11/24/99 11:16:54 PM

It has been a few nights since the art show. Long enough for that whirlwind to die down.. and other storms of a more private nature to rise and fall. Now, it is the hush of a peaceful fourth evening. The only storms are the squalls that can be seen heading toward the coast. By the morning, it will be raining...

To greet you, Toreador, when you step upon Ventrue soil is an energy riding on the wind. Even as far as the gate. Most would call it anticipation. You know it is Expectation. And even on that wind there are sounds of living and life. The large ranch house sits quietly by, the work beginning to lull. The winery is what beckons. The lights are on and the path has been swept clean. It is as if the world were opening up to receive you.

Within the winery, the fountain's water is lifting and falling in some poetic rhythm, chiming against the marble. And there are two within. As approach is made toward the winery the air would be more and more heavy with a dual presence. That feeling shall be confirmed whenever you open that door and head within. For there you shall find Ian Dunross with a new glass of wine. And with him, His Other, draped over and quite commandeering the cask room's sofa. What can you feel of mood? There is, perhaps, some anxiousness. Perhaps you are merely....eagerly anticipated. But all else seems at peace. Calm. William is clothed, but only in some last minute arrangement. He wears only a pair of cotton trousers, loose and tied to him by a drawstring.

At the arrival, Ian turns about. He is casually dressed, the swirl around him, the rapidly shifting emotional upheaval, seems a bit more sedate. Not dealt with, to be sure, but simply put on the back burner. Not worried about for now. He is dressed like William, in white trousers with a drawstring, but being who he is, he wears a white robe that is loosely tied. On his feet, a pair of dark slippers. He smiles pleasantly enough, but the anxiousness is a true thing...it wears upon him in his glances over to William.

It does not take long before the Toreador Primogen's own Presence can be felt...she has gotten strong, has she not? Even before her boots can be heard upon the drive, perhaps she can be felt. But, she is not as anxious. Not as tense. No, she is much more quiet. Not calm...just quiet. Indeed, has she really even been heard from since the Halloween party? This one has been spending her time, collecting her thoughts, mulling them over, considering the news and what it means... Before long, the door opens and it is as if a figure of shadows enters the cask room. But, it is not the shadows...merely a darkly clad Tori.

Even her blue specs have returned. She has been reflecting,

certainly...meditating. As she stands just past the doorway, letting the door close quietly behind her, she nods to each of you in turn and murmurs softly, "I came as quickly as I could." Her voice remains steady, calm. This is not a picture of upset or sadness. This is more of a picture of quiet strength.

For all the ...anxiousness... that is within, there is still steadiness.

Perhaps...fortitude is the better definition. And defined by William's own gaze. For though he is draped against the sofa, a sprawl not half so lordly as it is damnably comfortable, he is quite alert. Quite awake. As the door opens, there is a look to Ian -- and an understanding smile. Just slightly -- at the corners of his mouth. The Bond best conveys the rest. Indigo may be felt as well as its fiery color noted as the prince turns his head to the second primogen to grace his night. But this isn't business... certainly not any city business of his own -- this meeting is for something else entirely. Old habits force the old Ventrue to rise from his sprawl to greet the woman with courtesy. And does he note the ...appearance? Yes. And he knows what it means. William smiles a second time, a greeting this. "Good evening, Victoria..." And then, William half-turns to Ian. Shall you lead? And since he's up, the Norman heads toward wine...

"Hello," comes Ian's voice, hand moving behind his back. He smiles pleasantly, but it convey more in the lack of depth behind it. The anxiousness remains. He glances at the moving William and his lips twist as he says, "Would you like...something?" Oh, right. Victoria does not drink, does she? He sighs and glances at the casks, as if to follow through on his offer regardless.

Perhaps her gaze flickers between the two of you...to William as he heads for the wine...to Ian as he offers it. It is difficult to tell where she gazes from behind those blue lenses. A small smile appears upon her lips as Tori murmurs, "Thank you, but no... Though, the offer is appreciated." And still, she stands there, just inside the room, not truly entering or leaving...in a balance. She has no idea what this meeting is about, and the two of you can be certain that she is curious about it. However, great restraint is being shown. The purpose of this meeting will be revealed in due time...and she knows that.

Warmth. It is held in his expression and in his gaze as William looks over his shoulder to Ian. "No blood on tap, Victoria..." he murmurs in apology. To Ian, there is another look. A broader smile. "And would you care for something, ami, while I am here?" The baritone voice is languid, smooth in its intonation. The southern French accent thick upon his words. "Once I get back to that sofa... I am not promising I will get up soon again..." comes the mull of his voice as he taps a cask of Flagrante. There is humor there, and something else. Something more profound. Affection? For you both. And to ease the...thickness of the air.

Oh, comes from Ian's nods and the circle of his lips. He smiles and stands there in his spot, holding his glass. Another glance at William, then his grey eyes blink and widen, "Oh...um.." his brow furrows, "...um...want to sit down?" he gets out to Victoria before swiveling off-step to blink at William too. "No...I

"This isn't a business meeting or some affair of state," says the prince, that smile yet on the tone of his voice as he turns from the cask. "Have a seat... relax... " And with that, the Norman moves back to his sofa...

"No, no," Ian agrees, lacking in his own voice for the instant, "...it's...more..." he glances at Will, "...more social and...social." There. He smiles and moves back towards his own seat at the end of the sofa that William commands. Hand pushes at the pile of pillows there, they still warm from where he's sat for a little while. "Oh, I didn't tell you that the...Halloween event you had was delightful, really. Seems people had a lovely time."

There is a slight nod toward Ian and a soft, "Thank you," from Tori as she is now in motion. Eventually, she stops at a chair. Her boots are removed in front of it...and instead of sitting on the chair, she...well...perches upon it. It might be strange to see...but William's seen her do this before. In time, once she relaxes, she might actually sit akimbo in the chair, but for now...she perches. "So, what is this about?" she finally asks with a warm smile to the room, it seems. Who knows who she's looking at? Resting her wrists upon her knees, she seems to wait...letting whatever everyone seems so anxious about to just come out. She'll find out what's going on...afterall, that's why she was called over, wasn't it? Swiveling her head toward Ian now, she smiles to him and murmurs, "Thank you...I'm glad it went over so well..."

"Yes," Ian nods, still futzing with his area...more specifically his robe. "It was...a nice time. I was surprised to be asked about the costume judging," he smiles at William, "...but it was a bit of fun, huh, Will?" eyes shining at his companion. Something new shared. But then, there's a feel from them that a lot is new, perhaps.

"I couldn't think of anyone who could have done a better job of it," the Toreador Primogen offers quietly with a smile.

Wine is balanced by some miracle of a the patron saint of unstained furniture as William settles back upon the couch. It takes a moment for his Norman bulk to be content, but once he is there he stays. A sigh to signal the king is comfortable -- you may now go about your evening. His head rests against the several pillows at his back, black hair draped against them. He lies in such a way that he may look to you both. And as Ian speaks to him of the judging, there is a pure smile. Pure, even from him -- even from that mouth that seems to know nothing of purity. William motions for Ian to sit nearer his arms rather than his feet, and then looks to Victoria. "I had a lovely time," he seconds. "I liked the judging. It saved me the embarrassment of being a contestant." He chuckles quietly and takes a sip of wine. Eyes seeking Ian again, to see if he is going to move.

Tori chuckles at William's comment, but otherwise has nothing else to say of the matter. It was a good night, it got good reviews in the paper, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. She's content. Another Toreador event done well, in her books.

There's a moment of quiet from Ian as he looks into his glass. "I guess," he inhales, "...I should just get to it," eyes flickering at William. Christ. Does not the room nearly twist with the fighting energy around him? "I...we...had begun," he scoots closer to William's side, "...we were in the middle of..." he sighs, "...discussingsomethingsafewweeksagoandI'dliketocontinue," all blurted out in a finishing exhale. Blonde hair falls at his face and between the strands, grey eyes peer ahead, then quickly left.

Maybe Tori blinks at this, but the rest of her face remains calm...not betraying any blink that might have happened in concealment. She nods slowly, instead, murmuring, "Okay...go on..." Her voice is smooth and soft...encouraging.

The old knight's arm -- the one free of wine -- drapes downward to lie against his lover's shoulders. A touch of his hand to Ian's shoulder and hair, and then his gaze lifts to Tori. Electric morning glory color -- alive. William returns his attention to Ian. His gaze meaning-crammed.

"That's it," Ian says, a random twist manifesting around his expression. First at his eye, at his nose. It disappears somewhere after passing his cheek, fading perhaps into his blonde locks. "If there is time...on the schedule." Eyes glance at William again, as if checking something.

Tori murmurs softly, "What was it that we had begun discussing, Ian?"

Perhaps she just missed something.

The glance at William has a faint frown in it. Ian licks his bottom lip and looks back at Tori, "The...part..." he exhales, "...with...learning how to see..differently."

"Oh," Tori says quietly, then smiles. Nodding slightly, she murmurs after this, "Of course...we can continue with that, if you'd like."

"I am exceedingly comfortable," comes the mull of William's voice. He then settles back against the cushions and sofa. Another exhale. A hand remains on Ian's shoulder. Finger's barely touching. But his presence is known there.

"Might I stay?"

William adds softly, edged with a smile. "Perhaps... even I might learn something..."

"I have no problem with William staying for this, Ian. It is up to you," she murmurs. Tori has long passed the point of being embarrassed about her abilities. If she can share the knowledge, it will make her happy.

Tori's lips curl up slightly and she replies to William, "And if you do...then you owe me..." Tori then chuckles.

"We don't..." Ian looks to each of you, "...have to do this now," he nods at Tori, hearing her, "...just...I was...just..." brow furrowing at the word, "...asking." He tries to smile for William's humor, but the grin is small. Nervousness still remains around him, however, he listening quietly to the banter.

"Whenever you would like," Tori finally says, leaving it open for the two of you to decide when the lessons will continue.

Asking. That brings a smile to William. "I will be your... test rabbit," he means guinea pig, certainly, "...if you wish. I do not mind, amours," and as he speaks, his gaze lowers to where Ian is sitting. Indigo brilliant, dark but bright. "We do not have to do it now, of course. But... why not?"

There's a shrug from Ian. A desire to see...and a desire, as is always with him, not to be seen. He does not have an answer for William's prodding, save a feeling of wishing to now run away. "It is late," he offers, "...or maybe Victoria has other things to occupy her time."

The feeling is something that William can feel, and so.. he falls quiet. Content, seemingly, to drink his wine. A skim of his fingers against Ian's skin. Against blonde hair. He sits back.

"Ian, it is your decision. If this is why I was called here this eve, then now is as good a time as any. However, if you do not feel comfortable trying now, I understand," Tori murmurs softly, reassuringly. She's changed since the last discussion on this occurred. She's become calmer, more understanding...or at least more patient.

He sighs, glancing at William again. Ian nods oddly, even though there is but silence. To Victoria, he turns his grey eyes and murmurs, "Maybe...alright...I guess something," he affirms, taking a quick drink of his glass finally. "Like?" he wonders, eyes narrowing at Tori as if expecting chastisement upon instruction.

But he doesn't find that chastisement. All he finds is Tori's smile. She tries hard to comfort and put him at ease. Speaking in soft tones, she murmurs, "For now, just relax... Try to calm down and just let your body relax. For now, you are not trying to learn anything...you are just listening to my voice.. You can enjoy your wine and enjoy the company of those around you... but for now, there must be calm..."

Indigo eyes lift to Tori. She is the teacher here. He, he is only an observer. Albeit it a rather large one. With the next tilting of his glass, the wine is swallowed. The glass is set aside. William looks from Tori to Ian. Both arms free, he rolls slightly, so that both arms may wind about his lover's shoulders. Lightly.

But he can't relax...not the center of attention as this. "Actually, I need...a bit of air," Ian murmurs, eyes left and then ahead. He swallows and sets his glass aside, giving William a small smile for the reassuring embrace. "If you..." both, "...don't mind." He begins to rise slowly, letting William's hands fall gently, "I...will be back in a moment, please."

Tori smiles softly and nods once, murmuring, "Of course."

Still in her perch upon the chair, Tori falls silent, letting Ian do as he will. She knows this isn't easy for him...and it won't get easy. Patience is needed now...and she seems to have lots of it.

There is a soft Gaelic phrase spoken, and William rolls back. His gaze follows Ian as he rises. Love... is easy to see. And all that comes with it. Here and now there is no mask over it. Love is not hidden in the name of discretion. William smiles, nodding once to Ian. "I will be here on this sofa when you return...mais oui..."

A blonde nod is the reply, a quiet thanks to you both. He stands with a smile for William's words, letting the silk robe fall around him. Feet pad silently as he heads to the verandah behind, where moonlight rains between the colonnade, and where breezes come up the lawn to the edifice. Open windows will show him out there, the door closed behind him as he went, walking between the columns and towards the manicured maze and lawn.

Tori turns her face toward you now, murmuring, "He's still having troubles, isn't he?"

"It is a long story, cher," William murmurs. "But... trust me, he is stronger than he has ever been..." After a moment, William sits up, crossing his legs upon the sofa. Years of yoga show in the ease with which his large frame is able to readjust itself so quickly. Gracefully. "But, it is still difficult for him to... ask for help. Or... for anything. As you had your fear of violence from your sire, he has things from his. More than this..." He inclines his head, indigo eyes upon you. "...is his to tell. But... know that he is trying very hard. Fifty years ago, the attempt would never have been made. He would have...simply taken what he wanted."

Tori nods slowly, still perching upon that chair, her leather trenchcoat spreading out around her protectively. Her voice lowers slightly and murmurs, "So, was this the only purpose of my visit here this eve?" It is a simple question and not one that is meant to insinuate. She merely wishes to be certain that everything's been brought up that was going to...but then again, she knows you. She knows there's always something left unsaid.

For now, talk of Ian is dropped...out of respect for him. She understands what he's going through...to some small extent.

There is plenty left unsaid. But the answer comes easily. "Yes..." William smiles broadly at the simple answer. Knowing that Tori knows it is anything but simple. "But, even so, I shall enjoy your company, yes? Business or no business. Lesson or no lesson..." His words pause as William turns his head. First toward a feeling. And then toward an entrance.

The door clicks softly as Ian comes back in, padding across the room. He looks up at William's words, moving to retake his seat near him. Clearing his throat, he seems to have cleared some of the confusion and hesitance that enveloped him. The shield that has surrounded him for years still remains askew, however, and instinctively, he pulls at his robe once he settles onto the sofa.

Tori nods once, then glances up, following William's own gaze. Seeing Ian, she smiles and murmurs, "There you are...I might have thought of a slightly different approach to this..."

A different approach? Ian's eyes are interested. His hand skips across the cushion to reach for William's, but his eyes are upon Victoria.

The Norman is now sitting cross-legged upon the sofa. The loose trouser fabric pulling at his thighs and gathered elsewhere. He lifts his hand to Ian's easily, fingers grasping his own a moment after. The sensuous mouth is claimed by the pull of a smile. The birth of a grin. William looks from Ian to Tori and settles comfortably where he sits. For a time, he shall be quiet. And he shall dwell in curiosity and adoration.

"If you'll indulge me for a moment?" Tori asks, tilting her face toward Ian. She's asking permission to explain what's going on inside her head at the moment, obviously regarding the 'lesson'.

He nods, Ian does, continually looking at William for reassurance. "Of course," he replies, setting free hand in his silken lap.

"Alright then... If I might ask...is it the attention you are being made uncomfortable by? I know this is prying...and you don't have to answer...but if it, I have a suggestion," Tori continues softly, cautiously.

Reassurance sought is reassurance found. William sits quietly, indigo eyes traveling from Ian to Victoria. His head is inclined and the long portions of his hair lies against his cheekbones. Eyes quite nearly veiled by it. The smile remains, but only at the corners of his mouth. Held there, hinted at. William gives Ian's fingers a squeeze with his own, and then he lifts it to his mouth. A brief kiss placed. All without thinking of whether or not they will be seen doing so.

"I..." Ian begins, "I...I just want...to finish," he manages, not really addressing the question or backing from the answer. That's all he really knows. Whatever it takes to finish. The rest...he'll sort out. "I would like to finish," he reiterates, "...what's...the suggestion?"

It is so easy to know how small he feels, how exposed...how weak and stupid. Remnants of another time, another place. Another being who taught him enough to get by. The panic is there -- he'd rather go inside and never think of learning another thing...how did he get into this in the first place? What an idiot he must look like now. What must she think of this Ian that sits before her. Familiar shame rises, sticking at his throat, and he seems on the verge of simply calling this off for good.

Alright, we'll do it your way. Tori nods briefly and murmurs, "I will seat myself with my back to the two of you. William will face me...Ian will watch William's back... So, I will see no one. William will see me. Ian will see both of us." And perhaps Ian will not feel so pressured into seeing something. No eyes will be on him.

"I can do this," William murmurs, his voice languid, and soft. There is something on the air between them. The air is charged. Though the reasons for why this is a significant moment aren't elaborated, there is no doubt but that it is significant. The air is alive with it. But from William there is only the constant, quiet strength. And love in every look to Ian. Respect in every look to Tori. "How sits this with you?" he murmurs to Ian, turning his gaze to him.

He nods quickly, Ian does, squeezing William's hand. "Okay," he whispers at him, as if William would be his confidante in this. Maybe he would convey...what Ian somehow means. Apparently, the young man cannot. Grey eyes look at Tori, but it is unlikely that is she that is seen. He feigns a small smile, but William is the one he knows. "Okay," he agrees, apparently going along with the stranger's suggestion.

William nods to Ian, and begins to unfold himself from the sofa....

Tori stands upon the chair and jumps lightly down. The jacket and scarf are tossed haphazardly upon the chair, left behind as she moves to seat herself upon the floor, some distance away from the sofa. "Now, do not think you have to see something right now, Ian...but if you do, this will be the beginning... But, let's see if this helps..." she murmurs, finally finding herself upon the floor, facing away from the two of you.

Letting William's hand go, Ian watches you both move. He does not say anything, nor does he take a quick drink...the glass appears long forgotten.

A sound without words leaves his throat as William rises and stretches upon standing. Where light lands upon him, darker skin can be seen beneath the thin cotton of his trousers. But only for a moment. Half-turning, William takes a last look at Ian and there arises the famous... or is it infamous?... grin. "I'm getting too old to sit on floors," he mutters, teasing. As if a twenty-four year old is too old. William settles on the floor, cross-legged again.

"Okay, when you're ready, Ian, say so...and I'll try to walk you through this," Tori's voice says quietly.

Seeing without being seen. Being without being Known. That is the world that Ian knows best. As you both are turned from him, you can hear an inhale. A sudden...quiet. Calmer he becomes. "I see colors all the time," he can say now, in his confessional of one. "They just...everything has a color." Even light bulbs. He sighs, but inhales again and braces himself.

Tori does not look back now.

Tori nods slowly, "Alright...seeing the colors is one thing..." And the fact that you've been seeing them is sort of news to her, but she doesn't dwell on it. "...figuring out what they mean is another, altogether. Are you seeing any colors now?"

"No," Ian says, "...it just...comes and goes. Sometimes," he sighs, "...it is just waves, like water, and I can't...see at all." Even regular sight.

William closes his eyes. So long as he is going to be sitting, he may as well meditate. There is a sudden focus -- of his power, of his appearance. Beauty that sharpens. As if the universe clicked in place for him with the intake of a breath. The breath is held and he sits straight. Perfection ... in form, in posture. Slowly, the breath is released. The words swirl around him. But he hears.

"How do you feel when you see the colors?" she asks softly, quietly, soothingly.

"Blind," Ian whispers, sounding tired. Hating that he ever went this direction...hating his own failure in it all.

Tori nods and thinks for a moment. Then she murmurs, "How about just before seeing the colors?"

"Dizzy...like I cannot focus," Ian replies, keeping his...vulnerability...to simple phrases. Any more might be taxing. "Just...I cannot control my...seeing."

"Alright... Try to keep that feeling in mind...remember how it feels. But, if you feel like you are losing control...of sight...of anything...try to regain control. Just as things go out of focus, control it...hold onto it. But don't sink further into it..." she murmurs softly. Her voice continues, almost droning, monotone...she's trying hard to keep him relaxed... She will forget what he tells her tonight, because it is not for her to know... She is not truly focusing on his answers...merely trying to talk him through it...

William sits still, but there is slight movement from him -- else, he would disappear. At least for one of you. Lashes lift, black parting slightly. Indigo glimmering behind them. A moment passes, and he closes his eyes again....

"I can't focus," comes Ian's voice, "I have tried..."

"In order to make use of the colors, of the auras, you must learn control over the spells. It will unlock many things for you if you can do this... You know control. You are a master of it. I have seen it. Others have seen it. Harness that if you can, remember...let your body and your mind remember what it is to remain in control right at that moment of unfocusing...." Still her voice drones on softly. She's not trying to argue...merely trying to offer suggestions...trying to offer ways around his difficulties without directly prying. "If the colors come while we are here, focus on something...even my voice. Use anything as a focus...anything...anything at all..."

The turning of eyes has helped steady him, but Ian is tired already. He leans upon your strength here. Is this the first time you can feel him giving up? Wishing something was over. His eyes are upon you, watching you breathe. In it, his own breathing matches...

The silence intimates agreement. He understands what Tori wishes done, but it does not mean he can accomplish it. Ian remains quiet for a long moment, minute, which turns into a pregnant pause...

Tori falls silent, as well, just letting Ian have peace...perhaps focusing upon the silence might help. Who knows. She's willing to try to help in any way possible.

All the while, William sits still. Silent. Or is he. His expression is placid, countenance beautiful. A soul at peace, for all appearances. His breathing is steady. Natural. There is neither smile, nor frown. The air is alive. Sounding, where he is silent. Conveying, where he seems to say nothing...

Another moment...five. Twenty. Yet in one of those heavy breaths of William's, some place where space and time intersect...there comes a chuckle. Suddenly, it's stifled. A snicker. A sigh. All in all...surprise and pleased ease. Caught for an instant. The words come in Gaelic, easiest way to speak something revelatory. "Your hair, Will...it's...bluish..." Ian whispers, voice softly tickled to see something around the one he loves most. A small joke, perhaps it is the simplest way to feel what he now sees.

You always know... Ian feels, a smile in his heart. You always...remind me...and I remember and I'm less afraid. There are images of the things you learned, the connections made. Perhaps his learning is like yours. Maybe he is not so isolated and alone. You...managed to learn, with strength, love, and fun. Maybe he can do the same.

Tori murmurs softly, "William...this is a very personal, yet important question... Are you feeling intense feelings of love currently?" The question might seem strange...and very intrusive...but both of you know she wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

A raven brow lifts. A light arch. And for the first time in many moments, there is the smooth pull of a smile. The smile transforms to a grin. "Oui... " And upon the edge of that smile, a soft chuckle. William opens his eyes slightly, looking to Tori. But he can feel Ian. "Very much so... I take it ... it is a little obvious, yes?"

"Congratulations, Ian..." Tori murmurs softly, still not looking back. "You have witnessed a true aura color...blue like that means love. You now know your first meaning, too." You did it. It worked. You can hear the pride in her voice... she is proud of you, Ian...yes, you did it.

I love... thought cut off by a wince. Clutter. Noise. Unfocused. He's silent suddenly, trying to fight...

There's a groan from Ian, a stiffening. As if trying to stiffen himself against something...

And then Tori's voice focuses back on the task at hand, saying softly, "Fight it, Ian... Let your body remember control...take control of the moment. Don't let it take over...then it's won... Fight it..." There is almost an unspoken warning to William...do not turn to him...let Ian do this.

Indigo dawns as eyes slowly open. Evening Becoming. William sits completely still. No move is made to turn to Ian now. But his strength? Ian always can grasp him and use it.

He continues to struggle, to try and get on top of this lesson. But still the insecurity comes. What if I have lost that...control? What if I gave it up...to change? They are not expressed so firmly, more in shadows and hazy tugs of his heart.

After a moment, there comes a grunted sigh. As if letting something go. There's nothing from Ian then, save the rustle of his robe. Perhaps a hand. "It's just blue," he shrugs, not sure what he is supposed to be seeing. "That...is that it?" Whatever was upon him, it has been rebuffed for now.

"You see the color...the other half of the ability is to be able to interpret the color. I'm sorry if it's not what you expected," Tori says softly.

William opens his eyes, his attention is on Victoria -- it is her he can see. "Blue is love..." he murmurs, having not known that. It is filed away.

Tori nods slowly, murmuring, "Yes.. blue is love... You can tell much about what a person is feeling by seeing the colors of their aura. It can even tell you what they are. Ian, did the color seem vivid, yet slightly pale?"

"No..." Ian says softly, sounding tired, "...just...I didn't know what would happen." Question more to the tune of 'was that right?' He comes from his haze after his response, nodding, "Aye..just..bright but...soft." If that makes sense.

Nodding once more, Tori murmurs quietly, "Yes...you saw it then... That softness, that paleness, indicates William is a vampire. Keep that in mind. Colors in mortal auras will be brighter. I believe werewolves' auras are even brighter than those of mortals..." Keep that in your mental databases folks.

"How...is that?" Ian asks while he has you both still turned. "How...why is that..." what you say....

"It is just the way it is... no one's ever been able to properly explain it. Perhaps it is that the stronger the life-force, the brighter the colors? I do not know, really. I'm sorry," Tori replies softly, still looking away.

"So we have...less life force?" Ian asks, almost upset at the thought. This counters his worldview. "Dead...does not mean without force...clearly...we have force or we would...be truly gone..." Stupid philosophy. And with that, security returns. Someone else in this is stupid...and it's not him. Who made that crap up? More than likely some stupid mage...

Okay, so he won't argue with anyone here. Ian sighs and settles in his sudden superior agitation, comfortable always in that role. But the other is still there, and it's a gentle voice that says, "Merci...Tori..." French safer than English.

There is movement. Finally. William leans back, head inclined, tilted back -- and for the first time in the passing moments, he looks at his own mate. A smile upon his features. Just merely held upon his lips, but expressed in the warmth across his expression. The color of his eyes and the fire that seems lit behind them. "In San Francisco... the Toreador girls used to try to 'cleanse my aura'. They used to go around saying "heavy, William, heavy"... I thought they were just doped up..." He chuckles a little. San Francisco was such a miserable half-century for him...

"Well, perhaps I worded that incorrectly. Those who are more attached to life? I don't know. Perhaps the werewolves would argue that those who are closer to mother earth have a brighter aura. I don't know. As I said, I don't completely understand it...it's just the way it is." And that's it, really. It's the way it always has been. "Other colors will come to you...if you cannot figure out the co-responding emotion, feel free to ask." She does not mind. She will remain looking away until she is told to turn around. She then falls silent for the time-being.

There's a smile for you, bright and proud. Ian looks at Tori a long moment, then massages his face with his hands. He's ready to lie down.

"Oh," Ian says softly. One could imagine his lips circled perfectly in animated surprise. "I guess...maybe I will understand one day." Concession to someone who presumably knows more. He's quiet a second before he offers, "Um...you..." both, "...don't have to sit on the floor anymore..." he murmuring low.

Tori slowly begins to unfold herself to turn around. However, she remains on the floor, sitting akimbo there. "But I like it here...it's comfy," she offers with a child-like grin, then a chuckle.

"It will all come in time," William murmurs, French easing from his tongue. It flows from him in a way English is simply...unable. With a languor that elongates his every word. He turns, indigo cast past a broad shoulder. "If I can learn how to play golf, you can learn this..." There is a smile. And more there. Quiet laughter. The ease of sound is throat-held, resonating in his chest. To that child-like response. "My noble ass can't bear it," William gruffs, beginning to rise a moment after.

Tori snickers slightly and murmurs, "Hmm...perhaps I should bite my tongue..."

There's no comment for that, Ian's brow only raising in sharp angle as response. He sits back in his seat now that you two are engaged again, and his grey eyes look to William for a long moment before drifting back to Tori. Not knowing what to say, thanks already said, Ian simply smiles and shrugs a little at the lady, eyes falling to his lap and brushing the silk there as he waits for William to pick the conversation up once more.

A chuckle for Tori's comment yet again, and a smirk that crosses over his mouth. A slant, both wry and wicked. William settles upon the sofa with a theatric groan. "Dieu..." As if he's old. As if. William reclines with a broad and vipered grin, indigo eyes flickering in a wink.

Chuckling a bit, Tori's gaze flickers back to Ian. Her mirth soon fades away, but she still smiles softly at Ian, murmuring, "Are you ok?" It is out of concern. He doesn't have to answer the question if it makes him uncomfortable, however.

He shrugs. A complex question, but for this instant, this immediate exercise, he follows with a nod. "I think so," Ian manages to smile, folding his hands in his lap. "Merci...again..."