Re: Pack Inmates [MM]
Posted: 29 Apr 2020, 16:24
The song was a nice selection, Marisol thought. She would move forward on offering Avigayl a part time gig, it would be beneficial. Her golden brown eyes took in the crowd, the way they smiled and enjoyed the change of pace. Logan’s dream of the club moving forward had been successful, despite the hardships that had taken place briefly after the acquisition in her name. Following the expansion of the rift, the hell that their kind had brought, they strived. Then again, she supposed savings also helped. Taking a sip from her glass, she relaxed into the chair and listened to Clover speaking.
“Logan always had a habit of saying beauty should be in the moment. He liked to call them masterpieces.” For a moment, she looked at her hands, at her nails. She could remember the first time she’d begun to paint them in case she’d not gotten the blood out from under them, in case they’d gotten stained. She’d learned since then, the carefully kept manicure with French tips. She’d never liked the look of the colors she’d chosen to keep them looking nice until then. “If you have to follow through with your little game, turn her and keep her beautiful. Don’t waste her potential.” She took another drink before lifting her hand to signal they needed another round.
“Give her the choice, if you can’t make one.”
The words were so simple and she knew that it wasn’t an easy one. Would she have turned if Logan had given her the choice? If Jesse had? She’d been knocking on death’s door. Mariah… She turned her attention back to Clover and shut down any further thought. Her early days as a vampire weren’t glamorous, enjoyable. “I don’t believe any of us ever decide to abandon ship. The ship was never sinking, because the metal was repairable. You merely only had to know where to look.” Marisol had gone between two homes. She’d brought Charlie back with her, that last time.
“Well, it’s good to know you aren’t being a psychotic twat when you refer to yourself and him.” Progress was progress. The waitress brought a tray and Marisol collected the vodka, lime and pomegranate mixture for Clover and her own before setting a tip down. Quietly, she instructed the woman to check on the band’s drinks and glanced around the room. People danced to Avigayl’s music, they laughed. Some sang along. These were the moments that had made her decision to continue going between the two cities worth it.
There were very few things that didn’t ignite Marisol’s temper. She knew after her turning, the allurist snapped like a rubber band - especially when her pride was at stake. She had a bit of a temper before, but she’d always achieved tears of anger before punching someone. Spiraling out of anger was difficult. She had a long memory and when it came to her expenses, while she wasn’t spending her money recklessly, she planned it out. And, she’d really liked her dress. And, she knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of white cloth.
As an apology had been stuttered out, Marisol noticed the shift in drunkenness. The arrival of Avigayl and defense of Clover had him changing his tune. After the bills were received, she hissed out a low, “Get out of here.” that sent the man scampering. It wasn’t until she turned her look onto other patrons did the music start up again. She gave the scampering male one final glare before looking back to Clover and Avigayl. “Sorry to interrupt your set. You’ll still be paid for the full as agreed upon.” Marisol apologized, the British lilt sliding away as her temper leveled out. It was always stronger when she was angrier.
“Thank you.” She said stiffly to Clover and reached for a napkin to begin cleaning up the mess. She tried to remember if she had another dress in her office. She likely did, for emergencies. She glanced at the clock. If not, she could likely call Charlie or Chrys. “I never would have thought Clover would have been in your group of friends, Avigayl.” Marisol cut to the chase as she pulled her hair away from her shoulder and twisted it up. As a waiter walked by, Marisol traded her napkins out for clean ones - she really needed to look into cloth but she’d do it later - and borrowed a pen to secure her hair. The man with the tray handed her a seltzer water and fled back into the crowd a moment later.
When her phone began to buzz, Marisol made a face before she freed it from the bodice of her dress. An unknown number, something she’d gotten used to over the years with her career paths. The allurist put up a finger, stepping away from the twowomen as she shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “Marisol, speaking.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Look here you little-.” Her eyebrow twitched as laughter was heard on the other line and then it went dead. “The creep just called me. From a few moments ago.”
“Logan always had a habit of saying beauty should be in the moment. He liked to call them masterpieces.” For a moment, she looked at her hands, at her nails. She could remember the first time she’d begun to paint them in case she’d not gotten the blood out from under them, in case they’d gotten stained. She’d learned since then, the carefully kept manicure with French tips. She’d never liked the look of the colors she’d chosen to keep them looking nice until then. “If you have to follow through with your little game, turn her and keep her beautiful. Don’t waste her potential.” She took another drink before lifting her hand to signal they needed another round.
“Give her the choice, if you can’t make one.”
The words were so simple and she knew that it wasn’t an easy one. Would she have turned if Logan had given her the choice? If Jesse had? She’d been knocking on death’s door. Mariah… She turned her attention back to Clover and shut down any further thought. Her early days as a vampire weren’t glamorous, enjoyable. “I don’t believe any of us ever decide to abandon ship. The ship was never sinking, because the metal was repairable. You merely only had to know where to look.” Marisol had gone between two homes. She’d brought Charlie back with her, that last time.
“Well, it’s good to know you aren’t being a psychotic twat when you refer to yourself and him.” Progress was progress. The waitress brought a tray and Marisol collected the vodka, lime and pomegranate mixture for Clover and her own before setting a tip down. Quietly, she instructed the woman to check on the band’s drinks and glanced around the room. People danced to Avigayl’s music, they laughed. Some sang along. These were the moments that had made her decision to continue going between the two cities worth it.
There were very few things that didn’t ignite Marisol’s temper. She knew after her turning, the allurist snapped like a rubber band - especially when her pride was at stake. She had a bit of a temper before, but she’d always achieved tears of anger before punching someone. Spiraling out of anger was difficult. She had a long memory and when it came to her expenses, while she wasn’t spending her money recklessly, she planned it out. And, she’d really liked her dress. And, she knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of white cloth.
As an apology had been stuttered out, Marisol noticed the shift in drunkenness. The arrival of Avigayl and defense of Clover had him changing his tune. After the bills were received, she hissed out a low, “Get out of here.” that sent the man scampering. It wasn’t until she turned her look onto other patrons did the music start up again. She gave the scampering male one final glare before looking back to Clover and Avigayl. “Sorry to interrupt your set. You’ll still be paid for the full as agreed upon.” Marisol apologized, the British lilt sliding away as her temper leveled out. It was always stronger when she was angrier.
“Thank you.” She said stiffly to Clover and reached for a napkin to begin cleaning up the mess. She tried to remember if she had another dress in her office. She likely did, for emergencies. She glanced at the clock. If not, she could likely call Charlie or Chrys. “I never would have thought Clover would have been in your group of friends, Avigayl.” Marisol cut to the chase as she pulled her hair away from her shoulder and twisted it up. As a waiter walked by, Marisol traded her napkins out for clean ones - she really needed to look into cloth but she’d do it later - and borrowed a pen to secure her hair. The man with the tray handed her a seltzer water and fled back into the crowd a moment later.
When her phone began to buzz, Marisol made a face before she freed it from the bodice of her dress. An unknown number, something she’d gotten used to over the years with her career paths. The allurist put up a finger, stepping away from the twowomen as she shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “Marisol, speaking.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Look here you little-.” Her eyebrow twitched as laughter was heard on the other line and then it went dead. “The creep just called me. From a few moments ago.”