13603/A Meeting at Coney Island

A Meeting at Coney Island
Date of Scene:	08 July 2021
Location:	Coney Island
Synopsis:	Dracula visits an old haunt of Coney Island. He finds himself to be not alone and has a chat with Poseidon.
Cast of Characters:	Dracula, Poseidon

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Dracula has posed:
It's come to be late at night when there come threads of shadow to whisper across the beaches of Coney Island. The shadows start to gather at a particular point which happens to be furthest out on the peninsula, the most surrounded by the water. The one who controls the shadows isn't bothered by the water at all. The carnival lights have all been turned off for the night, and things are quiet. The tourists have left for the night, and there are light touches of a breeze that waft in from off the water.

The shadows wriggle and slither amongst each other, and there is suddenly a presence within that twisted mass of shadows. A presence that hadn't been there until just that moment. The shadows seem to grow darker briefly there, and then they slither to the ground and dissipate away across the sand and water near the shore.

Within the shadows, it would seem, there stands a man. He is a tall man, about six and a half feet tall, possessed of aristocratic features, dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a black mustache and goatee that are both neatly trimmed. He wears a pair of heeled black leather boots, a pair of black slacks, a black button-up shirt with a slightly silvery paisley pattern printed on it, a dark crimson vest, and a long black leather coat overtop of it. A black cane is held in his right hand, the end of it resting lightly upon the sand. His hair is black and long, reaching to between his shoulderblades in length, and the breeze lightly tugs at the curled strands of it at its own whims.

Poseidon has posed:
Within the water swim many things. Most of which cannot be seen for the darkness combined with the intervening water. For some things, the darkness is a hindrance. For others, not so much. For those others, it's not the lack of light that hinders sight. It's the sheer weight of the sea. Within the waters, a humpbacked whale moves with deceptively ponderous speed. To the naked eye, it looks like it's moving very slowly, because the whale's body movements are slow and deliberate. But in all practicality, the thing moves very quickly.

It breaches the surface not all that far from the shadows where Dracula stands, but far enough to stay off the sea bottom, of course. It clears the surface of the water, and splashes back down into it, only half of its body having cleared while it's tail remained within the water. The splash that goes up and out from the whale is huge, but not nearly enough to reach the dark clad man. However, the wave that the whale's play causes washes right up onto the shore, much farther than its companions. It licks at Dracula's boots.

The whale doesn't come to the surface again. Perched upon the closest light pole is an owl. A silvery colored owl. It doesn't stand out from any other owl except for the color. Then again, there are owls that come in shades of grey. But there's an almost, but quite, metallic sheen to this owl's feathers. Its head turns from the whale when it disappears to the shadows that hold a man. Those eyes look unerringly to the shadows, as though it sees within quite easily.

Dracula has posed:
There is a slight shift of the fingers of his right hand there where they rest upon the head of the cane that he holds. He stands in a manner that he not only seems familiar with but one which also seems comfortable for him. His dark gaze turns towards the water, to look into the depths of it. He has no influence over fish or other sea creatures, and instead has what might be called a certain curiosity towards the things of the sea. He doesn't eat them, but then... his appetite falls in the range of abnormal to start with. The man's dark gaze falls upon the humpbacked whale, watching it in its swimming path, perhaps more aware than others would be of just the speed it travels at.

The elder vampire watches as the whale breaches the surface, and he takes nary a step away from the point where he stands. A smile finds the corners of his lips, turning them up just a touch. As the wave finds its way of coming up so far as to lick at his boots, he glances down only briefly, one of his eyebrows nudging up slightly before his gaze turns back in the direction that the whale had been.

Yet instead of lingering upon that spot, he finds his dark gaze to be caught by and perhaps drawn to the silvery owl that is perched upon the light pole. Softly, he lifts his left hand to make a faint almost dismissive gesture, and the shadows that had lingered about him vanish away as though they had never been to start with.

Poseidon has posed:
That silvery owl fluffs its feathers and stares unblinkingly at Dracula for a long, lingering moment. Moment passed, the owl turns its head back toward the sea. The wings spread as it falls from the post top and into the currents of the air to wing off on its way to hunting dinner. Or breakfast, for the owl, perhaps? Along the owl's flight, a man can be seen lounging in one of the ferris wheel cars at mid hight, not far from where Dracula happens to be. He's not doing anything, just.. sitting there. An older man, if his appearance is any indication. Hair as silver as the owl's feathers had been, hangs down to his upper back. A thick silvery beard and mustache adorn his face.

His blue eyes watch the shadows as they disappear to reveal the man standing there. "Nice night for watching the ocean, isn't it?" From his vantage point, the dark clad man is easily within his sight. He probably saw the whale and the owl too. His gaze turns from Dracula and he looks out over the ocean. His expression content. Clearly, he likes being close to the ocean. Where he can smell the salt of it, feel the moisture of it, see the beauty of it.

Dracula has posed:
The elder vampire tilts his head a touch to one side as his gaze holds just as unblinkingly upon the owl as what it stares at him. He has no physical need to blink, after all. Just as he has no need for breathing, though this he does out of habit. People seem to become disturbed by the fact that he doesn't, and it sets them more at ease when he does. The danger he poses to them is the same either way, they simply realize it less when he appears more like them by breathing. His gaze follows the owl in its flight, though his attention shifts easily from the raptor to the man who rests within one of the ferris wheel cars. It might be said that the elder vampire is a touch intrigued and a whisper interested. It is not often that someone lures him thus.

Shifting his weight slightly, Vlad lifts the cane's butt from the sand before he starts to approach the ferris wheel -- to approach the fellow within it, more specifically. The cane's butt seldom touches the ground, and one might be drawn to wondering if he truly has need of it. "It is, indeed," he agrees, inclining his head towards the fellow. His voice holds a mild accent to it, old Romanian from a time before the country even existed, should one happen to have familiarity with such things -- Wallachia, as it was called then.. "The ocean is a beautiful mistress, calm or stormy as her moods wish to be, and many things betwixt the two. She grants life and home to many different creatures across the world," he says, a smile touching at the corners of his lips.

Poseidon has posed:
As old as Poseidon is, in reality, the elder vampire, however old he is, is little to no danger to him. It stands to reason that if a cane's butt end rarely touches the ground, chances are very good that it's not really needed. Poseidon's voice also has an accent to it. Slightly Greek. Old Romania. Poseidon was old when that country was born. He's familiar in passing terms with it. And the accent that goes along with it. "You are far from home," he observes, his eyes returning from the sea to the vampire.

"That she does." His voice sounds amused, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up, though the beard and mustache hide the smile. His eyes return to his beloved ocean. "The most beautiful mistress, if you ask me." He glances back to Dracula. "What brings you out on such a night as this?"

Dracula has posed:
There are things in this world that are older than him, and that could easily pose a danger to him. Those tend to be the things that he tries not to piss off, once he realizes that he's faced with one such being. Whether he realizes it or not, where Poseidon is concerned, is something that is given nary a comment. The Greek note that brushes Poseidon's voice is noticed. A smile tugs up the corners of his lips at the obersevation made, and he inclines his head towards the fellow. "I am, indeed," he says, his dark gaze lingering upon the man. "Though not much further than what you are," he adds, inclining his head a touch towards the man.

He chuckles softly at the comment, and his gaze turns towards the sea, watching it for a long moment. "I have always found her to be beautiful, no matter where her waters flow," Vlad says, a thoughtful note to his voice. "I am always out at night. It is quieter, and I find there is a peace and tranquility that is held within the night that the day time rather lacks," he says, his gaze turning back to Poseidon. "And for yourself?"

Poseidon has posed:
Poseidon doesn't really give off vibes of being an ancient being. He actually takes pains to not give off those vibes. So there's not always any signs of such things with him. Unless one can feel his power and age. Then... well. Poseidon's tongue makes a soft sound against the roof of his mouth. Not quite a cluck, but more a sound of acknowledgement. "I'm much closer to home than you think. Home is, as they say, where the heart is." He sounds amused.

He smiles as he looks from sea to the dark clad man. "I find it depends on my mood for the time of day I prefer. Sometimes, I want a crowd. It's enjoyable to watch them go past. Sometimes, I like a quiet sunrise or sunset. I always enjoy watching the moon at rising or setting."