Realistic or Modern Even in Death

[Syntra]

There were a lot of things Sasha Reynard did not like, but dealing with guests pretty much always made the top of her list. And why wouldn't it? That they came at all was bad enough on its own, but then they had the gall to demand her attention and her time, all of which she had to provide, because bullshit customs from the 13th century said so and that was clearly where they were all collectively stuck, as a society.

Yes, she... felt strongly about this.

For reasons.

Some of them petty, others, less so, but all of them were hers and that easily made them the best by default.

Speaking of which, wanna hear more of Sasha's certified, 100% true hot takes?

If there was one thing worse than a guest, it was an unexpected guest.

Or unexpected guests, as in plural, that also happened to be vampires.

Sasha Reynard stared out the window, unsure as to what she should think. 'Fuck,' came to mind, but that didn't really feel helpful, and so she discarded the thought in order to fish for something else.

Fucking... fuck?

Not much better, though it did feel sort of appropriate for the occasion, in that pessimistic, 'I-told-you-I-was-going-to-die' way.

Of course, most vamps weren't killers. It just wasn't worth their time, for one; certainly not when everyone was so eager to donate blood willingly nowadays, mostly because holding hands and singing 'kumbaya' was somewhat better than genocidal war. So far, so good! Except, Sasha did recognize that she wasn't like most people, and if there was one person in the city they would want to end, it likely would be her.

Do I play the game, then?

That wasn't the right question, though. It wasn't really a matter of playing or not, because that implied the decision was hers to make. No, the only variable was... well, how well she played it. What moves she did, and didn't make, in her bid to hide what ought to stay hidden.

Smile, Sasha, she told herself, Everyone loves a good smile.

The men standing on her porch didn't really look like they enjoyed the smile, mostly because they struck her as the types that didn't enjoy anything at all. In the faint, flickering light of the lamps, they almost resembled ghosts -- and, yes, Sasha did catch herself hoping that that was what they were, instead of their bloodsucking selves.

At least ghosts were chill. Chill, both literally and figuratively, though Sasha, admittedly, mostly liked the figurative part. After all, it was... nice to have someone to talk to this openly. Someone who didn't actually want to kill her the second they found out more about her hobbies! Which really was a way tougher requirement than it had any right to be, but, yeah.

These days, standards were mostly a hindrance.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she bowed, not at all ironic, "Do you just happen to like my doorbell, or is there a reason you've been pressing it recently?"

"Sasha Reynard, correct?"

What a nice way to answer a simple question, asshole. Sasha felt her left eye twitch, though she wasn't feeling quite suicidal enough to slam the door in his face... yet. "Yes, that would be me. It's written on my nameplate, so, congratulations, Sherlock?" But apparently, she was feeling suicidal enough for the little quips!

A matter of priorities, ladies and gentlemen.

(Sasha did always excel at arranging those.)

Fortunately for her, the bunch didn't seem to be in the murder kinda mood. The guy simply nodded, as if he hadn't heard or understood the insult, and bowed, in turn, though something told Sasha his conduct actually was unironic. "Good. In that case, can you spare some time tonight? My mistress, Lady Inessa, would like to extend her formal invitation."

Now that made her raise her brow, "Lady Inessa? The Lady Inessa?"

Inessa, the Nightmare. Inessa, the Head Honcho. Inessa of Many Fucking Names, none of them particularly nice. That Inessa, wanted to see her?

Almost against her will, Sasha could feel herself growing curious.

"But why?"

"She would prefer to speak to you in person, but I am authorized to share, even now, that it's about a job offer."

Well. Well, you didn't really say 'no' to such a thing, unless you were a goddamn coward. If nothing else, it would likely be a good idea to see what Inessa was all about..?

"Give me a sec," Sasha said, an automatic smile curving her lips, "I'm gonna go grab a coat."

 

[vada]

Spoiler: Inessa

Name:

Inessa Ekaterina Orlova

Age:

Who even knows anymore?

Appearance:


Brief history:
Inessa was born just before the Roman empire was at its height, in the early 100’s A.D. She was the eldest daughter of a very prominent noble family and she never wanted for anything in her life. Inessa was a spoiled girl that cared for no one else but herself and because of this, she was punished by a scorned lover. The man paid another to kill her, but he had no idea that the man he had hired was a vampire. The lover also could not have guessed that the assassin would turn her rather than kill her.

Inessa does not remember the night of her turning, and several decades after that night are nothing but a blur to her. When she did finally start to come to her senses, she sought out her family only to find that they had been brutally murdered… by her. Alone and desperate for some sort of aide in her new life, she found her creator. He took her under his wing and turned her into a truly horrible creature.

For countless centuries, Inessa’s driving force was her bloodlust and her craving for power. She doesn’t often talk about the dark deeds she committed in order to get where she is now, but she maintains a reputation as someone dangerous and willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants.

She has been a Master Vampire for the last 400 years; she has always been stronger than the rest of her kind and she showed promise from the beginning of her ‘rebirth’. She killed her own creator when he attacked one of Inessa’s ‘children’, she felt no remorse or grief when she staked the man that had become like her father through the heart.

Currently, Inessa is the Master Vampire of the state of New York. While most Master Vampires have claim over a capital city, the more powerful can gain control over a state, or even region of a country. Inessa dreams that she’ll one day be powerful enough to rule the entire country.

Inessa was irate. What nerve did they have trying to pin this on her? She had better things to do than kill some pathetic humans. More important things, like being in charge of an entire state’s population of vampires. So many depended on her. As if she'd jeopardise her power, her influence, over something as trivial as the lives of mortals.

The vampiress paced about her office like a lioness eager to eat her next meal. A meal would likely help her at the current moment. Warmed blood would ease her nerves, relax the growing tension in her shoulders and spine. But for the time being, she didn’t trust her self-control enough to drink from a living person… she may just end up with a murder under her belt after all.

A quiet knock sounded at the door, and Inessa's eyes, a unique shade of blue that appeared to shift into a lavender hue every now and again, shot toward the sound. There was no beating heart on the opposite side of the wood, indicating that her men had not yet arrived with the witch in tow. "Enter," she said, slowly exhaling an irritated sigh through her nose.

Artur stepped inside, a calm smile on the kind man’s face. In his hand, he held a wine glass. Its contents resembled wine in colour, if not in taste. Inessa's nose was filled with the aroma, which swirled deliciously in her mind. The annoyance she felt at the interruption faded, and a genuine smile appeared on her lips as Artur extended the glass to her. He knew her too well, to anticipate her needs without her having to speak them aloud. She supposed that was what happened when you spent centuries with someone, but that didn’t diminish her appreciation or gratitude.

After taking a long sip of the blood, she lowered the glass from her ruby coloured lips, meeting his warm brown eyes. “Where are they? This is taking far too long.”

Artur chuckled, shaking his head. “It hasn’t been that long. How is it that after all this time, you still haven’t learned the virtue of patience?”

Inessa gave him a sidelong glance. "I am patient." A brief scowl appeared on her lips as her oldest friend actually laughed aloud at that. No one else would ever get away with such a blatant display of disrespect, but she knew he meant no harm. The smallest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she motioned him toward the door. “Leave me alone, Artur. Before you get on my nerves.”

The two vampires escorted Sasha out of the city in a black Lincoln Navigator. It had been rigged to protect its passengers, with bullet proofing and tint on the windows to block out the sun’s lethal rays. Not that they were needed right now, with it being close to midnight, but one never knew when they might get trapped outside in the daytime. They drove down twisting roads, farther and further away from the city, until they arrived at a guarded property in the country. After entering the access code at the gate, the SUV drove the long, winding driveway, pulling to a stop in front of a large manor. It was a lavish home, an ostentatious display of wealth, made even more so by the number of servants and guards that littered the property and the building itself.

A pretty blonde girl with moon-white skin and large blue eyes that were sweet but sad led Sasha through corridors and around corners. She didn’t speak as she led Sasha, the two guards in tow. Stopping outside Inessa’s office, she knocked respectfully, and a moment later, they were called inside.

Inessa had taken a seat behind her desk, going through a stack of documents while sipping from the glass of blood. She really had tried to work on her impatience, but it shone around her eyes, even as she stood and offered the witch a welcoming smile.

“Hello,” she said in a somewhat strained, yet polite voice. Rising from her seat, she stepped around the desk. With a nod to the three vampires, she dismissed them without a word, then refocused her attention on her guest. Extending a slender, pale hand, she said, “Thank you for coming.” As if implying the girl had had a choice. “I apologise for the long ride. With everything happening, I didn't feel I could remain in the city. You must be thirsty. Can I offer you something to drink? Wine? Coffee? Water?”

 

[Syntra]

Sasha kept her expression carefully neutral, despite feeling... well, anything but neutral about this. One could even say she was freaking out a little bit, though that wouldn't be generous, and she felt she deserved every drop of generousness, now.

After all, perhaps she was walking towards her death. Wouldn't it be better to spend that time on literally anything that wasn't crippling self-doubt? You know, just to make the most of it?

Perhaps, but it wasn't like her thoughts could be turned off. The more she tried to do that, the more out of control they got, and before Sasha knew it, she was running an entire compilation titled 'The Worst Thing That Could Happen,' in her mind, with each entry worse than the one before it.

Mostly, her concerns could be summarized as: Is this some kind of trap?

Which, could be! Although, Sasha also didn't think the likes of Inessa really needed to resort to such tricks. If the vampiress wanted her head, she could easily have it; not via any official channel, perhaps, but those in power rarely let themselves be stopped by things as trivial as 'laws' or 'human decency.'

Probably not fair to expect that from her when she literally isn't human, though.

Not the point! Never the fucking point, even if it very much should be. Her fellow humans had accepted the arrangement, and so Sasha had to, as well, if she didn't want to be branded a pessimist at best, or a traitor, at worst. Not that she cared too much for what others might say, but there would be... consequences, for that. Oh, definitely. The peace was fragile; always a step away from being shattered, a breath away from being smashed. A single bad apple could spoil the harvest, and wouldn't it be so sad if that was to happen?

Likely why the Reynards' murder hadn't been investigated too thoroughly. 'Suicide,' the official reports claimed, not because anyone thought so but because it was convenient. Nobody had to be punished for suicide, which suited everyone just fine.

Well, everyone but Sasha.

Of course, the mansion itself was beyond pompous, with all the ridiculousness that came with being far too rich for one's own good practically oozing from the walls. She had expected exactly that and more, yet she still couldn't help but arch an eyebrow.

Who is she, Marie Antoinette?

No, obviously. At least Marie Antoinette had had the decency to fucking die when they'd killed her!

Okay, that thought was uncalled for, and Sasha did feel a sting of shame. After all, she didn't know this Inessa yet; perhaps she wasn't as bad as everyone said. Rumors could be... well, just that. Rumors. That the vampiress hadn't climbed to the top via being nice was something of a given, but who was she to criticize that? As long as the corpses she'd made in the process were fellow vamps, Sasha couldn't find it in herself to care too much. If anything, this was the ecosystem correcting itself. A beautiful, natural process! Just trash taking itself out!

And even beyond that, Sasha was curious more than she was scared. Sure, the alarm in her head wouldn't fucking shut up, but had it ever done that? Spoiler alert: nope, not once! And so she had... kind of learned to live with it, the same way you learned to live with one arm, or with the crippling sensation of never being enough. It wasn't ideal, but it was what it was.

(What, you ask? Pfft. Her life, )

And so Sasha paid little attention to the servants, or to anyone who wasn't Inessa, as she was being ushered into what she supposed ought to be the vampiress' office. And, sure enough, there she was! Sitting behind a desk, looking, well, a little bored. Bored, constrained, and not at all like what Sasha had expected, although she was at least willing to admit to herself that what she had expected was more likely to appear in a horror movie.

Instead, Inessa was... just a woman. A striking woman, certainly; one that a pretentious poet might call his muse, if he a) wanted to get in her pants real bad, b) kind of sucked at coming up with actual good metaphors.

A few did come to Sasha's mind, by the way. She pushed them aside, mostly because they weren't fucking relevant.

What was relevant was that she was spouting niceties, and Sasha couldn't help but chuckle at the banality of it all. This was Inessa? The Inessa, that made everyone bow and scrape? She didn't fit the mental image, and while Sasha also knew that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't fucked, her amusement was something that couldn't be turned off, either.

Unfortunately for... well, pretty much everyone ever.

Including herself.

(Mainly herself, perhaps.)

"Ah, don't worry about it," she took the hand, and shook it firmly, "I was just dying to meet you. If I had to cross the Sahara desert for it, I would," nope, not at all sarcastic, and also not suicidally cheeky, "Not like I had any better plans for the evening." That part, at least, was true. "Water would be nice, but I'd rather hear why you called me here in the first place?"

If Inessa was going to fuck her over, Sasha preferred for it to be quick.

 

[vada]

Inessa raised a sculpted brow at Sasha's quip, a short glimmer of amusement crossing her otherwise courteous face. "Certainly, Ms. Reynard." Motioning for her guest to take a seat in one of the two available chairs facing the desk, Inessa returned to her own seat, straight-backed and regal. Now that Sasha had arrived, the visible thrum of stress had faded from Inessa's features, and she was all business, eager to move forward and end this nonsense before it got even more out of hand.

“Over the course of the last several weeks, there has been a string of suspicious murders in my region. Humans with their throats ripped out, their corpses drained of blood and left in rather conspicuous areas. It looks to be the work of a vampire, as you might expect. Not one of my own, mind you. Despite this, it appears that I am the prime suspect." Her tone was brusque, even irritated, as the ridiculousness of the situation reflected on her face.

There was a knock at the door as Inessa paused, and it opened a moment later, the same blonde girl re-entering with a glass of ice water balanced atop a serving tray. “Ma’am,” she said in a soft voice as she offered the drink to Sasha, then retreated once more, closing the door behind her with a quiet ‘click’.

Inessa straightened the papers on her desk during the brief interruption, placing them back into their file folder, which she then closed and pushed across the desk toward Sasha. The contents included images and descriptions of the murder victims, all quite gruesome and heartbreaking to anyone who might not have the stomach for such things. As it were, they did little to faze the vampiress, other than getting on her nerves. "I summoned you here tonight because my people have heard interesting things about your... abilities. I believe you may be my best bet at the moment. I would like you to assist me in finding the depraved individual responsible for these deaths, and clear my name. The salary will be well worth your time, I assure you."

As if it simply didn’t occur to her that Sasha might refuse the job, she lightly smacked the desktop with both hands, in conclusion. “You will need to start immediately, of course. What is our first step?” She asked, expectantly.

 

[Syntra]

Looks to be? It likely was, if only because fellow humans generally didn't think ripping out others' throats was the best way to spend one's weekend. Or, one's Monday. Most days, really, since it was excessive and annoying and, dammit, why the fuck would anyone else do that? To make some sick kinda point?

'Newsflash, ladies and gentlemen! Bleeding to death is, in fact, painful!'

'Go vegetarian or else, bitches.'

'Spooooky!'

To Sasha's credit, she did manage to keep her expression neutral. The threat of a violent death that was still sort of looming in the background was a good enough motivation, and that a vampire had done what vampires usually do didn't mean Inessa, herself, had had anything to do with it.

Perhaps this really was a job offer.

Something casual to take on, in between the really important things.

The murders were fucked up, sure, but... well, it was hard to see them as something so tragic, when death had been her best friend throughout most of her life.

Not quite the end, despite what everyone claimed.

Yes, Sasha was popular at parties, and yes, she totally would have won the yearly empathy competition, if there was someone stupid enough to organize such a thing. Why are you asking, again?

Wordlessly, she reached for the folder, and flipped through the pages. It was the same old, really; empty, glassy eyes, mouths frozen in a scream, dry blood that looked like mud more than anything else. Nothing new. Once you'd seen a corpse, you had... kind of seen all of them. Not at all because all the murderers had the same handwriting, but because of the... hmm. Sense of helplessness?

It was hard to describe, and harder to talk about.

"And you are the prime suspect because...?" Sasha arched an eyebrow. "Of course, you would never do such a thing," the sarcasm was palpable, "But I assume there's some kind of rationale here. A thread of logic. What is it, Lady Inessa?"

If she was going to play Sherlock fucking Holmes, then she might as well lean into it.

Her powers, though -- fucking what?

Sasha was rather glad she wasn't drinking her water then, because she might have spat it all out. Relax, the necromancer chided herself, Hiring a medium for that kind of thing isn't too weird. What would be weird would be her reacting like she had something to hide, and, hahaha, wasn't that ridiculous?

Just fucking kill me.

Thankfully, Inessa... seemed more clueless than her reputation suggested, and that made Sasha's lips curve up in half a smile. "Immediately? Don't you want me to ask god himself what the culprit's name is, while we're at it? I'm afraid we aren't on talking terms." Great job not antagonizing the hot chick who might kill you, Sasha! "And I can't do much, from here." Her voice did lose some of that teasing edge then, likely due to the sense of self-preservation winning over, "Divination is about connections, my Lady. Being able to visit one of the murder scenes might help. Can you arrange that for me? And, of course -- I would like to know just what you think the my price of my time is."

What? Sasha Reynard wasn't a fucking charity.

 

[vada]

Inessa squinted ever so slightly as Sasha didn’t immediately leap at the opportunity to work for her. Questions? Of course it was logical for the girl to make sure it was worth it, but annoyance flared to life in the vampire’s chest. She wanted this done. Yesterday. And the more time they spent, sitting around, chatting, the more probable it was that there would be another murder pinned on her, making it all the more difficult for her to clear her name and move on.

Still, she inwardly told herself to remain calm, that wringing Sasha’s neck wouldn’t get her anywhere. More time would be wasted as they sought out another witch. Tim they didn't have. And really, it would be a pity to wring such a lovely neck.

“The most plausible explanation,” Inessa began, drawing her gaze away from the pulse beating in Sasha’s throat to meet her eyes, “is that someone is after my throne.” This was the first thing that had occurred to her upon hearing the news of her supposed guilt. Someone lusted after her power. Jealousy, vengeance, greed… Whatever the reason was, Inessa didn’t know, nor did she care. Whoever they were, they would have to pry it from her cold, lifeless hands. Literally.

The rest of Sasha’s questions had pretty straightforward answers. “If you need to visit the crime scenes, that can be arranged easily enough. But I shall accompany you. After all, I am very interested to see your abilities in action.” It didn’t make a lot of sense for the Master of New York to go traipsing around dark alleys with anyone, least of all a mere coroner. But this was too crucial for her to leave it in the hands of just anybody, an employee or not. And she genuinely was curious. Inessa had known some mediums in her time, but something about this one in particular seemed... different. It was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she wanted to figure her out.

“As for your payment.. if you can guarantee both timeliness and discretion, I would be willing to offer you a hundred thousand dollars.” Her expression was almost entirely serious, as she went on to say with just a hint of sarcasm underlying her tone, “If you believe your time is worth more than that, it can be arranged.”

 

[Syntra]

Yeah, that is a plausible explanation. Perhaps not the most plausible explanation, though; that depended on just how reasonable those accusing voices were, and just how trustworthy Inessa, herself, was.

Maybe she had done it.

Sasha doubted that Inessa was some bleeding-heart liberal, hellbent on making everything nice and soft and flowery; most leadership figures just weren't like that, human or vampire. Much too often, idealism simply... got in the way. What do you mean, 'love thy neighbor?' But muh profits, and muh cartel agreements! Also, murdering opposition is one of my basic rights!

Indeed, you could say that Sasha Reynard wasn't much of an idealist herself. That was why she looked at Inessa with no small amount of doubts, "Sure." The sarcasm that tinged her voice was and wasn't there, in that you could hear it if you knew what to look for but you couldn't prove much. "In that case, I assume they have no evidence against you? No fingerprints, no nothing?"

A stupid fucking question, of course.

The reality of the situation was that they had to have something, otherwise Inessa Orlova wouldn't have given them the time of her day. The Master of New York, getting so up in the arms over mere hearsay? Yeah, Sasha didn't think so. What Sasha did think could be expressed in many different ways, none of them particularly nice, but since she wasn't feeling quite suicidal enough, feigning stupidity was it.

Something told her that asking 'You sure you didn't do it, leech?' wouldn't go over terribly well.

Then again, she does want me to investigate the murders. A point in her favor, perhaps, though the term 'investigation' could also mean a great many things. The standard meaning was to uncover the truth; the less standard one, albeit one that was still widely used, had more to do with twisting it. With bending the facts, so that the resulting picture showed what you wanted.

Which definition are you using here, Inessa?

Ever the question!

Along with 'why the fuck do you need to watch me, anyway?'

Although, the money being offered did make her do a double take.

Surely, this wouldn't be so bad? Even if the vampiress did see something suspicious, Sasha doubted she had the know-how to know what she was really looking at, the same way a layman couldn't decipher how an engine worked just by staring at it. For that, you needed all kinds of contextual cues you just... didn't have.

I could buy so many new books with this. All those forbidden texts!

All those forbidden texts from the black market, with huuuge mark-ups going straight into some asshole's pockets.

A wealth of knowledge, potentially hers.

"If you think so," Sasha shrugged, because saying 'no' to Inessa would only feed her curiosity, "But I'll have you know, it's not a fun spectator sport. I'm not sure what's so interesting about looking at me reading memories, unless," and, yes, she probably was going a little too far here, but hey, misdirection was always good! "You just like looking at me."

It took a second for her to process just what she'd said, and, in that moment, Sasha Reynard had to admit that perhaps misdirection wasn't always good.

Ohmygod what did I say, what did I just--?!

Something that could have made her sound all badass and unbothered -- if not for the immediate stumble, or the way red rushed into her cheeks.

Really acing this test, Sasha.

She was, wasn't she? The smooth talker of the fucking year! Perhaps to mask the embarrassment a little bit, she coughed, "But yes, that level of compensation seems... adequate, to me."

 

[vada]

A smile touched Inessa’s lips as Sasha questioned the evidence they had against her, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant expression. Rather, she wore the smile of someone who was becoming increasingly fed up with the steady stream of questions. The look of patience in her eyes waned somewhat, and she stood from her desk, smoothing her silky black blouse with her hands. It wasn’t a stupid question, but the answer felt very obvious. Of course they had something on her. Somehow, they had acquired all the things… her fingerprints, her hair, even her blood. Each little piece of her was scattered about the various crime scenes, making it absolutely impossible for her alibi to be believable, even if it was rock solid.

Inessa wanted to say something sarcastic, condescending even, but before she could, Sasha spoke again, causing the vampire to pull up short.

Unless, you just like looking at me.

Inessa’s brows lifted slightly, catching the colour that rushed to the woman’s face, the pulse that quickened in her throat, and her smile widened just enough for a hint of fang to peek through her lips. Slowly, as if appraising her, Inessa looked her up and down, a very primal hunger appearing in her gaze. It was the same hunger all vampires felt around humans, no matter their level of self control. The blood lust, at least for Inessa, was always there, simmering under the surface, just begging for an excuse to break free and tear some pretty thing’s neck open.

And there was no denying Sasha was pretty. Beautiful in fact, with hair like fire and hunter green eyes that were far too fierce for her own good. There was a wildness about her that was rather alluring, and for a moment or two, Inessa allowed herself a good look, as a human might gaze upon a cart of desserts, trying to talk themself out of eating them all.

“Mm..” she mused to herself, giving her head a little shake. It might be the place, but now certainly wasn’t the time. And even if it was, she couldn’t imagine Sasha would still be willing to work with her if she gave in to her indulgences. She had to keep her priorities straight.

Motioning toward the door, she picked up her purse. “Come along, Ms. Reynard. We mustn’t waste any more time. I will fill you in on the details of their so-called evidence on our way to the city. There is… a lot.”