Future Alternatives [Invite]

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

Hosting both businesses in the same office space simplified matters. There remained a lot to do in terms of fittings and decorations however. There lacked a sense of permanence throughout the space that was beginning to bother Mackenzie. She had established both business ventures with goals in mind, and with them now eclipsed, she felt the need to embed that success physically into the office space.

The open plan floor was skeletal in its furnishings, the administrative and technological frame the only two aspects that were in place. She built this place from the inside out, ensuring the foundations provide the stability needed to build upon them. The floorboards had been replaced, the optical fibre beneath them reaching every corner of the office space. Everything about the place was an ode to order, functionality, and minimalism.

A few of her employees had personalised their desks, but aside from the large windows and high ceiling, there was nothing inviting about the industrial-like setting. The office lacked warmth and personality, and Mackenzie believed it was time for things to change.

Stepping out of her office with a hefty catalogue in hand, the blood thief glanced across the near-empty room. It was early enough that she knew better than to expect everyone be here, but there was someone who was becoming a permanent fixture.

Seated at her desk, clearly engaged in any of the numerous coding projects the company had taken on, Craven seemed unfazed by her boss’ emergence. Just as well, for Mackenzie was scrupulous in her hiring, refusing to employ any whose productivity was dependent on her presence or lack-thereof. Her business model was simple: meet deadlines and exceed standards. The rest was up to her employees. Whatever kindled their creativity and spurred productivity, was allowed, within reason. The only limitation? No work was to be taken outside the office, the protections in place coded by theirs truly and an insurance that their clients could trust them with sensitive information.

The matter at hand, or rather, the problem at hand, required all the attention it could get. It wasn’t that Mackenzie particularly valued Craven’s opinion over her own, but that she hoped the young woman might shed a different perspective on this whole…designing thing. Cosimo might have been a better candidate given his Italian flair, but the person who spent the most time in this place, after Mackenzie, was Craven. If there was someone who could appreciate her need to marry functionality and aesthetic, it was her talented graphic designer.

Wheeling a chair over, Mackenzie sat herself at the far end of Craven’s desk, plopping the catalogue down. At a closer look, there were many bits of paper and coloured markers spaced throughout the thousand or so pages. Sometimes too many choices was worse than not enough.

“Give this a look and tell me what you think, will ya?”

Leaning back into the chair, the blood thief cast a glance towards the double-doors. Her brow furrowed, expression thoughtful. It was still early — a glance to her watch confirmed it — but she wondered if it was late enough that sticking around to catch him on his way in was worth the wait. “Any idea when Adley’s coming in?”

[Craven]

She had always been a worker bee, be it work or school. Craven liked keeping busy. It helped, truly, that she didn't quite look at her job as a job, but a career that she could focus on long term. Longer, really, these days. Although she still occasionally struggled with her lifestyle as a vampire, she was getting better. She no longer constantly needed to feel as if she had to feed. Feeding, really, was Craven's main issue. She'd learned the hard way that she didn't have fangs. There had never been any show of them, and so, she chose to go through drinking from blood bags. It was still an adjustment living in the darkness where she'd always been someone to live happily in the light, too.

Her main change, however, aside from the rude awakening that came with flipping her schedule upside down, was that she'd quit High Rockin' magazine. All in all, as well, she was rather happy with the decision, too. Proposito had been her first choice. She'd sent in her resume and not too long after, Craven found herself happily getting on with her career. It helped not having to explain the change in her availability and her willingness to travel. Although, in reality Craven didn't see herself leaving for a trip any time soon, given the fact she'd been blown up the last time she'd returned home. There was still some social anxiety issues from it, too.

As she leaned more against her desk, her blue eyes flitted between the design model in front of her and the computer screen to her left. Double and triple checking her work that she'd gone over. She'd awoken just after sunset and then come into work; she'd had nothing else planned. Her mother had left Harper Rock shortly after the zombies had all began to escape and take over the city. Really, it hadn’t surprised her if she was entirely honest with herself - after Craven’s brother went “missing” and her daughter had, to the woman’s knowledge, been nearly blown up along with her best friend. And so, night after night, with her career and vampiric family to keep her occupied, there she sat.

She heard Mackenzie’s approach by the squeak of the wheel against the floor briefly. It was soft and something she wondered if the other woman had heard, or if it was of the things she could hear. As she finished up what she was checking, her chin lifted to greet her boss with a smile. The catalog had her curious as she reached forward to collect it as she said, “Of course, no problem.” As she leaned back in her chair, Craven crossed one leg over the other and pulled at a fray in her jeans before using her nail to cut it free.

“Redecorating?” Her blue eyes lifted from the pages once she thumbed it open to the first colored piece and then dropped her gaze back to the piece in front of her. At the question about her sire, she looked to the bottom corner of her computer screen. “He should be on his way, if he isn’t about to walk in soon.” Her attention went back to the pages and flipped to the next one. “Oh the colors for this is nice.”

[Adley Reed]

The new job provided Adley some structure, while also giving him the freedom to continue his freelance work. In fact, the new job was almost freelance in nature, except that there was an office space to which he could go in order to get his affairs in order. By ‘affairs’, of course he meant his jobs; a computer to work at which had all the files he needed and, most importantly for the social caterpillar that Adley was, people with whom he could talk.

One of his newest, Craven, had beaten him to a job at the new company and it was through her that Adley had met the boss and employer, Mackenzie. He found the woman to be equal parts intriguing and forthright, and the structure of the employment she offered was gainful in the future opportunities it might provide. If he was going to be immortal, Adley figured he should get as many skills under his belt as possible. Success was now not something he needed only for one lifetime, but potentially for many.

The photographer breezed onto the office floor in one of his usual questionably loud button-up shirts (this time a design of roses and vines) and a pair of black jeans. His shoes were sneakers, but the ‘formal’ kind, if there was any such thing. Over his shoulder was slung the bag which contained his camera and numerous USBs. The work he undertook for Proposito resided in the digital realm so he had no need for films or development tools.

”I heard my name,” he said. At least, he’d heard something that sounded like the intonation of his name as it had drifted down the hallway beneath the crack in the door.

”Craven,” he nodded, greeting his childe with a subtle nod and a wink. His avid gaze then turned to his new boss. ”Mack. How’s it hangin’?” he asked, shifting the strap from his shoulder and meandering over to the computer he had claimed as his own.