22nd October, 1891 — De Montfault Theatre, Hogsmeade

Ishmael had heard some interesting things.

He had seen this interesting thing for himself, tonight, having drifted into an empty box in the theatre partway through the performance, keeping his cloak on and his appearance nondescript. The company from America. And, in the bright light of the stage, it had been profoundly strange to witness. Ishmael still wasn’t entirely certain he believed it.

So perhaps a closer look was warranted. He’d left the theatre, lurked out towards the slums until the audience had gone, and the building was half-darkened, and then drifted, in the shadows, to the back of the theatre, and the dressing room windows. He was one of their stars, apparently: he would probably be alone. 

Ishmael might have gone back in the public way, but he had no intention of being noticed by the rest of this troupe even in passing, not when he was not fully apprised of the situation; instead, he had nimbly scaled the wall of it, and easily prised open this window from the outside. Ishmael, now perching on the thin sill of it, knocked against the pane for dramatic effect. Or to get the occupant’s attention, if the chill in the air had not. (The window might be open now, but the dressing room had an additional boundary, and Ishmael would be no threat at all until he was granted entry.)

“Excellent show tonight,” he offered smoothly, as if this was how the singer received all his admirers. “Can I come in?”

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Tariq Zahir / Roberto Devine

The following 1 user Likes Ishmael's post:1 user Likes Ishmael's post
   Galina

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Tariq's troupe had been met with great success. So much so that they had extended their stay indefinitely. They had performed in London, neighboring England cities and were now in Hogsmeade. As was typical, the more success he had, the more anxious he felt that it would all come crumbling down around him.

It was the end of their performance and he had been left to unwind in the dressing room that they had assigned to him. He drank the potion that was meant to soothe his throat. It was quite important for a singer to tend to ones throat. It was his bread and butter, after all.

He had changed back into his usual clothes and was mostly just resting a bit before making his way back to their accommodations. He was checking his face in the vanity mirror before turning at the sound of a knock that had not come from the direction of the door. His eyes widened as he found... himself? A more wan, gaunt version of himself was talking to him.

Had the opium finally rendered him crazy? Was his feelings of not actually being in the world at all somehow true? Was he hallucinating an apparition that looked like himself if he were dead? It was months too soon for A Christmas Carol. And the apparition was asking if he could come in. "Why, of course. You are me, after all," he said, feeling wildly delirious, before falling into a dead faint.

The following 2 users Like Tariq Zahir's post:2 users Like Tariq Zahir's post
   Galina, Ishmael

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

Oh. Maybe that had been a tad too dramatic, Ishmael considered, as the singer keeled over in front of him.

Luckily, he had given him an invitation inside, or Ishmael would have been left lurking outside the window and possibly even feeling a little bad for having shown up so unceremoniously. Instead, he dropped down noiselessly into the room and crouched over the other man. Not dead, thankfully: Ishmael definitely would have felt bad if he’d brought on a heart attack before he’d even figured out who this handsome young fellow was.

He must be young, if he looked like that and was alive. He was most certainly alive: Ishmael put a cool hand to the fainted stranger’s temples, and then lightly to his neck, feeling his pulse and the warmth of him, loosening his collar to help him breathe, and trying to resist the sudden urge to bite.

No, Ishmael. There were questions to be answered. There was a face to study here – Ishmael took a leisurely few minutes to examine it, finding the features more interesting than any other he had ever seen – and since he hadn’t seen his own, this was the nearest he had ever come to seeing himself in the mirror for more than a century, and he’d be damned if he didn’t drink it all in properly – and oh, maybe he should also try to revive him, no?

He poured out some water from a jug into the empty goblet still sitting there, and then knelt back down with it, sliding a hand behind his doppelganger’s shoulders to prop him up to see if he would wake. “I’m sorry about that,” Ishmael added, in case talking brought him round, “truly I am. But I thought it was best I caught you alone.”

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The following 1 user Likes Ishmael's post:1 user Likes Ishmael's post
   Galina

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Tariq slowly stirred to consciousness as a voice spoke. His vision went into sharp focus as he stared at the man speaking to him. Now that he was much closer, he could spot the mild differences. Most notably that the other man looked more pale and gaunt than Tariq personally was. Aside from that, it was like looking into a mirror. The mans voice was also different, devoid of an American accent like Tariq's normal speaking voice had. A bit of a different sound to it in general aside from that as well.

"Who are you?" He asked in curious fascination. "My name is Tariq Zahir." It was like something out of the Prince and the Pauper which was an adaptation he had performed in just a few months ago.

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

The question who are you faded in Ishmael’s mind at the latter part of what he said when he awoke. Tariq Zahir.

Zahir?

If it had been one or the other alone – a resemblance, or the spark of a familiar name – Ishmael would have put it down to coincidence. This seemed a little... more.

He was sure the shock had crossed his face, whether he had wanted to conceal it or not; and Ishmael always liked to have the upper hand, had been going to offer up another alias, but he was confounded and intrigued and dazed enough that he changed his mind.

“Ishmael,” Ishmael offered, his gaze equally as intent as the one on him. He didn’t understand this, but he meant to find out. “And where are you from, Tariq?” Who exactly was he?

(Highly fortunate, however, that he had said Zahir before Ishmael could be left too long to ruminate on the question of whether it might be interesting to fuck someone who looked so strangely like – some former version of – himself. An unexplained doppelganger was one thing, but he would rather not seduce a possible descendant of his, thank you very much.)

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The other man looked as shocked as he felt, at least. Though that seemed to have more to do with his name than his appearance.

Ishmael... the name rang familiar. "People have been calling that since I came to this country," he muttered before looking over at the other man as he asked where he was from. "America though my family beyond my great grandfather hailed from Liverpool. Are you from that area?" This was honestly so weird.

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

Ishmael knelt opposite him, his guard – for a rare moment in his existence – entirely dropped.

One eyebrow was raised at that, that people had mistaken this boy for Ishmael (– where had this boy been wandering? what could this mean for Ishmael? could he use this somehow? –) but he lost track of that particular line of thought at Liverpool.

Ishmael had almost forgotten his own history. “Liverpool,” he echoed, staring nonplussed at Tariq Zahir and finding it a little amusing that someone else in his family had evidently followed him across the Atlantic. Pity they had never met again – Ishmael had looked, from time to time, but he’d never found anyone.

As it turned out, he’d been looking in the wrong places. This Zahir’s great grandfather. The thought struck him suddenly, and Ishmael’s mouth quirked down. “Am I really that old?” He said, mostly to himself. He was used to feeling pleasantly timeless, above such mortal things as ageing – but Tariq Zahir was a living, breathing, younger version of a man like him, and suddenly Ishmael supposed that, if either of them was the imposter here, perhaps it was him: a shadow, stretched beyond its natural bounds.

“I... was,” he offered, at last.

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"You don't look that old," Tariq said, though on closer look the man looked gaunt and pale. Vampire? The thought twisted knots in his stomach.

"Maybe we are related somehow, then. Who was your kin if you had any?" Tariq could not get over how strange it was to feel like hew0ere talking to a less healthy mirror of himself.

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

Ishmael gave a wry laugh. “Well, I look good for my age,” he remarked; the unnatural paleness and the dark circles and the fangs notwithstanding. He wasn’t going to be exact about his age, because this Tariq was still a stranger; but this Tariq was also more than likely family, so he could afford to be a little more honest than usual.

“No one you’d remember, I imagine,” Ishmael said, musing, and cocked his head sideways to suggest, once again, how far age separated them. No one Ishmael remembered, anymore; certainly no one left alive. “But I was once a Zahir, too. I didn’t think there would be – anyone else.”

Perhaps he would have to go back to America and see for himself? But what was he supposed to feel about any of this – was there supposed to be this strange inadvertent pang of loyalty to someone he had never met, just because they might share a distant bloodline? Ishmael had thought he was better than that, more – cut off from those pedestrian ways.

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"A vampire," he whispered, his mind having been whirring the whole time that the other had been speaking. Not that he had anything against a vampire but it was a little disconcerting to know one that looked just like you.

"Then we must be some distant relation!" Tariq deduced. The resemblance was too uncanny for the same name to just be coincidence. "My great grandfather was taken to America by the family he was working for. He went on to have a healthy family which soon resulted in... well, me."

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

The younger Zahir had pieced together the puzzle now – Ishmael had been waiting for this moment, and had wondered what might happened when it sank in. The whispered tone worried him; he was ready to flit towards the dressing room door to prevent the boy fleeing or calling for help, if need be. But the boy didn’t.

Maybe the possible family ties had a stronger hold on both of them than Ishmael had expected. His stance relaxed a little as Tariq elaborated on his own story. Great grandfather. Well, that could be... no, but it didn’t do to dwell on siblings long gone. (Ishmael could not pretend not to be interested in what had become of them, though. He made a mental note to investigate that.)

His mouth quirked up at a corner. “Who knew?” he marvelled lightly, shaking his head. “I was in America once, myself,” he admitted – without elaboration, but a dash of camaraderie. “Is it your first time in this country?” Were he and his theatrical friends staying, or just passing through?

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Tariq had no idea if he was in danger or not. He didn't think he was and even if he was, what could be done about it really? He couldn't bring it in himself to cause trouble for this doppleganger.

"Oh! How odd to think that you might have crossed paths with one of my predecessors," Tariq mused before nodding in answer to the question. "We were invited over and some of us have quite taken to the country."

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

Done more than crossed paths, Ishmael suspected – Tariq’s predecessors might be the distant past to him, but to Ishmael, they were myth in his memory, the first faces he had ever known.

And maybe it was that, or the uncanny similarity between them, or even the idea of his being a foreigner in a strange land, that had Ishmael feeling an odd kinship. Partly protective, partly intrigued by the possibilities of how to use this newcomer for his own gain, Ishmael surveyed him again and, belatedly, held out his hand to shake his. “Well, pleased to meet you, Tariq. You’ll have to find me again, if you’re staying.” (As if Tariq had found him the first time, and not the other way around.) “I’m in London most of the time.”

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Tariq didn't really know what else to do than shake the vampires hand. "But I didn't find you," Tariq couldn't help but point out. He certainly hadn't known that the different names he was called since arriving in this area was because there was a vampire that looked just like him. "Does this mean you are taking your leave now?" Merlin, he hoped so. This was all a little much to be dealing with.

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”

He clasped the man’s hand – warm, so warm, even in spite of the fainting spell he’d just recovered from – and let him go again, the very model of restraint. He had to chuckle at the correction, which was true enough... but it was all the same to him. They were similar enough in look that to Ishmael the lines of being felt unnaturally blurred. Next time Tariq might as well find him. (Ishmael could certainly find this Zahir again if he wanted to.)

“Yes, I suppose so,” Ishmael agreed, because he could see poor Tariq was still processing the shock of all this. “I won’t detain you all night. But this time –” he added conspiratorially, sauntering from one side of the room to the other – “you won’t mind if I use the door?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just swung the door to the dressing room open breezily. The theatre should be quiet enough by now – and now that he knew what he was working with, if necessary Ishmael would not be above a little acting of his own.

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The other mans hand was so cold that Tariq instinctively tried to jerk his hand back. A vampire. That looked just like him. Oh, he felt like he might swoon again but thankfully he did not.

"Oh, please go ahead," he mumbled a little incoherently as his vampire doppelganger said he was going to use the door this time if he didn't mind. And just as swiftly as he had met him, his walking reflection had left.

Tariq stayed where he was, trying to process things to no avail a while longer.

  

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Tariq looks just like Ishmael except.. alive, not pale, not a vampire, etc.
If your character knows Ishmael, they might initially mistake Tariq for him.

“they tell me I'm a God,
I'm lost in the facade”