Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Scott: It had been a couple nights since meeting with Malachai. As he entered the first thing he noticed was the bag that his She Boss asked him to collect which sat untouched right where he left it by the bedroom door. Besides the fridge being gone it looked like she hadn’t left the bedroom since she went in. Though it did look as though someone had tried to clean and he groaned inwardly at the thought that Blondie had been that someone. It was the last thing that woman needed. Suddenly he felt terrible that he hadn’t taken care of it before that. He dug out his phone. He rarely used it for himself and was mainly on his person for summoning persons. “Scott do this. Scott go there. Scott take this **** and sell it.” he mimicked as he sent the man a text. He had said his grandmother would help and if he could make the word load lighter Scott was all for it. He also wanted to find Bunny and check on her so the sooner this was done the better. The girl must have been an emotional mess.

Once the text was sent he set about gathering those things that would be needed. The boss woman would kill him if she knew he was bringing outsiders into the Eyrie but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He had a spare tome that would be just the ticket to sneaking the other woman in.

Ana: Rarely did she actually listen to her grandson. Most of their relationship consisted of her giving him a smack upside the head because she was right and he just couldn’t seem to see things her way. Tonight, however, he’d gotten a text and had come to her with a request, even going so far as to say please to her. Now she found herself gathering up her cleaning supplies and stuffing them into her large handbag. Her suitcase, Malachai often called it teasingly. Ana chuckled softly to herself, she’d never let on that her grandson amused her to no end, otherwise he’d be insufferable to live with and work for.

Now that she was ready to go, she handed Malachai a list of things she wanted him to do while she was gone. Clean the apartment, specifically his bedroom, do his laundry, get the dishes put away and the dirty ones into the dishwasher, etc. etc. Ana sailed out the door with a rapid fire speech trailing behind her as Malachai shut the door firmly behind her, cutting her off mid-sentence. With a long suffering sigh, she took the nearest train to Cherrydale, then walked the two blocks to the bar that Mal had instructed her to go to and waited for this mysterious ‘Scott’ person to reveal himself.

Fatima: She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d been pacing around the Eyrie for days. On happenstance, she’d seen a teary eyed and angry Bunny appear randomly in the city when she was out shopping. The young woman had cried on her shoulder and filled her in on what was going on. When she was done, Fatima had tomed straight back to the Eyrie, determined to help in some way.

And yet, once she got there, she was at a loss. She wasn’t good for much. She didn’t know how to do anything but clean, give orders and look decorative. With a frown, she decided that she would at least help clean. Surely Velveteen could use some help keeping things tidy. And if she didn’t, Fatima would just order her out of the way. Yes, surely that would work. Stepping into the elevator, she headed up to the fourth floor and pounded on the wall, waiting impatiently for someone to appear in the short hallway. She checked her watch and decided they had exactly 30 seconds before she marched in regardless of who or what was there.

Scott: After having waited an appropriate amount of time, humans travelled much slower than their undead counterparts, Scott made his way outside in search of Malachai’s grandmother. He had no idea who this woman was but expected he was looking for someone much older, and Mexican. He wondered if she would smell like tacos. He could go for some tacos. His sudden hunger was set aside as he shook it off and walked the area.

Very few humans hung in this general area so when he spotted the older woman carrying a rather large bag, and looking all Mexican he figured that had to be her. “Ana?” He inquired cautiously as he approached. He wasn’t into cougars and hoped that if he had it wrong the old girl didn’t think he was coming on to her.

Ana: She was starting to wonder if anyone was going to show up and had just gotten out her phone to call...well, someone, when someone called her name. She drew herself up to her full five feet two inches and eyed the man that had called her name, looking him up and down as though taking his measure before she replied, “Si, yo soy Ana. I mean, yes, I’m Ana. You must be Scott. Let’s get this show on the road, no sense wasting time.” She certainly hoped this was the man she’d been sent to help, otherwise she was going to have a serious talk with her Nene for trying to fix her up with someone younger than her.

She closed the distance between them, offering a warm smile and her hand to shake. She wasn’t about to go off with the strange man without a proper introduction, since that was how she’d wound up getting pregnant with Mal’s father. Even if her eggs were dried up, that didn’t mean she wanted to let some strange man practice baby making with her. Ana had standards, and they were high.

Fatima: She counted down the seconds and marched down the hall exactly 31 seconds after she had knocked. She looked around the room, spotted what looked like a massacre. She tried her hardest to ignore the brain matter on the wall, the congealed blood pooling in to the splintered wood floor, bits of flesh clinging to the wood like macabre works of art. She shuddered as she stepped over the trail of blood, her eyes following it until it vanished beneath a door. Nope, she wasn’t going in there at all. Glancing around, she found a discarded bucket and some towels. It was as if someone had made an effort to clean up and then stopped for whatever reason. Collecting the items, she searched for a source of hot water and soap. Not seeing any, she took the bucket back to the elevator and down to the third floor.

She entered the hut that belonged to her son’s wife, moving straight to the bathroom, she put the bucket in the tub and filled it with hot water. Digging around under the sink, she found a bottle of Lysol and a scrub brush. Setting them aside, she managed to find some rubber gloves and pulled them on. The bright yellow covered her to her elbows and would keep her hands protected from the water. After all, just because you scrubbed like Cinderella, didn’t mean you had to have hands like hers, too. Collecting the full bucket, the Lysol and the brush, she went back to the fourth floor. She made her way to the door where the blood trail vanished and set the bucket down. She poured the Lysol in the water, and added some straight to the stain. Dipping her brush in the bucket, she set to the task of scrubbing the stains out of the floor.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


Scott: He appreciated the older woman’s no nonsense demeanor and simply tipped his head in response. “I am indeed. Here take this. I dunno if you have used one before but just...open it and read a couple of words and it will take you where you need to go.” And odd expression crossed his face at having to explain this. The odds are if the old girl had a vampire grandson she’d likely know this already. “It’s some real Wizard of OZ ****, no?” He chuckled and shook his head. “See you up there.”

Seconds later he was standing just outside the elevator on the top floor, obviously surprised to see another there. This one however looked familiar despite covered from head to toe. They often passed each other in the Eyrie though they had never actually spoken. Perhaps Bunny had asked to her come and straight away he looked around for the small blonde but was sorely disappointed. “Umm...Fattymah is it?” He asked approaching the already hard at work woman.

Ana: She took the book and listened to his explanation, barely managing not to roll her eyes. Did he think she was a complete moron? No, she reminded herself that he was probably not used to dealing with others aside from whoever it was he worked for and that his explanation was meant to be helpful. Ana went into Grey’s under the guise of using the restroom and once in the privacy of a bathroom stall, opened the tome and read the words. Thank god she’d been clutching her bag tightly with her free hand or she would have dropped it on the filthy floor of the bathroom. She felt a brief unsettling dip in the pit of her stomach before the scenery shifted and she found herself in an unfamiliar setting.

Upon seeing Scott and another woman, who was already hard at work scrubbing at an all too familiar rust colored stain, she ceased clutching at the bag and opened it, taking out a couple of scrub brushes, a handful of rags, and two bottles of spray cleaner.

“I brought some things to help clean the mess up.” She stated in accented English, already eyeing the scrub bucket as she set her now empty bag aside and held out the tome to Scott. She eyed the other woman curiously, wondering who she was but figuring if the other woman felt the need to introduce herself, she would do so. Otherwise, Ana would help clean up and head back to take care of her charge. As she waited for Scott to take the tome, she picked up a bottle of the spray cleaner and began to spray it on the stains she could see.

Fatima: She looked up at the horrible butchering of her name, then rose to her feet, looking surprisingly regal in spite of the yellow rubber gloves. “Fah-tea-mah” She corrected in her thick Saudi accent. She watched him with dark brown eyes for a long moment. “You are Scott.” Not a question. The nosy old woman knew nearly every single human and vampire that came in and out of the Eyrie. “I saw Bunny in town. She looked a mess and told me what happened. I decided you needed my help.” There was no asking, no offering. It was simply an order and she would not be refused. “Make yourself useful and grab a scrub brush.” She turned her gaze to Ana and smiled warmly. “I see you came prepared. It looks like at least two of us have a bit of sense.” She stated, sinking back to the floor and beginning to scrub some more. “I am Fatima. Mother of Sharif Zakar El-Sayed, who is married to Shariffah Aysel El-Sayed.”

Scott: The male looked a little sheepish and bobbed his head noting his mistake and then again in response though it wasn’t something that needed one. She very obviously knew who he was. Not surprising. Most women did. He grinned rather smugly at his own thoughts before returning his attention back to the task at hand and committing the pronunciation of the Arab woman’s name to memory. “I know Zakar!” The useless information thrown in for the sake of of...offering useless information. Saved by the Mexican. He was about to make the appropriate introductions but was given an order of his own. Were all women this bossy?

Something about her tone made him comply at once, stopping only to collect the tome and offer Ana a grateful smile. Maybe...if he played his cards right he could get out of doing anything too hard. These two seemed to know what they were doing. “Oh I know. How about some music, ladies?” He offered, tome in one hand and scrubbing brush in the other.

Ana: Ana shot him a hard look before turning to Fatima, “I’m Ana Chavez, grandmother to Malachai Chavez. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senora El-Sayed, even if the circumstances are not ideal.” When she’d finished introducing herself, she turned back to Scott, “Clean first, then music. Nene tries that with me all the time and doesn’t get **** done because he is too busy singing along.” She nodded at the scrub brush in his hand, then pointed at the spots that had been sprayed on the floor so far, “The sooner we get it done, the sooner you can have your music, and maybe I’ll make you some empanadas when I get home if you do a good job, Scott.” She knew the bribe often worked for her grandson, so she figured it might work on Scott. Fatima didn’t seem like the type to mess around and stall, so Ana wasn’t too worried about bribing her. Grabbing the other scrub brush, Ana moved to a set of stains, sprayed them profusely, got down on her knees and started scrubbing vigorously. Luckily, she was wearing jeans so the floor wasn’t too hard on her knees.

Fatima: “It is nice to meet you Senora Chavez.” She smiled at Ana, then looked back to her scrubbing. “De Scott parece un poco vago, ¿no? Tal vez deberíamos hacer lo deje así nosotras las mujeres podemos hacerlo de la manera correcta?” She finally said. Her accent made the Spanish words a little hard to understand, but she was accurate and flawless in pronunciation. She looked to Ana and smiled again, noting the other woman had no reservations about kneeling on the floor and scrubbing out the bloodstains. She pondered how to make Scott leave, but the curiosity overcame her. “Scott? You work for Velveteen? What is she like?”

Scott: Scott shook his head at the formal introductions as he pondered how his would go. Dropping to his knees, the promise of empanadas too good to resist he practiced his own all important formal introduction. Scott Preston. Lowly thrall of her majesty, Velveteen. Babe extraordinaire, at your service He chuckled at his own inner dialogue before adding a little more. Scott Preston. Bunny’s whipping boy. Babe extraordinaire, at your service. The male snickered and bobbed his head. Liking that one much better. He would definitely use that in the future. Bowing at the waist as he did so.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his own name being spoken and looked at the woman a little dumbfounded. He knew enough to know what language she was speaking but he didn’t really understand it himself. He came from a Spanish speaking background though was born and raised locally so never really tried to learn. He grinned and leaned a little closer to Ana, speaking out of the side of his mouth. “She just said I was sexy, didn’t she? It happens all the time.” The mood changed almost immediately when Her name was spoken and he cast his gaze towards the locked bedroom door. His voice dropping several octaves when he responded. “Usually when you work for people they pay you. ***** be crazy is how she is. Man….” He sat back on his haunches, and waved the barely used scrubbing brush around as he spoke. “I have been beat down, kick around, mistreated and abused.” he tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment. “That is from a song I think. I dunno. Anyways...she is in there making house with a ******* dead body. What do you think it would be like?”

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Ana: Ana couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Fatima’s words, nodding in agreement. When Scott piped up with his question, she just smiled at him sweetly, best to let him think what he wanted, that way his feelings wouldn’t be hurt by what appeared to be a fairly apt assessment. Learning he wasn’t paid was startling to her, even she got paid regularly by Mal. Grandma or not, she still worked for him, running errands that needed to be done during the daylight and things like that. Poor Scott, maybe she would start sharing her paycheck with him, she certainly didn’t need the money. She stared at him in shock, just managing to keep her voice quiet as she spoke, “She abuses you?! Poor man. I will share my paycheck with you. Everyone should get paid for the work they do, Scott. Slavery was abolished in the United States almost two centuries ago, I’m almost certain slavery is illegal here too. Don’t worry, we’ll get you sorted out, won’t we Fatima?”

In her ire, she scrubbed the floor even harder, smiling in satisfaction as the stain faded and the floor grew clean. Leaning back on her knees, she reached for a rag, dipped it into Fatima’s bucket, wrung it out and wiped up the spot she’d just cleaned. “Have some respect for the dead, Scott. Micah is my Nene’s sire. Someone has to make house with him, even if he is dead for now. Someone has to keep watch over his remains, yes?”

Fatima: “I am not sure I will ever get used to the fact that some of their kind leave bodies behind that do not rot.” She shuddered as she scrubbed the floor, then shook her head. “The Sharifah does not pay me, I have plenty of my own money. However she is very kind to me. She has given me an apartment of my own, the use of a hire car should I need to go anywhere.” She sat back to look at Scott, her eyes narrowed. “If she abuses you, you can come stay in my guest room. Just no funny business that you young men get into. I do not want to see you making a helicopter with your naked penis!”

She shook her head and muttered to herself in Arabic about men and their lewd ways and childish pranks. But her offer was genuine. Ana could give him a small stipend and she could put a roof over his head. So long as he respected her rules and did things her way in her home. She looked over at Scott, wondering what he would think. After all, he was surrounded by two very demanding old women who wouldn’t take any sort of crap from him, and yet were offering to support him.

Scott: His gaze shifted between the two as they spoke and he couldn’t help but notice that neither had demanded to get to work. An idea was hatching. Perhaps he could make his time a little easier, not that it was really that hard but a little icing sugar was never a bad thing. The male started spluttering when the Arabic woman mentioned helicoptering. How did she even know about that? He hid his amusement behind his hand but nodded looking as forlorn as possible. Poor Scott indeed. “She does. I have been in hospital twice now after being blown to bits. Sends me to all sorts of dangerous places to get things for her. I have been shot at, stabbed, punched, kicked and then have to find time to make my own money. She won’t let me go see my friends.” He shook his head and gave them an inconspicuous, sideways glance. Hell...maybe there was something to this cougar thing. Money. Free housing. Home cooking? Yes please. On top of that he got to come home to that ******* cute little blonde who also liked to shoot him, but he didn’t mind when she did. And all he has to do is tell the truth? He could be livin’ the dream.

“I know who she is but I don’t think you understand. If you listen...you can hear her talking to him. I watched her the night it happened. She thinks he is still alive. Sitting up and talking to her.” He brought a hand up and made circles in the air near his temple. “******* insane. Though you know…” He levelled his gaze on Fatima. “You are missing out. My helicopter brings all the girls to the yard.” He gave her a quick wink and a fleeting grin.

Ana: She glanced at him, looking him up and down before she shook her head and gave him a sympathetic look, “I don’t think your helicopter is all that impressive, otherwise you wouldn’t be bragging about it. Only men who have size issues and don’t know how to use it right, brag.” She poked the brush he held in his hand, then nodded at the floor again, “Get to work, Scott. I’d guess we are both older than you and yet we’ve gotten more done on this floor than you have. Being shown up by two women, older women no less, can’t be good for your ego. We can discuss you getting half my check when all this is cleaned up.”

She rose to her feet and eyed the oddly textured wall, knowing exactly what the texture was caused by. Brains. Something she doubted many men had and if they did, it certainly wasn’t in the head on their shoulders. Since no one seemed inclined to tackle the mess on the wall, she grabbed the second bottle of spray cleaner, sprayed the wall and started picking away the pieces of dried brain, skin, and bone fragments with the nail of her index finger. When she had a small section of the wall smoothed out again, she grabbed a fresh rag, applied another layer of spray and wiped it clean, all the while thinking about Scott’s assessment of Velveteen. When she had a respectable portion of the wall clean, she spoke, “It sounds as though she is in shock, and the only way some can cope with such a shock is to pretend it didn’t happen or refuse to believe it’s as bad as it is. It’s very sad and she must be very lonely to need to fill the void in the way she is. Have you tried to tell her he’s dead?”

Fatima: She kept her head bowed, intent on her work, which also had the benefit of hiding her smile as Ana put Scott in his place about not cleaning. When the subject turned back to Velveteen, she finally looked up. “I remember when Ibrahim was murdered…” She began, sounding almost thoughtful. “Aarif was destroyed. He could not accept the fact that his first born son was dead. He was convinced for a very long time that his son was still alive and just out in the desert as he had a habit of doing. Of course that all changed when he learned a woman had murdered his first born. That is when he sent Zakar to find the woman and bring her back to face justice.” She shrugged faintly and tilted her head. “Didn’t work out that way though, he ended up showing mercy to her instead.” A slight shrug as she inched the bucket down and scooted a bit away from the door to tackle a new spot, the previous spot scrubbed clean.

“Everyone handles things in different ways. For example, some women might find Scott’s antics cute. Whereas if I saw it, I would tie his penis to the saddle of a horse and send said horse running through a field of scorpions.” She glanced at Scott for a moment and grinned rather sadistically. “All in the name of teaching a lesson, of course.”

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Scott: Scott opened his mouth to protest Ana’s assessment of his anatomy but snapped it shut. Hell he didn’t want her to think that he was trying to come on to her anything. He just wanted her empanadas! He grudgingly got back to work half assedly scrubbing at the same spot on the floor. He was good at making himself look busy while not really doing much. His hair long, brown hair was tied back but fell over his shoulder as he leaned forward and he blew it away from the side of his face with a sharp breath. “You guess?” His eyes bugged out of his head of that one and he scoffed. It was pretty obvious if you asked him that these two women were much older than his young, handsome self. Perhaps this one had that...dementia or something. He hoped she didn’t forget how to cook before he got to try it at least.

Once again he fell silent and listened. Perhaps what they said was true but his Boss Lady was a fruit and nut cake to the core. Not everybody got to see the things he did. But if he were to be completely honest she wasn’t all bad all of the time. Just some of it. Their assessment of her was starting to make him feel a little bad though everything he had said was the truth.

His mouth hung open at Fatima’s last comment and he stared at her openly. “I am a bit scared of you now but if you ladies don’t mind, as flattering as this hasn’t been…” He eyed Ana for a moment, “ Can we not discuss my junk? I am starting to feel like I am gonna have to show you just to prove you wrong and I’m not sure your feeble old hearts could take it.” There…his smug grin returned. “Now if we could please, get our minds out of my pants and on the task at hand? I’m hungry. Besides….Bunny don’t like it when I flash my **** all over the shop.”

Ana: Ana looked over at him from her task of getting the wall clean and with a cheeky grin stated, “The only thing our hearts couldn’t take would be all the laughing we would be doing if you decided to flash us. My mind would never be in your pants because my mind is usually on Jose, and no one holds a candle to him.” She returned to wiping down the newly cleaned wall before moving onto a fresh spot, thinking they needed fresh water in the scrub bucket because what was in there was starting to look like some sort of macabre soup or drink.

“You know, if you would stop talking so much and start actually scrubbing, we’d be done with this much quicker. Being done quicker means I bake that much sooner, which means you get fed. And you also get to take actual credit for helping clean up this mess. I’m sure Fatima might be willing to tell Bunny you had a hand in helping us. Women appreciate a man who cleans. A lot.” Ana cast him a meaningful look before she nodded at the floor where he’d been making a half-hearted effort to scrub up some of the dried blood.

Fatima: “Indeed they do. There is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to handle a scrub brush.” She agreed, climbing to her feet and grabbing the bucket. “I am going to freshen this up.” She stated, having spotted a half open door and a hint of tile floor. She guessed that was the bathroom and was proven right when she hauled her burden over. Pushing the door open, she dumped the bucket in the tub and began to run the water. She made sure to rinse the tinted water from the tub before filling her bucket with Lysol and hot water once more. She came back out and eyed Scott a moment. “And I would be happy to extol your virtues to Bunny, provided you actually start cleaning. A little elbow grease never hurt any one. Hard work is good for the soul… all that nonsense they say.” She gave him her best stern mom look, the same look that usually had her son cowering and running to do whatever she ordered him to do.

Scott: Women. Couldn’t live with them. Couldn’t live without them. Scott knew he was currently outnumbered and acquiesced to their demands. It had to be done and truth be told, if it wasn't for these two ladies he’d be on his own. That was enough to give him the necessary push to pick up the pace a little. Concern started to nag at him though. Bunny. He had wanted to go find her but the Boss Lady had been keeping him on a pretty short leash and the woman wasn’t answering her calls. She was strong though and had been doing this for a lot longer than him. She would be fine. She would also come home when she was good and ready. Trying to force her to do otherwise was futile. Scott was man enough to know when not to push it. That is at least what he told himself and was partly true. The rest was that he was absolutely scared shitless of the Big Fella. Messing with Bunny would surely have his *** in the hospital if he was lucky. If he wasn’t? Body bag for sure.

“And I do want to some of that home baking.” He said with a cheesy grin. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal. Diner food gets so….” He made a face and shuddered slightly. It did the trick but he knew there was better. Besides...if they wanted to mother him who was he to say no? “It’s ok.” He smirked at Fatima. “Bunny knows all about my ...virtues. No extolling necessary but I appreciate the offer. For a couple of old girls you two ain’t bad and to show my appreciation I shall….do as you ask.” He had to admit rather begrudgingly that they were right. If he got in helped this **** would be done that much sooner. “So Ana….who is Jose then?”

Ana: She flushed and turned back to the wall, cleaning the area she’d already cleaned, “Just someone I met a couple of months ago. Back when Malachai’s father tried to blow up the house with Malachai and I in it. He was one of the gardener’s at Mal’s father’s estate. He has come to visit me several times since we came back to Canada.”

Uncomfortable with disclosing so much about her personal life, she changed the subject quickly, “I’ll cook you dinner three times a week so you don’t have to eat so much diner food. It’ll be healthier and taste better, just tell me what you like and dislike. And did I mention it’s good to see you really can clean with the right type of...incentive?” Realizing she was re-cleaning the same spot, she huffed a breath and started working on a different area that needed it while trying to engage Fatima in conversation, “Fatima, do you have anyone special in your life?”

Fatima: She smiled as she scrubbed at a new spot, listening to the other woman talk. She sounded as if she truly enjoyed the company of her gentleman caller. The question surprised her though, and she shook her head. “No. There has been no one since Aarif died. I suppose I could ask Zakar to arrange a marriage for me, but I have no interest in being anything other than a First Wife as I used to be. All the men my age already have many wives.”

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Scott: He didn’t miss the red rising on Ana’s face and being the *** that was he couldn’t help but comment. “Oooohhhh look at you. If I didn’t know better I’d almost think you and this Jose guy are getting’ it on. But I am pretty sure at your age that’s likely impossible.” He snickered and shook his head. Though he had never spent much time with anybody outside of his age group and that the two women he was currently conversing with so far out of his stratosphere of understanding it was actually nice to be able to just talk to someone.

It was also not lost on him that both had gone through some pretty heavy stuff in their lives. While seriousness wasn’t one of his stronger points he could respect that each had battle scars of sorts. His left eye squinted at the possibility of actually having lots of wives and people, including those wives being ok with it. It sounded way too good to be true. His focus of attention shifted to the Arabic woman. “You are ******* shitting me right? That doesn’t really happen does it?” It was plainly obvious in that moment that Scott’s knowledge base wasn’t very full.

Ana: She might be nearly seventy years old, but she was still quick and at Scott’s teasing, she moved with surprising speed to deliver a hard smack to the back of his head. Just like she did to her grandson almost daily when he got smart with her, grown-up or not, Scott had it coming in her estimation. Almost casually she went back to the wall and began cleaning it again as if nothing had happened, “I’ll have you know that I enjoy a very active sex life, young man! Not that anyone but Jose and I need to know that.” Fuming inwardly at the thought that just because she was old apparently meant she couldn’t have sex, she scrubbed the wall with renewed vigor, taking her ire out on the gore spattered surface.

Fatima: She laughed, straight out loud, when Scott got smacked upside the head. She couldn’t help it. She loved that women in this country had the freedom to express their ire in any way they chose. Ignoring the comments about Ana’s very active sex life, she chose to answer Scott’s questions. “Oh it does happen. If you are lucky, you get to be a First Wife. My daughter in law is a First Wife. And I have made it so she will be an only wife. That is a good thing for her. Aarif had three wives. One died, and the other was married off to another family after the proper days of mourning.”

She scooted down, almost right next to Scott now as she scrubbed the floor. She took a moment and pulled her gloves off. Once that was done, she unwrapped the scarf covering her black and silver hair, letting the long, thick braid fall down her back. It was a little warm up here and she was sure they wouldn’t tell her son that she had been improper. “Now that Aarif is gone and the appropriate length of time has passed, Zakar can arrange a new marriage for me if he choose and if I want it. My son is very progressive. He would not force me to remarry unless I wanted it. Some women are not so lucky.”

Scott: He did not see the slap coming and even when the older woman’s hand connected he tried to duck away. The whole effort belated and quite useless. “Ow.” He muttered and scowled, rubbing at the now burning area. Horror flashed across his face but not because of the hit he had just taken. “T.M.I, old girl. T.M.I!” He could have gone his whole life without knowing that and the accompanying thoughts that followed despite his inner protest. It was obvious though that he had upset her. He hoped this didn’t undermine the whole empanada deal. The growling of his stomach gave him mind enough to be a little more careful though.

Still rubbing the back of his head he eyed Fatima. “Why would you let your son pick a husband? I mean couldn’t you do that yourself? Get yourself some hotty like Miss Ana over here has done? I’m sure some old guys would totally dig that nun look you got going on there.” Tact was also not a strong point. In fact the guy had very few except when it came to music. Now there was something he was really good at.

Ana: She turned and put her hands on her hips as she eyed Scott, as if debating to smack him on Fatima’s behalf. Instead she simply shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Madre de Dios! Eres un pendejo!” Louder she said, “T.M.I. would be telling you mine and Jose’s favorite positions or other more intimate details. Which I won’t do, don’t worry.”

The wall was now clean, no more bits of tissue or bone decorated it and the blood was a thing of the past. Of course, now that the wall was clean Ana could focus her all her attention on Scott and Fatima. She found it very interesting to learn something of the woman’s culture and found herself looking at the woman with open curiosity, hoping she would elaborate more or better yet, that Fatima would give Scott a smack for his comment about her way of dressing. Unthinkingly, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall waiting to see what would happen next.

Fatima: Taking a page from Ana’s book, she leaned back and popped Scott upside the head, leaving soap bubbles and a faint pine scent behind. After all, she had her gloves back on and had been scrubbing when he made his comment. “It is not a nun outfit. It is an Abaya and Hijab.” She corrected him. “And no, I am not interested in any other men. My Aarif was enough for me and no one can replace him. It is why I am glad Zakar respects my wishes so much. Aarif’s third wife was married off by her family to a very horrible man. Luckily she is in the double digits and as a result doesn’t have to put up with him very often.”

She looked thoughtful as she went back to scrubbing the floor. She was very curious about what it was like to have control of her own romantic life. To actually go on a date. She had never been on one of those before and the idea was rather appealing. But by the same token, it was an incredibly terrifying thought. To randomly choose a person and go out with them for a night of… of what? Dinner? Dancing? Movies? She had no idea. “Ana, if I may ask… what is it like to date a person? What happens on a date?”

Scott: He looked confused at Ana’s sudden bout of Spanish and grinned as he leaned towards Fatima in a rather conspiratorial manner. “She wants me.” So self-assured that it was rather easy to convince himself of such despite knowing full well what pendejo meant. It was a female thing, he was certain of it. All part of the treat em’ mean, keep em’ keen scene. Hey...it worked for Bunny, he’s chase that piece of tail anywhere. Maybe he should just shut up for a bit and concentrate on getting this **** cleaned up before he got himself real ****.

He scrubbed at the floor, moving on his hands and knees to the next spot in need of attention, and allowed the women to talk. They kinda lost him for a while as the male pondered the possibility of having twelve wives. He could probably roll with that but would he really have to marry them all. Did Arab women do birth control? ‘Cause **** that child support. Yeah...maybe not.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Ana: Ana heard Scott’s declaration and rolled her eyes as she found a spot on the floor to start scrubbing. After giving Fatima’s questions a few moments of thought, she answered with a smile, “Well the first date is a way to break the ice. I find I’m always nervous when I go on a date with someone new for the first time. You wonder what to talk about, will they like what you are wearing, will you like what they are wearing, did the two of you pick the right place to eat, the right activity to try for the first time together, things like that. If the date goes well and you have common ground with the person, you talk, laugh, get to know a little more about them, maybe kiss them at the end of the date and get their digits. Some people have sex on the first date. Some wait until they are married, it really just depends on the person and whether or not they click with each other. Did you and Aarif not date before you got married?”

Fatima: “You eat together? At the same table in the same room?” She was genuinely confused about that fact, her eyes swinging over to Scott as if searching for confirmation that’s how dates worked. “No Aarif and I met once before the wedding, in the company of our families, of course. And then we did not see each other until the wedding was happening. I am honestly mind boggled how you Easterners do it. Doesn’t it get difficult to find someone to marry?”

She looked at Scott and it was almost like she could see the gears turning in his head. A smile touched her lips. “A man can only have as many wives as he can comfortably support. It is law. And by comfortable I mean a generous allowance for clothing, appropriate security and hired cars to take the women shopping. A large enough home or homes. Plenty of servants.” She snickered softly as she watched the young man. Clearly the idea of multiple women was appealing, until he thought about all the maintenance that went into having so many devotedly committed relationships.

Scott: A cheeky wink was thrown at the older woman when rolled her eyes. They could deny it all they like but Scott knew he had a certain sort of charm that made him likable, even if he was being a dick. It was something he had learned about himself early and spent time perfecting the craft. He could charm the pants of the uncharmable. He also knew when to not push his luck and decided now was that time if he was going to be having empanadas for dinner. Her little talk on dating got his mind ticking though. Perhaps that is what he should do for Bunny if Mistress Crazy Pants ever gave him breathing space. The little blonde was far too serious and considering all this, could likely use the distraction. Dating was not something he had done a lot of. The band was his pickup line. A song or two was the date and before ya knew it a hot steamy quickie was being had in the bathroom between sets.

He returned from his own reverie only to stare at Fatima all wide eyed. On what planet was eating together considered such a surprise inducing possibility? Though her questions he would leave in the hands of the obviously more knowledgeable Mexican woman and concentrated on cleaning the floorboards. A quick survey of the area pleased him. They were almost done and he could be out of here and eating like a king before the Boss Lady woke. He snorted softly and nodded. “So only rich fuckers? Makes sense. Though it ain’t all about the money.” A crooked grin curled his mouth. Some thoughts were never meant to be shared.

Ana: “Yes, we eat together at the same time and at the same table. That is how we get to know each other, by talking over dinner, or going out for drinks, or just...well, anywhere really. Except at a movie because other people get angry if you talk through it. I was never married so I’m not sure how people find that one special person either. My guess is a lot of trial and error.” Ana shrugged and kept on scrubbing as she asked questions of her own now, “What is it like to not really know the person you are marrying? What if you can’t stand each other or he’s hideous to look at? Didn’t either of you have any say in who you married? A woman of your culture must have to be very understanding to share her husband with another woman, or several women for that matter.”

Fatima: She surveyed their work at the same time Scott did. The place looked a lot cleaner than it had when they first walked in and she felt a sense of pride in their accomplishment. She considered Ana’s questions for a moment, stalling with a simple “I’ve never had alcohol. It is forbidden.” She went back to scrubbing for several long moments before speaking again. “Well, I will start with your last statement. It is not a matter of being understanding. It simply is. Where I come from there is no other way. We know no other way, it’s what we see from birth to marriage. Though if he were hideous to look at, I would certainly wish for a lot of alcohol to make it bearable.” She snickered at her own joke. “As for not knowing the person you are marrying, I suppose it would be a little like dating in reverse? All the courting and getting to know each other happens after the ring is on the finger and the vows are said. As a First Wife, you spend more time with the husband than the other wives. But the farther down the ladder you are, the more like a broodmare you become. Your job is to have and to mind children. You watch the children of the other wives along with your own, taking it in turn.”

She sat back on her knees and pulled her gloves off, looking around in satisfaction. Aside from gathering up their cleaning supplies, they looked to be finished with the task. The walls were cleaned of blood, bone and brain. The wooden floor didn’t show any sign of blood from a body being dragged. With a grin she reached out and pounded Scott on the back. “You do good work, for a man.” She joked.

Scott: He was more than happy to let the woman natter away as he started planning special for his date with Bunny. For all he really knew she could laugh in his face and tell him to like….grow up or something. That woman was so much a mystery to him. His head whipped around and absolute shock registered on his finely chiseled features. ‘You are frickin’ kidding me! No alcohol?” Of all that had been said that shocked him most. A plan formed as the wheels of his mind ticked over and he narrowed his gaze towards the still busy Ana. “How does empanadas and tequila sound? We should have a little...celebratory dinner and drink.’ He bobbed his head as he spoke, more of an over exaggerated nod that implied this was something that must be done. He had a feeling that watchin’ these two get their drink on would definitely be far more amusing than trying to hide from Velveteen.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Ana: She sat back on her heels and nodded to herself as she looked over the room, thinking it looked much better than when she’d arrived. Fatima’s statement that she’d never had alcohol took her by surprise, she didn’t know of anyone who had never tried at least a small nip of it in some way, shape, or form and she was determined to remedy that for the other woman. At Scott’s suggestion, she nodded her agreement, wringing out her rag into the bucket as she added her two pesos, “That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all night. I can whip up some up empanadas and I happen to have a bottle of Patron Platinum that I have been hanging on to for some time now. This sounds like as good a time as any to open that bottle to share it with...friends.”

It was strange to call other people friends. Ana didn’t have friends, she had Mal and when his wife wasn’t traveling for business, she had Echo. Her charges who needed looking after, even if they didn’t think they did. A small smile graced her lips as she bowed her head, “Sorry if I have overstepped my bounds in calling you friends since I just met you tonight.”

Fatima: “You have not overstepped to me. I have no friends here. It would be nice to have my first taste of alcohol with new friends. And maybe I can try these empanadas that you keep speaking about.” She got to her feet and picked up the bucket. She vanished into the bathroom with it and poured it out, then took a few minutes to scrub the tub to a sparkling clean. When she came back to the other two, she began gathering their supplies. As that was done, she covered her hair and looked at them expectantly. “Shall we take a portal out of here?”

Scott: The male held his arms out to his side and flashed a brilliant smile at the pair. “Hey….feed me and ply me with alcohol and I’m anybody’s…...friend.” He added with a suggestive waggle of his brow and a boyish grin. He dropped the scrubbing brush and the nearby bucket and gave a satisfactory nod, glad that the hard part was out of the way and it seemed like an interesting evening was ahead. “But you have to promise me that you ladies wont go getting all frisky and wanna play like..strip poker or have a strip dancing contest or anything. I know the effect I have women….besides I’m a taken man.” Again he smirked and pulled himself to his feet offering a hand to help Ana up also.

Ana: “Psh...you couldn’t keep up with us if you tried, Scott. Besides, I’m a taken woman so you don’t need to worry about any interest in you on my part. You remind me too much of my Nene for me to view you as a man.” She took his hand and used it to pull herself to her feet, making sure she grabbed her bag. No bag or person left behind, right? “Fatima, why don’t you lead the way to a portal or I can call Nene and have him summon me away from here. Whichever is easiest for everyone involved.” Ana was the easy going sort when she wasn’t working, and the more she thought about it, the more she liked Scott’s suggestion. Food and drink for herself and her new friends. A good way to finish the evening off in her opinion. If anyone had too much to drink, she figured they could just grab one of the spare bedrooms and sleep it off at her place. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge, amigos.”

Fatima: With a nod, she linked her arm around Ana’s and her other one around Scott’s, leaving her in the middle. She gave a last look around and even though they were all side by side, she led them out of the room they’d been working in and into the elevator. She pushed the button for the third floor and looked at her two new companions. “Just promise if this drinking thing goes wrong, I can sleep on a couch somewhere safe?” She asked as the doors opened. She led the two of them to the portal that would take them to the Bullwood transit, looking at them both with a grin. “Deal?” She asked as they all stepped in to the portal and vanished.