Ivory (Matilda)

[Marian Merchant]

Pulling her hair into a tight bun, as she headed out for the evening, Marian had a few choices. Normally, she ventured through the gangland slums, though she had an inclination to visit the quarantine zone. The shambling corpses were intriguing, and she always felt she had an interest in what made them work, and why they were mindless. A nod to herself, as she made her mind, Marian pulled her coat on, buttoning it up. Axe tucked within it, and holstered, she pocketed her hand cannon, then made her way out of the Fforde compound, through a fade portal. Within moments, she was no longer home, instead she was standing alongside a street. Checking her phone, she connected her headphones to it, then slipped them on. As she walked along the street, she began to scroll through her phone, in an attempt to find music to fit her need. Deciding on Florence + The Machine, the music soon flooded her ears, drowning out the sounds of the city.

As the area she had wanted to visit was sealed off, Marian was going to need to traverse through the sewer system, which she had no mind for, though it did mean she would need to do laundry when she returned home. A trip through the sewers was quiet, other than the music echoing through, and rats skittering about, as well as random junk here and there, as well as some peculiar and unsanitary unmentionables. The traversing through the sewers took the pale woman some time, as she found herself lost at times, needing to double back to ensure she continued her progress toward the correct exit.

After what felt like an hour, Marian emerged within the limits of the QZ, a few shambling zombies in sight, outside of the abandoned buildings. They seemed to be feasting upon an unlucky gentleman who seemed to have wandered in, as she did. Pulling her phone up, the young woman took a photo, of the dead man, and then the zombies. Standing still for a moment, she quickly looked around, as not to be caught off guard. Already, she had gotten herself shot at times, due to the very thing, which had led to her throwing key outfits in the garbage, as they'd been ruined.

Slowly moving toward the feeding corpses, weeds slowly began to trail in her footsteps. The music slowly changed, now that her collection of Florence songs had ended, the soothing voice of Tracy Chapman now filling her ears. The zombies seemed to be preoccupied with the feast, though Marian made no movement to dispatch them. Instead, she simply crouched, watching as they fed, the man's body pulling apart as easy as string cheese. The voracious eaters continued, until one paused, turning its head to stare at the vampire.

Dead eyes stared at Marian's dull gaze, before the zombie stood, snarling. Soon, both zombies were snarling, and on the offense.

Though never properly trained in combat, Marian had found herself to be a decent enough teacher, learning from trial and error, especially within the ganglands. Her hand cannon's safety switched off, she fired round after round, until the snarling was silenced. "A waste of bullets." she stated, aloud, soon putting the safety back on, and pocketing the weapon. Stepping over the corpses, she crouched over the deceased man, and investigated further, a hand touching where the zombies were ripping. Fingertips pressing in, the alabaster skin soon stained with red, until she brought them to her lips, tasting the blood. It was cold, though it still had a certain bouquet to it. Checking his pockets, she did not seem to find a wallet, presumably taken by looters earlier, before the zombies had found their meal. "I wonder what your story is, sir." she said to the dead body, tilting her head. "Perhaps you were a cat, drawn to these parts by curiosity. Did you pay the final price, because of it? I wonder if you ever found what you were looking for." Staining her fingertips once more, she gave another taste of the pooled blood.

Throat burning as she tasted the cold blood, Marian stared, the hunger attempting to awaken the ravenous leech within her.

"Perhaps you could have told me many things, if you were alive, yes? Perhaps you had many stories you could have shared." shaking her head, she quietly began to give into the nature of the beast once more, sampling on the blood that the deceased man had left.

[Matilda]

The night was quiet as it should be, though that didn't really matter to Matilda. Music blasted in her headphones, the kind that could block out the rest of the world so she was surrounded by the sound, submerged completely in it. Focused. Hands smoother down her frame, straightening the straps that held her weapons in place, checking that laces of her knee high boots were tight and prepared for further strain. The heavy set things should have made her clumsy, clunky, but the woman moved through the night like a shadow. Deadly and delicate, a ghost of ivory and gold, she let nothing interrupt her task.

There items she required, and only one way to get them. To kill, to tear and tug the very bones from the creatures, rending them free of flesh amid splashes of crimson and dark gore. It rarely bothered her to see it, at one point it might have been thoroughly disturbing but now it was just work, just a requirement to get by in this strange world. Did she long for the red dust, to feel the sun beating on her brow as she rode her horse around the cattle, spurring with gentle kicks and clicks of the tongue? Yes, often. She couldn't go back, no matter what happened. There was too much that had changed, and her families gently please of "we love you, we miss you" didn't create the same ache it once did.


Years had passed, they'd seen her only briefly on a visit, Matilda making herself scarce stating work as an excuse. She was full of excuses when it came to family these days, but she'd managed a smile and "I love you" to appease them. It hadn't worked, she was sure of it, the calls started again a week later but quickly faded away to one or two a month. Same questions, same concerns and her same lies. Where did their sunny little girl go? Six feet under and crawled her way back out, she could never be the same.

Never.

Her boot slapped down into the muck of the sewers, nose wrinkling. There had to be a better way to travel from the catacombs to the aptly named "Quarantine Zone". Usually she'd just slink across the river, but tonight she took the long way, taking down any of the wild creatures that hunted down here. One was bowed over a right, right near the exit to the QZ, tearing into it's prize in a way that made even Matilda recoil. Foul. A quick blow to the back of the head was a mercy, as were each subsequent smack thudding down until nothing but a smear of bone matter remained intact. Better.

Slipping into the not-so-fresh air of the QZ was hardly encouraging, nor was the trail of weeds that led her gaze to fall on a vision of white, a pale creature bowed over a dead body. It was long gone, and the blood would no doubt be congealing soon, cold and seeping into the ground. It would be a waste not to make use of it, but Matilda's stomach turned at the thought of it. Fresh, or nothing, sure it made her feel less human in one sense but the warmth made up for it. It filled her, and briefly she could feel more alive.

Approaching with caution she paused long enough to take out her headphones, looming casual over the woman, who she assessed to be one of her own and not some total feral. Then again, you never could really tell, some just hid it better than others. "Really? You couldn't find a better meal, mate? Geez."

[Marian Merchant]

The voice caused Marian to pause in her feeding, looking toward the source. A female, attractive, though she could not tell at the time if she was still human or had shed her mortal coil. Dull eyes studied the figure, before she returned to the meal in front of her, dipping her fingers in as if she were about to finger paint. "I feed regardless of the source. This meal simply required little effort." Returning to feeding, Marian took a few moments in the feast, before she stood up, cleaning her hands before standing before the woman. The necromancer stared, eyes locked onto the other's, face giving no sign of emotion. It was almost as if she was carved out of alabaster.

Fingers stained from the bounty, they now contrasted heavily with the pigment of her flesh. "I am Marian Merchant, from the Fforde lineage. It would appear that you are not alarmed by the act of feeding." Hands folding behind her back, the young woman did not relax, did not look away. The weeds were beginning to sprout around her feet, though it did not seem to catch her eye. "Who, if I may ask, are you?" The other woman did not seem familiar to Marian, though that did not mean much. She had found herself lately in very select company, mostly with the lineage or the gangsters who inhabited the slums.

The necromancer continued to stare, her gaze never breaking, even as she began to hear the familiar shamblings and groaning around. Perhaps they would avoid these two women, and go elsewhere, but nothing was certain. That wasn't quite true, though, as some things were certain, such as Marian's lack of emotion or expression, or the fact that perhaps they should move the conversation elsewhere. Regardless of the necromancer's mental process, she continued to stand in front of the other, waiting on the answer to her question.

"Perhaps this is not the best location to hold this conversation, or meeting, though, yes?"

Cocking her head to the side, Marian studied the woman's face, every feature, every point, analyzing, putting the face to memory for any further recollection. As she straightened her head, the Necromancer shifted to pull her own hair back into a ponytail. The zombies and other mindless undead seemed to continue their shamblings, though their nature was uncertain and Marian could not predict if they would ignore them indefinitely. Still, if they were to attack, Marian was armed, and would defend herself as well as the other as needed.

To Marian's knowledge, the Quarantine Zone wasn't very conversation friendly, nor was it a place to stop and have a civil chat, though she didn't seem to be bothered by doing it in the first place. Fixing the situation had a few simple and easy to follow steps, anyway.

[Matilda]

Her blonde brows raised, studying the pale creature before her, taking in every inch of the unique creature. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Suppose this wasn't your doing then?" She didn't need answer, it was before her eyes, even as she gestured to the dead man. No, this wasn't her kill, just dinner. The red upon her skin was stark in contrast, it only highlighted her paleness, like pure snow or freshly whipped cream. Milky white perfection, marred by the darkening blood. It was oddly beautiful and Matilda found herself staring at the woman as she finished her meal, waiting patiently.

There was introduction given, Matilda letting her gaze drift away from the weeds, the source becoming apparent as more reached up from beneath the ground, withering even as they grew. "Fforde? Don't really know much about them. Matilda Fleur Jacobson, of the wild, wild West's though I don't expect you'll know much of my lineage either... Most are gone, or just don't care to maintain it. Those of us who do keep to ourselves, and to each other. Good to meet you, I guess, Marian."

She didn't flinch beneath the gaze, the way she was studied in turn, in fact her posture almost seemed to become more open, as if she were saying "take my measure, figure me out if you can". It never really bothered her anymore, people had always looked at her, with her height and delicate features. Often they mistook her for some gentle creature, soft and malleable, elegant and willowy. It was their foolhardy mistake, and her gain.

"It is not, no, unless you're interested in putting a weapon to use and assisting me in mowing the rank buggers down. If not, there is a building nearby that is basically unoccupied these days but I've got a set of keys." She'd snatched them when she'd come to after the last time she and Wolf had chatted, and of course had ended with him shooting her point blank in the heart. Who said romance was dead? She'd woken in white linen, tucked carefully into blankets in a room of the penthouse. His scent lingered, and so did the memory of his fingertips against her skin but when she was back to herself he was gone.

"Come on, Snow White, before I make you become the Huntsman." She chirped brightly, the necromancer taking lead and walking boldly in the direction of the Velox Nocte building, whistling "Waltzing Matilda" as if she didn't have a care in the world.

[Marian Merchant]

The walk to Velox Nocte was quiet, as Marian followed Matilda. She felt that there was no requirement to respond to the woman until they would arrive at the destination of the woman's choice. Her own movements were fluid, though they contained no expression of haste, nor did they show sloth. It was as if this girl of white was more machine than human, or whatever it was that she was. If Marian was Snow White, then was Matilda the Huntsman? Nonetheless, she followed, eyes focused on the other as they walked. It would not be until they drew closer, that Marian would speak again.

"The taken name. West. It sounds familiar." she stated, pausing as if to run through her mental rolodex. "Would the Wests be the same Wests that own the towers and hotel?" she asked, tilting her head a little as her eyes focused on the moving hips. "I do not know many names, besides those I associate with mostly. That would be Fforde. Loosely Grigori. Otherwise, I pay little attention to the names and titles of others." Marian did not tend to associate much with others, even at work. She usually came into work, did whatever Brock needed her to do, then went home. It was either that or she would venture through the ganglands to feed and practice with her weapons. It wasn't the most exciting existence, though luckily Marian did not seek excitement.

"If so, then the Wests must be well funded." Eyes looking around for a moment, the shuffling of zombies and the subtle roar of mooncalves loomed around. Always ready to gun down the undead, Marian kept her hand near her hand cannon, though made no other aggressive movement. "It is merely observed. Property appears to be symbolic in the city." Her own sire owned and maintained a few properties, as far as she recalled, though. Others owned many properties, and it seemed to be a symbol of power or control. Perhaps she was misguided in these views, though nobody had yet to clear up any misunderstanding.

A few thoughts about it passed through her mind, though Marian would not worry about them at the moment. In time, she would deal with the thoughts, though they had no bearing on the conversation, nor did they involve Matilda West or herself. Her eyes returned to the movement of Matilda's hips, though, as they walked, growing closer to their destination.

[Matilda]

Matilda probably should have been concerned by the strange pale creature at her back, falling her through the Quarantine Zone, but she couldn't have been much more disturbing than the zombies that stumbled mindlessly, drawn only by loud sounds or hunger. She wasn't phased in the slightest, not really, and the woman kept talking which was a good sign in a way. When she spoke of the West name Matilda laughed, nodding her head along. Yeah, the West Towers were hardly subtle, in fact most of the properties weren't. Wolfgang had certainly built himself an empire, though Eva and Lyonel hadn't done too badly either.

"Fforde? Not sure I know any, well, other than you now. Yeah, Wolf owns a lot of ****, he's my sire and the head of the West lineage, in fact I think he's a partial owner of the building we are heading towards, he certainly helped start Velox Nocte."

At the well funded comment she scoffed, giving a dismissive little shrug of the shoulders. "Mmm, yeah, I guess most of us have a bit of cash floating around, business's and buildings." It wasn't of massive interest to her, she did run a business and had helped people out here and there, but mostly she enjoyed using her abilities for work. She missed the days where abilities were requested and required, where people would come to the VN and ask for heals, or help in hiding. She'd go out and attend to jobs, meet new people. In fact she'd been rambling about it to one of Eva's childe just the other day, the kid had looked overly interested and she wondered if something of the sort might not start up again in the near future.

"Here we are..." She approached the door, making quick work of opening it and stepping inside, holding it open to allow Marian access. "What about you? What's your deal?"