Vs.

[Trahir Trahison]

Posting order:
1 Trahir
2 Shadis
3 Dominique
4 Doc

Location: Farmhouse (WG 6) Characters do not have to be on location
Synopsis: Invitations send three nights prior to a (warm-weather) black tie affair at the farmhouse
Restrictions: First post length is unrestricted to allow for description of events leading to the RP, dress/tux choice, travel to the site, basically set-up & arrival. By the second post characters should be at the farm and interacting. 4 paragraphs max per post thereafter. No grid interactions (powers, attacks) based on this RP will be acknowledged for the sake of this RP, it is standalone from grid. Dice roller will be used to decide contested actions by all players involved.

Trahir Trahison The nights linger on. Sunrise brings a welcome modicum of relief to the vampire these nights but at the moment it is hours away. His world, the only one he knows, is one of black waters and pin pricked night time skies marred only by the yellowed light cast over decrepit city streets. The swarms of humanity for the most part are sequestered away in their beds while the monster stalks the street in search of prey, the type of predator the world is right to fear. Human intellect blended with the inhuman predatory reactions of the crocodile. The complete lack of conscience. The vampire has become more and more introspective of late. Certain events have made him pensive, thoughtful, broody. He labors to maintain his outward composure, the control he so desperately seeks slipping more and more often giving way to more and more frequent primal urges.

Who was I? Am I still even a who? Have I become less than I was or more? I am immortal. My ties inevitably link me to humanity by dint of predation, by ties that go blood deep... can one truly be severed from their roots? Am I still somewhere within this shell of blood a shadow... a man? Is it only my connection to my lovers keeps me such? What would I be if I were deprived of them? Would I then truly be nothing more than a monster? Would I forsake these last vestiges of my own shredded humanity?

Trahir leans back in his chair. watching his guests eating their fill from a table filled with a selection of fine and rarified delicacies from around the world. Some of them can not taste those delicacies they consume. It's stagecraft, an act. Smoke and mirrors. Much like him really, much like his entire race. Was it pure vanity that made them continue to see themselves as alive? As being... alive? To the Killer's mind his days of mortality ended when he awoke on the cold floor of the abandoned warehouse.Since that point and every night thereafter he has walked the night apart from what he was. A cheap mockery of life. A wolf in sheep's clothing. He has held with contempt those like the ones before him, mortal and immortal alike who refuse to see, or are ignorant of, their place in the world. It is hard to see one's food as equal. It is just as difficult for the vampire to respect those who do. Not only cheap mockeries, illusions, but cheap imitations so ignorant they can not see it. Contemptible beings one and all. For a moment his eyes become unfocused, the vampire lost in his own thoughts.

He looks up to see all eyes on him and mentally replays the conversation he'd only being half paying attention to in his mind before sitting up, folding his hands before him and answering the query. "Yes, I am looking to expand the hunt club. Perhaps even make the organization a national entity. We will of course need to keep discretion paramount. Recruitment could pose some difficulty, though ferreting out members who share our own interests and bringing them into our small circle shouldn't be too difficult."

Even though the Elysium has been emptied of its patronage for the private gathering no one has said outright anything about what the meat of the discussion is. Always the meaning of their words remains obfuscated, clouded within a veil of metaphors. Trahir has insisted on such measures. One never knows when one is being watched and digital means are the least of the Killer's worries. "I have devised several different sets of rules for our outings, point systems devised to reward those who accept more... difficult prey. Style of course will be rewarded as well as selection depending on the season and the level of skill displayed in the hunt. The problem lies in trying to centralize such an organization as ours. In doing so I believe that we may create too many legal problems since every locale being traceable back to us could result in some permitting issues. I don't believe such complications being brought to our doorstep could in any way be beneficial. I propose a council of sorts in which the head of each region outwardly maintains a veil of autonomy. All communications within our organization between other branches must remain completely undetectable."

There are nods from others at the table at his words. Everyone knew the weight of them, the dangers their endeavor presented. Bringing together those who wished to test their mettle and skill against the deadliest prey was no easy task. They were many factors to consider, most of which involved secrecy. Harper Rock had shown him that maintaining such was difficult even when the benefits were clear. There was zero margin for error. Mistakes would likely be made though and they had to be met with decisive and final countermeasures when appropriate. It would require a massive undertaking of trust between monsters famed for their paranoia.

Everyone at the table had been painstakingly screened. Trahir had enough dirt to bury any of them with the bones from the skeletons in their closets and he'd been very careful to assure those skeletons had been stashed away very deeply. "Anyone wanting out before we begin, contact me at the number programmed into the phone you received at the beginning of the evening within twenty-four hours. If you walk, you will be expected to treat this meeting as though you had signed a nondisclosure agreement. I do not need to press upon you the gravity of the ramifications which will befall anyone who utters a word of what we have spoken of?"

Heads shake at the words and Trahir nods, rising from the table, a hand out to calm those who would do the same. "Please, ladies, gentlemen, enjoy the rest of your meals. We shall reconvene at the pre-appointed time for our next scheduled meeting. I shall be in touch with the location closer to then."

Turning away, the vampire straightens his bow-tie and suit as he walks toward the exit, the two bouncers opening the door as he approaches. Without a backward glance to his guests he steps out into the near-empty mall and heads toward the elevator. He has another meeting to attend tonight, the invitations having gone out to the two recipients three nights prior. Business was done for the night. The next meeting was personal. Deeply personal. Trahir was concerned more about how this one would go than the last. Gathering together a band of psychopaths, sociopaths and delusional serial killers and convincing them to go along with his plans would be much much simpler and safer perhaps than what lay ahead of him.

The trip to the farmhouse is uneventful. Nicolette drives in silence while Trahir broods in the back of the 2016 Rolls Royce Phantom. He hates the interior of this modern age of vehicles. So impersonal, cold. His 1925 was so inviting. It had personality.

It’s not long before he arrives. “Go and see if Shadis needs a ride here.”

Stepping into the farmhouse, Nicolette left behind to take the car back to West Tower's parking garage if she is not needed, Trahir gives the foyer one last look over before going to light the fire in the brick fireplace. All around the room sprigs of grass and fern surround bouquets of jonquil, encircling the blossoms in place of the more standard baby's breath. He works the bellows extending from the bricks quietly, bringing the heat of the blaze up rapidly. Once the flames have bitten deeply into the wood enough to have the entire surface hot embers he stands. There is not a drop of sweat on the Killer's brow of course, his dead body produces no such filth. His face is a mask as he makes his way to the kitchen, carefully avoiding stepping in any of the gore that streaks both floor and wall and moves to the refrigerator to pick out a bottle of blood. There is no label on the bottle, it is not a purchase from the fine selection of Arbor Vitae, rather a draught drawn himself from a very special victim. The same vintage he had poured Dominique one night not so long ago on the porch as they had their first discussion without attempting to kill one another.

He adjusts the daffodil boutonniere on the left buttonhole over his heart. Vaguely aware that the nuances of the entire set-up may be lost on those who attend, the vampire steps from the kitchen and moves to the front room once more, setting the bottle down on a side table next to the fireplace to let the warmth from the blaze heat the liquid. Nearby a table is set with four places, the napkins red, the tablecloth solid black. Trahir gazes at it for a long moment pondering the identity of the unknown plus one his soulmate would be bringing. Within him the Darkness growls, the rumblings, though within his mind entirely, bring his lips curling upward in a snarl. His mind follows the thoughts down the rabbit hole for a moment. A man. A man seeking to supplant him. Has she taken a lover? The thought though is pushed away. No. Jane was loyal to a fault to her cause as a human. She would be as loyal in death as in life. Were she to replace him she would first tell him.

That, and Nicolette would have told him if there was another rooster snooping around the hen house. If he started down the road the shadowy evil within him wished to guide him he would lose everything this night. He needed to clear his head. He needed to think clearly. What Mortll had told him made perfect sense to the monster. He did indeed labor under several issues likely foisted upon him by whatever force drove his reanimated limbs, kept him alive after his exsanguination and subsequent infusion of dead-yet-not-dead blood. There, then, Trahir admitted silently to himself that he was insane.

There was naught to do but wait now for the others to arrive. Naught to do but wait, alone in his own head. Standing by the table, his features cast in the dancing red-orange light of the flames nearby, lips still curled back to show his irritation in the form of his descended needle-point fangs, his visage very likely mirrored the hellish dreamscape within.

[Shadis (DELETED 7818)]

The woman had declined Nicolette once more, preferring to make her own way to the farm house. As it was, she slept with the man and Nicolette had a way of doing things for him. However, Shadis preferred to do things on her own terms, overseeing the important aspects for herself. There were some things that she took seriously and wasn’t likely to seek much help from anyone. It was pride that told her that she was more than a capable woman to do things for herself and driving herself to the farmhouse was one such task. Ever since she met Trahir, she felt like she relied upon a man that would one day turn his attentions elsewhere. It was something that she had considered fact and as she stood by her car outside of the farmhouse, half listening to Elena speak upon the phone; she realised that being what she was, that if he did do such a thing, she wouldn’t exactly know just as to what would happen.

Being an Allurist, meant that she felt more than she normally did. Than she ever did in her human life. That fact alone made her realise that she should have been more careful with every step that she had taken. Whether getting involved with Trahir was a good thing or not, she didn’t know. The woman just knew that she had gotten swept up in it all, especially considering that she was still just a fledgling. A baby playing with all the new toys still as she tried to work out all of her weaknesses and strengths. Often she thought that she was so far out of her element, that their whole relationship felt like a ship on stormy waters, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth. The woman feared for her sanity, especially whenever Trahir pushed upon the darker things. Every time that she stepped foot with Trahir in the room, she felt as if she held a darkness of her own. One that threatened to swallow her whole, should she allow it. Swallow her, or rip her to shreds, piece by slow piece.

Shadis realized, that should this happen, there wouldn’t be much left at all of her. Whether at that point she would go insane, or simply died, was the next question. The fledgling had still yet to talk to her sire, or anyone really. Her thoughts and worries were all neatly stacked away or written down in a book that was hidden, even from her. No one was to find her book, no one. Only Elena knew where it was kept and she trusted her thrall. However, it still meant that she had yet to speak to her sire of, well, everything. Ever since Trahir, she had basically stopped existing within the lives of others that she knew. The woman had put head down and simply focused upon her work at hand. In fact, Shadis rather enjoyed Elena’s company whenever she came by and the vampiress encouraged her thrall to have a life of her own beyond her. She just couldn’t simply see herself alienating the thrall. After-all, if Elena hadn’t seen Shadis feeding, then she would still be going on in her normal human life.

A slow, but unnecessary exhale parted her lips as she closed the door of the car that she had been leaning against and made her way towards the farm house. The woman was still listening to her thrall speak, silently of course, as Elena was used to Shadis’s silence more often than not of late. She always feared that should she speak, something wasn’t going to come out right and she always prided on making statements that were founded on fact rather than fiction. Especially when Trahir had gone all territorial on Kaspar. It was a point where the fledgling had never felt so useless, so powerless to help Trahir, even though she had wanted to so badly. Yet, he sought comfort in Mortll, a woman she wondered if he was friends with, because she had never seen such emotion from Trahir before. A man who was always so… Cold and emotionless around her. The only ground where they both felt something, was when his claws found her, when they both felt pleasures of the flesh.

Silently she entered the front room and paused as a simple sigh caressed her lips. “Just do me a favour Elena, I haven’t seen him in a while and I should, but please, just drop by and make sure...” Her voice paused and a smile curved her lips. “This is why I love having you around Dear, you remember the things I only have to say once. I will see you tomorrow, enjoy the rest of your night.” At that point, the woman hung up the phone, angled her head as she spied Trahir and simply smiled at the man. Although his lips had been curled back in something that she gathered was annoyance, she had grown used to such behaviours, so she simply learned to roll with it all. “Good evening Trahir, I have to admit, I almost lost track of time, but Elena is efficient. Especially when it comes to keeping track of my appointments.”

[Wearing]

[Dominique]

A T T I R E :ll: M U S I C

The heat of the metal in her hands did little to distract her from the invite that was perhaps two feet at the very most sitting on the counter. She had looked at it a few times...more than a few. She studied the wording, the presentation on the predictable parchment and it was of course representing Trahir Trahison in the fashion she knew him for. Very well in fact. HOPE deposited the recently removed parts by dropping the handful of Cobra transmission parts into the cleaning bucket. Her time was up for the evening in the underground garage where she was currently cleaning up. She put it off long enough. Washing HOPE and LESS free from the grease took up another minute and once they were dry she gave the command to the voice recognition controls to the lights and everything around her went pitch black.

Fifteen minutes later the petite shadow stood fresh from the shower drying off while the resident pets she fondly called the peanut gallery observed. Each face watched with interest as if she would entertain them at any moment... as if that was her only purpose. Soft steps left wet imprints of her size six rose inked adorned feet while dividing the small menagerie that soon followed her lead. Across the blonde hardwood floor she traveled and stopped to face the dresser where the easiest choices of her attire for the evening ahead would come from. If only the rest regarding how she would finally arrive would be as simple as what color of lace would wrap her inked curves.

“Alexa, play Blue October.” The sound of her voice prompted the sounds of the group to rise from the state of the art surround system that filled the numerous levels of Vita Bella. The song that started was a favorite. Enough so that she wanted to hear it louder and for good reason. “Alexa, increase volume.”

HOPE and LESS reached back and fastened the small hooks at the middle of her back. In doing so it effectively bridged the material and secured the black lace that wrapped around her chest. The silk wisp formed a line across the permanent leopard spots that cascaded from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. Her skin was cool beneath the familiar caress of her own fingertips as they glided beneath the shelf that formed under the fullness of flesh. All of that was held up by the straps that each finger glided beneath to set the thin strips of material straight. The scent of her skin was stronger even to her notice as she pulled at the second half of the matching lace set that anchored on each hip with barely there small bows that held the fine satin ties together.

Random steps carried the elusive shadow to the single restored wardrobe that she brought over from the farm. The doors pulled open with a tug of the iron teardrop shaped handles. Inside the display of clothing choices spanned everything from novelty slippers at the base, countless distressed denim jeans that fit her like a glove and others that fit one who would never wear them again. Hoodies, sweaters, tank tops with the predictable “I do my own stunts” type messages dangled from every other hanger it seemed. Her fingers didn’t pause over them like they would have in the not so distant pass.

Bravely HOPE reached in behind all that was comfortable, safe to choose from in the first line of preferred options and revealed the black and white dress that had been placed there as a surprise nearly a year and half prior. The obsidian polish over each of her work safe length nails shimmered beneath the inside light warming the interior of the furniture while she lingered. The see through plastic wardrobe bag that the dress arrived in was unzipped and left to hang while she carefully pulled the never worn dress free from the wardrobe.

The silk was brought to her chest and smoothed to fall where it would when she finally put it on. The colorful ink that covered the length of her left leg from hip to ankle appeared where the hem of the white skirt ended. She dipped her head to the side and when she did the waist length black veil of hair fell with her assessing gaze to the mid to upper point of her thigh. Would it be okay given the formal dress notation on the invite? HOPE brushed at the smooth edge of the hem. Her dark eyes flipped up as if she knew the answer. A partial smile bloomed at the left corner of her lips.

Twenty minutes later her black polish dipped fingers pulled the black bow that fastened at the middle of her back and hooked it in place. The soft hiss of the silk sliding back and forth with the movement of her body spoke to her. It said ”Yesss…” as she looked down to her bare feet then over the back of her bare shoulder. She felt it at that very moment. The affection of the design wrapped her body and she realized why the dress was given to her to begin with. It was made for her. It had to be. It was the perfect fit summoned by eyes that knew her that well.

With a flood comes a shift in the soil.
Our blood runs thicker than oil.
Like erosion cutting straight to the core.
No human nature ever felt this before.
We become an unbreakable vow.

The straps of the black heels that would lift her five inches above her natural height of five feet and three inches to spare finally slid into place. Her body lifted from the edge of the bed and she stood up. The plastic bag the dress was in peeked out at her as if there was a purpose in reminding her the ensemble was not quite complete. She blinked in question as if there was a way around it. Her lips curled inward and the sharp line of her teeth held them firm as hostages. Her steps that were as graceful yet lethal as the lioness she was brought her to the garment bag. An investigative reach to the depths of the plastic confirmed that each was still there.

HOPE did the honors of pulling out the two small silk rose bouquets. With the precise movements that would mirror a ballerina her petite body bent over with each hand fingering the clasps that would hold the unusual accessories in place. Right first then the left. She set the pink miniature rose buds on the top of each foot. If he laughed she would simply...well, he wouldn’t. Her mind banished the possibility of such just as quickly as it first came to mind.

While HOPE and LESS pulled back the length of her curled hair she glanced at the clock. With quick twists and added hair pins her hair was gathered at the back of her head while the full length was left to fall freely down the middle of her back. She was ready. Now she wondered if everyone else was. Dominique knew all too well this was not just an invite calling her to appear in such a formal way. Mr. Trahison had taught her a few things about how these things worked as well as how his mind did. Her option of plus one was filled easily by her first choice, which was of course, was her sire. Trahir’s plus one was something she looked forward to. It was a very tactful way of saying, ’Bring someone special because I am doing the same. What else could it be since he formally suggested she do just that? She certainly didn’t date, hardly was social and pretty much everything Trahir Trahison was not in that regard now that she thought of it. Her creator arriving with her would naturally be a given.

Did it upset her that the one to accompany Trahir would be far more intimate to him? No. They had a clear understanding on how their relationship was defined. Nothing was clawing at her inside to be defensive, insulted, slighted. They were equally fierce about their independence, their privacy and did not have the shackles of love or expectation fastening them together like eternal prisoners sentenced to what no one can ever see their existence through. Love kills slowly and once it had in her world she was a firm believer in her adopted policy she would not permit it to make a second tour of duty. The discussion she and the high brow killer had on the topic left her with the confirmation he was like minded. So tonight would be a chance to meet what likely has captured his attention and she was looking forward to it enough she was wearing roses on her feet? Finally her head dipped down. Yep. She picked up her cell phone and her black clutch purse that fit comfortably in her opposite hand. A quick text was tapped out as she made her way down the stairs.

-We still on for tonight?-

The text was sent and she looked down at her skirt, legs and shoes. Her face deadpanned for the effect of nothing more than her own realization she was actually stepping out of her house looking like she did. If he didn’t message back or neglected to drive up when she opened the front door then she would never forgive him. HOPE curled around the doorknob and twisted slowly as if she was buying him time. As much as she wanted to say it the truth was Doc owed her nothing. She could hardly hold it against him if he got pulled elsewhere, distracted or in the mood to say screw it and leave her hanging in black and white silk and roses. Her mind reviewed it. A text came in shaking her attention to the phone. There he was. She sent out a reply.

-Jesus. Really?-

While the message disappeared to wherever those words formed fade into she avoided looking down. She didn’t dare. Flowers were really on her feet. She was starting to feel like a clown and more than ever tempted to lose the shoes. The sounds of an investigative snort pulled her from her resistance just in time to find Vader ready to nibble off the right bouquet. Her foot wiggled forward then stepped back.

“The hell?!” She growled dismissively. “Get!” Her finger aimed the direction the superman caped bull terrier bolted off to obediently. “I swear even my own house is against me.” With that she finally pulled the door open.

[Doc]

Doc: Things had been quiet of late. Nights having fallen into a routine. Check the bounty list, check the businesses, check on the spawns and avoid the Ball and Chain. However tonight would be different. Doc had agreed to be a plus one this evening. A plus one to Trahir Traitorson’s event. Normally he would have nothing to do with the Traitor whatsoever, yet, the one that asked him, was his Minx. For her, he would go. Had anyone else asked him, he would have given them a solid and explicit, “**** no.” But this was Minx. For her, he would forego his go to reaction about the Traitor.

There was more than enough reason for Doc wanting the Traitor dead. The fact he blackmailed Minx, and seemed rather giddy about it, when he admitted to Doc himself. No the Traitor didn’t say the precise word, ‘blackmail’; it was inferred. Overtly inferred. Then there was the fact, others approached him with similar hearsay statements from the Traitor. All these things the Traitor set into motion in order to bring Doc’s Spawn to ‘heel’. To teach her. Who the **** did the Traitor think he was? He was going to teach Doc’s Spawn?

For two ******* years Doc nurtured Minx. Slowly but surely leading her, and allowing her to move at her own pace. No pushing, no shoving, perhaps the occasional tactical nudge in the direction he wanted her to go. But he wanted her to make the choice on her own. But was that allowed to happen? **** no. Trahir Traitorson thought he knew best. A mere fledgling himself, who set out to **** with his Spawn, and not only to **** with his Spawn, but to run his ******* mouth about it, as if it were something to be proud of.

Doc’s lips twisted into a derisive sneer. Oh yes, his thoughts dark, as he went over the situation from the Traitor’s point of view. The Traitor all but called Doc a ******* lousy Sire to his face, by informing Doc that ‘he was going to fix her’. In Doc’s mind, she never needed ******* ‘fixing’. Did she need guidance? Yes. Fixing? No. But do not tell that to the Traitor. He obviously knew her best! Did it matter that Doc had seen her at her worst and her best? That Doc knew what buttons to push to get her to do what he wanted? And if he pushed those buttons, he could ‘bring her to heel’? No, because in the Traitor’s eyes, Doc was unable to ‘fix’ her.

What the Traitor failed to grasp, was that forcing an issue such as the one with Minx’, could have long lasting and disruptive repercussions. In this case, Doc now marked him as someone never to be trusted. Someone whose words would always be subject speculation. Someone who would wear a target on their back, forever. And those that the Traitor considered ‘his’ would as well carry that target. Why? Because the Traitor targeted the little Dane. It was personal when he insulted Doc. It was personal when interfered with Doc’s Spawn. But it was also personal when he targeted the little Dane.

It was as though the Traitor had **** for brains, but Doc knew that wasn’t the true case. The traitor was an egomaniac. And when people did not give him the ‘respect’ the Traitor thought he deserved, he spoke first and thought second. The Traitor had to boast. He had to puff himself up. How better to do that, than to issue a threat. How easy it is, to let words slip in the heat of the moment. But once out, they cannot be taken back. And so now, that it was out, the game would soon be on.

Doc paused as he stepped out of the shower. He rubbed his jaw. He really should shave, but he was late already. The stubble would just have to do. Shaving was a lengthy chore when a person had no mirror reflection. He would rather have the stubble, than a spot he missed. Minx would notice and never let him hear the end of it. That was the bane of a male sire’s existence, with a load of female spawn. They all noticed the strangest things. “You need a hair cut.” “You need a shave.” “You missed a spot.” “You wore that tux at the last party.” He sighed. Doc never considered himself a clothes horse, but **** him, if he now owned four, count them, four tuxedos. One would think he could get by with the same tux, but not when he had as many observant spawn as he had.

The cell phone buzzed from it’s location on the night stand as Doc attempted a second try at his bow tie. Again, having no ******* reflection, hampered his efforts. Picking up the cell, he read the text, and then sent back a reply.

*text* Of course we are.. I have spent all ******* afternoon getting pretty.. Just .. for.. YOU.

Hitting send, he tossed the cell on to the bed, and muttered, “Screw the ******* bow tie. They are for ancient *** fuckers anyway..” He pulled a simply black silk tie, and tied a double Windsor knot with ease out of second nature. Sliding on the shoulder holster for the Walter PPK, he adjusted the straps, holstered the weapon, and then loaded three extra magazines. Once he was satisfied, he shrugged on the Tuxedo jacket and felt it carefully, to make sure the weapon didn’t show or cause an unsightly wrinkle.

A lot of people discounted a .380 hand gun because it didn’t have the punch of a .40 caliber. But the truth of the matter was, a .380 could fit almost anywhere, and never be noticed. And that was why he had three on him at the present time. They were easily hidden, and they were ******* reliable. They were worth the extra expense. Yes there were knock offs, but the true Walthers were ******* workhorses.

His cell buzzed again, he smirked reading the response.

*text* Driving the Vanquish, will be there shortly.

Doc pocketed the cell, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door, and few minutes later he was at Minx’ place picking her up.

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir Trahison Framed by the fiery light behind him, Trahir turns at the sound of Shadis’ voice. Both her and Dominique had standing invitations to all of his properties, all of his most personal and intimate spaces. He wasn’t surprised that she chose to simply enter. What formality could there be between those who slept together in a casket each day? Knocking would be absurd. He lowers his gaze, giving a small bow as he appreciates the selection of dress she has chosen for the evening. “You look radiant my love.”

He steps toward her, picking up a box from a nearby table as he goes. A single small blossom resides within. He slips one hand to her lower back, drawing her to him for a soft kiss before presenting the box to her. “I’d like you to wear this somewhere. Anywhere visible. It’s a bluebell. It symbolizes several things. One of them is humility. It will tell any versed in events like this that you are young, a fledgling. Most of our kind dislike those who harm newly turned vampires.”

He glances out the window, seeing the car receding into the night. The driver is not Nicolette. She doesn’t drive like a bat out of hell. Trahir looks into Shadis’ brown eyes, her aura enveloping him, calming him in some ways, exciting him in others. Images of flesh and blood flash through his mind in a montage of pain and pleasure and Trahir quickly composes himself, a flash of lust and hunger passing over his expression for the briefest of instants before he catches himself.

He motions to the seats and couches arranged around the fireplace. “Please, have a seat. I will bring out a couple more bottles of the good stuff. The others should hopefully be arriving soon. That said he steels himself and steps away, fingers trailing over Shadis’ hip as he makes his way back into the kitchen to retrieve two more bottles. A selection of different flavors should always be offered. Along with the two bottles, held by the necks in one hand when he emerges, he brings out a serving tray of hors d'oeuvres of the more… human variety. Though he won’t be able to enjoy them perhaps the others might.

[Shadis (DELETED 7818)]

The woman had to pause slightly as her gaze drank in the sight of Trahir standing by the fire, it was a sight that made her wish that they would be alone for the entire evening. The words that he spoke had her angling her head to the right and downwards. She was sure that if she had been human, she would have felt the blood rush to her cheeks. ”I have to say, you looking rather handsome yourself,” She said before she felt her form drawn into him and her hands lightly rested against his chest while her head tilted upwards to receive his kiss. However, they didn’t rest there for long as he presented her with a box, which she lightly took from him.

Silently listening, she opened it to find the blue flower resting within the confines and she couldn’t help but wonder just as to where this was all coming from. ”It’s beautiful,” The fledgling said softly as she looked back up into those blue eyes that returned to her. As lust flashed through his gaze, her own thoughts could help but turn to their nights at the Crypt, but she stifled them before she could react upon such thoughts. There were to be guests, guests which made her rather nervous. Especially considering that she was as he said she was, a fledgling. A fledgling that was going to be surrounded by vampires that had been vampires far longer than she had been.

While he moved to get a couple of bottles, she turned to the couches and crossed the floor until she reached them so she could seat herself down upon one. Upon feeling the warmth of the flames, she rested the box within her lap and lightly took the simple flower from its resting place. Holding up the flower, she twirled it around in her fingers for a moment as she pondered about the other possible symbolisms that it could stand for. That was until she finally tucked it behind her ear. The woman didn’t bring any hair clips, as there was mostly no need, her hair was never truly a mess. So, it would just have to simply rest behind her ear.

Her gaze turned back to the fire then, a fire that reminded her of the flash of lust that she saw within Trahir’s eyes. It was a sight that always sent a shiver trailing down her spine and it took a great deal of her willpower to not just simply skip the dinner altogether. Afterall, those who knew her best, knew that she would rather be elsewhere than meeting others that would probably prefer that she be dead. Rising, she sat the box to the side as she angled her gaze over her shoulder in the direction that Trahir had disappeared in. He was her strength right then and there, ”Tell me something, did tonight really have to be… A black tie dinner?”

[Dominique]

You know I am pretty lucky….” Dominique barely got into the car and closed the door when she started in with building a conversation. It was one way to avoid the rose garden blooming on the tops of her skyscraper shoes. While she fastened her seat belt she wondered exactly how many pairs of them really even sold. “The fact you are in a suit, nice one by the way, and doing this for me is like cashing in all brownie points for the century.”

Dominique took a few moments to check out the interior of the car and found it was anything but standard. Her mind had at least five modifications in mind that could go into the vehicle but she knew her sire liked his cars a certain way and far be it from her to stir things up with suggestions. Instead she decided to address the elephant between them so to speak. The one that they would have to discuss before they arrived to the intimate gathering they were cordially invited to.

“I am guessing that we will be greeted by a rather formal Trahir which will be of no shock. I also anticipate there will be a female plus one at his side that will have been there for some time. I have taken it as a sign he is announcing a mate of sorts or...” She paused. “Is mating. Either way this will be interesting and hopefully not terribly eventful.” Dominique slid the cell phone into the small black clutch and closed it so that it rested in her lap. “The last one was memorable. No blood drawn but it was close. Still wish you had been there to see it. You would have been amused I would think...proud perhaps. I really wanted to sink my blade deep into both of them. Skewer them like ripe olives and admire them at the tip so close together.”

She realized she was getting lost in that whim her mind was vividly entertaining. Tonight was to be a formal affair. Not some bar room brawl over who had a bigger set dangling between their legs. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to that. She eyed Doc and thought about Trahir and her sire in the same room. If anything started she would just have to deal with it. Just how she would do that would remain to be seen.

“In the very least I ask that I do not ruin my dress. I have so few as it is.” She glanced down and plucked at the white silk draped over her lap. “Fine. This is the only one I own. I sent the last one I had up in flames.”

She put up a wall as soon as she found it coming to mind. The flames over the black dress ceremoniously in a ring of fire on the grounds of Vita Bella cooled as quickly as they erupted. The black material she wore to his funeral evaporated as she willed the reflection. Now was not the time. In fact there was never a time for it.

“Now that I think of it perhaps we should stop by Ari’s business and pick up a bottle to bring. Just in case there is a reason to celebrate if he has some sort of announcement. It is the thing to do if there is, yes?”

Dominique figured Doc know how these formal things went. Whiskey was her answer to such and perhaps a nice bag full of the finest grown Harper Rock had the pleasure of inhaling. She knew that wouldn’t go over well at all so Ari’s exclusive bottles seemed like the right choice.

[Doc]

Doc: Normally Doc would have gotten out of the car to open the door for a lady, but Dominique was already by the door and opening it, before he had a chance to. Then she likened his acceptance to her invitation as earning Brownie Points. He gave a crooked closed lipped smirk before replying, “Well .. you may think you are lucky now.. But the evening isn’t over yet, and you may feel differently then.”

He meant every word of that. Even when he was on his best behavior, he had a way ******* things up, by saying something. Then guns would be drawn, shots would be fired, leakage would happen, hurt feelings at the best case, and white hot rage in the worst case. Doc grinned wider at Dominique, showing a hint of the omnipresent fangs, “Good times…will be had by all, I am sure.” Except, hopefully not by, Traitorson, and whomever else may find the backstabbing double crosser a ‘friend’, if Doc had his way. Setting the car in motion, he drove toward the designated address as Minx filled him in on what she presumed would happen when they got there.

Upon hearing that, the Double crosser might actually be announcing a ‘mate’ his grin, because a full fledged smile. Who was the unlucky female that would soon become Doc’s new toy? His mind went over a short list of females that he thought were stupid enough to fall for the blackguard, but even as he did so, he had to discount them all. Hearing Minx refer to her dress, he murmured easily, “Don’t worry about the dress.. I’ll take you shopping… we will get more.” Doc hated clothes shopping with females, They were so ******* slow. However, he know if he has his way, her dress would be ruined before dessert would be served. So yes, he would be shopping, and he would not begrudge a moment of it. He would hold her purse and give the obligatory nod of approval or rolled eye look of ‘that is ******* awful’. that every female wants and expects when they go shopping.

“We to close on time to make a stop. And, Ari will be there and will be suspicious as ****, wanting to know what I am up to. She will give me that ‘look’ of hers. You know the one.” He paused, “No.. we don’t have time.” He hoped he sold that argument well enough, because in truth, he didn’t want to waste good wine on the likes the Traitorson; or the money. Yes. It was petty and vindictive. Doc didn’t care. He fully embraced that fact about himself. After all, isn't that what the world said you should do? Love yourself as you are? Well he did. And he saw no sense in changing now.

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir Trahison: The bottles, unlabeled were placed on the table upon his return. Shadis’ question turned his head toward her after the tray joined them. “White tie would have been my preference, love.” he says in a soft voice. “Black tie is slightly less formal. It’s typically used for weddings and other events of the like. Both generally require a similar dress code however. Regardless, it’s not a matter of necessity, but of ceremony and formality. Unless I miss my guess, you will be meeting two vampires this evening one of which is particularly fond of beautiful women and particularly resentful of me. If you manage to impress him, it could be the difference between dying for your affiliation with me, or making a very powerful ally. Or at least an inroad for making an ally. It won’t hurt your case to look your best.”

He makes his way over to her, taking her hands in his and raising them to his lips, giving each a soft kiss. “Your lineage may play a part in his reaction. I believe you are related. Lancaster and Doctor Nilson are consanguineous. In human terms, he is your uncle, as far as your bloodline goes.”

He glances then to the grandfather clock, a relic that had been in the farmhouse when he’d procured it that Trahir had paid quite a bit to be refinished. The others would be arriving soon, unless Doctor Nilson had again decided to snub him and Jane had gotten wrapped up in tinkering with engines and lost track of time. “There is an outside chance that Dominique’s guest will not be her sire though. If that is the case then we will have to host another soiree at another time. Or attend one that he would be at.”

In truth, Trahir half-expected that this evening would start off in a formal setting and degenerate into petty infighting and perhaps gunfire. He hoped he was wrong. “I think you will like Jane. I think she will like you. Her likely guest is more of an issue. He can be a bit… reactionary.” The inflection in his voice give the impression that a less couth way of saying it would be that the man was an asshole.

[Shadis (DELETED 7818)]

The woman silently listened to Trahir speak and she began to wonder just as to who Dominique’s sire was. However, she kept such questions to herself for the moment, as she was sure that if this Dominique did bring him, then she would find out soon enough. Shadis didn’t know very much about her own family tree within her vampiric family, so it was still an adjustment to get used to. She had felt him take her hands into his own and the soft caress of his lips before she lightly took her hands from him so then she could cross over towards the table where the plate of appetisers were. She didn’t want to see him just as to how much she was dreading the actual meet, especially if it meant that it would end up resulting in her own death.

Silently, she placed her hands lightly upon the table top mostly in thought. She had long ago come to terms that her mere association with Trahir wouldn’t bring her friends and she was ok with it. However, her fear of death was debilitating at best and she had still yet to work around it. ”I am aware that my affiliation with you may cause me to have some enemies, I realized this when I chose to get involved with you.” Such was the ignorant way of most beings. Vampires and humans alike. Never could they disassociate between the one that they might have been able to enjoy the company of and the one that they only saw as an enemy.

A simple smile curved her lips then as she angled her gaze towards Trahir and wondered if this meeting needed to happen at all. What was the likelihood of her running into Dominique in the first place? How often did Dominique stop by the Crypt? She wasn’t sure, however she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t interested in meeting Dominique. Shadis was nervous enough, especially when it came to meeting the woman who was and still is, as far as she knew, Trahir’s lover. The fledgling was used to sharing, she had never had one lover before, until Trahir. He had specifically said that she wasn’t allowed any other partners, while he himself continued to see others.

Eventually, she was always ever present of the fact that one day, he would simply shift his attention back to Dominique or some other woman. She on the other hand would probably go back to the den where she would continue to have sleep that was less than satisfying and only memories to keep her warm at night. Shadis shifted slightly to glance down at her phone within her hands and wondered just as to when the two would get there before she simply placed her phone upon the table and set about forgetting that it existed. Chances were, she would continue to check the time all throughout the night. ”Impressing people has never truly been one of my fortes, but I will do my best. Afterall, death is not exactly upon my list of things to do.”