Chapter 2: Disclaimer: Still not entirely mine…..
The Nosferatu twitched into action almost as soon as she had stopped before the threshold. His grubby eye leered through the peep hole, and he grunted his surprise. New faces generally didn't try to come in here, and when they did-
"Let the poor girl in." Wadsworth, the ghoul manservant of the Archbishop, had once again crept up on him and bellowed louder than necessary to compensate for his own deafness. The man was a nuisance, but the lowly guard was in no position to strap a bell to Monroe's ghoul. That would be unwise. "He would like to see her."
The door creaked open and revealed the beauty of the world famous Empire, now dim and quiet. "Good evening Miss." The manservant bowed respectfully as usual, "if you would follow me."
Andreea jumped as she heard a man's voice bellow through the door. Strange she usually wasn't startled by such things. The door opened and what she suspected was a servant ghoul greeted her with a bow. She curtsied purely out of habit.
"A fair evening to you as well."
Without pause or delay, the decrepit old man turned on his heels and cut across the lobby. He passed the entrance to the main hall, the theatre itself, but did not spare a glance. He saw it every night for over two years, a masterpiece twisted and sullied by the Sabbat. Not his Master, no, no. He was a civilized gentleman, unless wronged.
She muttered to him, before she quickly followed him inside, her heels clicking on the floor. Andreea's eyes flicked around the inside of the building as she followed the servant, taking in her surrounds. Defiantly a Sabbat Haven… no doubt about that, she thought idly.
He led her up the stairs to the office that once held the manager, and probably the only pure and unspoiled area of the building. He paused briefly before the doors as he always did, gaining his composure and preparing for his lord. He lived only to please his master, and mistakes drew more consequences than a scolding. Many may think that living with such extremes was no way to live, but as Wadsworth turned and smiled at her, he felt sorry for those who didn't.
The Archbishop sat in the dim light of the former office, standing ready to greet his guest. "Good evening young Cainite."
He extended his hand, took hers and bowed his head ever so slightly. His soft tone quickly turned to a growl as he directed his attention to his servant.
"Wadsworth, if you would." The ghoul came quickly running to take her umbrella for her. Like all obedient dogs, scolding's only added to his loyalty.
He looked at her again, "please." The Irishman's face remained unchanged, but he gestured warmly one of the many leather settees arranged in a square ahead of the desk. "I am Magnus Monroe of the clan Lasombra, Archbishop of London."
R&R
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