Camille and Richard Meet

Camille stretched out on the grass, his pencil moving swiftly across his sketchpad, enjoying the soothing sound of lead on paper. The fear was starting to fade now. Slowly. Every now and again, a branch in the trees above him would creak, or a bush would rustle, and he would freeze, or begin to shake, but on the whole, he was feeling almost... relaxed. He sat back, admiring his handiwork. His recovery was starting to show in his art, now. The lines were more flowing, less shaky, the page filled with natural, warm colours... greens, pale blues, browns and reds... This particular sketch was of the garden seat, with the delicate trellis of roses. There was nothing dark, or artificial about this sketch, as the drawings of the weeks before had been.

As the moon emerged from behind the clouds, he was almost positive about the life that was ahead of him.

((I shall read the 'sun' as the moon >> ))

Richard strolled along the path, enjoying the gentle breeze on his face in the warming weather. The fringe, that looked more like a bunch of fluff on top of his forehead, was pinned down discreetly under his hair, using some hair-slides he had brought in the nearby town.

Baby-blue eyes took in the garden. He loved it this time of year. It was filled with vibrant colours, ranging from deep greens to dusty pinks. He never liked the Garden to much in the Italian summer, where everything will turn into a more yellow colour from the heat and sun.

His roaming eyes soon spotted another, unknown figure. Deciding it is best to introduce himself, he walked over to the red-head, as vibrant in colour as the rest of the garden.

He stood awkwardly in front of the boy for a few seconds, before he introduced himself.

"Hello. I guess you are new here?" Well, that was sort of pointing out the obvious. "I am Richard, by the way."

Camille scrambled to his feet, clutching his sketchbook to his chest. "Umm... hello." he hesitated for a moment. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Camille."

For some reason, he was not as scared of this boy as he was the others. Perhaps it was because they were a similar age and height, and therefore, he wasn't as much of a threat. He allowed himself to sit back down again, patting the grass beside him for the other vampire to sit down.

Richard took a step back when he watched the, seemingly skittish, boy stand up, defensive looking in his stance. Patiently, he waited for the boy to speak.

"Nice to meet you, Camille." He gently replied, quickly picking up on how nervous the red-head was.

The young looking vampire sat down, and he was momentarily surprised to be asked to sit down next to him. He gladly took the offer, sitting cross legged on the grass.

Baby-blue eyes were drawn to the sketchpad in the red-heads arms.

"So, I guess you like art then?"

Camille nodded. "It's a hobby."

That was an understatement. It was his master who had first taught him, and now, after all that had happened, it brought back slightly painful memories for him, of the times when Sergei had been gentle, when he had guided Camille's hand, smiling at him. He had been everything to Camille... like a employer, a teacher, a parent, a brother... and a lover. The boy blushed slightly, remembering. But everything had changed so fast. He missed Sergei as he used to be. Not what he had become. Painting brought back the happiness he had felt when he had been in Sergei's arms, and the pain when his master became someone he did not recognise. It was the only way he knew how to express himself, never having had a gift with words.

He was never anywhere without his sketchbook, and he was never anywhere without his memories, either.

He shook himself out of it. "What about you? Do you like to draw?"

His pencil started to dart across the page once more, and he glanced at the other vampire, a little nervously, from beneath a fringe of long black lashes. It was not something that Richard would probably understand, but it was a sign of his trust that Camille let him see him draw. In the redhead's eyes, art was an expression of emotion, and therefore, his drawings were very private, very personal to him, and he did not usually allow strangers to watch him sketch. He threw a shaky smile at the other man.

"You seem to be very talented at it."

He leaned a little to the side to look at them, before answering: "Yes. Like you, it is only a hobby. I find quiet the stress reliever. Which is why I only do quick sketches, or water-colour paintings. I tend to get frustrated even more over oil paintings, or lose interest in them after a few days."

Twisting the sliver ring on his right hand, he watched Camille sketch in silence settled in. His lips turned into their own soft curve back at the young looking vampire.

This was nice, Richard decided. After the few spats he had been in, it was relaxing to sit in peace. Sure, while he barely knew the vampire, he did not have that feeling of dislike he had towards some of the others.

Camille blushed deeply at the compliment. "Thank you." He wasn't very good at making conversation, being quite shy, and uncertain of what to say to strangers. But he would try.

"I should like to see your paintings some day." he ventured. "Do you draw landscapes? It's a beautiful area here."

Richard looked momentarily surprised at the request. A light pink of his own entered his cheeks.

"They're nothing special. They are mostly of flowers. Sometimes of people." The pink soon drained from his cheeks. "And I have to agree, it is beautiful around here. Though, it looks a little dead in he summer and winter."

Richard fell silent again, a little unsure of what to say so that he did not see impolite. Baby-blue roamed the garden again, then they fell back on the red-head, with a question to continue the conversation in his head.

"Have you been to Italy before?"

Camille nodded again. "Je suis originaire de Bretagne, en France. But when Sergei turned me, he brought me to Rome. So I've lived in Italy for a while now. That's how I managed to get here so quickly."

He tried to ignore the feelings rushing back to him with the memory, and his hand faltered for a moment in its sketching.

"Ah, I see."

Richard paused, letting his knuckles run across the soft grass, not pushing the vampire into asking who Sergei was, despite his curiosity.

"I guess that makes us enemies then, with myself being English." Richard gave the young looking vampire a weak smile and tiny laugh at his 'joke'. Comedy really was not his expertise, Richard mused gloomily.

He shifted awkwardly. His eyesight fell back onto his hands as he twisted the other ring.

((*kicks bbys*))

Camille cocked his head, smiling in a confused sort of way. He didn't really get the joke, but he understood that Richard was not being serious. He put it down to English humour, and quickly changed the subject.

"You want some?" he quickly tore out a piece of paper, offering it to the other boy. "I think I've got a pencil in...ah!" he pulled out a pencil from the bag, looking at Richard expectantly. He did genuinely want to see the boy's art.

Richard was once more surprised, but he quickly took the paper graciously, thanking the boy.

He rolled the pencil between his hands. 4B. Soft enough for sketching. Eyes-roamed the garden, which he had already drawn out multiple of times in different mediums. From dark inks to bright pastels. Nothing quiet catching his interest, he decided to just draw whatever his hand decided to draw.

"Sorry if the drawing is going to look off. I have no reference." He stated under his breath. "Or something to lean on."

He made some swift lines and shapes. Multiple objects flew into his head on what the very basic sketch could be, but it struck him as a person, from waist up. The pencil etched basic shading into the sketch, from the shape it was slowly forming, it looked to be male.

He stopped and looked up at Camille apologetically. "Sorry, I am not that talkative when doing any sort of drawing."

Camille rolled onto his stomach, starting to feel more relaxed now that they had something in common. His legs waved idly in the air, as he watched the young man sketch.

"That's fine." he reassured him. He was content so long as they got on. And in a way, it relieved the pressure of having to talk.

His eyes followed the movements of the pencil over the paper, and began to pick out... a man? Was it any person in particular? He didn't ask the question, but turned it over in his mind. Friend? Brother? Lover? It was amazing how much you could learn about someone from their art, and the cautious, tentative way that Richard drew spoke volumes.

"It's good." he murmured.

Richard watched in the corner of his eye as Camille rolled on his stomach in a childish manner - making him look a lot younger then what he truly looked like. Which begged another question.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

He turned his attention back to the drawing. It had a bit more of a shape now - broad shoulders, ideal body. At first, Richard assumed he was going to draw what his mind imagined his brother would look like if everything went 'as planned'. Older, around the thirty mark. He would often draw the waist chunkier, to show indulgence after deciding to run the country, rather then playing dangerous sports. The slimmer waist he drew went against that.

Pausing again, he asked for a rubber to rid of lines that were of no use, out stretching his palm.

Camille hummed. "I was turned when I was seventeen, but technically..." he paused to consider it, "a hundred and sixty-three."

He handed Richard the rubber, glancing back down at the sketch. It looked... a little like Richard himself, only not... older, less delicate-looking. He presumed a family member, though he was not entirely sure which.

"I'm guessing you're about the same too?"

Richard turned to Camille, his face subtle shook. He was expecting a lower age - for both of them. Shaking it off, he answered Camille.

"I was turned when I just hit sixteen, but I an three-hundred and thirty-eight years old."

He stopped mid-sketch. Saying it out loud, something that he rarely did, made him realise just how long he had walked this earth. Seeing people born, then die while he lived what almost felt like forever. It was unnatural. He wondered how Giacinto does it.

Quickly shrugging the thoughts off, he began to shade out muscle, creating the skin tone even darker. Surprisingly so, considering he rarely drew people outside his family. Rubbing out a few lines with he rubber that was passed to him, he was careful not smudge the drawing, unless it was purposefully done. The face, which was blank, begged to be detailed. Carefully, he began to fill in rough details. As with all of his drawings, he slowly began to reco- He came to a halt, instinctively recognising the face and that little smirk.

Face glowing red, he scrunched the paper up without a seconds thought.

"Can I have another?"

Camille almost dived after it. "No! Don't do that! It's good!"

It was silly, but he hated people destroying art. Drawings and paintings were like something living. They were born, they developed emotion and character, and they would deteriorate slowly with age. To destroy something living like that... it seemed brutal.

He handed the boy another piece, but picked up the discarded sketch, unfolding it. "If you don't keep that, I will."

Richard almost jumped out his skin, this was the loudest the boy had been during their very short time together as he watched the boy dive for the paper.

At first he gladly let the let the boy take the sketch away from him, and taking the new piece of paper. But watching him unfold it made... Something, swell up inside, causing him to snatch the drawing back, holding it close to him. He gave the boy a short and clip: "Mine."

He hostly did not care how childish that was or sounded. But that picture was his, and he really did not want anyone to see it. It baffled him a little, but he kept the childish act up, stuffing a the scrunched piece of paper into his pocket. Using the new paper, he started a new drawing - keeping strictly to flowers. His body was scrunched up, and his face still glowed, while he sketched faster then before, ignoring the boy.

Camille sat stunned for a moment, before bursting out laughing. He was surprised, both at Richard's reaction, and his own. It felt good to laugh again. It had been so many years since he had last laughed, and now he felt almost... natural once more. He hoped that Richard did not take offence, as the laughter was not aimed at him. It was just that... he felt so relaxed, for once.

He stopped abruptly and smiled, a little sheepishly at the other boy. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. You just... surprised me a little."

It astonished him how Richard could bring him out of himself like this.

Richard flushed further, and curled into himself more as Camille laughed. If he was not too busy being flustered, he would of thought that the boy had a rather nice, easy laugh. Instead, Baby blue eyes glared at the boy, even after the sheepish explanation.

Darting his eyes back at the sketch, not as delicate looking as he normally drew, he muttered out; "I surprised myself..." Leaning his chin on his knees, he looked over the drawing that he quickly done in his embarrassment, and turned the piece of paper over, attempting to do another. The second drawing was to sloppy and rushed for his liking. Third time was the charm.

"...I guess you like art a lot then, if you really did not want me to destroy that drawing?"

Camille smiled nervously. Yes, he did. But he shrugged it off. "Well, it was such a beautiful sketch. It would be a shame to waste it. And you might regret it later. I often find with my paintings, that I hate them at first, but when I come back to them, they aren't so bad. Sometimes I even come to love them."

And then, sometimes he came back to paintings that he used to love, and barely recognised them. As if they had been drawn by somebody else's hand, not his own. He had changed a lot, he realised, from that carefree boy he used to be, back when Sergei loved him. He felt sad for a moment, then smiled hastily back at the other boy.

"I think you will come to treasure that one, one day."

"It is not that good." He muttered, then continued to listen to Camille.

Humming in the right places, he felt the bit of screwed up paper in his pocket. Come to treasure it one day? Somehow, that sounded more depressing that what the boy may of intended.

He did not notice the change of expression on the boys face, to busy with his own thoughts.

"We will see about that..."

Finishing of the quick sketches of the flowers, a rose and a tulip. They were not very detailed, but well shaded and red spider lily. A gardener would easily recognise what flower they were supposed to be. He turned the paper to show Camille.

"... Do you have other hobbies?"

Camille smiled his approval. "That's very good." he hesitated. But he still preferred the unfinished sketch. The flowers were beautiful, but that was all they were, really. Just flowers. The other sketch seemed so much more personal, somehow. Seemed to hold more emotion.

"Yes. I play piano, and harp amongst others, though my harp was destroyed in the fire that killed my master." his face darkened for a second, at the memory, before lighting up again. "I don't suppose you have any instruments here?"

Richard eyes flickered up at the boy as he told him about him the fate of this unknown master. Curiosity spiking, he did not push it. Instead, he answered the boys question.

"There is a rather beautiful harp in the ballroom, along with a piano along with a few other instruments." He felt like he could trust the boy with the ballroom, he did not seem the reckless type. Rather, he looked to be on the more meek and careful side. But, to be on the safe side, he quickly stated: "But please don't be reckless in there, and keep everything in order."

He looked up in thought, pausing for a few seconds to think. "And they may be a few harps in the storage room. Though, they will probably need repairing or tuning. Plus, if you have the money, there are shops in the near b town that you can buy them from. Though, with the nights getting shorter, it may be difficult for you to collect one."

"Thank you! I will be very careful." he promised. He paused before continuing. "I don't have any money, no. The only thing I could grab before I left the mansion was my shirt and sketch pad."

He had been in a state of panic, and yet he had still picked up his art book. His priorities were a little messed-up, he realised.