[ New Orleans kind of looks like a really, really mangled, ugly dog. From above, that is. It makes it easy enough to draw a map, even with his left hand - his right is mostly recovered now, if somewhat lumpier than it was before, but too weak still to reliably be trusted for writing - because Belmonts have an affinity for all things dog-shaped.
He's mostly been silent and content to remain in his room and convalesce outside of mealtimes, and more prone to listen to the other two speak at those times than to speak up himself. Except when he feels the need to inform everyone that something is stupid. He's requested things rather than going looking for them himself. Books, at first, for something to fucking do while he waits to recover. Then a roll of paper, something to write upon it and a jar of sand, given only after a period of relatively good behavior and only with his word not to use them to break any of the castle's enchantments.
(He did not agree not to use them to find out what all of the castle's enchantments are, nor to make a preliminary map of the place and its grounds. Belmonts are as close as a human can become to the creatures of fairytales, and exact words are important with them.)
Today, they're being used to find all of the city's vampires. He can't map allegiances, who has sired who, influence, not without more specific components. But he can get a decent idea of where they are and how much of a threat they pose. He tosses the sand over his ugly-dog map, letting the glyphs drawn around it do their work. Slowly, the sand pulls itself into a series of piles. Some small, some large. There's one just a little beyond the confines of the map of the city itself where a concerning amount of sand has gathered (their Theodora, more than likely). A few smaller piles within the city. One of several medium-sized piles he instinctively recognizes as Damian. A concerning temperamental pile that keeps gaining and losing sand like a weird heartbeat. There are more individual grains (humans in danger of turning) than he would like. A great deal of smaller piles dotted through the city. Younger vampires, likely here for protection.
He'd expected vampires here to be more spread out - the Americas have a lot of fucking space. Instead they're clustered together in a way they rarely were in Europe. And that makes a sick kind of sense, because all the people - the food sources - are clustered together as well. With no Belmonts, there's no motivation to stay out of the cities that make big, easy hunting grounds. There'll likely be vampires outside the city limits, spread out and each with a large amount of empty territory, more similar to the way things were back home, but they aren't the concern. The only place this lousy with them would have been London in the years of Spring-Heeled Jack. ]
no subject
He's mostly been silent and content to remain in his room and convalesce outside of mealtimes, and more prone to listen to the other two speak at those times than to speak up himself. Except when he feels the need to inform everyone that something is stupid. He's requested things rather than going looking for them himself. Books, at first, for something to fucking do while he waits to recover. Then a roll of paper, something to write upon it and a jar of sand, given only after a period of relatively good behavior and only with his word not to use them to break any of the castle's enchantments.
(He did not agree not to use them to find out what all of the castle's enchantments are, nor to make a preliminary map of the place and its grounds. Belmonts are as close as a human can become to the creatures of fairytales, and exact words are important with them.)
Today, they're being used to find all of the city's vampires. He can't map allegiances, who has sired who, influence, not without more specific components. But he can get a decent idea of where they are and how much of a threat they pose. He tosses the sand over his ugly-dog map, letting the glyphs drawn around it do their work. Slowly, the sand pulls itself into a series of piles. Some small, some large. There's one just a little beyond the confines of the map of the city itself where a concerning amount of sand has gathered (their Theodora, more than likely). A few smaller piles within the city. One of several medium-sized piles he instinctively recognizes as Damian. A concerning temperamental pile that keeps gaining and losing sand like a weird heartbeat. There are more individual grains (humans in danger of turning) than he would like. A great deal of smaller piles dotted through the city. Younger vampires, likely here for protection.
He'd expected vampires here to be more spread out - the Americas have a lot of fucking space. Instead they're clustered together in a way they rarely were in Europe. And that makes a sick kind of sense, because all the people - the food sources - are clustered together as well. With no Belmonts, there's no motivation to stay out of the cities that make big, easy hunting grounds. There'll likely be vampires outside the city limits, spread out and each with a large amount of empty territory, more similar to the way things were back home, but they aren't the concern. The only place this lousy with them would have been London in the years of Spring-Heeled Jack. ]
Shit. Lot of fucking vampires.