And We Run

[Ivara (DELETED 8614)]

D R E S S
S H O E S

This was the world she had created for herself, one of quiet solitude and… emptiness. There was no light, no sound, no laughter and no emotion. There was nothing outside of her career. When she had woken with Ashley’s blood on her hands, she had thrown herself into work, with no concern for anyone else. Every connection she had made, every stride she had taken to be a better person, a better partner, had been ruined the second she had ripped her wife’s heart from her chest. Now, as she sat with her back to her chair, her fingers poised over the keys to her laptop, she found herself… lonely.

It was a strange sensation, one that she didn’t feel often. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted to hear another’s voice, to reach across her desk and feel the skin of another. Genesis had all but run for her life at the first taste of freedom that she had offered her, and Ayana… well, Ayana was just a backstabbing, manipulative ****. With a quick shake of her head, the slender woman lowered her hand to her desk, the black steel cool beneath her touch. In a few short weeks, she had managed to alienate herself. Other than Jersey and Ivana, she had no family. Her sire had abandoned them without any regard, not that she had been much of a… creator to begin with. Often, she found herself wondering if Kallista had spent just a little time with her, would she have turned out… different?

Now, she was nothing more than a shell of who she used to be. Her cases were falling apart, her mind was fractured, and she was exhausted. If it hadn’t been for Elle, the one spark of light in her otherwise dull life, she might have lost her mind. She wouldn’t go as far as to say she would have ended her existence – she was alone, not desperate – but she suddenly began to see life from her twin’s view. If she was driven mad by a few short weeks of an emotional tailspin, how could she possibly survive her entire life stuck in a never-ending loop? With that thought in mind, she tossed her pen across the desk and stood, her fingers quickly reaching across the desk for her phone when it vibrated.

Sender: Elle
Message: Hope you like the dress, because you're wearing it out tonight. My driver will be there around seven.

Raising a brow, she quickly brushed her thumb across the screen, the message app coming to the forefront of her device. Just as she was about to type out a response in regards to not receiving a dress, there was a knock, and her office door swung open, revealing a harried looking delivery girl, her black curls framing a soft, almost angelic face as she hastily ran into the room and dropped the box on her desk. After a quick muttering about traffic, she was gone again, leaving Ivara alone with the dress.

“Well, ****.”

[Elle (DELETED 9888)]

With a shake of her head, the tall, elegant Frenchwoman gave a sharp tsk with her tongue as she pressed the suppressor of her pistol against the base of the skull of the woman knelt on the dock, the knees of the trembling brunette’s pants a pair of dark wet stains from the icy water that had splashed over the treated wood. “S'il vous plaît, Mademoiselle! Cela ne se reproduira plus, je le jure. Je le jure, donnez-moi juste une autre chance.” The woman’s French rolled from her tongue in rushed, quick flicks, her accent all wrong, her grammar poor. It was painfully obvious that this woman only had a cursory knowledge of the language, and she was only pleased all the more by the situation at hand.

Elle’s thumb pulled back the hammer of her pistol and she shoved the weapon just beneath the woman’s ear, against the soft, tender spot where a bullet could enter the brain unimpeded by bone, the tiny caliber of the round would allow it to turn her tiny brain to mush, without ever exiting her pretty head. “Shut. Up. You are giving me a headache.” Her Parisienne accent flowed like liquid honey through her words, the tone warm and inviting, even when they sent the icy chill down the captive woman’s spine, causing another tremor to rattle her.

“I know that my wife was a detestable slut, and I know that you were one of her whores. I know it won’t happen again, because my wife is dead, you idiot.” She shoved the barrel into the woman’s ear, striking her roughly with the metal suppressor causing her to bite back a scream. “So don’t try to beg for your life, acting like you’re going to never hurt me again. I made that happen, just like I have made everything else in my life happen. You and your friends would have done well to remember that I am my father’s daughter.”

She pulled the pistol from the woman’s head, then, and pulled a silk square of cloth from her bag, rubbing the oils from the woman’s skin from the weapon, wiping away any evidence it had ever been here, as she stepped in front of the kneeling prisoner’s line of vision. “I’m not going to kill you, even if I want to. Even if my blood aches for it. I have more important things to do with my evening than squashing a bug.”

The woman visibly sagged with relief, her binds only holding her tighter as she relaxed, but she didn’t seem to care. She was going to be free.

“Vera?”

The single word held every ounce of the command that it had been. The small, fiery-haired Russian stepped from her place, where she had waited in silence, and jammed the mouth of a 12-gauge shotgun against the captive beauty’s mouth, shoving the weapon between her lips. The woman tried to shout, to plea for mercy, but her words were lost on the roar of the shotgun, her head bursting like a melon, splashing the dock around her in blood and bits of gore.

Elle looked down, frowning deeply at the stain of the woman’s blood on her jacket.

“Filthy animal.” she hissed, pulling the jacket from her shoulders and tossing it to her Enforcer. “Take care of this mess, and be sure that you are on time, Vera. I don’t want Ivara waiting for you, even for a second. Do you understand?”

[Vera (DELETED 9984)]

W E A R I N G

Disposing of the body was easy.

Cleaning the dock even easier.

Putting up with Miss Fontaine’s date?

This was the part of the evening that she did not look forward to.

The limousine pulled up to the curb, the heavy, armored vehicle resting low on its suspension as it approached within a hair’s width of the concrete, the woman’s driving expertise on display in full force as she brought the practical tank to a halt in front of the unassuming office building. Stepping out of the car, the short woman had her hair pulled back in tight pigtail braids, the scarlet of her locks hiding the blood well. The healthy smattering of freckles would work to hide whatever she hadn’t managed to wipe away before changing her uniform.

She stood with her back straight, her rigid height topping out at an intimidating 5 feet, dead even. Her shockingly blue eyes did their best to pierce the darkness of the front of the office and, when they failed, she lifted a hand to knock loudly at the door, checking it as quietly as she could, only to find it locked.

Perhaps she had been lucky. Perhaps this woman was smart enough to leave Elle alone, afterall.

She checked her watch, and found she was only a few moments early, and so she stood at quiet attention, outside the office door, and was prepared to wait until either the woman came outside, or her boss messaged her, to find out where she had gone. Either way, she had fulfilled her orders to the letter, and was going to avoid whatever contact she could at all costs.

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

One of Vera's unfortunate curses chooses this moment to manifest itself in a large way.

[Ivara (DELETED 8614)]

It felt as though there was a ghost that lived inside of her, one that belonged to another world, another time. Even as she pulled the dress from the box, her fingers brushing along the fabric, she couldn’t bring herself to actually care for the material in front of her. It was beautiful, but it didn’t ignite that long-dead spark within her soul. Had she ever held that flame, that desire for life? With a quick shake of her head, she gave the dress one final tug to free it from the horrendously wrapped box. When it finally came to full view, she held it up in front of her and scrunched up her nose, one hand reaching for her intercom to call for Ayana – before she paused; before she remembered.

She would hit the button, but no one would answer.

Gone was her curvaceous, short redheaded spitfire. In her place was an empty chair and vacant desk. Clenching her hands into fists, she nearly tore the dress in two, before she collected herself. It was going to be fine. This was going to be fine. Elle was beautiful, in her own way. She was a distraction, something that she found herself needing more than the nearly empty bottle of scotch hidden in her bottom drawer. Stepping around her desk, she made her way to the bathroom, the clock on the wall reading forty-five minutes after six. She still had time. Unlike other women who would spend hours on their make-up alone, Ivara was the casual sort. It only took her a few minutes to pull the dress on, find a pair of her twin’s heels hidden beneath a basket, and fix her hair.

Her make-up quickly freshened, she stepped from her office and snapped her hand against the switch, drowning the building in a darkness that caused a chill to creep along her spine. Even now, weeks into her downfall, she still hadn’t become accustomed to leaving the building first. With a quiet sigh, she ran her teeth along her painted lip as she schooled her expression and followed the single stream of moonlight towards the front door, where the slow thud of a heartbeat welcomed her. Without uttering a word to the Russian – who in so many ways resembled Ayana – she quickly locked the door, before finally heading for the limo, her brow raised. “Does your company offer scotch?”

[Vera (DELETED 9984)]

Vera is a thrall, and as such, has no curses? So... I'mma guess I ignore that storyteller prompt, and continue on?

Like she wasn’t even there.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Vera allowed the woman to step around her, like she was a stump in the sidewalk to be avoided, and she gave a smart turn on her polished heel, reaching for the limo’s door before the much taller, elegant brunette could reach the limousine, pulling the door open for her in a chilly silence. Vera wanted to say very little, and actually said much, much less. She found her line of work most pleasing when she kept her mouth closed tight. So, instead of indulging a woman with conversation, she swept her slender arm into the limo, her delicate fingers making an idle wavering gesture at the mini bar in the back of the car.

This was the finest car in the Fontaine fleet, her employer sparing no expense in its manufacture after her family’s tragic… “accident.”

Few had ever known the truth of that day.

Fewer were still alive to sing the song, if their thumbs were put to the screws.

But Vera… Vera could keep her mouth shut.

She waited for the obvious drunkard of a woman to slide into the car, before she’d close the door behind her without another word. Vera was anything but a chipper socialite. She didn’t wine and dine with the big shots. She was the muscle to Elle’s ruthless strategy, and little else. She knew that, and she never tried to step beyond that role. Her own pleasures and desires were a distant thought when she was on the job.

As she passed the long line of windows, she ignored her own reflection, only catching a glimpse of herself in the reflective driver’s window. She didn’t smile at what she saw. She opened the door, and slipped inside. Adjusting her mirror, she caught sight of the woman in the back cabin of her limo and squinted to get a good look at her, before she returned her eyes to the road and started the car, without attempting to strike up any sort of conversation whatsoever. She knew exactly where they were going.

[Ivara (DELETED 8614)]

When her question was met with silence, there was a split second when she thought to turn on her heel and head straight back to her office. The silence there, at least, had become comforting compared to the ice that trailed along her skin at the glare the redhead offered her. There was something off about the woman, and as she stepped towards the limo, one long leg sliding through the door to guide her lithe body, she took a moment to study her. There wasn’t much to study. She was short – far too short for her tastes – and redhead. For the briefest of moments, she swore the woman resembled Ayana.

Forcing the thought from her mind, she reached across the seats for the mini-bar the woman had indicated, and quickly removed the cap to free her chosen drink. Before, she had shown signs of intoxication – but now that she was nothing more than a walking corpse, the alcohol barely fazed her. It was the taste, the memory of what it had once been that kept her reaching for it. “Do you have a name or should I simply refer to you as ‘Mouse’?” As far as conversation went, it wasn’t the best of starts, but Ivara had never been known for her social skills. She was better suited for the court room floor.

That was where she shined, where she captivated her audience, where she ruled.

However, while she normally enjoyed the lack of company, she was itching for some form of conversation. She wanted to hear the other’s voice, to ensure herself that she wasn’t going insane, that she wasn’t turning into her twin. Lifting her gaze from the window, she caught sight of the woman’s eyes in the mirror, her own as chilled as the air between the two. If she didn’t start talking, she would have to fill the silence with her own form of entertainment, and already, she was reaching for her phone, her thumb hovering over her sister’s name. The second she dialed that number, they’d all be in for a fun evening.

[Vera (DELETED 9984)]

Watching the woman a moment longer, Vera sighed, shaking her head as she pulled her cap from atop its nest of scarlet locks, setting the smart piece of blue fabric in the seat next to her, her hands moving to smooth down her blue and green plaid skirt. She had fully intended to ignore this woman on their way to the restaurant, but something about her eyes just seemed so…

Sad, Vera. Sad is the word.

She pinched at the bridge of her nose as she shook her head, and gave the woman another look, this time the chill in her stare was a little lighter, though. “Niet. Please, call me Vera. I am no mouse.” She would have snapped at her, at the obvious insult to her small stature, but she just couldn’t summon her common cruelty to lash out at the poor woman with the sad eyes. It was like wanting to throw a puppy into a blender.

Only a monster could do it.

As much as she felt like a monster sometimes, as much as the rest of the family made her feel like a monster sometimes, she wasn’t. She was a normal person, like anyone else. There was just something broken inside of her that nobody really took the time to learn. Nobody, that was, but Elle. Elle, and now, maybe, this Ivara woman. She tugged at a pigtail as she started the limo, the monster of an engine roaring to life was absolutely silent in the cabin of the car. They were completely isolated from the rest of the world in there.

“Miss Fontaine said to make yourself at home; to drink what you wish. I will see to it the bar is stocked to your satisfaction, Miss Johansson.”

She could feel the corners of her lips twitch, though they didn’t quite make a smile, it was as close to the expression as she had come to giving anyone but Elle in years. “Do you have everything that you need?” She put the car into “drive,” in anticipation of the woman’s affirmative, though she waited for her word before she would pull away from the office.

[Ivara (DELETED 8614)]

It felt as though there was a poison within her mind, and she was close to pressing that button, to calling her twin and forgoing the entire date – then the redhead spoke. Her voice was like rich velvet, and a melody to her ears. She was a second away from weeping with joy, and realizing how far she had actually fallen, she quickly collected herself. Smoothing her expression into the one she wore on the floor, she rested her head against the seat behind her, and watched the woman’s reflection.

“Vera. It’s not much better than Mouse,” she replied, though there was a lightness to her tone, one to give away the poor attempt at teasing. Lifting her hand, she brushed it through her hair as she brought her bottle to her lips, the scotch quickly burning its way down her throat. “Everything is fine. We should go, however. If I know anything of Elle, it’s that she loathes for anyone to be late, and I’d rather not hear her screech tonight.” Turning her gaze back to the window, she prepared herself to watch the world pass her by, as it did every other day.

[Vera (DELETED 9984)]

She saw the woman turn her attention to the window, a practically universal sign that her attention had been diverted. Not before, however, the expression of relief washed over the woman. For that much, Vera had been useful, and now, for the rest of her usefulness to run its course.

She turned her attention to the road, and would have them pulling into the restaurant in record time. Vera was, after all, a professional.

She jumped from her seat the instant the car was parked, and moved to open the door for the woman she’d quickly come to dislike much less, and might go so far as to say that she admired. Might. She swept her hand toward the restaurant door and offered the woman a dip of her head. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Miss Johansson.” She gave a quick bow, before she shut the door and retreated back into the car, where she would find a place to park the behemoth limousine and await the pair of women on their departure.