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Isaac told him the changes weren't the same for every vampire, that their lineage was touched by faerie blood. Aldert still felt a shock when he caught a glimpse of himself. He looked like himself but also not at all like himself. His eyes matched Isaac's now - completely black - and his long straight hair had turned a stark white. He needed to relearn how to interact with the world around him, as he had gained at least a foot in height. Thankfully Isaac had clothing for him to borrow. "Even if they fit, those rags don't suit you," the older vampire had jeered, despite Aldert reminding him of a student's salary.
Aldert knew the basics before he was turned. No sunlight, blood as sustenance, immortality. He couldn't deny that despite the horrifying nature of his research, he had always been intrigued. If Isaac had waited and taken the time to talk and explain, if he had given him a choice, Aldert might have even willingly taken on the curse. But that chance hadn't been worth taking, it seemed. His sire didn't seem keen on lecturing in any case; he had simply handed Aldert a stack of books as explanation for his new existence.
Aldert took his time pouring over the volumes, carefully taking notes on the text while documenting his own experience of the transition. It felt like the biggest changes had all happened immediately, and the differences between himself and others was mostly accounted for by bloodline. Isaac kept him well fed over the course of his studies, bringing regular glasses and carafes of blood. Another quirk of his clan, apparently, was finding blood from the source distasteful. "The rite of creation is slightly different," Isaac explained, "as is sharing between equals."
Though Isaac did not taste Aldert's blood again, he did offer his own. Aldert had accepted these offers hungrily, though he tried to slow his pace after learning what a "blood bond" entailed. Obsession and devotion to the vampire whose blood you had tasted. The compulsion was hardly slowed by intellectual knowledge. He found himself pulled to the experiences he never allowed himself in his human life. Like being turned, if Isaac had asked and not compelled him with his blood, Aldert probably would have fucked him willingly. Well, he did feel willing, but again, he knew there was an aspect of compulsion: a level of attraction that was irresistible as a result of tasting the older vampire's blood at all, much less multiple times.
Those first few years felt like a hungry blur. Aldert spent his time devouring whatever he could, be that books or blood or sex. At some point, the novelty of him seemed to wear off for Isaac. Conveniently for Aldert, this let the fog of his sire's blood lift a little, as Isaac stopped offering it and Aldert forced himself to stop asking. On more equal footing, Isaac seemed almost more engaged with his childe than he was before, encouraging Aldert's more specific inquiries and joining in on scholarly debates.
He was particularly intrigued by Aldert's growing focus on studying the Sabbat - a rebellious and unruly faction of vampires who were fairly disconnected from polite vampire society. Aldert seemed to be still drawn to the unknown, unstudied, and unproven parts of the world. Isaac's collection offered plenty of knowledge, but not quite enough, and he was proud to equip his childe to continue his research in the field.
For around a decade, Aldert worked from Isaac's library as a base, returning to collect and collate his findings. Eventually they found themselves grating on each other. The expanses of time between Aldert's returns seemed to make it worse; the taste of solitude soured when interrupted. He decided to commit to a longer term of field research, which kept growing the longer he stayed away. Eventually he felt the twang of obsession that always pulled him back fade away, and decided he would next see his sire only when he needed access to his library or his own trove of research. Isaac did not reach out, which only affirmed Aldert in his decision.
It was thirty years since he was turned when Aldert finally fucked up. So far, he had managed to conduct his studies of the Sabbat from afar. He gained access to various rituals and meetings through lower level members, who were easily compelled. It was almost second nature to hide in the shadows, and with practice he might as well have been the shadows himself. But this particular infiltration was different. For one, he learned about this planned rite from Camarilla sources. The information was good, but the fact that it had leaked should have told him something. Mainly, that this was a bigger deal than usual. It was a grander gathering, with several older members purported to be in attendance. This made it exciting; Aldert had yet to observe any of the older traditions of the Sabbat. The easiest groups to observe were younger, dumber, more likely to be caught out by the Camarilla and eliminated. It led him to believe the most important and sacred rituals were probably kept secret and out of the hands of the more vulnerable members of the faction. He had felt something was off, as he snuck through the underground tunnels to the meeting space. Maybe it was a character flaw, but he ignored the feeling and pressed on. Who knew when such an opportunity would come again?
Deep underground, old sewer tunnels and catacombs gave way to newer paths. They weren't refined, rather hastily dug and slightly hidden. The Sabbat didn't have a stronghold in this area; they seemed content to make their own space. The tunnels eventually converged on a large hall. Some effort had been put into making this space proper, with bricks and tile laid and even electricity wired up to supplement the ornate chandeliers and lanterns. Upon closer inspection, the traditional light fixtures seemed to be fashioned from bone, twisted and shaped unnaturally. So Tzimisce powers were used for more than creating living horrors, Aldert noted.
He dismissed the feeling of being watched, set himself up in a dark corner, and watched as Sabbat gathered and socialized. The crowd quieted as an imposing Tzimisce entered the space, his appearance and presence an eerie and otherworldly affair even among this many vampires. Wordlessly, the crowd gathered into a series of organized shapes. The Tzimisce seemed set to give some kind of grand speech, but was cut off before he could even begin by a shout from the tunnels and a pouring in of animals and vampires alike.
Fuck, Aldert thought, the Camarilla. If he was spotted here he was unlikely to talk his way out of this. His own clan was totally unaligned, barely even known, and certainly his appearance and abilities made him look much more Sabbat than anything else. Not feeling particularly keen on ending his unlife just yet, Aldert attempted to sneak back to the tunnel from whence he came, only to find his way blocked by another vampire.
"Ah, the scout can leave now that his troops have arrived?" A blade dashed out of the shadows and leveled itself against Aldert's throat. Aldert felt himself held by the ankles as shadow pooled around him, almost alive. So another with control of darkness had spotted him.
Aldert flicked his wrist, focused for a second, and pulled the darkness around him into a solid knife. He used his own ability to loosen the grip the shadows around his feet had on him, and made a lunge at his attacker - a noble looking, dark skinned woman clad all in black. Aldert's fighting strategy was simple: get it over with as fast as possible. He aimed for her chest, but felt the shadow re-solidify and grab him, pull him sharply back, and twist him onto the ground. The woman moved over him, stomped solidly on his stomach, and grinned. The shadow on the ground acted like a glue trap; he tried to pry himself away, but ended up wriggling uselessly. The woman crouched slightly, placed the blade against his stomach, and drove it slowly through him. He grimaced, cursing the hours he spent neglecting the physical aspects of obtenebration; he could hide all night, but this vampire's control of shadow as an object itself - maybe even as a creature - was impressive. Aldert did have some tricks he knew she wouldn't know, however. He sucked in a breath and conjured a sudden flash of light and noise behind her. Startled, she stumbled forward. Her weight fell on her blade, which wrenched itself through Aldert's side. The light and shock weakened the shadow just enough for Aldert to free his hand and plunge his own weapon into the other vampire's heart, aided by gravity. He twisted the knife as he let out a scream. He had never felt pain this terrible before, but he supposed he was lucky to have never been basically cut in half and disemboweled. The other vampire collapsed on top of him, not completely dead, but unconscious and paralyzed. Aldert focused his will to shift reality about as much as he could, to turn his knife from shadow to solid, real wood. Now he had more time to work with.
Aldert shoved the now limp body of his attacker off of him, and clutched at the wound on his side. He choked and sputtered, felt his own blood welling in his mouth. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, and tried to focus as the ground below shifted from blurry to clear to blurry. His white hair hung in his face, stained red with both their blood. He coughed and spat, groaned at the sight of how much blood he was losing. He cursed; what a fucking waste. He didn't even get to see the damn ritual. At that thought he started laughing as he choked, until he was interrupted by an arm looping under his own and sharply pulling him up from the ground.
Ah, he thought, that's the end of me, then. But the blow he expected never came. He heard the voice of a man, sharp and precise, ordering someone else to stabilize him. Somehow, his wound stopped bleeding. Whoever held him seemed satisfied, and lowered him against a wall. He felt a hand gently tap at his cheek, and he focused on the face of the man who gave the order. The man's curly dark hair was speckled with blood, shifted messily from whatever style it had been in previously. His blue eyes were focused strongly on Aldert. "You've got quite a story to tell me when we're done here, I imagine. Stay alive." The man rose to his feet and commanded the other vampires behind him. Part of the Camarilla raid, Aldert assumed. He spent his last few conscious minutes watching the man tear through the Sabbat like tissue paper, and thought he did very much look forward to telling him anything he wanted to hear.
The man could have easily compelled Aldert to tell him whatever he wanted - at least that was the feeling Aldert got. But he was forthcoming, so there was no need. For decades, the only person Aldert had actually talked to was Isaac. It was refreshing to have a chance to talk about his research with a new face, and someone who it turned out understood most of it. They spoke in a fairly casually set up room in the heart of Camarilla territory, each in their own seats with a coffee table between them. The vampire looked significantly more collected than he had the last time they met, in a stylish suit with his dark curls slicked back against his head, neat save a few that refused to hold their assigned positions.
The vampire's name was Edwin Anschen, and he apparently had some small influence in the Camarilla. He recognized Aldert for what he was, or at the very least as not a member of the Sabbat. He listened intently as Aldert described his experiences, even when they strayed from the direct incident of the raid. Aldert attempted a few times to ask questions of his own, but got limited answers. He understood this was more interrogation than conversation, but he couldn't help the curiosity he felt. Maybe he was wrong to focus so specifically on the Sabbat; clearly there was something drawing him to this Camarilla agent as well.
Aldert finished another lengthy explanation, and Edwin let the silence afterwards stand, looking intently at Aldert. For a second, Aldert saw his own curiosity reflected in the other man's face, but it quickly returned to a focused stoicism as Edwin stood. "I appreciate your assistance here, Aldert."
Aldert let out a short laugh, "My assistance. Naturally. I would be dead without your help." He paused, debating the add-on, "Without your trust."
It was Edwin's turn to laugh, "I wouldn't go that far. I don't know you, Meer. I was right, though, you do have quite the story." He pushed his chair in slightly and repositioned his jacket, "For now, we're done here. I'd advise you to stay in our territory for a few nights more while we finish conducting our investigation."
"Anything you need. I don't plan to cause any trouble."
"Just observe it, yes?"
Aldert laughed, "Exactly."
"As long as you share said observations." Edwin smiled. He motioned to the door, and Aldert rose from his own seat.
Aldert hesitated before the exit. In his human days, he was certainly never very bold or confident. His experiences with Isaac had altered his approach to the world. He found that almost everything was normal for vampires, and so far only once chance he had taken had almost ended in death. While it still wasn't bold bold, he met Edwin's eyes and spoke, "I'd be happy to share whatever I can in a more informal setting, as well. Maybe along with a well-kept vintage or two."
Edwin seemed taken aback; Aldert course corrected with a polite smile and pushed the door open, "Anyway, I'm glad to have been helpful."
He made it a few feet down the hallway before Edwin cleared his throat loudly, "Aldert." Their eyes met again, and though Edwin's expression was just as stable as before it seemed a bit softer, "I'll let you know when the investigation is over." He let the implication hang in the air, but chose to clarify a bit, "Socializing while it's ongoing is frowned upon."
Aldert smiled less politely this time, "I look forward to it."