[spoiler]<o1 Night on the town>
The world seemed to sing tonight, a chorus of absolute dread – like the news had already reached the sleepless city that Kindred were well on their way. Tiffany had been a bit late to the party, true, but it wasn’t as if she was a figure of authority that needed to be there. Actually, in this city, she was little more than another nameless Cainite, which gave her a little more time to wind down and enjoy herself; at least until once more thrust into the political game. That was the way of life within the Camarilla, after all. Rules were there to be followed, your betters were there to be respected and most importantly, no matter who you are outside of Elysium, you’re just another city member when within that chosen location. Unless you hold the standing to back yourself up, your mouth should be shut and your ears open. Depending on the Prince, there might even be a quiz on what was discussed, meaning you should know your court and its workings like the back of your hand; And so Tiffany knew the etiquette and manner in which to act when in court, as she knew you didn’t speak with the Prince directly unless asked. You spoke with your primogen, who spoke within the council or to the seneschal – But never did a lowly court member approach the Prince.
Strange how she could rattle off all this useless information, but was still tempted to approach them as though none of the teachings the Toreador had learned mattered.
Well, as it was, Tiffany was on something of a mission. Having just arrived in town, she had little more than her ghoul Rabban Mercer – her publicist – and two packed pieces of luggage. The male carried them, as well as a bag of his own, into the night and Tiffany followed lithely at his heels. From the airport to their hotel, they’d traveled in silence with nothing in the way of contact outside of the occasional glance, but as they exited their means of transportation, it was back to business. Rabban made arrangements at the front counter for the two to share a room and to never be disturbed except every other night between the hours of 2am and 3:30am, since Tiffany was usually out then and wouldn’t mind others cleaning when she was gone. Even as her male companion rattled off the restrictions he expected workers of the Luxor to uphold, Tiffany seemed off; distant in ways many would deem unnatural.
The only real saving grace for the woman was the hour in which she stood transfixed over various pieces of artwork surrounding the lobby. There was an art show in the hotel’s neighboring studios celebrating the grand opening, and the Toreador could only dedicate as much of what she saw to memory as was expected of her clan, because as beautiful and captivating as they may have been, they weren’t her preferred media. No one else seemed to be around as Rabban made the steps toward Tiffany, extending a hand so she would follow, and she moved in gliding and fluid retort to her counterpart with the room key. They appeared rather fitting of one another, though they had no real connection outside the blood the Toreador had enslaved him with – and even that was miniscule on the grand scale of things. Never the less, they passed off as the dynamic duo to mundane inspection and that was enough for life to continue on as Tiffany was accustomed to: Flawlessly.
“Do you really think he’s here?” Rabban said as elevator doors closed behind the pair, his arms settling the baggage he’d been loaded down with onto the floor of the cabin. “Or are you just hopeful?” Often the two spoke candidly with one another, which may have seemed a curious thing to others with human property, but Tiffany valued the opinion of her publicist. Though he was technically biased in most things because of the compulsion the blood caused, his line of questioning did its part to stir up sunken thoughts within the creature. Their trip towards the top floor was taken in silence because Tiffany hadn’t known just what to say, and when they reached their destination, it was still hard for her to manage anything responsive to her ghoul.
“Not sure.”
As much of the recent years had started and ended with Tiffany’s uncertainty, so had this one, reminding the Kindred just how fickle fate was. Initially when coming to terms with her existence as a Vampire, Tiffany slowly became comfortable with the idea of feeding off others to survive. Only, as time passed, so did the novelty of feeding – because you can only suck blood for so long before coming in to questions like ‘Why me?’ and ‘Is this really my life for eternity?’ In truth, these were things she could already say she knew the answer for, because common sense wasn’t something she lacked. Why it had been her chosen was dumb luck, and obvious admiration from her maker. A flattering thought to some, but a painful memory to the ageless beauty. If she had been such a catch, a prize of some sort, then why had her maker abandoned her?
More questions, followed by less answers.
Immortality didn’t exist really, since even ancients could succumb to final death – which meant eventually, they all would. If the strange whispers of ‘dead gods’ wasn’t enough to convince Tiffany, it was the countless court involved executions she had seen. The woman didn’t agree with every reason behind such punishments, but she knew that without a strict societal hierarchy, there would be chaos and a decline in their numbers. This left them vulnerable to any and all forms of attacks, be it the Garou and their need to cleanse the world, or the Hunters and their vendettas against children of the night; made no difference what could be lurking in the darkness so long as there was forced peace within the kindred’s hidden courts. The Camarilla was Tiffany’s business, and in such, the Sabbat were enemies by proxy.
The two made their way through the long hall on the top floor until they’d reached their room, and from their Tiffany unlocked the door and gave Rabban room to carry their bags in before she followed at his heels. Two beds, a bar set up and an open view of the skyline below – this room would cost a fortune. It was a good thing Tiffany was rather well off with her resources; otherwise she’d be mistaken in settling into such a lavish setting. Exhausted from the flight into the city, and the constant restrictions put on her in public, Tiffany collapsed down on one of the beds and rolled over so she was face down in the linens. Rabban diligently followed and took a seat next to her, though he didn’t seem to find anything wrong with his mistress by how she acted. Plus he was busy fiddling with a remote to the blinds. Figuring out the buttons, he pressed one and waited to watch the windows become completely hidden behind impenetrable cover, assuring the ghoul that Tiffany wouldn’t come to harm from sunlight.
“Do you think they reinforce the windows like this for when rock stars and other famous alcoholics come and get trashed, then need absolute darkness to nurse their hangovers?”
“Rabban, I’ll never know just what makes you tick.” More questions she couldn’t answer, Tiffany rolled onto her back and brought a hand up to sweep back her bangs. All she wanted to do was sleep and as the hour got later, it seemed less and less a bad idea. “You made sure to send a message to the Harpy stating we’re coming to town, right?” Strange hues searched over the face of the male, checking it as though expecting a bullshit answer from her retainer – though it was almost assured he’d never lie to her, Tiffany had a case of classic trust issues. Heterochromatic irises settled on his neck while she spoke, then fluttered away before he could give his response; restless wandering that ceased as lids flickered shut. Tonight was nothing special really, but the woman knew that no matter how calm the waters looked, it was what rest beneath the surface that mattered most.
“Of course. “ Giving a nod, he rose from her chosen bed and made for the one opposite hers, where he began to settle in as he added, “Who do you think had slept in this room other than us?”
“Like celebrities? Fuck if I know.”[/spoiler]
The world seemed to sing tonight, a chorus of absolute dread – like the news had already reached the sleepless city that Kindred were well on their way. Tiffany had been a bit late to the party, true, but it wasn’t as if she was a figure of authority that needed to be there. Actually, in this city, she was little more than another nameless Cainite, which gave her a little more time to wind down and enjoy herself; at least until once more thrust into the political game. That was the way of life within the Camarilla, after all. Rules were there to be followed, your betters were there to be respected and most importantly, no matter who you are outside of Elysium, you’re just another city member when within that chosen location. Unless you hold the standing to back yourself up, your mouth should be shut and your ears open. Depending on the Prince, there might even be a quiz on what was discussed, meaning you should know your court and its workings like the back of your hand; And so Tiffany knew the etiquette and manner in which to act when in court, as she knew you didn’t speak with the Prince directly unless asked. You spoke with your primogen, who spoke within the council or to the seneschal – But never did a lowly court member approach the Prince.
Strange how she could rattle off all this useless information, but was still tempted to approach them as though none of the teachings the Toreador had learned mattered.
Well, as it was, Tiffany was on something of a mission. Having just arrived in town, she had little more than her ghoul Rabban Mercer – her publicist – and two packed pieces of luggage. The male carried them, as well as a bag of his own, into the night and Tiffany followed lithely at his heels. From the airport to their hotel, they’d traveled in silence with nothing in the way of contact outside of the occasional glance, but as they exited their means of transportation, it was back to business. Rabban made arrangements at the front counter for the two to share a room and to never be disturbed except every other night between the hours of 2am and 3:30am, since Tiffany was usually out then and wouldn’t mind others cleaning when she was gone. Even as her male companion rattled off the restrictions he expected workers of the Luxor to uphold, Tiffany seemed off; distant in ways many would deem unnatural.
The only real saving grace for the woman was the hour in which she stood transfixed over various pieces of artwork surrounding the lobby. There was an art show in the hotel’s neighboring studios celebrating the grand opening, and the Toreador could only dedicate as much of what she saw to memory as was expected of her clan, because as beautiful and captivating as they may have been, they weren’t her preferred media. No one else seemed to be around as Rabban made the steps toward Tiffany, extending a hand so she would follow, and she moved in gliding and fluid retort to her counterpart with the room key. They appeared rather fitting of one another, though they had no real connection outside the blood the Toreador had enslaved him with – and even that was miniscule on the grand scale of things. Never the less, they passed off as the dynamic duo to mundane inspection and that was enough for life to continue on as Tiffany was accustomed to: Flawlessly.
“Do you really think he’s here?” Rabban said as elevator doors closed behind the pair, his arms settling the baggage he’d been loaded down with onto the floor of the cabin. “Or are you just hopeful?” Often the two spoke candidly with one another, which may have seemed a curious thing to others with human property, but Tiffany valued the opinion of her publicist. Though he was technically biased in most things because of the compulsion the blood caused, his line of questioning did its part to stir up sunken thoughts within the creature. Their trip towards the top floor was taken in silence because Tiffany hadn’t known just what to say, and when they reached their destination, it was still hard for her to manage anything responsive to her ghoul.
“Not sure.”
As much of the recent years had started and ended with Tiffany’s uncertainty, so had this one, reminding the Kindred just how fickle fate was. Initially when coming to terms with her existence as a Vampire, Tiffany slowly became comfortable with the idea of feeding off others to survive. Only, as time passed, so did the novelty of feeding – because you can only suck blood for so long before coming in to questions like ‘Why me?’ and ‘Is this really my life for eternity?’ In truth, these were things she could already say she knew the answer for, because common sense wasn’t something she lacked. Why it had been her chosen was dumb luck, and obvious admiration from her maker. A flattering thought to some, but a painful memory to the ageless beauty. If she had been such a catch, a prize of some sort, then why had her maker abandoned her?
More questions, followed by less answers.
Immortality didn’t exist really, since even ancients could succumb to final death – which meant eventually, they all would. If the strange whispers of ‘dead gods’ wasn’t enough to convince Tiffany, it was the countless court involved executions she had seen. The woman didn’t agree with every reason behind such punishments, but she knew that without a strict societal hierarchy, there would be chaos and a decline in their numbers. This left them vulnerable to any and all forms of attacks, be it the Garou and their need to cleanse the world, or the Hunters and their vendettas against children of the night; made no difference what could be lurking in the darkness so long as there was forced peace within the kindred’s hidden courts. The Camarilla was Tiffany’s business, and in such, the Sabbat were enemies by proxy.
The two made their way through the long hall on the top floor until they’d reached their room, and from their Tiffany unlocked the door and gave Rabban room to carry their bags in before she followed at his heels. Two beds, a bar set up and an open view of the skyline below – this room would cost a fortune. It was a good thing Tiffany was rather well off with her resources; otherwise she’d be mistaken in settling into such a lavish setting. Exhausted from the flight into the city, and the constant restrictions put on her in public, Tiffany collapsed down on one of the beds and rolled over so she was face down in the linens. Rabban diligently followed and took a seat next to her, though he didn’t seem to find anything wrong with his mistress by how she acted. Plus he was busy fiddling with a remote to the blinds. Figuring out the buttons, he pressed one and waited to watch the windows become completely hidden behind impenetrable cover, assuring the ghoul that Tiffany wouldn’t come to harm from sunlight.
“Do you think they reinforce the windows like this for when rock stars and other famous alcoholics come and get trashed, then need absolute darkness to nurse their hangovers?”
“Rabban, I’ll never know just what makes you tick.” More questions she couldn’t answer, Tiffany rolled onto her back and brought a hand up to sweep back her bangs. All she wanted to do was sleep and as the hour got later, it seemed less and less a bad idea. “You made sure to send a message to the Harpy stating we’re coming to town, right?” Strange hues searched over the face of the male, checking it as though expecting a bullshit answer from her retainer – though it was almost assured he’d never lie to her, Tiffany had a case of classic trust issues. Heterochromatic irises settled on his neck while she spoke, then fluttered away before he could give his response; restless wandering that ceased as lids flickered shut. Tonight was nothing special really, but the woman knew that no matter how calm the waters looked, it was what rest beneath the surface that mattered most.
“Of course. “ Giving a nod, he rose from her chosen bed and made for the one opposite hers, where he began to settle in as he added, “Who do you think had slept in this room other than us?”
“Like celebrities? Fuck if I know.”[/spoiler]
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.