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Author Topic: PV VCS Epilogue Affairs of the Clan  (Read 5779 times)

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: PV VCS Epilogue Affairs of the Clan
« Reply #45 on: May 28, 2007, 01:32:00 AM »
                In Reply To #45
 
 ((Oi, you said you'd do the cab scene, but yeah ok, I'll work out something so you can take it from here.))
 
 I glanced out the window as the cab sped through the darkened streets. It was a calm night, dry for once, with the sky a deep velvet indigo blue littered with a thousand constellations.
 
 I glanced over at Azrael. He was sitting with legs stretched out, in a relaxed manner, with an air of carelessness around him more pronounced that I didn't like.

 
 "What's the matter with you?" I finally said, looking slightly annoyed at him first, then annoyed at myself for being annoyed at him for what must seem a rather insignificant reason.
 
 Azrael smiled and turned, giving me a head-to-toe once-over that was slow and deliberate. I felt my annoyance rising. He seemed so out of sync at the apartment, and even more so now. I didn't mind him looking at me, but Azrael was the type of Toreador that knew what subtlety meant. Leering openly, like this, was just completely off.

 
 "Why do you think anything's the matter, cherie? It's a beautiful night, we're going to one of the most illustrative events in our society ever; how could I be anything less than euphoric especially with you at my side?" He propped an elbow casually on the door armrest and smiled disarmingly.
 
 I glared at him, even more annoyed that his attempt at flattery soothed my ire somewhat. Damn him for being Toreador, and I too.
"I'm sorry, it's just that.." I faltered, temper fading. "You seem, different." I stopped, feeling stupid.
 
 Azrael laughed, then chuckled and watched me for a moment.
"Relax, mon cherie. You have this adorable habit of worrying too much over nothing. And truly 'tis nothing, I am merely looking forward to the dinner. There will be some excellent entertainment, I guarantee you, and that is an understatement." He paused, as if hesitating, but in an instant it was gone. "Stay close to me, won't you?" He leaned over with a charming smile, and I, pleading guilty under the influence of his Charm, smiled back and thought nothing further of this remark.                        

 

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Offline [archive] RakishAzrael

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Re: PV VCS Epilogue Affairs of the Clan
« Reply #46 on: August 01, 2007, 02:13:00 AM »
                In Reply To #46
 
 ((VAL, your return has inspired me to continue this long-dormant yet unfinished closing to our chronicle.))
 
 It was with great remorse that i thought now about the hapless misfortune that was mine, in being born before the refinement and popularization of opium. Ah, meu deus, imbibing it through the blood would have to suffice. I smiled lazily at Valoris, throwing my preternatural charm about recklessly, then looked out my window, basking in the warm fuzzy feelings melting through my skin, the glow of the city flying by, and the reflection of that handsome young rake.
 
 The feeling had dulled somewhat by the time we had arrived. Broadway, the New Amsterdam Theatre, recently refurbished and restored to its former splendor. No show had yet been scheduled to be performed there, but the owner was hosting a private party this evening to celebrate its reopening.
 
 Of course, the public knew all of this. What they did not know, was that the new owner was the Toreador Primogen of Manhattan, and that the party would consist solely of the undead and their coteries of mortal attendants.
 
 I stepped out onto the sidewalk, paid the cabbie, crossed into the street, and helped valoris out of her side. It wouldn't do for a lady in my company to..."scoot"...herself out of my side of the cab. She took my hand and rose gracefully out of the cab. I spun her suddenly, and caught her waist, grinning at the suprise on her face.

 
 "Relax, cheri. This is a party, no?"
 
 We walked together to the door of the great old theatre, where a pair of ghouls were checking the invitations of other Toreador and their guests. In fact a slow trickle of undead were filing through the doors into the theatre's foyer; we all do so love to be fashionably late.
 
 I gave the small ornate card bearing my name in crimson letters to one of the attending ghouls, and he nodded courteously and stepped aside. I pulled Valoris in behind me.
 
 The foyer of the New Amsterdam Theatre was redone to its original decor, all white marble and gold trim and red velvet hangings. There was an open bar off to the side, near the grand staircase that led up to the upper foyer and the balconies. Being a Toreador of some age and repute in this city, my invitation merited me a private box to watch the nights performances; but there would be time for that later. time now to socialize; to parade the latest Parisian fashions; to favor ones supporters; to snipe at ones detractors. Now was the time for inane chatter, to opt a pleasant non caring facade, all the while watching and listening with the utmost care. Nowhere in New York City would be as dangerous as this building tonight, and nothing to do with physical harm. I wispered to Valoris to be on her guard; i imagine she heard me.
 
 We wove our way through the crowd, as if in a waltz. As i passed my many acquaintances and opponents i exchanged the usual pleasantries; i favored friend and foe alike. Disagreements aside, there's no excuse for rudeness. I had made my first round of the foyer, and was preparing to ascend the stairs to speak with the more distinguished toreador who would know doubt be found there, when i felt a tug at my jacket. I looked down, and there was Madame Guil, Justicair of the Toreador Clan.

 
 "Ah, good evening madame. I must confess i was hoping i might bump into you before we got underway."
 
 "Ah, Alexandre! You old rake! How i've missed you!"
 
 Madame Guil and I exchanged kissed on both cheeks, as was the custom in European society and, therefore, the custom of all Toreador everywhere.
 
 Madame Guillotine was resplendant in a red and black silk dress, slit high up the thigh and cut low to show off as much cleavage as possible without letting anything fall out. She was particularly, considering she had been embraced at the tender age of 16, a situation that most agreed explained her...eccentricities. Namely, that she was a complete bloody psychopath.
 
 The most ruthless Toreador alive, probably because she had killed or ruined most of the others, Madame Guil had been elected twice into her position as Justicair, and seemed goof to be elected a third time. We had known eachother since before i came to Manhattan, and in those decades she had asked me 3 times to become one of her Archons, the eyes and ears of the Justicairs. Each time i had refused her. Until tonight.

 
 "Whatever were you hoping to see me for Alexandre? Couldn't resist leering at me one more time?"
 
 "But of course, Madame. But along with that comes a sort of...business proposition. One that i think would be best discussed...in, ah...private."
 
 I cast a meaningful look around the foyer full of our ruthless brethren.
 
 "Ah, but of course my old friend, There are offices in the lower levels that are quite private. If you'll follow me...ah, i trust that the lovely young kindred at your side will not be joining us?"
 
 "Oh how rude of me. Madame, allow me to introduce Vongetta Valoris, eleventh generation, and childe of Lord Averly Tresham. Valoris, dear, this is Madame Guil, Justicair of Clan Toreador."
 
 More cheek kissing ensued.
 
 "Val, Madame and I needs must discuss a private matter of some import. Do feel free to mingle amongst our brethren for a while. I shall meet you in our private box, after my performance."
 
  With my eyes i added a warning: Have care. These kindred are not to be trusted.
 
 With that, and without pausing to hear or see her reply, i took the offered hand of Madame Guil, and went towards the flight of stairs leading down to the lower offices.

 
 ((balls in your court val.))                        

 

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Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: PV VCS Epilogue Affairs of the Clan
« Reply #47 on: August 02, 2007, 12:45:00 PM »
                ((And so I return the favour, Az. happy  ))
 
 Azrael disappeared from sight past the top of the polished white marble floor with the Justicar in tow, leaving me standing with a glass of champagne in hand beside a large vase filled with a profusion of tropical blooms. Their heady, sweet scent was at the moment battling it out with uncharitable thoughts in my head about the fresh-faced, crimson-lipped beauty who looked as young and nubile as the day she had died. But everyone in the circle knew that when the Madame smiled her brightest smile - and what a smile it was reputed to be, judging from her long-standing position amongst the Toreador dignitaries - it almost always certainly meant someone was going to fall.
 
 "N'est pas elle beau? I tend to agree," came a voice that seemed at once strange and familiar.
 
 I turned.

 
 "Bonjour, mon cher. It has been long, has it not? You look as wonderful as always." The tall gentleman removed his hat and made a little bow. It seemed as if he might have gone further, if not for the luscious-looking woman dressed in a rather garish violet, clinging to his elbow.
 
 "Étienne!" I stared. The gentleman's eyes, an unusual shade of golden, twinkled back at me above his mustache. "It has, it has!" I tried to keep my voice down, but it was difficult at the sight of an old friend. Yes, dear old Étienne. The great-grandson of Marie Tussaud, he had inherited the family's legacy and followed his grandfather Joseph's footsteps of extending their wax collections. Étienne was not only a talented scultor like his great-grandmother, but also a painter and a brilliant mathematician. For all his intelligence though, Étienne's one weakness was women. He was a notorious rake, but he didn't go for just any woman - whoever was the lucky one for the night or the season, was a testimony to her class, grace and beauty.  
 
 "Why do you do this, Étienne?" I asked him one day.
 
 He turned from the painting on the wall that he was explaining to me, with a gaze that held a profound sadness.
 
 "Mon ami le plus cher, not all things in life are so simple, non noir ou blanc." He took my hand and squeezed my palm gently. Our kinship was such that whatever Étienne felt, I felt it too, as if his heart was mine, and vice versa. This was only made possible if we made contact with each other, such as holding each other's hand.
 
 "Who knows why she did it that way. Did she think I was there to be cuckolded?" I felt a flash of painful anger sear through my heart as Étienne whirled to look out the window. Then, almost as soon as his outburst left his lips, his expression was calm again as how he usually was. Like a sea at sunset, I thought. He was right, I supposed. Who knew what the heart is capable of? But because I could feel his, I knew that Étienne was driven to search for his beloved lost, through other women, even if she was lost to him forever. Each and every single woman he had been with all had a resemblance to her in one way or another, but they never stayed around for long. Étienne's heart would not accept anything else.
 
 A glimmer of wetness appeared at the corner of his eye, and he looked down at me. I could only gaze back, offering my solace not with spoken words but with the feelings in my heart. Étienne never cried. But that evening, that blood-tear was the first and last he would allow me to witness.
 
 Now that very same gentleman smiled back at me. Memories dissapated like smoke in the wind as he introduced the lady on his arm.

 
 "Mademoiselle Angelique Bourdain. Mon cher, this is Valoris, an old friend of mine." Angelique curtsied prettily, her platinum blonde corkscrew curls bobbing as she came up. Her smile, however, was insincere; in fact, everything about her was insincere, from her luscious hair, creamy skin, lavish bright purple gown which at once offended and repulsed me, down to her little black lace fan which she couldn't seem to stop waving.
 
 "How do you do," I said almost automatically. I couldn't get over the crazy way the odd little mole on Angelique's upper lip would dance in time with her hair.
 
 The girl flashed me a brilliant smile that faded as soon as it appeared.
 
 Étienne was saying something about dinner next week, if I would be so good as to come, as it had been ages since we met, and he would like to host a small evening party in my honour, with a few other guests. Angelique didn't seem too thrilled; she tried not to show her pout, pressed her heavy breasts against his elbow and smiled at me, fanning herself, while her eyes clearly said she'd love to drain me dry on this very spot.

 
 "Please, mon cher, bring your gentleman along - Alexandre, I believe he is," said Étienne with a charming smile. He squeezed my hand and I felt grateful for the drop of familiar warmth our special bond.
 
 "He isn't my gentleman, Étienne!" I protested. "You see, all this time away in the South of France has made you addle-headed."
 
 Étienne laughed and patted my cheek affectionately, like a brother would to an inflamed sibling. To Angelique however, it was too much. She twisted away with a loud flounce of purple skirts, but it didn't seem to bother Étienne one bit. He only seized this opportunity to draw my head close to his and kiss both my cheeks, ending in a warm hug.
 
 "I will see you next week then, mon cher." He smiled as he turned away to catch up with the angel.
 
 I nodded, and once again, I was left waiting where Azrael had left me. I sipped at my drink, making small talk as a few acquaintances paused to acknowledge my presence, wishing someone was here. Anyone, even boxman would have been welcome. Hell, I would have hitched my skirts up and gone for a smoke with him outside in the alley. I was so bored, so bored with the facetiousness of it all.

 
 "Hurry up, Azrael," I whispered to myself as I wound my way to the top of the stairs. I stood there for a moment, like a sentinel, with half a thought to pursue him and the Madame. I wondered which door they disappeared through, and as I did, that uneasy feeling from earlier returned with a nagging urgency.                        

 

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Offline [archive] Wolvenheart

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PV VCS Epilogue Affairs of the Clan
« Reply #48 on: September 02, 2007, 11:54:00 AM »
               

"N'est pas elle beau?

 
 ((It be very Noble of thy standarts to use ze noble french language in thy plays, alas, its be said: Beau be the Male form, and Belle best the correct words in consistiancy with thy gender. And ze full Sentance be "Elle n'est pas belle?"
 
 Mon cher becomes Ma Cheri))
 
                       

 

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