The Wicked Witch of HRC
Posted: 20 Jan 2016, 13:43
<Ric> Sister B had been on my mind a lot lately-ever since I sired that guy Ashby. I gave the two of them and Thing Two some money to let them know I think about them and want them to do well in the city and left it at that a couple weeks ago. I’m not sentimental. I don’t go around starting conversations because I’m bored or want to feel loved or why ever people go out of their way to bore others with pointless conversations.
Truth was, I noticed her lack of attention on the Hawthorne board. I had my suspicions why-Skylar. I know she was a little hesitant towards the woman since Skylar more or less started my experiment with Sister B a while back. I don’t think she likes Skylar, and I’m sure it’s fifty-fifty with me on a good day. Would I like being an experiment? Probably not. But that didn’t mean she was a failed experiment or not a person I wouldn’t stick up for and defend if some punk started stuff with Sister B.
I grab my phone and shoot Sister B a text. “Merry Hakkukkah, or whatever you Catholics celebrate. I got you a gift. Let’s meet up.”
<Bev>Beverly sat quietly in the apartment, legs folded up under her and dress arrayed to cover her legs. Once more she sat alone, She had spent weeks searching, but couldn't find her Pyps anywhere. Nerissa still came home most nights, and settled on the couch. She seldom came up to the bed they had shared with Pyps, if Beverly was there alone. More and more it seemed as though the buxom allurist was always alone. Everyone was gone. Everyone she had cared about since the night her sire had stolen her life, future, and soul from her. No more did the little ginger that was sire of her sire appear. Her own sire was always away, either hunting, or curled up with Skylar, is wife, in some dark corner of the sewers. They were always rutting it seemed, as every time she found them together, used condoms were scattered about the floor. Sometime she picked them up and handed them back, but the lesson never stuck, the next time there were more. Katerina…. she often disappeared as well, but then would appear from nowhere, and be around for a few days, then gone again. It was like her seventeenth birthday all over again. A moment of happiness, then all that she knew torn away from her.
A shiver coursed through her as she idly smoothed her dress across soft thighs. Her fingers had brushed against her cilices. She had stopped wearing them, when Pyper asked, but now, now she knew she must have once more failed, and was paying the price. The apartment had become her cell. A gilded cell to be sure, but the feeling was the same as when the nuns had taken her as a child, it was definitely her cell. She was alone, ever alone. The cilice let her know, let her feel. Penance, they were her penance. They were her freedom. The phone on the end table vibrated and shook , as she wiped a tear from her eye. She watched its dance as it rattle about til it slipped to the carpet floor. It wasn't Pyps tone. It wasn't worth answering.
Ten minutes passed, before she once more smoothed the dresses skirt. This time as her hand slid over it Beverly pressed down, forcing the sharpened teeth of the celice deep into the meat of her thigh. The fresh trickle of blood roused her, and she reached for the phone “New Text”. Pressing the button, she sighed as she read, another irreverent message from her sire. He wanted to meet. She would have to go out. Shaking her head she mustered as much enthusiasm as she could and answered…. *T* “Where”
<Ric> While I waited for Sister B to get back to me , I started wrapping her gift. Which consisted of tossing it in a red bag and tying the bag up with some hunting string that I may or may not have used to tie the legs of some big animal up at some point. I saw myself as being resourceful and if it wasn’t damaged or broken, I would keep it and use it again and again until whatever it was was beyond use.
“I’m going to meet Sister B.” I called out to Skylar who was in the crafting room making something. Probably a sword or jewelry. Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed the shiny red bag, my phone and left the apartment. I could have tomed to the Eyrie, but I was dealing with personal business, not faction business, so it was best to separate the two. Just in case. Plus, I didn’t want anyone asking who the gift was for and what was in it. It was just for Sister B.
I push the button for the elevator twice and stand four feet back from it. While the elevator makes its way to the upper floors, my phone goes off and I read the reply from Sister B. Where. ****. Where? I don’t like places with too many people, but I doubt she’ll want to go to an abandoned factory or warehouse, so I’ll suck it up and go somewhere public. Ish. The elevator door opens and I walk inside, turn and push the main button, giving the system its directions. “Dragon Gate Inn. In Rock River area. I’ll buy you some dinner.” I don’t know if she still eats food, but I know she can. This way she can eat, I can sit across from her and we can talk without people being in our business. I send the message just before the door opens and I’m on the main floor.
I don’t stop to see who is on the main floor of the flats. I move around the zombies without any problem and leave the building. Any other night I would have taken a couple of them out, but not tonight. I have to go in public and zombie guts on my clothes would raise some questions. I go north, to the river and walk it until two blocks from the Inn, where I find the city street again and head to the building. I decline being seated and just wait for Sister B to show up, present in hand.
<Bev> The buxom allurist kept the phone in her hand, she knew when her sire started something he had single- minded focus, and would answer immediately. A sigh escaped her as she read the message, Dragon’s Gate. They lived in the same damned building, and he was going to make her cross half the city for a present representative of a holiday he didn't even know, and she no longer believed it. If there was a God, he would never have allowed the things to happen in her life, that had. Now she would have to dress up, put on makeup, be in a crowd. The three things she either hated, or did not know how to do. Sitting down before her laptop, she activated the webcam. Dark circles wrapped her eyes, sunken cheeks and dry cracked lips completed the visage that stared back at her. She didn't have time for this ****. She had never worn make- up till she met Pyps. She had had to watch numerous videos on Youtube as she strove to learn how to make herself pretty for the one person that had accepted her for what she was, and welcomed her. Quickly Beverly patted on a base concealer, before lightly dusting a hint of blush. Pulling out a color palette, she realized her eyes were a lost cause, the darkness could not be overcome, she had no time. If she knew her sire he was already halfway there. Use the circles, accentuate them.. A black pencil quickly outlined what she had seen referred to as ‘Egyptian eyes’ then a few deft strokes of browns, violets and blues blended together as the shadows disappeared. Beverly had been graced with full lips, and as she gently rubbed a soothing balm across the cracks before outlining her cupid's bow with a dark carmine red pencil, then filling in the color with a lush red to offset the dark exotic eyes.
Face done she stood and turned, heading into the loft. “Dragon’s gate” she muttered “Why couldn't he just pick the lobby here, or an abandoned factory.” Shaking her head she stared at her section of the closet, all three dresses. Slipping from her robe she Looked down over her body smoothing her hands down her sides to her hips. Her skin was flawless, and if what she had heard was true, it would stay that way forever. Her hands slid up over her belly to cup the full firm 34E breasts that rode proudly on her chest. There was just a slight crease beneath them, enough to hold a pencil was perfect she had heard at school, before her father had ended that life for her. Well she could hold a pencil, she figured as she let a finger tuck into the crease, but not much more. An errant thought crossed her mind as she wondered if being a vampire meant that gravity was going to lose this battle. She glanced at the pebbled peaks, missing Pyper’s soft lips as she continued to prepare. She looked at the one faded white bra she owned, it was stretched and worn from fighting gravity the last eighteen years. She had had it on the night her father discarded her, and the nuns had never seen fit to replace anything for the “abomination” other than to get her sharper cilices. The hell with it, she didn't need it, they were full and firm, she was done with wire jabbing her when she moved, worn elastic always letting the straps slip and show, no more.
Cilices….She couldn't let them show, and the only dress she had that was pretty enough for Dragon’s Gate was too short to cover them where they were. Quickly she undid the locks, then the buckles, watching as the wounds healed before her eyes. slipping them higher, she nestled the chains deep into the juncture of her thighs before drawing them tight and resting the locks on the left. As she positioned the right a shudder ran through her as the cool chains dragged against moist folds, before nestling in the crease of her thigh. Yanking the chain tight a moan escaped her lips as the spikes drove deep and she set the lock. Reaching into the closet she slid out the beautiful black dress she had bought to wear for Ric’s wedding reception, and slipped into it before stepping up into the four inch pumps she had been forced to buy, as she had had no shoes to match the dress.
That was it, she was done. He was forcing her out of the apartment and this was all he was getting, Texting as she slipped from the door she muttered to herself as she typed “On my way”
<Ric> For whatever reason, Sister B was taking her sweet *** time tonight. That’s fine. She’s the only thing on my agenda for tonight anyways. I put the bag down by my feet, pull out my pack of Marlboro Reds, pull one out and stick it between my teeth. I grab a lighter from my pocket, light the thing and wait. I’m not sure how this conversation should start, which meant I’m not sure how it will end, but it’s been on my mind since I met with Velveteen last week.
First her, and then Maybe Thing Two. Altaire just wasn’t what it used to be and I doubt it ever would. Phoenix left town or whatever and hadn’t checked in with anyone that I knew of since the left. “******* women.” I mutter as she keeps me waiting. I only notice time has passed because half my cigarette is gone before Sister B replies saying she’s on her way. I look down at the bag and resist pulling it out to look at the gift. It has a purpose. I like my gifts to have purposes and not just be something that will be forgotten about in a couple weeks or months. What was the point then?
I lift my boot and stub out the cigarette on the bottom of it and put it in the large ashtray in the middle of a trash bin that circled around the bin part. Clever and purposeful. Whoever owned this place had at least half a brain. Space saving was what it was. If only I could find a way to save space with all the stuff Skylar brought to our place. I don’t answer Sister B, I just tuck the phone away after the cigarette has been discarded and lean against the wall, both feet around the bag.
<Bev>It was a path she had often followed, into the sewers by the river, a short jog, then up into River Rock. Not tonight, not in theses clothes, not in this makeup, not in these shoes. If he wanted fancy, fancy took time. Riding down the elevator Beverly wondered what was happening, her sire had not spoken to her in months, and now he wanted a meeting. Across the lobby Beverly slipped behind the piano and through the fade portal there. The allurist kept her car in the lot near wickbridge, and it was a short walk from the sanctuary . Plugging the address into her gps, she arrived quickly, and leaving the car to a valet, walked through the door. From the trickle of drool in the corner of the valet’s mouth, she didn't think she would need to offer a tip later. A smile crossed her face as she let a little spring into her step and headed in through the doors.
<Ric> The doors had opened five times before Sister B made her way in. I didn’t even look up all the way before I addressed her. “Sister B.” My eyes look at her and I nod my head in her direction as she comes my way. I don’t give out a lot of compliments-Skylar could even tell you this, but she took the time to look nice, so I should say something nice in return. I remember my mom told me that when I was a kid. If someone took some effort, you should acknowledge it. “I’m a little underdressed.” Might not be the best compliment, but it was true. I look down at my dark jeans, boots and a t-shirt that was white and had an apple on it. A chunk was missing from the apple and the saying ‘bite me,’ was written on it. “I like your…” I look at her face. What was that stuff called again on women? “War paint.” No, that wasn’t it. “Lips and stuff.” We’re off to a great start.
“I got you this.” I bend down to dissolve the awkwardness of the situation and grab the bad and hold it out to her. “Merry Christmas.” I let a very small smile place itself on my lips before I inch it closer to Sister B. Inside, she’ll find her gift of a leather bound journal. “I made it. The outside part.” https://theartfestival.files.wordpress. ... ture-2.png
<Bev> The bounce in her walk faded as she took in the crowd of people inside. People who belonged. Why was she here? What madness had drawn her into public. Eyes flickered to her, most lingering. She had noticed this more and more. She drew attention like a magnet. Something had happened when her Sire had killed her, something more than just becoming a soulless creature of the night. Men looked at her with lust filled eyes, while women;s stares were filled with sharp- eyed hatred. It was becoming harder and harder to feed, and with her Pyps gone, she could not even get the little nibbles that she had drawn from the woman she loved. The loneliness swept in, threatening to wash her away as she heard his voice, her sire’s voice.
A tear trickled from her eye as he spoke. Warpaint? Lips and stuff? She knew it had not been her best effort, how could it be. She had had no warning, no time, He had summoned, she had answered. A second tear followed the first as she turned towards him and stepped to his side.He had ignored her for months, and now when her world was falling apart, he felt he had throw stones, weigh her down and force her beneath the rising tides. She straightened her shoulders as the tears continued to slowly trickle from the corners of her eyes. Her hands stayed folded before her as she watched him pick up a red bag between his feet. She might not be able to stop the tears, but she would be damned again, if she would wipe them and draw even more attention to herself. Merry Christmas? Silently she lowered her head. Rodric had destroyed any hopes she had of heaven, any hopes of a happy ever after, and now he offered her a present, representing His holy birth. Slowly she slipped a hand inside and drew forth a leather bound tome. The leather was not commercially made, rather it was the hide of some animal, home cured by her sire, then turned into this, this journal. It was beautiful though, and he had made it. The Allurist wasn't sure what to do, any interaction with her sire was a mental challenge. Leaning forward she kissed his cheek, “Thank you” she whispered as even more tears began to flow.
<Ric> ****. Crying women. Somehow, something I did or said was making Sister B cry. This wasn't the first time this had happened. I can't think of what I said or did. I did what chicks liked. I acknowledged her appearance and got her a gift. Things chicks liked, or so I was led to believe.
I don't move. I just nod at her thank you. “Sister B.” Why was she always crying, I wanted to ask, but I don't. I can't go in a public place with tears pissing down her face. Everyone would be looking at us and we wouldn't be able to talk.
It wasn't the gift. She had started crying before she got it. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek which implied the gift was received and appreciated by her. She didn't say thank you. After I complimented her. All women did that. All of them liked to be told they were pretty. **** it. “You look pretty.” I look down at the gift in her hand as she steps back.
“You're welcome.” I acknowledge her appreciation and don't say anything else on it for now. Instead, I grab the bottom of my shirt and pat at her face. I don't give a **** if there's make up on my clothes. I can buy more clothes. “Come on.” I say after one last pat and go in the restaurant all the way finally.
A waitress seats us near some water thing. She takes our orders to drink and flits off after getting them. “I wrote something inside it.” I finally say about the journal. “Questions.” I admit. “I'm not good face to face. With anyone. Even with Skylar, or other people I'm close to.” I don't name Velveteen or Doc, but those were the top two that came to mind
“I'm trying to get better at it. In the journal we're going to share; we can write about our week, ask questions, whatever. Every week we'll switch it and the other person will answer questions or reply to what was written in some way, acknowledging what the other person wrote.” I look at her after I say this to see if she has any questions or was confused about the task of the journal.
<Bev> Fighting to control the tears, the raven haired alluring stood staring at her sire. He had left her to herself to once more face the dissolution of her family unit, then text her out of nowhere to meet him out. Insults her efforts to appear nice for him, then wipes her tears on his shirt and calls her pretty. Carefully she clung to the leather clad journal with one hand as the others thumb made slow careful sweeps beneath her eyes in a vain attempt to reblend her tear smeared makeup. Swallowing hard she raised her head determined not to draw any more attention, and followed Roderic into the restaurant proper. Carefully Beverly swept her skirt close to her thighs as she gracefully slipped into her seat, setting the journal on the table in front of her. Slipping the leather throng from the cover she opened the journal, and looked up into ‘Ric’s eyes.
<Ric> I had hoped she wouldn’t open it right here and right now. That she would wait until after our impromptu meeting I called. She was looking at me, and I was looking at her. Why was she looking at me and not reading what I wrote? Maybe it was my handwriting. Maybe Sister B couldn’t read it. Not many could, but I tried to write as legible as I could. I was never in a hurry when I was writing, but it still came across as nothing more than some chicken scratch more times than not. So, I stare at her and tell her what the first entry says. “It says, hey. My name is Roderic Hawthorne. But you already knew that. So let me tell you something you don’t know about me.” I pause and think about what I’m going to tell Sister B. Only a few people know anything legitimate about my past. I can count them on one singular hand. “I had a pretty good life until middle school. My dad was banging some other teacher he worked with and they procreated and made some other kid.” I don’t give Nathan’s name out, he’s still human and it’s risky since he lives here in the city because he goes to school here. “My parents got divorced and I went from a middle income family; upper that was, to a low-income, barely surviving family in the course of less than a year. I think that was the time I stopped believing in your god.” I stop and look away, watching how close anyone is near us, which there wasn’t. Still, I feel the need to protect my information. “I actually think the guy is a dick, but I can be too.” I turn back to face her. “Anyways, I’m sorry for what I did to you to try and piss on the guy you believe in. It wasn’t right, but I’m looking to, and hoping on moving forward.” And there it was-the most I’ve probably said to anyone in one single sitting at a time. I just look at Sister B and wait to see what she does and what she has to say.
<Bev> Softly her fingers stroke the pages of the journal as she listens to her sire’s quiet recitation. She had not often been in his company, but never remember him talking anywhere, to anyone like he was now with her. Slowly she closed the cover without looking inside. Running her hands over the leather, she carefully rewrapped the thong. Carefully she smiled to him, “Thank you, I will take good care of this.” Her eyelashes fluttered as they lowered, and once more her hand graced the cover, Softly she whispered, “I will try to share, I do not know if I can”
<Ric> I just nod my head. I wasn’t expecting Sister B to be an open book right away. She’s been one of my things for a while now and this is the first time I’ve shared anything significant with her other than be smart and careful. Don’t start **** and don’t die because lots of people will die after you die speech. “Do what you can, but I’ll be asking for it in one week from tonight.” If I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it. I don’t think Sister B has realized that yet, but she will.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask her, aware that we have ordered our drinks, but not anything to eat. That might look a little out of place in a place like this, so I want to nip that in the bud before we get too far into our conversation.
<Bev> The allurist nodded, “It does nothing for me, but I will order to help us hide in plain sight.” Catching the waitress eye, Beverly ordered a small fruit platter, It wasn't much, but she could pick at it over time, and it would be considered normal. A wistfulness entered her voice as she queried “Have you seen Pyps? I cannot find her” A soft frown touched the scarlet lips.
<Ric> I want to tell her to forget about Pyper, but something tells me that would upset a fragile person like Sister B. So I shake my head. “Not in months. Sorry.” I don't know what it's like to be hung up on someone, but I've seen it a lot lately. Screws with people's minds. “That where you been? Looking for her?” I look at the platter that arrived and then at her. “I'll ask around for her next time I see some people.” Like Doc. “It's good you came out tonight. Healthy.” Women liked going out and doing things. Shopping, playing music. Movies. Stuff like that. “Just like meeting people and making friends. It's healthy too.”
<Bev> A sad smile crossed her face as she listened, her sire had a bluntness to him that reminded her of the plow on a bulldozer, A big ‘dozer… “I sometimes go out Ric, but it is for others, when they want to. I do not like crowds. They frighten me. You know a little of my story, maybe i will put some more of it in the journal. I am not like others.” She remembered to use his name, it would not do to be overheard calling her sire sire.
<Ric> I nod. I do know. “So you plan on being frightened for decades to come?” I don't like crowds either, but somehow I've managed to not only deal with a small sector of people for about a year now, but get close to a couple of them too.
“You don't ever post on Hawthorne forum. Can I ask why?” I don't care if it's because of me or who is because of. I want to know the stem of the problem.
Truth was, I noticed her lack of attention on the Hawthorne board. I had my suspicions why-Skylar. I know she was a little hesitant towards the woman since Skylar more or less started my experiment with Sister B a while back. I don’t think she likes Skylar, and I’m sure it’s fifty-fifty with me on a good day. Would I like being an experiment? Probably not. But that didn’t mean she was a failed experiment or not a person I wouldn’t stick up for and defend if some punk started stuff with Sister B.
I grab my phone and shoot Sister B a text. “Merry Hakkukkah, or whatever you Catholics celebrate. I got you a gift. Let’s meet up.”
<Bev>Beverly sat quietly in the apartment, legs folded up under her and dress arrayed to cover her legs. Once more she sat alone, She had spent weeks searching, but couldn't find her Pyps anywhere. Nerissa still came home most nights, and settled on the couch. She seldom came up to the bed they had shared with Pyps, if Beverly was there alone. More and more it seemed as though the buxom allurist was always alone. Everyone was gone. Everyone she had cared about since the night her sire had stolen her life, future, and soul from her. No more did the little ginger that was sire of her sire appear. Her own sire was always away, either hunting, or curled up with Skylar, is wife, in some dark corner of the sewers. They were always rutting it seemed, as every time she found them together, used condoms were scattered about the floor. Sometime she picked them up and handed them back, but the lesson never stuck, the next time there were more. Katerina…. she often disappeared as well, but then would appear from nowhere, and be around for a few days, then gone again. It was like her seventeenth birthday all over again. A moment of happiness, then all that she knew torn away from her.
A shiver coursed through her as she idly smoothed her dress across soft thighs. Her fingers had brushed against her cilices. She had stopped wearing them, when Pyper asked, but now, now she knew she must have once more failed, and was paying the price. The apartment had become her cell. A gilded cell to be sure, but the feeling was the same as when the nuns had taken her as a child, it was definitely her cell. She was alone, ever alone. The cilice let her know, let her feel. Penance, they were her penance. They were her freedom. The phone on the end table vibrated and shook , as she wiped a tear from her eye. She watched its dance as it rattle about til it slipped to the carpet floor. It wasn't Pyps tone. It wasn't worth answering.
Ten minutes passed, before she once more smoothed the dresses skirt. This time as her hand slid over it Beverly pressed down, forcing the sharpened teeth of the celice deep into the meat of her thigh. The fresh trickle of blood roused her, and she reached for the phone “New Text”. Pressing the button, she sighed as she read, another irreverent message from her sire. He wanted to meet. She would have to go out. Shaking her head she mustered as much enthusiasm as she could and answered…. *T* “Where”
<Ric> While I waited for Sister B to get back to me , I started wrapping her gift. Which consisted of tossing it in a red bag and tying the bag up with some hunting string that I may or may not have used to tie the legs of some big animal up at some point. I saw myself as being resourceful and if it wasn’t damaged or broken, I would keep it and use it again and again until whatever it was was beyond use.
“I’m going to meet Sister B.” I called out to Skylar who was in the crafting room making something. Probably a sword or jewelry. Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed the shiny red bag, my phone and left the apartment. I could have tomed to the Eyrie, but I was dealing with personal business, not faction business, so it was best to separate the two. Just in case. Plus, I didn’t want anyone asking who the gift was for and what was in it. It was just for Sister B.
I push the button for the elevator twice and stand four feet back from it. While the elevator makes its way to the upper floors, my phone goes off and I read the reply from Sister B. Where. ****. Where? I don’t like places with too many people, but I doubt she’ll want to go to an abandoned factory or warehouse, so I’ll suck it up and go somewhere public. Ish. The elevator door opens and I walk inside, turn and push the main button, giving the system its directions. “Dragon Gate Inn. In Rock River area. I’ll buy you some dinner.” I don’t know if she still eats food, but I know she can. This way she can eat, I can sit across from her and we can talk without people being in our business. I send the message just before the door opens and I’m on the main floor.
I don’t stop to see who is on the main floor of the flats. I move around the zombies without any problem and leave the building. Any other night I would have taken a couple of them out, but not tonight. I have to go in public and zombie guts on my clothes would raise some questions. I go north, to the river and walk it until two blocks from the Inn, where I find the city street again and head to the building. I decline being seated and just wait for Sister B to show up, present in hand.
<Bev> The buxom allurist kept the phone in her hand, she knew when her sire started something he had single- minded focus, and would answer immediately. A sigh escaped her as she read the message, Dragon’s Gate. They lived in the same damned building, and he was going to make her cross half the city for a present representative of a holiday he didn't even know, and she no longer believed it. If there was a God, he would never have allowed the things to happen in her life, that had. Now she would have to dress up, put on makeup, be in a crowd. The three things she either hated, or did not know how to do. Sitting down before her laptop, she activated the webcam. Dark circles wrapped her eyes, sunken cheeks and dry cracked lips completed the visage that stared back at her. She didn't have time for this ****. She had never worn make- up till she met Pyps. She had had to watch numerous videos on Youtube as she strove to learn how to make herself pretty for the one person that had accepted her for what she was, and welcomed her. Quickly Beverly patted on a base concealer, before lightly dusting a hint of blush. Pulling out a color palette, she realized her eyes were a lost cause, the darkness could not be overcome, she had no time. If she knew her sire he was already halfway there. Use the circles, accentuate them.. A black pencil quickly outlined what she had seen referred to as ‘Egyptian eyes’ then a few deft strokes of browns, violets and blues blended together as the shadows disappeared. Beverly had been graced with full lips, and as she gently rubbed a soothing balm across the cracks before outlining her cupid's bow with a dark carmine red pencil, then filling in the color with a lush red to offset the dark exotic eyes.
Face done she stood and turned, heading into the loft. “Dragon’s gate” she muttered “Why couldn't he just pick the lobby here, or an abandoned factory.” Shaking her head she stared at her section of the closet, all three dresses. Slipping from her robe she Looked down over her body smoothing her hands down her sides to her hips. Her skin was flawless, and if what she had heard was true, it would stay that way forever. Her hands slid up over her belly to cup the full firm 34E breasts that rode proudly on her chest. There was just a slight crease beneath them, enough to hold a pencil was perfect she had heard at school, before her father had ended that life for her. Well she could hold a pencil, she figured as she let a finger tuck into the crease, but not much more. An errant thought crossed her mind as she wondered if being a vampire meant that gravity was going to lose this battle. She glanced at the pebbled peaks, missing Pyper’s soft lips as she continued to prepare. She looked at the one faded white bra she owned, it was stretched and worn from fighting gravity the last eighteen years. She had had it on the night her father discarded her, and the nuns had never seen fit to replace anything for the “abomination” other than to get her sharper cilices. The hell with it, she didn't need it, they were full and firm, she was done with wire jabbing her when she moved, worn elastic always letting the straps slip and show, no more.
Cilices….She couldn't let them show, and the only dress she had that was pretty enough for Dragon’s Gate was too short to cover them where they were. Quickly she undid the locks, then the buckles, watching as the wounds healed before her eyes. slipping them higher, she nestled the chains deep into the juncture of her thighs before drawing them tight and resting the locks on the left. As she positioned the right a shudder ran through her as the cool chains dragged against moist folds, before nestling in the crease of her thigh. Yanking the chain tight a moan escaped her lips as the spikes drove deep and she set the lock. Reaching into the closet she slid out the beautiful black dress she had bought to wear for Ric’s wedding reception, and slipped into it before stepping up into the four inch pumps she had been forced to buy, as she had had no shoes to match the dress.
That was it, she was done. He was forcing her out of the apartment and this was all he was getting, Texting as she slipped from the door she muttered to herself as she typed “On my way”
<Ric> For whatever reason, Sister B was taking her sweet *** time tonight. That’s fine. She’s the only thing on my agenda for tonight anyways. I put the bag down by my feet, pull out my pack of Marlboro Reds, pull one out and stick it between my teeth. I grab a lighter from my pocket, light the thing and wait. I’m not sure how this conversation should start, which meant I’m not sure how it will end, but it’s been on my mind since I met with Velveteen last week.
First her, and then Maybe Thing Two. Altaire just wasn’t what it used to be and I doubt it ever would. Phoenix left town or whatever and hadn’t checked in with anyone that I knew of since the left. “******* women.” I mutter as she keeps me waiting. I only notice time has passed because half my cigarette is gone before Sister B replies saying she’s on her way. I look down at the bag and resist pulling it out to look at the gift. It has a purpose. I like my gifts to have purposes and not just be something that will be forgotten about in a couple weeks or months. What was the point then?
I lift my boot and stub out the cigarette on the bottom of it and put it in the large ashtray in the middle of a trash bin that circled around the bin part. Clever and purposeful. Whoever owned this place had at least half a brain. Space saving was what it was. If only I could find a way to save space with all the stuff Skylar brought to our place. I don’t answer Sister B, I just tuck the phone away after the cigarette has been discarded and lean against the wall, both feet around the bag.
<Bev>It was a path she had often followed, into the sewers by the river, a short jog, then up into River Rock. Not tonight, not in theses clothes, not in this makeup, not in these shoes. If he wanted fancy, fancy took time. Riding down the elevator Beverly wondered what was happening, her sire had not spoken to her in months, and now he wanted a meeting. Across the lobby Beverly slipped behind the piano and through the fade portal there. The allurist kept her car in the lot near wickbridge, and it was a short walk from the sanctuary . Plugging the address into her gps, she arrived quickly, and leaving the car to a valet, walked through the door. From the trickle of drool in the corner of the valet’s mouth, she didn't think she would need to offer a tip later. A smile crossed her face as she let a little spring into her step and headed in through the doors.
<Ric> The doors had opened five times before Sister B made her way in. I didn’t even look up all the way before I addressed her. “Sister B.” My eyes look at her and I nod my head in her direction as she comes my way. I don’t give out a lot of compliments-Skylar could even tell you this, but she took the time to look nice, so I should say something nice in return. I remember my mom told me that when I was a kid. If someone took some effort, you should acknowledge it. “I’m a little underdressed.” Might not be the best compliment, but it was true. I look down at my dark jeans, boots and a t-shirt that was white and had an apple on it. A chunk was missing from the apple and the saying ‘bite me,’ was written on it. “I like your…” I look at her face. What was that stuff called again on women? “War paint.” No, that wasn’t it. “Lips and stuff.” We’re off to a great start.
“I got you this.” I bend down to dissolve the awkwardness of the situation and grab the bad and hold it out to her. “Merry Christmas.” I let a very small smile place itself on my lips before I inch it closer to Sister B. Inside, she’ll find her gift of a leather bound journal. “I made it. The outside part.” https://theartfestival.files.wordpress. ... ture-2.png
<Bev> The bounce in her walk faded as she took in the crowd of people inside. People who belonged. Why was she here? What madness had drawn her into public. Eyes flickered to her, most lingering. She had noticed this more and more. She drew attention like a magnet. Something had happened when her Sire had killed her, something more than just becoming a soulless creature of the night. Men looked at her with lust filled eyes, while women;s stares were filled with sharp- eyed hatred. It was becoming harder and harder to feed, and with her Pyps gone, she could not even get the little nibbles that she had drawn from the woman she loved. The loneliness swept in, threatening to wash her away as she heard his voice, her sire’s voice.
A tear trickled from her eye as he spoke. Warpaint? Lips and stuff? She knew it had not been her best effort, how could it be. She had had no warning, no time, He had summoned, she had answered. A second tear followed the first as she turned towards him and stepped to his side.He had ignored her for months, and now when her world was falling apart, he felt he had throw stones, weigh her down and force her beneath the rising tides. She straightened her shoulders as the tears continued to slowly trickle from the corners of her eyes. Her hands stayed folded before her as she watched him pick up a red bag between his feet. She might not be able to stop the tears, but she would be damned again, if she would wipe them and draw even more attention to herself. Merry Christmas? Silently she lowered her head. Rodric had destroyed any hopes she had of heaven, any hopes of a happy ever after, and now he offered her a present, representing His holy birth. Slowly she slipped a hand inside and drew forth a leather bound tome. The leather was not commercially made, rather it was the hide of some animal, home cured by her sire, then turned into this, this journal. It was beautiful though, and he had made it. The Allurist wasn't sure what to do, any interaction with her sire was a mental challenge. Leaning forward she kissed his cheek, “Thank you” she whispered as even more tears began to flow.
<Ric> ****. Crying women. Somehow, something I did or said was making Sister B cry. This wasn't the first time this had happened. I can't think of what I said or did. I did what chicks liked. I acknowledged her appearance and got her a gift. Things chicks liked, or so I was led to believe.
I don't move. I just nod at her thank you. “Sister B.” Why was she always crying, I wanted to ask, but I don't. I can't go in a public place with tears pissing down her face. Everyone would be looking at us and we wouldn't be able to talk.
It wasn't the gift. She had started crying before she got it. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek which implied the gift was received and appreciated by her. She didn't say thank you. After I complimented her. All women did that. All of them liked to be told they were pretty. **** it. “You look pretty.” I look down at the gift in her hand as she steps back.
“You're welcome.” I acknowledge her appreciation and don't say anything else on it for now. Instead, I grab the bottom of my shirt and pat at her face. I don't give a **** if there's make up on my clothes. I can buy more clothes. “Come on.” I say after one last pat and go in the restaurant all the way finally.
A waitress seats us near some water thing. She takes our orders to drink and flits off after getting them. “I wrote something inside it.” I finally say about the journal. “Questions.” I admit. “I'm not good face to face. With anyone. Even with Skylar, or other people I'm close to.” I don't name Velveteen or Doc, but those were the top two that came to mind
“I'm trying to get better at it. In the journal we're going to share; we can write about our week, ask questions, whatever. Every week we'll switch it and the other person will answer questions or reply to what was written in some way, acknowledging what the other person wrote.” I look at her after I say this to see if she has any questions or was confused about the task of the journal.
<Bev> Fighting to control the tears, the raven haired alluring stood staring at her sire. He had left her to herself to once more face the dissolution of her family unit, then text her out of nowhere to meet him out. Insults her efforts to appear nice for him, then wipes her tears on his shirt and calls her pretty. Carefully she clung to the leather clad journal with one hand as the others thumb made slow careful sweeps beneath her eyes in a vain attempt to reblend her tear smeared makeup. Swallowing hard she raised her head determined not to draw any more attention, and followed Roderic into the restaurant proper. Carefully Beverly swept her skirt close to her thighs as she gracefully slipped into her seat, setting the journal on the table in front of her. Slipping the leather throng from the cover she opened the journal, and looked up into ‘Ric’s eyes.
<Ric> I had hoped she wouldn’t open it right here and right now. That she would wait until after our impromptu meeting I called. She was looking at me, and I was looking at her. Why was she looking at me and not reading what I wrote? Maybe it was my handwriting. Maybe Sister B couldn’t read it. Not many could, but I tried to write as legible as I could. I was never in a hurry when I was writing, but it still came across as nothing more than some chicken scratch more times than not. So, I stare at her and tell her what the first entry says. “It says, hey. My name is Roderic Hawthorne. But you already knew that. So let me tell you something you don’t know about me.” I pause and think about what I’m going to tell Sister B. Only a few people know anything legitimate about my past. I can count them on one singular hand. “I had a pretty good life until middle school. My dad was banging some other teacher he worked with and they procreated and made some other kid.” I don’t give Nathan’s name out, he’s still human and it’s risky since he lives here in the city because he goes to school here. “My parents got divorced and I went from a middle income family; upper that was, to a low-income, barely surviving family in the course of less than a year. I think that was the time I stopped believing in your god.” I stop and look away, watching how close anyone is near us, which there wasn’t. Still, I feel the need to protect my information. “I actually think the guy is a dick, but I can be too.” I turn back to face her. “Anyways, I’m sorry for what I did to you to try and piss on the guy you believe in. It wasn’t right, but I’m looking to, and hoping on moving forward.” And there it was-the most I’ve probably said to anyone in one single sitting at a time. I just look at Sister B and wait to see what she does and what she has to say.
<Bev> Softly her fingers stroke the pages of the journal as she listens to her sire’s quiet recitation. She had not often been in his company, but never remember him talking anywhere, to anyone like he was now with her. Slowly she closed the cover without looking inside. Running her hands over the leather, she carefully rewrapped the thong. Carefully she smiled to him, “Thank you, I will take good care of this.” Her eyelashes fluttered as they lowered, and once more her hand graced the cover, Softly she whispered, “I will try to share, I do not know if I can”
<Ric> I just nod my head. I wasn’t expecting Sister B to be an open book right away. She’s been one of my things for a while now and this is the first time I’ve shared anything significant with her other than be smart and careful. Don’t start **** and don’t die because lots of people will die after you die speech. “Do what you can, but I’ll be asking for it in one week from tonight.” If I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it. I don’t think Sister B has realized that yet, but she will.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask her, aware that we have ordered our drinks, but not anything to eat. That might look a little out of place in a place like this, so I want to nip that in the bud before we get too far into our conversation.
<Bev> The allurist nodded, “It does nothing for me, but I will order to help us hide in plain sight.” Catching the waitress eye, Beverly ordered a small fruit platter, It wasn't much, but she could pick at it over time, and it would be considered normal. A wistfulness entered her voice as she queried “Have you seen Pyps? I cannot find her” A soft frown touched the scarlet lips.
<Ric> I want to tell her to forget about Pyper, but something tells me that would upset a fragile person like Sister B. So I shake my head. “Not in months. Sorry.” I don't know what it's like to be hung up on someone, but I've seen it a lot lately. Screws with people's minds. “That where you been? Looking for her?” I look at the platter that arrived and then at her. “I'll ask around for her next time I see some people.” Like Doc. “It's good you came out tonight. Healthy.” Women liked going out and doing things. Shopping, playing music. Movies. Stuff like that. “Just like meeting people and making friends. It's healthy too.”
<Bev> A sad smile crossed her face as she listened, her sire had a bluntness to him that reminded her of the plow on a bulldozer, A big ‘dozer… “I sometimes go out Ric, but it is for others, when they want to. I do not like crowds. They frighten me. You know a little of my story, maybe i will put some more of it in the journal. I am not like others.” She remembered to use his name, it would not do to be overheard calling her sire sire.
<Ric> I nod. I do know. “So you plan on being frightened for decades to come?” I don't like crowds either, but somehow I've managed to not only deal with a small sector of people for about a year now, but get close to a couple of them too.
“You don't ever post on Hawthorne forum. Can I ask why?” I don't care if it's because of me or who is because of. I want to know the stem of the problem.