back in the chair, a slight blush to her cheeks ::

Seeing the flush in Fiona's cheeks, Crowley offered what was intended as comforting smile.

“Please, don't feel embarrassed, but you have quite the reputation in certain circles. One can't walk the earth for over a millennium and expect their exploits to go unnoticed.”

:: She glanced at the ring on his hand again, trying to place the sigil in her mind ::

"I've not seen one of your kind in a very long time."

There was a wink behind the glasses.

“But we've seen you.”

Crowley smiled knowingly, noticing then that the immortal seemed to have some preoccupation with his hands. In particular the hand that carried a rather large silver ring. He held it up, so that the ring was plainly visible.

“Do you recognise this?”

:: She gazed at it a moment longer ::

"Yes. How did you acquire it?"

“It was a rather fortunate find,” Crowley said, admiring the trinket, once more turning it on his finger. “Unearthed by a construction company landscaping in eastern Scotland and passed onto to a lowly jumble sale. The locals didn't recognise the marking... after all, why should they? Even many modern Gangrel would overlook a relic of the Lhiannan without realizing it's true origin and significance. How quickly history fades into nothing when we do not pay it due attention.”

"Very true." she replied, relaxing a bit.

“But that's why I'm here, why my kind are here. To make sure that things don't go unnoticed. You never know when some little factoid might be invaluable. Everything has it's part to play in the grand scheme of things... Gaia moves in mysterious ways,” Crowley replied, tapping twice on the side of his nose.

:: She studied him a moment ::

"How would you like to work here, Mr. Crowley?"

“I should like that very much, Miss Devlin. However I do not think that I would be well-suited to the job – unless you could overlook my prolonged absences. It is my blood to travel, to search all across America – and the world – for information that may be of use to Gaia's cause.”

It was true. As much as Crowley would have relished the chance to spend his time with Fiona and her antiquities, she was only one of many people that he had to – needed to – speak with. Gaia had created Raven as her scout, and instilled in him a kind of wanderlust that kept him moving always, constantly in search of new secrets to undercover.

“I couldn't possibly confine myself to one city for too long. If nothing else, I think it might drive me mad!”

"I understand Gaia's cause well enough, Mr. Crowley. There are those in this city who do not."

There was an... unusual tone to the immortals voice. Crowley began to frown slightly, as he studied Fiona's expression in silence. There was something that she wasn't telling him.

“Yes... the taint of the Wyrm is palpable. It's growing stronger, somehow.”

"I suspect some in the Camarilla to be less than concerned if Pentex sets up shop here."

Crowley give a thoughtful mmm.While Chicago was a hub of all things supernatural, it was the kindred who had sunk their fangs into the city the most. Their grip was ironclad and their tolerance of the cities Garou tribes stemmed only from their fear of what should happen if they challenged the Lupines.

“The Camarilla give concern to very little besides blood, power and the Masquerade.”

"I try my best with them. The alternative is much less appealing."

Crowley's knowledge of the Chicago Camarilla was limited. He had spoken with individual vampires, now and then, but more often than not they were vagrants or members of the so-called Anarch sect. He could never be certain how much of what they said was truth and how much was 'anti-Cammy' propaganda. Idly, he began to fiddle with his ring again, not realizing he was doing so.

“You do business with them?”

"Some of them yes, some of them no."

It was not unexpected that Fiona should have allies, and enemies, among the vampires. After all, while they were not Immortals, they were immortal, and as such could provide long-standing friendships and business partnerships. Of course, that didn't make them any less of a plague on the planet.

“I see. How do you decide who you do and who you don't?”

"I choose my alliances carefully."

:: she went back to the kitchen to fetch another drink ::

“Very wise,” Crowley nodded and, in Fiona's absence, took a long sip of his drink – still nursing a good three-quarters of the glass.

“I can't say that the kindred are my biggest fans,” he confessed.

"Yes." she nodded. "That is why I would offer you protection."

“You're offering me protection?” Crowley quirked a brow. It would be handy to have someone watching his back, and a partnership of any kind with Fiona was likely to be beneficial when it came to keeping up with the goings on in Chicago.

“... and what do you expect in return?”

"Let's just say, I want you to live." she smiled.

“Now there's something we have in common.”

The Corax cracked a smile. He lifted his glass to take a drink, but stopped himself, a thought occuring.

“I have to leave for California tonight, but I should be back within a week or so at the latest. Perhaps then we could get to talking more?”

:: Fiona laughed at the Corax ::

"Get out of here." :D

That was that. It was more than a little frustrating that what he had deigned from his first meeting with the Immortal Fiona was limited at best, but it was not entirely fruitless. In her he had surely made a useful ally. After he was done with his investigations due west he would certainly return to her for what would hopefully be a more revealing conversation.

Setting down his glasses, Crowley rose from his chair and neatly pulled on his jacket. He smiled.

“If you'll excuse me...”

It was as if his feet vanished from beneath him. The transformation from man to bird was seamless, something to be proud of. The raven circled once back over the chair on which C rowley had sat before sailing off out of the window and into the sunlight.