Roll On [Trahir]

[Vienna Torres (DELETED 8181)]

It was getting late; the number of cars had diminished the further she got from the theater.

The whispers began when she approached the turn. Urgent, desperate, but they raised a chill that raised goosebumps on her neck. A plea for help, a warning: the usual horror movie ****.

"**** off," she said loudly. She turned up the radio. It kept her from focusing on the voice. As long as the ghost didn't follow her home, she'd be fine. If she was lucky, this would be one of the ones that liked to stick to one place and mope. If she wasn't...she'd figure something out if it came to that.

She really ought to start keeping some CDs with real music in here, something not about a pop star getting dumped. Why were all pop singers such drama queens? From the sound of it, he deserved it. She would have keyed his car.

The voice screamed when she made the turn, an earsplitting sound right in her ear. Yelping, she flinched and lost control of the wheel -

[Trahir Trahison]

The streetlights cast there urine colored glow over the area. The black boat of a car sped through the night, the harsh yellow glow of the lights above passing by in brief flashes as the 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom carried it's owner, one Trahir Trahison toward his destination. Tonight was the night he was going to pay one miss Sue Hartling a visit. It would make him the last man to call on her at such an ungodly hour. She had been one of the quartet unlucky enough to find and steal his journal months back. Trahir had watched her on and off since then, hoping to discover who the fourth member of the group was. It seems he would have to ask her. The woman had many friends and it was impossible for Trahir to determine which one had been the fourth musketeer.

He weaved in and out of traffic, his mind only half on the road when it happened. A bump. It didn't seem like much at first, but an over correction on his part fishtailed the back end of the antique beauty he drove. The view out his windshield shifted, suddenly going sideways, he glances over to his right, out the drivers window of the British car only to see headlights bearing down on him. The impact launched the Rolls Royce , still in motion into a whip lashed form of a barrel-roll, turning it end over end.

He counted three flips and two wheels flying off into the night.

The car landed upside down, the impact jarring Trahir. He remained still for a moment, hands still on the wheel and took a mental inventory of the damage done to his person. Mostly superficial, he decided and reaches for the seatbelt holding him upside down.

As he crawls from the wreckage of the once pristine Rolls Royce he looks back at it. Totaled. There would be no repairing that.

He struggles to his feet and looks back trying to find the driver responsible.

There is absolutely no expression on the vampire's face.

[Vienna Torres (DELETED 8181)]

She was lucky - her body snapped forward, but the seatbelt caught her. The other car spun out of control, rolling.

"Oh, ****," she breathed, undoing her seatbelt. Her hands trembled. Reaching for her phone, she got out of her car.

It was one thing to know that everyone died, eventually, and that what happened after death was pretty ******* shitty. It was quite another thing to know that she might have killed someone.

The voices grew louder, more frantic.

"Hey!" she called. "You still alive?"

And then she stopped, because he was there, a big, beefy man crawling out of the ruined car. Her eyes widened when the light caught onto the glass shards embedded in his face. The voice stopped for a moment, then became louder -

help us, avenge us, murderer murderer murderer -

She caught her breath. He sure as hell wasn't human, not after that wreck. Not when he didn't seem to even notice his own wounds. Once, she would have said he was a spirit, but Grey had shown her that there was another option. She'd seen Grey slice his hand with a knife before - it had healed almost immediately.

He was going to kill her. He was a vampire or a blood thief or whatever the **** and he was going to kill her, and when he ripped out her throat, he'd still just look at her with that flat, dead look. She didn't doubt it.

She tilted her chin upward, meeting his eyes. "I called the cops already," she lied. Her voice shook, but that was normal, right? Shock. She'd just been in a car accident.

****, why had she left the sword Grey gave her in the car? Why had she even gotten out of the car in the first place, like a stupid horror movie character?

"They said they're on their way. Maybe you should sit down, man. You look pretty bad."

Please.

[Trahir Trahison]

She called the cops...

Trahir stops dead in his tracks a moment, one foot planted firmly in her direction. Nothing registers on his face, not anger, not pain, but the aura radiating from him confirms what she already knows. Danger. He looks away from her, eyes cutting over to the side before his head turns to look back at the wreckage of the car behind him. before his head turns and then his eyes move back to her.

Oh how he wants to rip her arms off right now like a cruel child does with a fly's wings. Only he wanted to bludgeon her to death with them...

He takes another step forward, weighing the cost vs. reward of doing so cops or no cops. They weren't here yet after all.

That's when the other drivers, temporarily nonexistent to Trahir in his focused and murderous intent, invaded his reality.

A couple in their mid-30s or so rushes to the woman and an older man, probably in his fifties makes his way to Trahir. "Are you alright son? You're lucky to be walking! You need to sit down, the ambulance is on the way!"

****.

To make matters worse, a couple people are snapping pictures of the wreckage and by extension... him.

****.

Trahir allows the old man to guide him away from the car, ignoring his babbling above it potentially exploding. All the while his eyes never leave the woman responsible. He's caged in the situation now. Nothing to do but go through the motions.

[Vienna Torres (DELETED 8181)]

For a moment, he stopped, and hope surged in her, but one look back at his car seemed to decide her.

She wanted to run. It was probably a bad idea. It was like dealing with a wild animal. The comparison was apt - she was pretty sure he was planning on killing her over a ******* car, for God's sake. If she ran, he would give chase, and supernatural creepies probably had super speed because life really was just that ******* unfair.

Her eyes flew to the other drivers, and thank God, the idiots finally started to pay attention. Vienna watched as he let them lead him away. She let others enfold her into a group as well, though his eyes were still upon her. His attention prickled like knives against her skin. He was still watching her - she saw him from the corner of her eyes.

She reached up and lifted her hair from behind her ear, letting it fall over her cheek. Ineffectual, she realized - he almost certainly had her face memorized right now.

"Yeah, I'm all right," she answered a question that she barely even heard from a passerby, turning her face away from him. Her first impulse was to snap something rude, but she needed those people here. "The seatbelt caught me." She ought to show some concern. "The other guy, is he all right? I need to tell my mom."

"So," she murmured to the air once she was clear of the people, though still within sight. She held the phone in front of her, pretending to tap out a number. All the while, she watched him from the corner of his eyes.

"Tell me about this guy."

The spirits had better have ******* answers for her. They'd got her into this mess in the first place.

[Trahir Trahison]

<Vienna Torres> "So," she murmured to the air once she was clear of the people, though still within sight. She held the phone in front of her, pretending to tap out a number. All the while, she watched him from the corner of his eyes.

"Tell me about this guy."

The spirits had better have ******* answers for her. They'd got her into this mess in the first place.


<Ghost> “I was… I was a hunter of them… the monsters… the dead. There were others… maybe there still are… that one… he….” The ghost pauses, trying to gather it’s thoughts. Everything so blurry and out of focus.

“It was night… near the junkyard… the river… we fought. He won but… he didn’t kill me… not then…”

<Vienna Torres>

She should interrupt it. Had she asked for its life story? They were short on time here; any moment now, the cops were going to come, someone was going to interrupt them, or he’d do something.

But she keeps listening, nonetheless. There’s a certain fascination to it, the same anticipation that comes from watching a horror movie, the sense that it’s all building toward something that she doesn’t want to know.

“What then? Tell me,” she demands.

<Ghost> “Teeth… teeth, water… blood. A monster… reptile… darkness. I woke… swastika. Questions… He was torturing me! Limbs broken… I couldn’t fix them, broken, mangled. He wanted to know of the others. Like me… He took my arm… bled me… bottled the blood… crucified me… Torture… death… I watched my body… the lake... Stay away from the farm…”

<Vienna Torres> Belatedly, she remembers that she’s supposed to be pretending to call her mother. She lifts the phone to her ear, her eyes fixed upon a pole. She can’t see the ghost, but it’s easier to focus on something.

“I wasn’t planning to go to a farm,” she says with a snort, because it’s easier to mock than to deal with what she’s hearing. Her eyes narrow. “Tell me his name. He’s a vampire, isn’t he?” Were you a blood thief? Not important right now. “What do I do?”


<Ghost> “Yes… vampire… evil. That one… evil… other bodies… bodies in the lake… the reptiles… big. Shouldn’t be there. He murdered me… he murdered me… he murdered me…”

The ghosts voice trails off into incoherent babbling and whimpering.

Across the waiting room, Trahir watches on with cold, emotionless eyes.

<Vienna Torres> It’s one of those ghosts - all incoherent, self-obsessed, and talking to it is like stabbing nails into her palm. She has to admit that it has reason, though.

She takes a deep breath, letting her hand with the phone drop back to her side. Figures that it won’t be helpful. “Too bad for you,” she says, trying to keep her voice firm.

She glances up toward the vampire. There are others in the waiting room, probably cameras somewhere. She can’t avoid him forever.

She steps toward him, tucking her hands into her pockets. “You’re taking this really seriously,” she says to him. She can’t stop her voice from shaking a little.

<Trahir Trahison> As the woman approaches the vampire gives no reaction. No sign of surprise, no welcoming smile, no baleful glare, just those eyes remaining on her. “Apart from the fact that you have caused me bodily harm, that was a 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom Jonckheere Coupe. It is as close to irreplaceable as you can get in the automotive world. Yes, I’m irked. Very.”

His voice as arctic it matches his eyes, there is no sign in it that he is upset, nor happy, or even hurt. He reaches up and with a fingernail, digs a piece of glass from his forehead, dropping it to the waiting room floor. “We’ll have to exchange insurance information.”

<Vienna Torres> She stares right back, until the piece of glass drops to the ground with a clink - then, she glances down toward it, her lip curling slightly.

At his next words, she freezes for a moment. ****. She hadn’t thought about that. “It’s not my car,” she says as casually as she can manage. “No insurance.”

**** casual. “If you kill me, my friends are coming after you.”

<Trahir Trahison> Hardball. The woman wants to play hardball. For a moment he considers playing the surprised accused card. He dismisses it though instantly. No, he doesn’t mind playing hardball. He leans forward. “When I kill you it will be after I have taken everything from you. Friends, family… dignity… body parts… everything. Then I plan on re-soling a nice pair of oxfords with your flesh so I can walk on you through the centuries to come.”

He leans back casually in the chair then and waits. “You would think in an emergency room the employees would act with some semblance of… urgency… would you not?”

<Vienna Torres> She can’t help her terror - he means every word he says, all the while playing straight the whole uncanny valley serial killer trope from the movies. But she tries to play it off as much as she can. She gives a shrug to his question, but she doesn’t dignify it with an answer.

“Dude. No one wants to hear about your gorn fantasies.”

<Trahir Trahison> As she speaks, his hands raise slightly and begin to clap so softly as to be inaudible in time with her heartbeat. “I can hear it… smell it… what your words belie. What you don’t want to show... “

<Vienna Torres> At first, she thinks it’s going to be facetious applause, but he’s keeping a beat, one-two, one-two, fast and frantic. You’d think that years of watching horror movies would prepare her for this ****.

“The cops know I just wrecked your car,” she said softly. “You think they won’t suspect you if I die?” She tilts her head. “I bet a lot of suspicious disappearances happen around you, huh?”

<Trahir Trahison> Finally a smile comes to his lips. “Yes. They do. If you think that those in charge of protecting you don’t already know to turn a blind eye, please.” He reaches into his shredded Hugo Boss jacket and withdraws a card.

“Here’s the number for my insurance company. Be sure to tell them you fear for your life. Tell them you hit a vampire driving a Rolls Royce. Be sure to call the police too. Get a restraining order. Threats on one’s life should be taken seriously.”

<Vienna Torres> Her eyes flick to the card. Then she glances away from it, dismissing it. “I’m not that dumb.” She’s tempted to pace, but she’s not exactly willing to turn her back on him at this point. “So, you don’t care and you just go ubermensching through the city. Why am I not dead yet?”

<Trahir Trahison> “Because I haven’t murdered those closest to you yet.” He rises from the chair then and makes his way to the admissions desk. Locking eyes with the receptionist Trahir says simply. “I’m a doctor, give me her chart.” He motions toward Vienna as he bewitches the woman, her hands instantly moving toward the papers to hand them to Trahir.

He taps the board with the paperwork clipped to it against his chest without looking at it and casually drops it back on the desk, making his way back to the seat. “Because this is a game to me. Because I can win whenever I want.”

<Vienna Torres> She’d like to believe that Grey could take this guy, but the truth is, he’s her horror movie buddy and this guy is a confirmed murderer. And her mother definitely can’t. Still, she slips her phone out of her pocket while his back is turned, snapping a picture. She’s about to send a text when she registers what’s happening with the receptionist.

Her eyes widen. “Are you ******* kidding me, you’re going to - “ The receptionist was. The receptionist did. There was something not… right about the woman, the way she’d obliged that completely batshit crazy response without even speaking to him.

She waits until he’s passed back to the seat before she steps up to the woman, all but shouting. “You did not just give him that. You have no idea he’s a ******* doctor, he’s injured himself, and I do not consent to be treated by - him.”


Trahir Trahison
Another PC
Difficult
Reactionary/ Awareness
Vienna Torres
Notice camera
Succeeded


<Trahir Trahison> As stealthily as a cat on the prowl Trahir moves behind her as she rants and raves to the poor receptionist. The Receptionist’s face is a mask of horror at the abuse being heaped up her. Trahir leans next to Vienna at the counter, his chest brushing her shoulder as he does, his breath close enough to kiss over her carotid artery. “We should probably speak somewhere more private. You will be safe for the duration of the conversation.”

He looks to the receptionist and tells her simply. “I don’t need treatment at your facility. Thank you for your time. I’ll go where the waiting time is more… befitting an emergency room.”

He looks to Vienna and extends a hand toward her. “One time offer.”

The receptionist looks totally at a loss, like she should be calling someone but just doesn’t know who.

<Vienna Torres> There’s nowhere to run. She draws away from him, glancing around for a weapon - but there seems to be a shortage of guns and swords in this waiting room.

Riiiight. Follow the psycho vampire somewhere private. That’s not going to lead to a horror movie death or anything. He hasn’t mentioned what will happen as soon as the conversation ends.

“We’re pretty private here,” she says. “Since you have that ***** all mind-wiped.”

<Trahir Trahison> His hand remained outstretched. The expressionless eyes remain on her.”If I wanted to kill you, I could simply tell any one of these people to do it. As easy as getting a chart. I’m offering you a reprieve. One. Perhaps something positive can come of this entire incident. Otherwise the next doctor with a scalpel might have a nervous twitch in his hand walking by you. Unlikely, since I am of the mind to take my time with you. Perhaps I could be talked down though. You could of course simply what is it they say nowadays… “freak out” in here and harm yourself.

He gives her a pointed look. “What I did to her, I could do to you.”

<Vienna Torres> Out of everything he’s said, that’s what terrifies her the most. Her hands clutch at the counter. “I want to send a message first. To tell a vampire I know that I’m going with you.”

<Trahir Trahison> He shakes his head. “Are you sure that’s a smart idea? I may decide after we talk that I need to eliminate those you have spoken with. Also, I’m not a fan of pictures unless done on canvas. They never seem to bring out the color in my eyes correctly. Phone.” The words are backed with the same supernatural compulsion he used earlier as his hand remained outstretched toward her, his fingers actually making the hand it over gesture.


Trahir Trahison
Another PC
Easy
Persuasive
Vienna Torres
Bewitch
Succeeded


<Vienna Torres> If he thinks he can ******* persuade her with that threat against Grey, he can forget it. Maybe it’s selfish, but at this point, she’s frankly more worried about herself. She opens her mouth to say so -

- and then she hands him the phone.

She draws in a harsh breath a second later. What the hell. He’d made her do it - done the same thing he had to the receptionist. She’s running out of options.

<Trahir Trahison> He swipes through the phone quietly, locating the picture and deleting it. As he does he speaks in a low voice. “I’ve made people stab themselves before. One I had shoot himself in the head. It was only a .22 caliber though… they survived though they were never the same… I suppose I could have just had you follow me out but…” He tosses the phone back to her. “That would be dishonest.”

He motions toward the door. “My patience is wearing thin. Walk with me.”

<Vienna Torres> She tries to catch the phone, but she misses narrowly. It lands on the ground with a sharp clatter. When she picks it up, she sees that the screen is cracked. She slips it back into her pocket.

“You’ve made your point,” she says, wrinkling her nose. He wants to play games, and he doesn’t want her dead yet. Probably because he wants her broken and begging.

She steps forward toward the door.

<Trahir Trahison> Leaving the hospital behind them, Trahir pulls out his own phone and dials a number on speed-dial. “Bring the 2016. HR General. Five minutes? That’s acceptable.””

He hangs up the phone then, letting it slip into the pocket of his ruined jacket. “In the movies it would be smart not to disclose your name. It would be smart for me not to disclose my own. Since you know I could get your name if need be I suggest we try going the easy route for the time being. You may call me Trahir. It is the name I am known by among my own kind. You are?”

<Vienna Torres> She has the sinking feeling that she knows exactly where he’s taking her. And she can’t pull out the phone without him noticing.

“It’s Vi,” she says shortly. She has the excuse that he didn’t give a last name; that means she doesn’t have to either.

“So, where are we going?” She gives him a sidelong glance. “Your farm, the lake?”

<Trahir Trahison> At that he gives his first reaction, an arching of a single eyebrow. How would she know about the farmhouse? She was interesting. He wanted to know more. When she had initially brought to the table the fact he was planning to kill her she had sparked his interest. He’d had no doubt she was through the Masquerade.

“No, not tonight. I save that for special occasions. Tonight we will simply be going to an apartment I own. I need a change of clothes. So do you. Then we will be going to a restaurant to speak. Depending how our conversation goes, you may prove yourself too interesting to dispose of. Regardless, as I said you are safe for the duration of the evening. You’ll have the daylight hours to plan on how you’ll survive otherwise. It’s only fair, Vi, wouldn’t you agree?”

<Vienna Torres> He’d changed his words. He’d said for the duration of the conversation before - now it’s for the duration of the evening. She isn’t sure what to make of that, but it’s something worth noting. But the suggestion he makes, that he is at least open to the idea of not murdering her, is intriguing.

She doesn’t see what about this sick, twisted bargain seems fair to him, but all things considered, she isn’t going to argue that point.
“Should I say thank you?” she asks tartly.

<Trahir Trahison> “If I were in your position I would be planning how to remove myself from it while placating the monster who seems to wish you ill. I suppose manners would be a start. A change of tone would help. Mostly I would simply stay interesting.”

The headlights of a car pull up, another Rolls Royce Phantom, this year’s model. Instead of black though this one is silver and at the wheel instead of a large male vampire, is a tattooed human female. Trahir makes his way over and opens the passenger rear door for Vi. “Allow me.”

<Vienna Torres> It’s a good point. One that she should have thought of herself.

“Thank you.” She tries to rein in her temper as she enters the car, but God, she wants to kill him. If she had her sword…

They probably wouldn’t be having this conversation and she would be dead already.

“I’m a little stressed,” she says lightly. She can’t quite bring herself to apologize, but she tries to sound civil, at least. “Car accidents tend to do that to people.”

Tactfully, she doesn’t mention that this looks like exactly the same style of car - so clearly, that car she wrecked earlier wasn’t a special irreplaceable snowflake. But then, this whole thing isn’t really about the car.

“Are you planning on introducing me?” she asks Trahir, slanting a glance toward the tattooed woman in front. “And maybe while you’re at it, give me an idea of what you find interesting. Just think of how much your evening would suck if I started boring you.”

<Trahir Trahison> Sliding into the car after her he shrugs. The less she knows the higher her chances of survival, yet like the proverbial lemming she is already dashing toward the edge of the cliff. “Vi, this is Nicolette. She is my thrall. Nicolette, say hello to Vi, she wrecked the ‘25 tonight.”

The raven haired beauty looks in the rear view mirror and says in a sultry, natural voice “Hello Vi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The car pulls away from the curb, heading west.

“I’d like to know how you knew what I was, about the farm and if you can afford to replace the car for starters..”

<Vienna Torres> Nicolette sounds like a nicotine gum. She slides another look at the woman, frowning slightly at the sheer casualness of the way the...thrall spoke. If the woman - the thrall - was upset that she’d ruined the car, she didn’t show it.

Historically, a thrall was a slave. But in vampire novels and games, a thrall was someone who served vampires. And from the way Trahir spoke, he didn’t seem to be hiding any secrets. A glance toward the woman showed no sign of surprise or confusion either.

She’d already learned today that vampires could compel people. Maybe the woman was a willing servant, maybe she was compelled - but either way, there’s probably no help coming from that quarter.

Which means that her only chance is answering those questions.

“I figured out what you are because you were creepy and you just walked out of a car that rolled over a few times,” she says wryly. She glances out the window, making note of the street they pass. “Like I said, I have vampire friends.”

Grey is kind of a vampire. Kaspar and Adley are vampires, if not really friends. It totally counts.

“I can’t replace the car, unless you take installment payments,” she says simply. She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Besides, you can clearly afford it yourself. I bet I can make you a better offer, though.”

She glances back at him. “I found out about the farm because someone told me about you. And you never even knew that person was there.”

<Trahir Trahison> He ponders the answer a moment. Someone she didn’t know was there told her… that begged more questions than it answered. He’d return to that though. The egotist in him was awakened by the previous statement. “I’m listening. What offer do you speak of Miss Vi?” The vampire looks over to her, meeting her eyes without expression. There is a tangible sense that his interest is piqued though.

Outside the window of the car the city races by through the night, if she is familiar with the area, it seems that West Tower is the destination.

<Vienna Torres> “You tortured, bled, and crucified a hunter once,” she says. She tries to imitate his expressionlessness, because she’s seen enough of him to know that he won’t feel any guilt over it. Would probably judge her for the fact that it troubles her at all, and she needs to be interesting.

“He’s still hanging around as a spirit. I can talk to them. I can see them sometimes, even. They tell me things.” Fervently, she hopes that this gamble will work: this is the last card she has up her sleeve. “You have anyone you want information on? I can get it for you.”

<Trahir Trahison> The vampires sits quietly absorbing this new information. She is saying she can see spirits. He’d thought that was only possible for vampires who had learned the Path of the Necromancer. This news is interesting indeed. Without the mention of the paladin though, Trahir likely wouldn’t have believed it. He remembers that one. It was a work of art.

“I see.” His voice is deadpan, but thoughtful. He remains silent for a moment, seeing if she will continue. Most people he had found will speak of their own volition to avoid the mounting tension in situations such as this.

The car pulls into the parking lot of West Tower and Nicci finds a parking spot marked “resident - 2005” Trahir doesn’t move as the thrall gets out. The tattooed woman moves to first Vi’s door, opening it for her and then makes her way around to let Trahir out.

<Vienna Torres> Two words, and then a silence stretches terrifyingly between them. He’s contemplative, at least, but she doesn’t just need him thinking, she needs him thinking in the right way - she’d hate for him to decide that he needs to eat the psycho human as a snack.

“I’m sure you have enemies, right?” she asks. “Even among your own kind. Or at least people you’re interested in knowing more about.” Here’s hoping Anne Rice got it right vampires being whiny, bitchy drama queens always out to kill each other.

She gets out of the car, giving Nicolette a nod and a long, curious look, trying to gauge what the hell was up with the woman. Nicolette doesn’t look like a zombie or someone with no free will. She looks...normal. Hot as a model, but she doesn’t look like someone who’s a slave or a mind-wiped zombie.

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette falls behind the two naturally as they make their way into the lobby of the tower and to the elevator. Trahir remains thoughtful until they are boxed in within the confines of the box and Nicolette has hit the button. “Enemies. Perhaps.” He but have some he considers rivals and he is always starved for more knowledge. The idea appeals to him greatly though he won’t show it immediately.

The door opens on the twentieth floor and Trahir steps out, offering Vi his arm. “Perhaps we can come to some accord.”

<Vienna Torres> Casual, that’s the key. Never show how much you care, how afraid you are, always act as if you’re in control of the situation.

Admittedly, she’s fucked that up so far, and she doesn’t stop now - she can’t help but let out a breath of relief. She steps out with him and after a second of hesitation, she takes his arm.

She glances at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak further. There’s not much she can say that wouldn’t express just how thankful she is for the fact that she might actually survive this after all.

<Trahir Trahison> He guides her to the door of the apartment and waits as Nicolette slips by to unlock the door before motioning for her to head on inside. Once following the two ladies in Trahir motions to a couch in front of a fireplace. There is no television, only a plethora of books, none of them besmirched by a dust cover, lining the wall on a deep, rich wooden bookshelf. Everything in the apartment is tasteful, understated. No sign of modern conveniences break the rustic atmosphere.

The vampire heads into a room offshooting the living area after explaining, “I’ll be back momentarily. I’m going to get out of these rags.”

With that he leaves Vi alone with Nicci. The thrall gives her a smile and asks her if she’d like a drink.

<Vienna Torres> His apartment isn’t, as it happens, a grim torture dungeon with cries for help scrawled in blood along the walls. It’s tasteful and sophisticated, and yet it looks as cold as he is - it seems less a home and more of a showpiece. It takes her a moment to figure out why: there’s no TV, no stove, no microwave, no electric lights. She wonders how old he actually is.

She nods at his explanation, going to the couch, but she doesn’t sit - there’s too much energy pent up in her for that. Instead, she steps toward one of the bookshelves, studying the spines of the books.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she tells Nicolette. She doesn’t smile back.

“So, you’re his thrall.” A statement, at first glance, but there’s a question in the assessing look she gives the woman.

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette nods. “I serve Master Trahir in any way he requires.” She says it much in the same conversational tone someone would use when telling another they work at an office building. “I also work at a tattoo parlor,” she adds. She pours a glass of red wine for herself, a half glass and then reaches for a different bottle and pours a second glass of a deeper, richer liquid in a second glass.

Setting that one on the counter she says, “It’s not so bad most of the time. He does have a temper and can be impatient though.”

<Vienna Torres> Her eyes narrow slightly. She has a pretty good idea of at least one of the ways the beautiful woman (seriously - she looks like a model) is serving Trahir.

She glances at the glasses the woman pours without comment. He’s a psychotic, bloodsucking freak who’s keeping you as a slave.

Clearly Nicolette had drunk the kool-aid. They always say that, women like Nicolette. Get hurt, get murdered, and they’d still say, he didn’t mean to do it, he just has a temper, tell him I’m sorry.

“Is that so?” she asks noncommittally, turning to look back at the bookshelf so that Nicolette can’t see her expression. She makes a show of studying the spines of the books. “How’d you become a thrall?” Had Nicolette even chosen? And...is Trahir going to try to make Vienna one, too?

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette brings the first glass she poured up to perfectly shaped, pouty lips and takes a delicate sip. “”He flew me in from Paris. He made a job offer through his last thrall. Modelling. I used to do modelling for tattoo magazines and he needed someone from that type of work. When we met at the airport he just… did it. It was just a look. Since then I’ve done what he asks. Some of it is bad, when he gets angry at people. Sometimes I help to clean-up. Me and some others. Most of the time it’s just driving, taking calls, making calls and well… pretty much what you see. When he doesn’t need me my time is my own.”

She gives a gallic shrug as if the entire situation is nothing unusual. Perhaps it’s not for her at this point. Inside though she wants nothing more than to be free of the monster. She just can’t express it for fear of what would happen.

Trahir steps out from the room, buttoning up the last button of a sleek dark navy blue Armani power suit. “If you would like to change there is a selection of clothing in there. Leave your phone on the table please.”

The vampire looks to Vi as he speaks. Even though all the social niceties are being observed it’s obvious that this friendly get-together still carries the undertone of a kidnapping.

<Vienna Torres> She glances back at Nicolette, taking in a deep breath. The matter-of-fact way that Nicolette says it all is chilling. One look. That’s all it takes to rape someone’s mind and take away their freedom.

Does Nicolette sound so happy because she’s used to it? Is she just pretending? Or is it because she can’t think anything else?

And she had said there were others. Vi opens her mouth to ask another question, but at the sound of Trahir’s approach, she turns, startled. She tries to hide her unease - had Trahir heard what Nicolette had said? Would he mind?

She hates that she even has to give a damn about what he thinks.

Her lips thin slightly as she places the phone down on the counter, the cracked screen facing upward. She studies him.

“This is going to be a formal restaurant, isn’t it?” Not the sort of place where one shows up in jeans and a jacket, and she admits grudgingly that she’s not in a position to be uncooperative. Though the thought of wearing clothes that he owns, of being naked, however briefly, in his apartment, makes her skin crawl.

****, he doesn’t even need to enthrall her and she’s already doing his bidding like a dog.

<Trahir Trahison> Trahir appraises her as he thinks. “Nicolette, take Miss Vi in and put her in the CK Fawn satin silk charmeuse gown please.” He considers a moment. “Let her borrow the Saint Laurent strap sandals too. Silver jewelry, understated. Nothing on the neck. Leave that bare.”

His eyes remain on Vi’s as he speaks to his thrall, the woman setting her glass down and immediately moving to do his bidding. The vampire doesn’t show any contentment at his will be carried out. His looks for all the world to be a man unaccustomed to things not going his way.

Nicci reaches the lady and stops, motioning toward the room Trahir had emerged from as the vampire breaks his gaze to turn and pick up the glass his thrall had poured. As Nicolette shows Vi toward the changing room, Trahir sips the “Innocence” from his goblet. Fresh squeezed of course.

<Vienna Torres> Or maybe she's already been enthralled and she just doesn't know it. How would you tell? But that line of thought is cut short by his next words.

He wants to play ******* dress-up. And more than that - he wants her neck bared. Her hands clench, nails digging into her palm.

She lets Nicolette guide her to the changing room, giving the woman a cold look.

She glances back to Trahir. "You aren't worried I'll ruin the dress? I'm not good with fancy clothes."

<Trahir Trahison> “Dear one, you are assuming I hadn’t planned to ruin it myself.” The red liquid in the glass clings to the sides, staining it more than any wine would. He gives her a small raise of the glass, not quite a toast but doesn’t flash her a smile.

Nicolette takes Vi’s hand lightly. “Please mademoiselle, this way..”

<Vienna Torres> She shakes her hand free of Nicolette’s. There are some questions it doesn’t pay to ask. She knows very well she won’t like the answer, but she can’t resist: “And if I tell you to **** off?”

<Trahir Trahison> “Then the Farnsworth gown.” He takes another long swallow of the blood from the wine glass and sets it down. “You would need help fitting into it though. You wouldn’t be wearing it tonight.”

<Vienna Torres> That’s far too calm to be the reaction she was expecting. And if Farnsworth is a brand name, she hasn’t heard of it. Annoyance flashes in her eyes. “The what?”

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette answers, her voice suddenly nowhere near as chipper or sultry as it was. Instead it is haunted, as though she’s seen this play out before. “It’s a funeral clothing designer… he’s going to warn you about language…” Her voice is low, barely a whisper.

Trahir is already speaking before the thrall finishes. “Such language is unbefitting a lady. Especially in cordial and polite company.” His eyes are different suddenly, gold bleeding through the sclera, the iris and pupil altering, shifting. The pupil and iris become a vertical slit, and the eyes of a reptile stare at her from the vampire’s chiseled face.

Next to Vi, Nicci shivers suddenly as memories of this exact scene play out in her mind. The color has bled from her face.

<Vienna Torres> She glances toward Nicolette, momentarily derailed, but Trahir’s words have her looking back at him. She takes a step back, drawing in a startled breath at the sight of his eyes.

“I’d say death threats are unbefitting a gentleman, too,” she says cuttingly. But her tone is restrained compared with earlier.

<Trahir Trahison> Giving her a small smile, lips still pressed together covering the fangs that no doubt have dropped from his gums the man nods. Turning away he retrieves the glass, speaking with his back to the two women. “Yes, you are right. I’ll forgive your faux pas if you forgive mine.” There is a dark amusement in his tone.

Nicolette busies herself getting the dress, shoes and jewelry ready. She selects a silver Gucci purse to match the earrings and bracelet she picks out and then adds two rings to the growing pile.

“This man you spoke to… this ghost… did he tell you exactly what I did to him?” His tone is back to conversational and as he turns back toward Vi his eyes have taken on the lifeless blue hues they carried before the abrupt shift earlier.

<Vienna Torres> That unbalances her. She’d expected...well, not that. She eyes his back uneasily, her eyes narrowing in thought. When he turns back to look at her, she watches his face.

“He was a little vague on the details,” she says. “What with having been driven out of his mind with pain toward the end of his life.” Say it first so he doesn’t get the chance to. Because no doubt, he’s dying to tell her.

He wants her intimidated. She needs to give him just enough of that, but not so much that he decides she’s no longer interesting, at least until she can turn the tables.

<Trahir Trahison> “Interesting… vague you say…” He finished the glass of blood and actually smacks his lips. “I’m very interested in the extent of the knowledge your friends can pass on to you. If you are going to be of service to me I need to know the limitations of your… value.”

He again throws the conversation in another direction. “You said you have vampire friends. I’m also very interested in hearing about that.”

<Vienna Torres> ****. She flinches as he questions her value. She’s made a mistake. But even as she starts putting together an answer in her head, he changes the topic.

“What do you want to hear about them?” she asks warily.

<Trahir Trahison> “More than you would be willing to tell at this juncture I would imagine.”” Trahir gives a gallic shrug of his shoulders. The suit is slimming, but does little to change the fact that the vampire is a monster of a man. It wouldn’t be too far fetched to place him at a couple inches over six feet and well over two hundred and fifty pounds. The shredded suit from earlier had revealed a very defined and muscled physique. He looks more like a bodybuilder than a vampire gentleman.

“I’m hoping over the next while you will come to trust me. It may seem far-fetched but I believe there are things you and I can offer one another.”

Behind Vi Nicci swaps out a couple of the rings having decided she likes the others more. She whispers, “Make sure he sees this one on you…” under her breath. “He’s always liked this one.”

<Vienna Torres> The thought that she’ll ever trust the bloodsucking monster that kidnapped her, threatened to kill her and her friends, and probably wants her as a mind-raped slave is absurd enough that she has to keep from laughing in his face. Or shouting at him. Fortunately, self-preservation is a good motivator. She purses her lips.

She twitches at the comment from Nicolette, beginning to turn. She catches herself and then continues the turn toward Nicolette, glancing askance at Trahir. “I’m not even dressed yet. Let me go put on this dress. Besides, won’t you need to make a reservation? I’m assuming it’s that kind of restaurant.”

It probably is. She knows very well he doesn’t need to make a reservation, though.

<Trahir Trahison> He gives her a small smile, no fangs visible even though his lips part. The gesture is purely that, a gesture. It’s almost as if they are in a dance. She says something, they both know the answer, he says something, they both know the answer. Despite this Trahir seems very much content to go through the motions. “I made the reservation already..”

Of course he did. He made it by dint of being him. By insinuating himself into a certain circle of people who look after one another. His name was on a list that made it all but impossible for him not to be seated at what was likely a very prestigious table. It was that type of establishment..

“Please, I look forward to seeing you in the dress. I think you’ll make it look simply stunning.”

With that he motions to Nicci and she closes the door leaving the two women separated from Trahir. The thrall has already laid out a makeup kit.

<Vienna Torres> She’s learning. She bites back a comment about him being such a ******* Boy Scout. Go along for now.

When the door is closed behind her and Nicolette, she sighs, glancing first at the dress (not her style, but pretty, she has to admit) to the makeup kit and the rings.

“Why are you being so helpful?” she asks bluntly, her voice hushed. Wary.

<Trahir Trahison> “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” Nicolette says, keeping her voice low. “You haven’t seen what he does with… remains.” The thrall begins helping Vi get dressed, going all out. Hair done, makeup done, and by the time the thrall applies the finishing touches Vi looks like she could grace any red carpet event Hollywood could throw at her.

Trahir stands on the balcony overlooking what he thinks of as an ant colony. The peons, the worker ants marching about doing that which their man-made laws allow them. They spout off their rhetoric about personal liberty and happily grind along in their lives, cogs in the system. He finds the whole thing laughable. The restaurant he plans on taking Vi to is not one he himself could dine at. He’s not developed the interest in being able to consume and handle the food of mortals though the benefit as far as fitting in does hold some appeal.

It’s all part of the show, the display of power and privilege that the monster has decided Vi needs to truly understand her situation.

She is interesting enough with her ability to see the dead and amusing enough with her outbursts and shenanigans that Trahir has decided to keep her around.

<Vienna Torres> She lets Nicolette help her get dressed, the other woman clearly much more skilled with sophisticated clothing and makeup than she is. After a while, she says quietly, “And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that helping me be a good girl keeps him happy.” She sounds a little angry - but mostly, tired.

The dress leaves her arms and much of her back bared; she feels naked and caged at once. Dinner, all dressed up. Her mouth twists.

“Any last minute tips?”

<Trahir Trahison> “Silverware from outside of the setting to inside. The water glass is the larger of the two, the red wine glass more bulbous than the white. Let him order for you. Let him get the door and seat you. Don’t lie to him. He’ll know.”

Nicolette gives her a small smile. “You look beautiful. Try not to get killed.”

<Vienna Torres> ******* god, was she supposed to remember this? And just her luck, out of all the insane horror movie monsters out there, she’d have to meet the prissy one. There had better not be a ******* fish fork.

She gives Nicolette a cynical look, though it does make her feel better that Nicolette isn’t trying to pretend that this is anywhere near normal.

“Thanks,” she says dryly. She reaches up to run a hand through her hair and then catches herself, putting her hand back down. Stepping toward the door, she glances at Nicolette. “Will you be eating with us?”

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette nods her head. “If I’m invited.” She doesn’t say it as if requesting an invitation, it’s obvious she means if the vampire outside the room asks her to. “If I do, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine. Remember that a lot of them have thralls in very high places. There’s a good chance that there will be others there. Sometimes he likes to bring me along as arm candy. Tonight though you look wonderful so perhaps it’ll just be the two of you.”

The French woman doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by anything she is saying. It’s a matter of course for her by now obviously. “You would be amazed by the wealth and power many of them have accumulated.”

<Vienna Torres> Her eyes widen slightly in surprise when Nicolette says “them” (as if there was an “us”). For a moment, the layers of suspicion and defiance fall away - she feels very young and scared, and she wishes that Nicolette will be there. That Nicolette can figure out some way to make things okay.

She glances down at the rings on her fingers. It’s ******* stupid. She isn’t even sure the woman is more than just a puppet saying the lines Trahir gives her, anyway.

She forces herself to think. So wherever they’re going sounds like some kind of vampire hangout. If she’s lucky, then maybe Kaspar would be there - God knows the man was ******* loaded with cash. He won’t let her get eaten by a batshit crazy vampire. Maybe. Possibly. Too late to regret not being nicer to him.

She doesn’t pay attention to Nicolette’s last sentence, her mind still on an earlier. “Arm candy,” she repeats. She searches Nicolette’s face. “He won’t expect me to…” Her mouth twists.

<Trahir Trahison> Nicolette’s expression is blank. She is obviously at a loss as to what the woman could be expecting. She’s learned to simply not expect anything from trahir since he seems to fluidly shift his intentions and motives based on whatever situation he is in. The comment catches her off-guard. “Wouldn’t expect you to what?”

<Vienna Torres> “I don’t know - be arm candy? Act like an escort?.” She sweeps her hands in a gesture that fails to elucidate anything. “Never mind. Let’s go.” She pulls open the door.

<Trahir Trahison> The trip in the 2016 Rolls Royce Phantom takes about twenty minutes. Nicolette drives of course while Trahir and Vi sit in the back. “The restaurant,” Trahir tells her, “is called Elysium. It is a fine dining establishment by daylight hours. After the kitchen closes at ten pm though last call is made. By eleven the mortals are cleared out. Only those in the know are allowed in after that. It is… exclusive.”

He gives her an appreciative gaze and comments, “You will fit in perfectly. You look amazing in that dress.”

<Vienna Torres> She eyes him. Mortals. He calls humans mortals. Of course he has a ******* god complex. Why the hell wouldn’t he?

She shrinks back against the seat at his gaze. It’d be smart to thank him, but she can’t quite bring herself to do it - she gives a tilt of her head in acknowledgment.

<Trahir Trahison> Presently the three find themselves stepping into a restaurant on the second floor of the Newborough Vertical Mall. The lighting is dark, the hardwood floors a deep, rich color without being dark. The lighting is provided at waist level only, the overheads having been turned off earlier. On each table is a candle and a fine dining set up. There are four glasses per setting, four forks, three different knives and a plate with a fourth, a butter knife at the top right of each. A napkin sits at the center, folded and standing up like a crown.

A man walks up with a single menu in his hand and ~no ****~ a black towel neatly resting over and arm held out in front of him. “Monsieur Trahison, un table pour trois?” The vampire nods his head to the man. Oui, le norm.”

With a smile to the ladies, the man turns to escort them to their table, Trahir offering each of them an arm. Nicci slips her hand in the crook of one and glances subtly to Vi giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.


<Vienna Torres> The cool night air raises goosebumps along her back, and she shivers as they walk. Mercifully, the inside of the building is warmer. She eyes the waiter, trying to assess if he knows. If he’s one of them.

Though the idea of a vampire waiter seems a little absurd.

She glances back at Nicolette for a moment, before she deliberately turns her attention to Trahir. After a moment, she takes the arm Trahir offers her, the expression on her face stubbornly civil.

<Trahir Trahison> Trahir, as Nicolette had mentioned, pulls the chairs out for them. First Vi’s and then his thralls. Appearances and social graces seem to be very important to the vampire. Once he is seated he orders three bottles of wine without looking at the menu. All of the names are french and a year given after two of them. The third he simply says, “reserve stock”.

He hands the menu over to Vi then, having seated himself across from the two of them so they can peruse the menu. Nicolette points out the roast duck and the escargot on the appetizer list with a questioning look to Vi.

The wine is delivered. A small sip of each poured into the glasses of the two ladies for their inspection. Trahir’s bottle, the third one is left unopened for the moment.

As soon as the wines are approved by a single nod from Nicolette the man finishes pouring a half glass for each lady before taking his leave to allow them to peruse the menu.

Trahir watches the two of them from across the table.

[Vienna Torres (DELETED 8181)]

<Vienna Torres> It’s tempting to roll her eyes when he really does pull out the chairs, but she restrains herself. She takes a seat, casting Trahir a sharp glance at the mention of reserve stock.

She takes the menu, skimming over it. Fancy food porn descriptions. She shrugs at Nicolette - she doesn’t have much of an appetite.

“Thanks.” The word is dragged from her grudgingly when Trahir pours the glass. Her eyes flick to his unopened bottle. “Wouldn’t that clot if you leave it for too long?”

<Trahir Trahison> He simply nods at the question. “It would. I will have it opened when your meals arrive.” He motions to the menu. “I’ve heard the raw section is amazing here. Nicolette prefers the roast duck. Her French tastebuds also endear her to the the escargot. You should try them.”

Trahir enjoys the scent of food though it no longer triggers the phantom hunger it once did any more than the scent of a pleasant blossom makes a human hungry. Still, he enjoys dining out and living vicariously through the appetites of others. “You can tell much about a person by that which they choose to order. By the way they choose to dress. By the way they comport themselves in situations outside their social norms.” He watches her with interest. “What do you think your order will tell me?”

<Vienna Torres> When he mentions that you can tell much about a person by what they order, her eyes flick once again to the bottle that’s not wine. Yeah, no kidding.

He’s going to make ordering into a game, too. She hates games.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, glancing up at him. “Sometimes a roast duck is just a roast duck.” She gives the menu another sweeping look, taking her time. “You said the raw was good? I’ll take the spinach salad.”

<Trahir Trahison> Trahir nods and retrieves the menu. The waiter comes back and stands by Trahir. In French he places the order for the two ladies and then waits as the waiter opens the bottle for him and pours a half glass. He presses the cork back onto the bottle and makes his way to the kitchen to give them the order.

Trahir looks over to the two beauties, the two human beauties. “How often do you see them? Your friends that no one else can see,” he clarifies.

<Vienna Torres> She watches the waiter go, but at the question, she looks back at Trahir. Careful.

“I usually try to stay away from them.” She shrugs. “One shows up every two or three days. More frequently, if I hang out in the wrong place or with the wrong people.”

She doesn’t touch the wine. No knowing if it’s good, at least until Nicolette touches hers.

<Trahir Trahison> The vampire’s hand strays to his glass. That’s when Nicolette reaches for her own. “Well, to your friends, and the hopes you see more of them… from this side.” He holds his glass out for the obligatory clink, Nicolette picking hers up to tap gently to his. She looks to Vi and smiles, “To your friends.”

<Vienna Torres> They’re so coordinated, Trahir making the first move, Nicolette smoothing things over. Good cop, bad cop. Just like that, her distrust of Nicolette is back, full force.

Reluctantly, she raises her glass, clinking it against theirs. She takes a sip - a tiny one. The ******** can probably hear if she doesn’t drink for real.

“You said something about how we might be useful to each other earlier,” she prompts, setting the glass back down. There’s a moment of hesitation, calculation in her eyes, before she lifts her left hand and tucks her hair back behind her ear, the movement showing off the ring Nicolette gave her.

<Trahir Trahison> The only sign he noticed the ring is his eyes flickering to it a moment after the gesture. In truth he’s not sure why he is so attached to the trinket, but when he saw it, he knew he wanted it. A woman’s ring. He would of course never wear it but for some reason he feels a strange comfort from it. He glances to Nicolette but the thrall is busying herself setting her napkin across her lap and he doesn’t catch her eyes.

Trahir looks back to Vi and gives a small nod.

Yes, you seem to be well and truly through the Masquerade. The veil my kind uses to remain anonymous to your own. That makes you a threat to us. You could expose us to the wrong people, cause wars, undermine what some of us have worked hard to protect and what others wish to pull down. Masquerade abiding members of society such as myself generally would kill you simply for the potential damage you could cause.”

He raises the glass of blood to his lips again and takes a swallow. “They are shortsighted. They see only the most final of rectifications of the situation and that tends to provoke those who see their actions as being overly brutal to lean toward breaking the Masquerade apart. The last time this happened, there was a cull of our kind.”

He sets the glass down, fingertip touching the rim, circling the glass slowly as he watches her. “You need to impress upon me that those vampires are wrong. That you, being a breach of the Masquerade do in fact, not have to be eliminated.”

<Vienna Torres> It’s a startling change. First he was planning to kill her over a car, and now, he’s giving her a lecture on vampire society and acting as though he’s some sort of...vampire law enforcer.

She highly doubts he respects vampire law, whatever that is. Probably, he just uses it as an excuse to kill people.

Under the circumstances, this is an improvement. He’s at least open to listening. She tucks her hands into her lap, twining her fingers together.
“Because I’m not a - “ She pauses, biting back a “*******”. “I’m not stupid. First of all, people clearly didn’t do that good of a job of eliminating you the first time, and you people seem very big on the vengeance.” He’d been planning - probably was still planning - to kill her over a car, for ****’s sake. “Second, why would I want to draw attention to myself? Wind up in a loony bin or end up with a repeat of the witch hunts?”

“And anyway, I don’t want all vampires dead.” It is surprisingly true. Kaspar and Adley are...decent, at least compared with him. Assholes, maybe deserving of a punch in the face, but not death. And Grey is dating a vampire, which presumably meant that some of them could have some decent qualities.

No, there is only one vampire she wanted to see dead.

<Trahir Trahison> Trahir nods as he listens. There are many other points he could add, but really, was there a point? The struggles within the vampiric community were for the most part childish flailings by infants upset that the nipple has been taken away too early. Unlike her, he would like to see the vast majority dead. “Hm, very true. About the hunters failing.” Not really, they’d done remarkably… impossibly well. They’d likely had much help from the Fae. Ironically it had been a traitor to their kind who had triggered their return.

“I would imagine you wouldn’t want to see all of us gone… you mentioned vampire friends.” He leaves the question unasked for the moment as their food arrives. To the waiter he says, “Re-cork the blood please and send it to the rail. I’m through with it.”

Looking back to Vi he waits for the waiter to go and then adds, “What do you know of them?”

<Vienna Torres> She isn’t so sure that the hunters wouldn’t do much better the second time. After all, the military is advanced these days. There are even drones. She doesn’t say so out loud.

“I think we’ve already established that terrible things might happen to any friends I mention to you,” she says, playing for time. She’s pretty sure she shouldn’t mention Grey to him, considering that he feeds on vampires. And Adley and Kaspar are...not quite friends.

<Trahir Trahison> “Oh, yes, we did didn’t we?” He gives Nicolette a glance before looking back to Vi. “Nicolette, much like you, probably wouldn’t have answered that type of question before she was enthralled either.” He says it as it making a casual observation. Then he glances out the window. “The thing about being what I am… is it always seems so… dark. So… bloody.”

Nicolette inhales sharply at the mention of her enthrallment. Perhaps at something else. It’s hard to gauge the motives of the young woman. “It is not so bad though,” Trahir continues. “It eliminates some concerns…”

<Vienna Torres> For a moment, she forgets to breathe. It’s not the threat about blood and darkness that gets to her - she’s already figured out that he’s a torturing psychopath, thank you very much. It’s the casual mention that he can just make her do whatever he likes.

One spot of hope in all this: he hasn’t done it yet. Her will is still her own. Unless he’s lying about th - but there are some trains of thoughts that you just don’t do down unless you want to be paralyzed by doubt. She’s had some practice in avoiding those.

At his last statement, she can’t help it. She laughs in his face, a bitter, cynical sound.

<Trahir Trahison> The vampire greets her laughter with a smile, surprisingly enough. “Yes, I think I agree with that reaction. A good joke. People have been trying to find ways to cheat death and the only one that seems to actually work is to embrace it.” He looks at her, curiosity in his eyes. “That’s actually not entirely true. I have heard of other venues. There is a group in this city you may or may not have heard about. They call themselves the Triad…” He pauses a moment “They may be able to help you with your… visions. Apparently they hold some secrets attained through mysticism. They can do things others can’t. I would suggest looking into it. By definition, were you immortal… you would not be considered a Masquerade breach…”

He gives her a serious look, the smile vanishing. “Otherwise You could become one of us, I could enthrall you, I could kill you, drive you mad or make you into a blood thief.” Leaning back in his chair he raises his hand, signalling for the waiter. “It’s up to you Vi, but it is a fact that your days as a human are very much numbered.”

<Vienna Torres> There’s a slight widening of her eyes at his smile and his words. She’d misunderstood what he’d meant: she had laughed at the idea that being a thrall wouldn’t be so bad. Though his actual meaning is ******* absurd, too.

She thinks about telling him he’s wrong. He hasn’t cheated death - he just thinks he has. If the vampires had cheated death, why would they be so worried about this Masquerade of theirs? And those who have died in truth are no better. But then he makes his...suggestion. Offers. Three of which, of course, were no options at all.

She stares at him. The food in front of her goes untouched.

“You’re being very helpful, all of a sudden,” she says. And did you just seriously tell me a bunch of Chinese gangsters are immortal? “Weren’t you planning to kill me and everything I have ever loved?

“What is it you want from me? What’s your game?”

<Trahir Trahison> “There is an expression about gift horses.” The vampire remains leaned back in his chair, relaxed. When the waiter comes over the says simply, “Put everything on the house, send those two tables a bottle of the finest red you have. Tell management to remember the faces of my companions this evening. I’d like them looked after any time they come back in.”

He turns his attention back to Vi then. “I would suggest the Triads. I can use some of my connections to broker a deal to have you seen. In exchange, all I would like is the assistance you offered previously, utilizing your powers now and again for me. I think that is a fair exchange.”

<Vienna Torres> There is also an expression about looking before you leap. She glances toward the water for a moment - so he owns this place, then. It’s a good thing none of her friends can afford this place, or else she’d have to figure out some way to warn them away.

Of course he’d suggest the triads. He’d offered it first, before the choices that involved blood and the choices that weren’t choices at all. It sounds as though he doesn’t know much about whatever mystic voodoo **** is going on inside the Triads, either, so she’s willing to bet that he wants an in with them too.

“It isn’t,” she says, meeting his eyes. “I offered you my powers in exchange for my life. Now it sounds like that life will be a whole lot longer, and I’ll get mixed up with gangsters in the process. I want a time limit and safeguards so I can refuse jobs.”

<Trahir Trahison> There it is. The teeth coming back. Once again it’s time to make things civil. “Arianna, Grey and Emilio… are you very close to all of them? “

He leans forward to drop his voice. “There are some battles worth fighting. There are others that are not. Then there are the ones like the Alamo. Do you really need me to bring down the fort? I would very much like to keep our interactions civil. Besides,”” he says, leaning back again. “I’m not making to repay the car.”

The way he says the last part makes it sound as though her life and the car have equal value. To be fair though, the vampire likely prized the antique vehicle higher than any human.

<Vienna Torres> She flinches when she sees the teeth, and when he speaks the first name, she freezes. Her eyes harden then.

She rises from the chair. “You’re offering me immortality and powers that you don’t have,” she says, her own voice dropping. It doesn’t matter right now if he’s right or not - what matters is that he’s invested in this. “They won’t live forever. I will. And if you touch my mother, I will ******* slaughter you someday and probably get killed in the process. So you won’t get what you want.”

<Trahir Trahison> “I’ll turn her.” The words are a blunt statement. “Sit down and watch the language. Next time I’ll remove someone’s tongue.”

<Vienna Torres> “If you turn her, then she’ll still be my mother. And if she becomes your...slave, she won’t be my mother any more. I’ll kill her.” She says it so flatly that even she believes it.

Everyone dies, eventually. No one ever thinks they have enough time. But she isn’t willing to test that threat. She takes her time, but she sits down, picking up the glass and twirling it.

She doesn’t want to die right now. She wants to win.

“You’re being shortsighted, anyway,” she informs him. “Why make an enemy of me when you don’t have to? Eventually, I’ll run out of friends you can threaten, and then you’d probably lose an investment. I’ll be more helpful if I feel like I have a choice and if I don’t want to kill you. And if I get to choose what I do, you’ll know that I’m not shirking.”

<Trahir Trahison> “You are also being shortsighted. I have an eternity to find someone who can do the same. Willing or not. I do however prefer the path of least resistance though I’m more than willing to walk through fire if need be.” He looks over to Nicolette, the thrall is watching on with a concerned look on her countenance. “Worry not my dear. I will not be killing the girl tonight, I gave my word.” He glances to Vi, “It appears Nicolette has taken a liking to you. She is concerned for your well-being. So am I.”

The vampire sits back. “What is your suggestion?”

Nicolette looks like she wants to comfort Vi, to give her advice, but obviously with Trahir there she can’t. She stay mute looking worried but not looking to either of them, instead focusing on the roast duck on her plate. She doesn’t take another bite, it just seems to be a good place to keep her gaze.

<Vienna Torres> She glances toward Nicolette for a moment. It’s hard not to notice the thrall’s worry and concern - if it is indeed real. Good cop, bad cop.

It feels real, though.

“Helpful, really helpful,” she scoffs, glancing back at the vampire. It’s a scornful comment, easy ground for her, but there’s something more to it this time. Show the vampire that she cares, and he’ll have another name on his list. One that he has total control over.

Death is one thing. This is another.

“The Triads,” she says, shifting the topic for a moment. “You’re not just going to find me a teacher from them, you actually want me to join them? I’m not Chinese.”

<Trahir Trahison> “No, I will procure one of their mystics and make him an offer he can’t refuse. In exchange he will instruct you.” The vampire actually looks slightly confused at her question. “Whyever would I want you to join an Asian criminal syndicate?”

<Vienna Torres> Because...information? She’d thought he was planning to have her as some double-dealing secret agent. Not that she was going to give him any ideas. And admittedly, maybe she was getting this all from that Hong Kong video game she played once.

“Well. I guess that changes things slightly,” she hedges. It’s not that she objects to joining a gang any more than being bound to a crazy vampire who wants everyone around her dead, but she supposes that she ought to compromise a bit. And the idea of training with a mystic who’d have his own reasons (considering his shitty methods of recruitment) to hate Trahir has a certain appeal.

Besides, if he could teach her how to control the ghost sightings...

“I still think you can make me a better offer without putting too much effort into it.” She wrinkles her nose slightly. “Not enough to justify searching some more or enthralling me.” She hopes that what he’s just implied means that enthralling is difficult, somehow. She really hopes that.

What he’s searching for exactly, she isn’t sure. If he can procure a mystic that easily, why didn’t he just keep that one? Never mind. Another question not to ask, since she wants to live.

“At least limit the parameters of the jobs that I get from you. I don’t want to hurt any people.” By people, she means humans.

<Trahir Trahison feigns a taken aback look. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” He exclaims right before his face falls to it’s usual expression of indifference. “Besides, I don’t believe their power lean in the direction of causing much harm to people for the most part. I’ve done some minor research on the matter.” Which would explain a number of the books she had seen on the shelves back in the apartment.

“I’ll give you my word that I will cause no harm to befall your friends or family unless they act against me directly. I will not feed from you without an invitation. I will compensate you per job enough to keep you in a comfortable lifestyle and will not subject you to enthrallment. In exchange, you learn from the mystic and agree to any acts that do not compromise your… morals… that I deign necessary and you abide by the tenets of the Masquerade, telling no other mortals of the supernatural and protecting that secrecy until the time when the Masquerade is no longer necessary or extant.”

The vampire tilts his head to the side slightly. “And I won’t make you pay for the Rolls.”

<Vienna Torres> Absurdly, she wants to laugh at that. Likely, he intends it. Priggish, stuck-up vampire with a car fetish. Subtle vampire, who can turn off the creepy when it suits him.

She takes her time pondering over his words. He’s covered some of her concerns, and it’s a tempting offer. He’s even offering her money - she won’t even have to pick a major for college if she doesn’t want to. More than tempting, if you ignore the fact that she’s dealing with a torturing murderer, that he’s threatened everyone she cares for to get to this point, and that the slave he mind raped is sitting right next to her.

She also has no doubt that he’ll work around this bargain. She doesn’t even know if he’ll keep to it at all - the bit with Nicolette might have just been for show.

“You missed two conditions. No harm will befall me - unless I act against you directly. And you won’t ask for anything sexual from me.”

<Trahir Trahison> Interesting… she had vampire friends but they hadn’t apparently told her too much. “I would not lie with you. The resultant… creature… would be a Masquerade violation. I’m not sure if their strength is based upon the vampire spawning them but if it were…” he trails off. He’d considered that before. Finally he looks back up. “If you are holding up your end of the deal I would have no reason to harm you. I had thought that went without saying but it can be added in formally if you prefer.”

He looks at her a long moment then. “These friends… the vampires. You haven’t been intimate with them have you?”

<Vienna Torres> Don’t react. Don’t react. She was going to ******* kill Kaspar.

“They’re dead. Of course not. I wouldn’t **** a corpse.”

[Vienna Torres (DELETED 8181)]

<Trahir Trahison> His eyes narrow, not at what he believes to be a blatant lie, knowing his own kind most of them were nothing better than a horny teenager and had no compunction about doling out fadebeast-stock baskets by the dozen. He’d killed enough of the beasts to know it. No, what earns his ire is the third strike on the language.

He places his hands on the table before him, fingernails extending into wickedly sharp talons that score the wood, burying into its surface as his eyes turn once more. “I did mention that someone would lose a tongue for yours if you kept befouling our conversation with profanity did I not?”

Several of the other tables glance over then go back casually to what they were discussing. One of the diners actually smiles to her, a fang flashing as he does before he turns back to the conversation at his own table.

<Vienna Torres> She flinches at the sound of his nails digging into the wood. It’s hard not stare at the freakish things his hands have become.

She’s pretty sure he could rip out her tongue with just those fingernails.

She draws in a breath. “Well,” she said as reasonably as she could manage. “You surprised me. It’s a little hard to talk about this without using any inappropriate words.”

<Trahir Trahison> “We’ll discuss the language later.” Once more he appears entirely calm in the blink of an eye. “If your friend wanted you, all they would need to do is feed from you. You would remember nothing about the incident. There are also several abilities that would make you ~want~ them regardless of your actual feelings.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Of course I’m sure your friends are… honorable.” He says this as if entirely sure of the opposite.

<Vienna Torres> She eyes him warily at the shift in tone. What the **** is up with him and language? It's crazy. He'll happily threaten to rip her tongue, but one mention of ******* and he...threatens to rip her tongue out.

She freezes at the mention of those abilities. Of course. Why wouldn’t the thralling he’d used on her be usable for the same purpose?

“Pretty sure none of them are interested,” she says. She’s certain of that, at least now.

But she and Kaspar are going to need to have ******* words about that one night they spent together.

Assuming that she survives this night.

She pauses, shooting him a glance. “I’m not pregnant, okay?” she says bluntly. “My period came last week.”

<Trahir Trahison> “Good. It would be a shame for me to have wasted so much of an evening speaking with you only to have a part-spirit, part-flesh creature rip it’s way out through your body, killing you before you have the chance to be useful.”

Nicolette adds in “He doesn’t… do that, Vi. It’s against the laws.”

“The old laws,” Trahir corrects her. “The new laws are much more fluid. It’s a sad state of affairs.”

<Vienna Torres> ******* god, every time she learned something new about vampires, it turned out to be worse. First, mind-slaves, now chestbursters.

It takes her a moment to gather herself. She’s never been so glad to have her period, frankly. “What are those laws? And why do you even care?”

<Trahir Trahison> “I was a member of a faction of vampires who worked to protect the Masquerade, hunting down and killing vampires who breached our laws. It served the interests of our race as a whole to preserve secrecy. You mortals, there are some who would accept our existence, but history shows they are the minority. Most would fear us and by nature would try and destroy that which they fear. It’s been the pattern of human behavior since time immemorial.”

He makes a dismissive gesture which his hand, “Most of the newly turned fledglings, neonates, they don’t know the first thing about what they are. They have no idea the damage that they cause with their actions. They don’t think ahead past: Oh being a secret is no fun, I want to explore this new power. It’s sad. They have eternity to become whatever they wish and squander it with impatience and childishness.”

He gives her a pointed look. “Think how much safer you felt before you knew of us.””

<Vienna Torres> She nods. He has a point. It’d be nice to wake up and find out that this is just the shittiest, Rice-inspired nightmare ever - but considering that’s probably not going to happen, she’d prefer to know the truth

There are a few interesting points in his phrasing, but now doesn’t seem like the time to ask about his life story.

“You should tell me all the laws later.” She changes the subject. “Our deal. You won’t be interfering with the way I live my life, apart from asking me to use my powers?” She shoots him a look. “I’m not exactly hoping to become your live-in servant.”

<Trahir Trahison> He raises a single brow. “My dear one… if I was looking for another live-in servant I never would have released you from your brief enthrallment. As you’ve stated, which I believe, you would be best left to your own devices and choices. If you work with me you will find I am much easier to get along with. You may even grow to… not completely wish my destruction.”

Even for the megalomaniac, “like” is unlikely. “If you serve me well you will have anything your heart desires. Immortality does give one a substantial amount of time to acquire what one wants.”

<Vienna Torres> She eyes him, biting her lip to keep from saying something unfortunate. He’s a ******* killer who just threatened to rip out her tongue a moment ago. It’s like dealing with a starving wolf.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t see the appeal: a vampire protector, money, knowledge. But deals with the devil always look nice.

“I want all of this in writing.” She isn’t sure if that will break the Masquerade of his, but demanding it is worth a try.

<Trahir Trahison> In writing. That is simple enough. Contracts can be worded to appear much more innocent than they are while still holding both parties to the agreed upon terms. Still, the vampire decides to be obstinate. “Indeed. And who would notarize this contract? A vampire who would just as soon enthrall or drain you, or the human that contract would drag through the Masquerade forcing me to enthrall or kill them?”

For once the vampire actually looked amused. “I don’t seal deals in writing Miss Vi. I seal them in blood.”

<Vienna Torres> “You said no feeding.”

<Trahir Trahison> “I said no feeding without consent. It wouldn’t just be me feeding.”

<Vienna Torres> That ******* ********. But at this point, it’s a given that it’s going to happen - and it’s probably only the first of many loopholes he’s going to take advantage of. “How much blood are we talking about?” she asks warily.

<Trahir Trahison> A single drop. That is all the oath would require to bond him to his word by his own strict set of laws. He tells her as much. “One drop each. More of mine would kill you. Even that little amount may make you ill. Fair warning.”

<Vienna Torres> A single drop, that doesn’t sound so bad - at least until he says the each. Great. ******* great. But then again, refusing this deal would definitely kill her.

“Fine,” she snaps. “And we don’t need a notary. But I still want all the terms written down.” And to take a second look at them to make sure that there are no more loopholes like this one he can take advantage of.

<Trahir Trahison> “Writing them down would risk secrecy. I recently had a journal stolen from one of my havens. It resulted in an unfortunate incident in which four mortals had to be… well. I’m sure you can imagine.” He leans forward, not looming, just to drop his voice. “As you said, free will is important. If you are working with me, I will work with you. Alliances being what they are they are only as good as what one is willing to put into them.”

Nicolette has been sitting listening the entire time and she nods. “I remember that night. The blizzard. I almost got kidnapped.” She looks to Vi, “I’ll tell you about that later if you want.”

<Vienna Torres> She likes Nicolette better when the woman isn’t playing Greek chorus. She glances toward Nicolette without comment, though she knows that she’ll probably end up asking at some point anyway.

Then, she looks back at Trahir. “Okay.” It had been worth a shot. “Let me make sure I get this right. No feeding without consent - “ the way she says the last bit is not pleased “ - no enthralling, no hurting me, my friends, or family unless we mess with you.”

<Trahir Trahison> “Yes. In exchange, you accept immortality, you and yours do not act against me, you assist as I request within the boundaries of your morality. I keep you well housed, fed, clothed and in a lifestyle appropriate to your station as an ally of the Trahison Lineage.”

He thinks a moment. There is one more thing… “And you learn to be a lady when in my presence.”

<Vienna Torres> It’s amazing how much standards can change over the mere course of twenty minutes. Before this dinner (not that she’s touched her food yet) she would have been glad to leave his presence alive. Now, she narrows her eyes at this new condition and the implication that he’s going to make their bargain public.

Is it going to be ally or pet?

“I’m fine ‘being a lady’ in your presence,” she says. “But outside your presence? I get to choose how I behave, and I choose how I dress, where I live, and what I do.”

<Trahir Trahison> “Whyever would you want to choose all of that? Have you seen what you were wearing dearest one?”

Nicolette’s eyes widen. As a woman she knows that one comment can do more damage to the conversation than maybe anything else he’s said outside of the threats on Vi’s family.

“No, you will dress better than you did before we met. I will supply you with a suitable list of boutiques you may utilize at your leisure. You will also be groomed in a professional manner to appear more… comely. I haven’t seen whatever hovel you have chosen as your lair, but I’m quite sure it’s not acceptable.”

<Vienna Torres> She glares at him.

“I’m not your dearest one.” A petty point to pick on, all things considered, but she needs to lash out and informing him that she doesn’t need an old, stuck-up prig of a vampire with a stick up his *** and literal psychopathy to comment on her fashion choices.

“And I don’t have a lair, I have a home. That I share with my mom.” She pauses. “People will wonder if I suddenly start wearing Calvin Klein dresses. There’s no way we can afford it - and no way I would. That would attract attention. My mom would certainly notice. As long as I don’t embarrass you in fancy restaurants and in front of other vampires, why do you care?”

<Trahir Trahison> “That is easy enough to handle. I suppose your mother will benefit from this arrangement as well then. Bonus for you.” He seems nearly unflappable. The only thing that apparently riles him is a lack of manners, swearing and in general uncouth behavior. “I’m sure as she ages the additional income will come very much in handy, no?”

<Vienna Torres> The additional income would come in handy, but he is going to pay her anyway. And sometimes it pays to be selfish.

“No,” she informs him. Though she knows very well he won’t take a flat refusal kindly. “I’ll trade you. I’ll cut back on the swearing, outside and inside your presence, if you don’t try to dictate the rest of how I live my life.”

<Trahir Trahison> “You’ll enjoy it more my way. Your life will be your own. You’ll just be living it in a more… classy manner.”” He nods as if that is decided. To him it is.

<Vienna Torres> “Please don’t pretend you’re doing this for my benefit,” she says flatly.

<Trahir Trahison> “Oh, I’m not. The benefits you receive are entirely incidental, believe me. I do however see some potential in you. You are willing to listen to reason, you are curious and I haven’t had to harm you yet to make you listen. Therefore I don’t mind you having some perks that will ease your life. You will of course have to die in a few years. At least to the public. Unless the Masquerade comes down. Unaging people make others nervous. It begs questions.”

<Vienna Torres> Willing to listen to him, curious enough to ask questions… by potential, he meant someone who would do what he said. Her eyes widened. She hadn’t realized that sorcerers wouldn’t age. She’d figured that...she would just stop aging at twenty-five or something like that. Not a bad age.

Being eighteen forever sounded pretty ******* sucky.

It’s too late to back out now, though. She’ll figure something out later.

“That’s very nice of you,” she says dryly. “But I’m willing to go without those perks. I’d prefer to go without those perks.”

<Trahir Trahison> “I’m sure you would.” He doesn’t add more to that. He’s already decided how it will go. “Nonetheless, there is another matter… you haven’t eaten your spinach.” He motions to the plate before her.

<Vienna Torres> She takes a deep breath and reminds herself exactly what she is dealing with here. “Am I an ally or a pet?” she asks levelly.

<Trahir Trahison> The question gives him pause a moment. He hadn’t really considered that. “Hm, in reality? A bit of both. But you have the opportunity to become very valuable indeed. Much more so than a pet ever could. Possibly exempting Gustave and Lolong. They are very dear to me.”

He doesn’t say this with any cruelty in his voice, in fact it seems as though he has weighed the pros and cons between her and others and gave his rational decision. “I would lean toward ally depending how well your… gifts work. Novelty would be a better word than pet though. You are willful and disobedient. My pets would not be.”

<Vienna Torres> He can go back to whatever hell he ******* crawled out of. She hadn’t really had any expectation that he would think of her as a real ally, but she’d been hoping that she could shame him into...well, slightly less dickish, if not less murderous behavior. He’s a stuck up prig, after all.

“So I’m kind of like something you picked up at the souvenir shop,” she drawls. She picks up the fork, stabbing a tomato.

She doesn’t want to know who Gustave and Lolong (is that an Asian name?) are. Probably more thralls.


<Trahir Trahison> “Not exactly. You represent a certain… evolution in my behavior. You are mortal, know about us and are being given the opportunity to evolve past simply being a threat. A corpse in the making. Though to be honest there are several Farnsworth gowns that would suit your complexion.” He seems to be considering this before he goes on.

“No, you represent much more than a trinket. Possibly if this goes well, other potential breaches would be given the same chance at life as you rather than being confined to a wooden coat.”

<Vienna Torres> How ******* sweet of him. She’s not going to be a corpse - she’s going to be a guinea pig.

“Wooden coat,” she says. “Cute.” Which is probably not the most productive thing to say in this conversation, but the temptation his offer had briefly presented has vanished. “Are we going to talk more about Farnsworth gowns if I refuse your perks?”

<Trahir Trahison> Trahir shakes his head. “Of course not. We are done with threats and such are we not my dear?” He motions to the window next to them. “Look at yourself. You look absolutely dazzling. You would turn heads everywhere you go.”

Of note, only her and Nicolette, some of the staff and maybe a quarter of the guests still dining appear in the window reflection. Trahir gives her a small smile, one corner of his lips turning up. “You will need to be able to detect my kind sometimes. It would be beneficial so you’ll know if you are being followed. Incidentally as far as I know no one has figured out how to enthrall a sorceress. That may be of some interest for you given the circumstances.”

<Vienna Torres> She glances unwillingly toward the window - and then she gasps. At this point, she’s used to people not appearing in windows. But not so many, at once, and not because they’re ******* vampires.

She turns back to look at the dining tables, her hand tightening on the fork. Her eyes linger for a moment on the guest who smiled at her earlier.

“So I guess some of the stories about your kind are true, after all,” she says. She eats the tomato, not tasting a single bit of it.

“A sorceress. Like...a wizard?”

<Trahir Trahison> “To be honest I’m not one hundred percent sure how their powers work. They don’t carry staves and wear conical hats though. They seem to be able to use some type of energy to produce supernatural results though.” He thinks a moment. “I would liken it more to a psychic. Perhaps a psychokinetic.”

He gives a small shrug once more. “You’ll know more about it than I do I would imagine soon enough.”

<Vienna Torres> She studies him. And what if those powers don’t work because he’s actually batshit crazy and making up **** about gangsters? Just because there are ghosts doesn’t mean there are vampires. Just because there are vampires doesn’t mean that freaking Harry Potter exists.

And who’s to say that she can even develop those powers? It’s not like she can even control when she sees ghosts. They come to her when they want to.

She’ll deal with that later. “We’ll find out, I guess.”

A pause. “I’m still not interested in the clothes. You really think I want to expose this much skin with your kind around?”

<<Trahir Trahison> “Clothing does nothing to dissuade my kind. It does however set the impression that you might be important enough that messing with you could cause issues. To the smart ones it may even signal that someone already has… claimed you, and that it is best to back away. Some members of our society are more infamous than others.”

<Vienna Torres> “How infamous are you?” she asks bluntly.

<Trahir Trahison> “As I stated, I was a member of a faction which used to hunt down and kill our kind. I wouldn’t imagine too many know of me. Some of those that do would see me as a threat to them. Others would see me as an ally. There are a plethora of vampires in this city who think they are feared when they are mocked behind their backs. I wouldn’t know the general consensus. I’m not too interested in what the others think of me. Just what damage their actions can do to our kind as a whole.”

Trahir tilts his head to the side. “I would like to think I am an unknown quantity. That I stay below the proverbial radar. I’ve killed several of my brethren though. Including my childe.“

<Vienna Torres> She still doesn’t understand why he cares about this Masquerade. The man tortured and murdered a human. There are supposed to be other bodies in his lake, and he’s planning to murder her too. But he really does care about this Masquerade of his.

“Your child? One of those half-spirit things?”

<Trahir Trahison> “No, in my early nights I turned a human. I had drank more than I should from them and hadn’t intended to kill them. The only way I saw to rectify my mistake was to change them into one of us. That in and of itself was a mistake. So I completed that which I started.”

<Vienna Torres> ...So vampires really did have some kind of father complex with all the lineages and the children. ******* weirdos.

He’s very calm as he says it. Of course he is. She feels sorry for the human he turned, and then she pushes that feeling away. Either she can feel sorry for everyone he’s fucked over, tortured, and killed, or she can worry about getting her own *** out in one piece.

“If any vamps messes with me, then I’ll tell them that I work with you and that they should - um, go away,” she says. “That’s much easier than hoping that they pick up on the fact that I’m wearing something that costs more than an apartment.” Her mouth turns down. “Besides, do you want me to get robbed?”

<Trahir Trahison> Robbed? The vampire thinks back. The only time he’d been robbed was when humans broke into his farmhouse. “That’s a minor problem solved by location. If you go traipsing through the slums, expect slumdogs to bay. If you keep to more elite company you can expect their actions to mirror their class. If you sleep with the dogs…” The vampire doesn’t bother finishing the expression. “How is the salad?”

<Vienna Torres> Her eyebrows rose at that. She shot him an ironic look. Right, keeping the company of rich fucks was working so well for her. They were only at five threats of murder and mutilation tonight, after all!

“The salad’s good,” she says automatically, eating another piece. Then, she pushes the fork onto the plate. “I’m not that hungry.”

<Trahir Trahison> “”That makes sense. I’ve heard that one orders a salad when they aren’t very hungry. It doesn’t appear extremely filling. You really should try some of the more exotic selections on your next trip here. Many of them can’t be found outside of very… exclusive… establishments. Import laws and such.”

He glances to Nicolette’s plate. The woman has eaten her usual amount, about half the serving. Trahir signals for a box to be brought over with a nod to one of the waiters. “I don’t remember anything about my mortality, though I’m sure I would have enjoyed eating here.”

<Vienna Torres> It was hard to imagine him as mortal. The man looked and acted every inch of the monster, and no amount of expensive suit-wearing changed that.

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug. She has no idea what’s got him chatty so suddenly. “So - the blood thing.”

<Trahir Trahison> “Not here. Some of my ilk have… extreme reactions… to the sight or smell of human blood. They would frenzy. It would be bad form to incite them into doing so and then have to put them down for following their instincts would it not? Especially when they are guests at my establishment.” He figured she had already assumed that much..

“Bad form indeed.”

<Vienna Torres> She arches her eyebrow. “If they turn into sharks every time someone gets a papercut, then they’re kind of a walking time bomb for your secret Masquerade.” At least she says it rather quietly?

<Trahir Trahison> “True. And if that were displayed then I would have little choice in recourse. That doesn’t mean it is acceptable for me to simply provoke them into such a faux pas. That would be in bad taste.”

<Vienna Torres> “Well.” She paused. “It’s not like I want to get frenzied at anyway.” She has more questions about vampires, but at this point, she’s getting tired of the restaurant and the windows that show no reflections.

“We’re going back to your apartment, I guess? You still have my phone.”

<Trahir Trahison> “Nicolette will take you back to the apartment and will drive you to wherever you need to go. I have another matter to attend to.” The vampire glances over to one of the customers as he says that, the man oblivious to the casual motion. “I trust we have an accord and we can cement it tomorrow evening?”

<Vienna Torres> She glances in the same direction he does, catching sight of the man - a surprisingly ordinary-looking fellow. He isn’t placed so that she can catch a reflection.

She wonders. For now, she decides she doesn’t want to know. Focus on making sure she’s going to get out of this first.

“Yeah,” she says. She exhales - not a sigh, but only because she catches herself. “We do.”

The ghost has started its babbling again, a stream of words low enough that she can’t catch its meaning in her ear.

<Trahir Trahison> “Excellent. “ He hands the waiter a billfold as the man returns. It appears to be a substantial amount by the color of the bills, several hundred dollars. “Thank you for the excellent service garcon,” he says. “I will make sure management hears your name.”

Nicolette rises from the table first, apparently eager to be on the road, Trahir rising in a fluid motion as he does, hand going to his waistline in a cordial gesture. “I will escort you ladies to the parking lot Then I must be on my way.”

<Vienna Torres> She rises as well, her hands smoothing against the dress uncertainly. The way it flows around her legs when she walks still feels odd. “Sure.”

When they reach the car, she can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.