[V20] The Tale of the Crone

Bela Dragosani





Bela nods. "Perhaps the insects are carriers, perhaps it is a side effect of the sorcery that looks so familiar. In any case, I would like to examine this Kindred before you dispose of them."
 
"I will see if it can be arranged," says Justine. "He will probably have to be imprisoned and restrained first; he's young and quite attached to his unlife. So you've seen symptoms like this before?"
 
Bela Dragosani





The old monster nods. "Indeed. We burned the whole village, then."


He pauses, in thought.


"I wonder if I might ask a favour of my own, whilst you are here."
 
Bela Dragosani


"Undoubtedly you have contacts of your own, those who may be able to find something which is lost. Thus far, my own connections have proven... ill-placed for the task." He begins, with habitual and unnecessary verbosity. "I am seeking a sword. Very old, quite mundane. A historical curiosity. I wonder if, perhaps, you may be able to uncover information leading to it?"
 
"Hmm. I can certainly make inquiries. Tell me more about this sword. I presume it has a distinctive appearance or history?"
 
Bela Dragosani





"Boris can provide you with the relevant details, and any information he has gleaned so far. Might I assist with anything else tonight, or have you further business to which you must attend?"
 
"Ah, yes, I nearly forgot." Very carefully, Justine brings out a plastic-wrapped parcel with one black-gloved hand. "This is what's left of the shirt our luckless experimental subject was wearing when he made his escape. I will see if I can arrange for you to examine him in person, but in the meantime, you might be able to draw some clues from this?" One corner of her full mouth quirks upwards. "I can assure you it does not have fleas."
 
Bela Dragosani


"I shall certainly try. Please, leave it on the table. Boris will show you out and provide you the details of the weapon I seek."


He stands to bow again.
 
Susan





Sam smiles as she talks and as the coffee brings him back to life. He leans up to kiss her lukewarm, dead lips, "it's me who's the envy of men everywhere, to have my ever young and beautiful wife wake me with coffee and breakfast. And don't worry about the nightmare," he gestures vaguely with the cup after taking another sip, "it was just a silly dream. I'm sorry I disturbed you."


Justine


The anciently-dressed butler stands ready by the door as Justine exits. Once out of the drawing room, he speaks to her in his precise and lightly accented way. "My Lord's sword was last seen at the... the Hock-o Bell pawn store," he says with obvious guilt, "it was forged in Vienna in the year of our lord 1578 by the master smith Wilhem Streicher. Its blade is 84 centimetres long and made from Damascus steel. The hilt is 21 centimetres long, and it as well as the crossguard carry draconic decorations. Any and all efforts towards retrieving it will be appreciated greatly by my master."


As Justine enters the hall, she is greeted by always welcome sight of Juliette in her chauffeur's uniform, holding her cap before her and bashfully keeping her eyes on the ground.


Bela





Once Boris has escorted Adler from the manor, only Bela's semi-permanent guests require his attention before he can seek shelter from the encroaching sun.
 
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Bela Dragosani





With Adler safely conveyed out, Bela elects to check the last place he saw his new lodgers. A goodnight, some idea of what to expect in future, these things should do. Boris has undoubtedly already informed them of the ground rules, and Bela can teach them etiquette in time.
 
"I will certainly keep my eyes and ears open," Justine assures the Tzimisce ghoul gravely. "I hope that Juliette here conducted herself properly in my absence and with respect for so noble a house?"
 
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Susan Rosenthal


"Mmmmm, better enjoy it," she says, returning the kiss with emotive warmth, if not actual heat. A fluke of vampire physiology left her warmer than most Kindred but it was still not the same. Not remotely the same as it'd been.


"Enjoy the looks while they last," Susan says at the paid compliment. You're such a good liar. You said that with a perfectly straight face. Ignoring the thought, she added "But I'll always bring you coffee and breakfast, sweetheart. When you're old and grey, I still hope to be the first thing you see when you wake up."


The mention of a nightmare causes her to shrug. "I'm not disturbed. Today's a new day. A beautiful Saturday according to the weather I've seen. I'm having some trouble with a few of those Chinese investments I mentioned the other day but hopefully I can wrap things up and get home early." Another lie. "I'd better get going if I'm going to have any hope of an early night, though. Make sure Kimberly has something to wear for her class today, won't you? Thanks, sweetie. I'll see you tonight."


Another kiss. A last caress of the cheek. The lingering sight of the handsome man dining on food she'd never enjoy again.


You sneer at the Paths but they don't have to deal with this kind of pain, do they.





Shaking her head as she left the bedroom and descended the stairs, Susan hurried to her car and made her way back to her office. Racing to escape the dawn. Or racing to escape herself. If only the latter was as easy to avoid as the former.


With that, she arrives at Mirror Print Consultancy LLC long before anyone's in the office and seals herself up in hers. The interior room boasts a beautiful library of rare decorative books, a fabulous 300 year old oak table carved from the remnants of a downed ship from England, and a hideaway bed concealed inside a secret sliding door. It was ridiculous to use an ancient black and white movie style secret entrance, consisting of pulling a book on Britney Spears' rise to fame in America to trigger the entrance. But then, who would ever expect something that low tech in an ultramodern high rise office building like this?


Secreted away, Susan catches up on her email before letting the rising sun beyond sight drag her into darkness.
 
Terezi had taken a seat, pensive and rose, gesturing to her ghoul to follow her. She bowed, a fist touching palm. "Sir." She spoke in quiet obeisance. The woman was standing there, but the beast lurked beneath still waters. The snow white maiden of blood red shades to go with the deep rust hair, the world tinted ever so slightly cherry and the delightful scent of the living ghoul mingling with the curiously still cordial of the older-yet thinner blooded kindred before her. A slight smile touched her face, sardonic yet with the barest twinge of silent laughter. The world's ridiculous. The world's shit.


The world shines with a light she doesn't need the lemon-vanilla sun to find, in spite of that. A world that brings wonder and fear alike that is still precious to her.
 
Bela Dragosani





Bela clasps his hands before him.


"I trust you are settling in well? That matters have been adequately illuminated?"
 
Terezi's own hands were at her sides, lightly clasped shut but neither clenched nor fists. "I believe it has, sir." She spoke deferentially. "They are really afraid of you." She didn't bother clarifying that. She wouldn't dream of insulting his intelligence-and it might clarify a suspicion of hers.
 
Justine


Boris gives Juliette a lingering look before returning to Justine and answering simply "she did."


Susan


Despite the eventful night that has passed, Susan's inbox contains only the same manner of more or less urgent messages, misunderstandings, offers, and veiled threats. She gets to work answering and passing tasks on as the rising sun inevitably pulls her towards oblivion.
 
Justine notes the look, but merely says, "Very good. She can drive us home now."


In the car, Justine cocks an eyebrow at her servant. "That was a very odd look he gave Juliette. Did something happen while her Mistress was in conference?"
 
Justine





The young ghoul hesitates for a few moments before answering, "Juliette followed her mistress to stand by the drawing room door. Mister Boris was kind enough to inform her that that was an inappropriate place for her to wait."
 
Bela Dragosani





"As they should be." He said, inwardly pleased. "I am intensely curious to see how they fail to resolve this situation in their favour - we have time before they resort to violence. To that end, your education begins tomorrow night - history, etiquette, and swordplay."
 
"Yes, sir." She spoke simply. "Understood." Though she stood and wore a straight face, it was clear that Terezi herself was afraid.
 
Bela Dragosani





"Be not concerned, Terezi Pyrope," Bela said, with the ghost of a smile on his cold, cold lips. "It would be a personal failure to permit you harm."


Bela leaned closer.


"Do I seem, to you, a kindred inclined to brook such failure?"
 
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"Indeed?" replies Justine thoughtfully. "Perhaps Juliette should study etiquette next. I would not like others to think less of me because I have an ill-trained servant." She leans back in her seat, pondering all she has heard, as they return to the haven.
 
Justine





Juliette keeps her eyes on the road, but Justine's trained eye can tell that she bows her head just a fraction of an inch in recognition of her error.
 
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