Author's Note: So this chapter took me a bit longer than I expected it would. I had so little to go on with Grout's character, and I am not above admitting the irony that the insane doctor drove me insane trying to write for him. Due to my habit of trying to keep chapters relatively short, there is only one other well-known character in this chapter, but I'm going to keep it a surprise as to who it is. Hopefully you'll enjoy it and hopefully I didn't butcher everyone too badly!
Special Thanks: Thank you SO much to all of my loyal readers! You guys keep me happy and you keep me writing. I especially appreciate the reviews I got for the last chapter so in order I really want to thank LadylayDE, Sof, Sasha Naruto, and aberdeenkev. Love you guys! ^_^
Responses: To LadylayDE: I have the same feeling with LaCroix's character. I want to hate the guy, but he's far too fascinating to do so. I know Valeska might seem a bit conflicting, but you have to remember that she is in fact a ghoul. Ghouls especially who are developing a blood bond with their masters often find themselves unable to act against them, so I figured her giving into him so easily would have been a result of said bond. She's still her own person as you can tell by some of her responses, but the conflict she encounters is because of LaCroix's blood. Thanks for your suggestions with Grout's character and no worries about your English, I can understand it just fine! To Sof: Technically this one is the twentieth chapter, but thank you none the less! ^^' Hopefully I can continue to bring enjoyable humor to my writing. To Sasha Naruto: That's an interesting theory that Grout didn't really die, but simply faked his death instead. I might just employ that later on in my story, thank you! To aberdeenkev: Glad you liked it!
Chapter 20 Deranged Doctor
When the door finally opened fully, Valeska realized that standing before LaCroix and herself, was not Aleister Grout at all. Unless the Malkavian Primogen was a cross dresser, which she highly doubted, then this nervous looking woman was definitely not him. Hunched over slightly, the young woman stood clinging to the entrance door as if she were terrified she might be blown away by a strong wind. Judging by how short and petite she was, this wouldn't have been a bad theory either. Her frizzy hair was a fire engine red, her deep chocolate brown eyes lay behind a thick pair of glasses, and her skin was relatively pale making Valeska ponder whether she was a vampire or just didn't get enough sun. While expecting to see the greeter dressed in some kind of formal wear, instead she wore baggy tan sweatpants, and two different shirts; the first was bright yellow and short sleeved with an odd symbol on the front, while the other lay underneath the former and was long sleeved with white & black stripes.
"O-oh the fanged lord and his lady have arrived twenty six m-miniatures before the carnival o-of m-masks is set to b-begin," the redhead quickly stuttered in a high pitched tone. When she spoke, her button nose twitched ever so slightly immediately followed by her nervously chewing at her already damp sleeve with her small buck teeth. As she continued munching on her shirt, Valeska noticed that she had no fangs of her own, and thus decided that she wasn't a vampire but probably a ghoul instead. After all, Mercurio had told her that often many ghouls picked up the characteristics of their master's bloodline.
"Your master should be expecting us within," LaCroix declared, looking down at the strange mouse like woman with slight disgust. Her eyes which had been fearfully darting back and forth she directed up toward the Prince, and instantly they became very wide and dilated.
"Yeeees the m-master o-of shattered mirrors and b-bloody trials…I hear him whispering to the spinning b-box b-before the dawn o-of fire," the frantic ghoul stammered, "His worries and contemplations m-make it hard to slumber." Valeska had heard that some Malkavians tended to speak in riddles, but she had no idea it would have been this bad. Her only hope was that the other guests would speak more plainly, because if not, this was going to be a very long and stressful evening.
"My apologizes for your problematic issues regarding your sleeping patterns, but again, our presences are expected inside," the pale Prince explained with minor irritation.
"O-of course my noble lord, this way," the young woman gestured with a twitch of her head. "B-but b-beware the watchful eyes and hungry jaws from the hungry Mayans b-below." Trying to heed the words of her master, Valeska pretended as if she knew exactly what the ghoul in front of her had said, but in reality she was beyond lost. Spinning boxes? Hungry Mayans? Her head hurt already trying to solve these conundrums.
Following her master inside, Valeska was met with the first room of the mansion which was just as eccentric as its outside walls. From the high vaulted wooden ceiling hung an odd looking chandelier and on the walls covered in intricate cream wallpaper were matching lanterns of a sort that jutted from the walls. Also lined along the walls at about every four or five feet, were tall and skinny metal pillars that stretched up toward the roof with their tops being seated with large iron skulls. Finally, there was absolutely no furniture in the room, and this gave the empty area an intense feeling of lonesomeness.
Before the pair could venture any further into the mansion, the Malkavian ghoul (as she was assumed to be) let out a sudden and shrilling shriek that made both LaCroix and his own ghoul jump in surprise.
"Get o-off! Get o-off the mouths!" the mouse like ghoul squeaked while frantically pointing at the ground. Dramatically she threw herself against the wall as she slowly began to inch cautiously toward the closed wooden doors leading to the next room. Glancing down at the black and white travertine tile that mirrored that of an old kitchen, Valeska saw what had the woman so shaken up. Lying in the middle of the room was a large circular golden brown rug that was decorated with ancient symbols and the apparent fierce faces of either powerful Mayan chiefs or the gods they worshipped. While the rug was essentially harmless it still had a sense of intimidation to it, and for a Malkavian ghoul who was probably hallucinating, it was understandably frightening.
Stepping off the rug to calm the hysterical ghoul, the pair walked around the piece of carpeting and followed their greeter into the next area which turned out to be a long foyer that lead up to a small sitting room. It had the same type of flooring and wallpaper as the previous room, but on the way in, Valeska was able to count six of the same grandfather clocks. If each clock had read a different time than it wouldn't have been too terribly odd, but every single one of them had matching faces.
"You w-wait here now," the hunched ghoul sputtered, which accidently resulted in spraying the Prince in front of her with a few flecks of her saliva. Before LaCroix even had the chance to realize what had happened, the woman swiftly scurried off like a rat down one of the adjacent halls. Sighing irritably, Valeska's boss reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief in order to wipe his face.
"Well that was…interesting," Valeska joked, "Are all Malkavians and their ghouls like that?"
"You have no idea," LaCroix answered while returning his handkerchief to the inside of his jacket. "Regrettably most Malkavian behavior closely mirrors that frantic little scene of absurdity you just saw play out. Those like Aleister Grout that can actually communicate in a coherent manner are a minority, but as you can see by his eccentric interior decorating, such a rarity often comes with a price."
"I kinda like it actually," Valeska confessed, looking up towards the ceiling, "It's beautiful in its own twisted kind of way, and the possible symbolism behind it really tells me a lot about Grout's personality." She paused when she saw her boss looking at her oddly. "Well what I mean is…I feel that you can learn more about a person through the hidden meanings in their living space more than they themselves could ever tell you."
"Oh?" the Ventrue questioned with a raised eyebrow, "And what does my penthouse say about me?" Valeska shot him an anxious glance knowing that this was probably a trap or a test of some kind. She could choose her words carefully by flattering him with things he wanted to hear, or she could be honest and risk angering him. Perhaps a combination of the two would work best here.
"Well just to name a few traits off my head…powerful, sophisticated, wealthy, overachiever, old fashioned yet willing to accept new technology, and…" She paused not wanting to say the last part because of how he might react.
"And?" LaCroix demanded impatiently. So far he seemed rather pleased with what she had said, but that was bound to change in a heartbeat if she finished her statement.
"Lonely…sir," she finished, averting her eyes from his stare of disbelief.
"Me? Lonely? Preposterous!" her boss laughed, "Day in and day out I am surrounded by people from every walk of life, how could I possibly be lonely?"
"Often the man who holds the highest amount of popularity is the loneliest one in the group," Valeska explained. "Something my father used to tell me."
"Well Miss Latimer, I hate to be the individual to shoot down your ever well-formed theory," the Prince began with a hint of sarcasm, "But in this case your assumptions on my supposed desire for companionship are entirely incorrect." Turning to look at her master, she saw that his arms were crossed in a way that made him look like he might throw a temper tantrum of sorts.
"My bad, sir. I guess everyone makes mistakes from time to time." Her words rang hallow, but she honestly didn't care. Rare was it that she gloated about being right, but now was one of those times that if she could have gotten away with it, she would have done so. His current reaction, the empty dusty rooms of his penthouse, and everything else about his character signaled to her that he focused more on his work in order to avoid some kind emotional turmoil he had brewing inside. However, she didn't blame him for wanting to deny this for openly accepting such a claim would have revealed an exploitable weakness.
Since LaCroix didn't say anything to her mediocre apology, she walked a few steps ahead to investigate the sitting room which was quite interesting in appearance. Protruding from the pale walls were ornamental green lanterns that shot out a remarkable illusion of stained glass throughout the small area, while on each opposite side of the room there were either red leather armchairs or a sofa with an end table. The most impressive piece in the room however was a very large and semi disturbing painting that hung on the back wall. In it was a pale, tired old man with, dark bushy eyebrows, light green eyes, a thin long nose, and orange frizzy hair that was greying at the roots. What made it particularly disquieting though was that the portrait seemed to be split in two, with one half covered in bright yellow cartoonish stars, and the other scattered with chilling black creatures that had glowing red eyes. To Valeska, the canvas almost seemed like it had been hung purposefully to reveal an indirect window into Grout's deep dark psyche, and whether this theory was wrong or not, she doubted it had been picked out on accident. Moving a little closer Valeska squinted her eyes. Was it just her or was this portrait moving…?
"Ahh, I see you've been made attention to the allure that is my picturesque self-portrait," an articulate English accented voice spoke. Turning around, Valeska saw an older gentleman who stood with his arms casually placed behind his back. As if she were seeing double, he perfectly resembled the individual in the painting with some minor differences. He had the same thick eyebrows and long greying orange hair, but his wavy mane had been tied back into a hairstyle she was not used to seeing on men. He also had the same facial features and light green eyes, but they were quite attentive and not the least bit tired in appearance. In a way, his style of dressing looked very similar to the way the characters from Interview with the Vampire dressed, for his modern day tuxedo had a few frills here and there that gave him an older century flair. His skin was incredibly pale, even for a vampire, and due to how tall and skinny he was, his long limbs almost made him seem like a spider of sorts. Overall, the man who Valeska knew had to be Aleister Grout was just as eccentric as his manor and its decorations. Such a person was also highly intriguing to her, and she knew that obeying her master's orders in keeping her responses brief was going to be very difficult.
"It's a beautiful and accurate painting," Valeska complimented with a small smile. "If I might also add, it's very unique in its style and originality too." Standing several few feet behind the Malkavian Primogen, was LaCroix who was frowning with aggravation. Was he upset that she had said more than she should have, or was it because Grout chose to address the lowly ghoul before the powerful master? One could never tell with that man since being a sourpuss seemed to be his favorite hobby.
"Do you truly think so? How peculiar you employ such verses, for few individuals find its quintessence worthy of the title of promethean. Indeed, even scarcer are spectators able to comprehend this creation as one of my own, but such is the existence of one whose artistic dilettantism frequently disturbs the psyche," Aleister Grout revealed with a small mysterious smile on his face. "Ah, but you'll have to pardon me for my colloquial and loquacious style of speaking. My hubris can occasionally disrupt the natural ambience of polite conversation."
"It's no trouble at all," Valeska reassured, "Besides, having a healthy level of pride can be good for the mind and its levels of confidence, no?" Blinking back a bit of surprise, the Malkavian closed the distance between them with his footsteps lightly echoing through his foyer.
"I suppose not…" the Primogen agreed, looking her over carefully with a modest amount of curiosity. His gaze was so intense that it almost frightened her, because it felt like he was staring into the depths of her mind. He was silent for a moment before he spoke up again. "Tell me my dear, do you by any chance suffer from epileptic convulsions?"
"Uhm, no?" Valeska responded with a raised eyebrow, finding his question to be insanely odd to ask out of nowhere. Without saying a word Grout took a few steps to his left and began to fiddle with a hidden panel in the wall next to one of the red armchairs. Immediately the steady green lights of the wall lanterns and chandelier switched to a flashing deep blood red which irritated Valeska's eyes slightly. However once her eyes adjusted, she looked back at the painting to understood why he had done, what he had done. Exploding from the back of portrait Grout's head were more stars as the eerie black creatures seemed to expel from his lips and dart along the left side of the painting. She knew that in reality the objects of the canvas only appeared as though they were moving, but it was a neat trick none the less.
"Notice how the metamorphosis in hue from celadon to cinnabar permits for the simplicity of spiritual apathy to change into an impressive epiphany of sorts," Grout explained quickly in an excited tone as he returned to her side. "The refractive prismatic lighting also assists in producing the illusion of moving objects." With his left hand he pointed at a few of the moving stars while his other hand remained in his pocket. It wouldn't surprise her if the Malkavian Primogen didn't have many guests over on a daily basis, but she wondered if he showed this off to everyone who stopped by for a friendly chat.
"This is incredible!" Valeska exclaimed moving closer to examine the painting. "The imagery, the engineering, the hint at something darker...it's…I don't even know if there is a word in the English dictionary that could accurately describe it. Where ever did you get the inspiration to create this?" While she was probably pissing her master off by communicating so heavily with the Malkavian, this would probably be her only chance to speak with the highly intriguing Grout so it was not one she was simply going to pass up.
"Hmm….you know it's been so long…" the Malkavian said in a hushed tone that sounded more like a whisper. As if trying to remember, Grout tilted his head thoughtfully while staring intently at his self-portrait. The lightening had returned to its original pale green and as soon as it did, the Malkavian suddenly spoke up. "It was October 10th of the year 1946. I stood atop my belvedere staring out at the brilliant night sky with my consciousness floating in a state of torpor. I was contemplating aimlessly at the frailty of my existence when I decided to retire prematurely. That same night I experienced a most vivid dream that I can only describe as walking through a hallucinatory trance of wonder and horror that belonged to the hidden spaces of my mind. When I awoke I vowed to give birth to something that could accurately define my journey, and six months later, this was the product of my labor."
"What a fascinating story, and even more amazing to know that your dream motivated you to accomplish this in only six months' time," Valeska said in a slight state of awe. Besides her the Primogen stood smiling, apparently enjoying her continued words of gushing admiration. "Well, Freud did say that dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." She hoped that utilizing her knowledge of psychology would delight the Malkavian further, and though she wasn't entirely sure if it did, it definitely caught his attention.
"Do you hold favor for the late Sigmund Freud's concepts?" he questioned turning to her with both of his hands in his pockets. Physically Valeska was able to turn in order to meet his inquiring eyes, but mentally her thoughts had frozen over. This simple question was actually quite loaded in that her answer could either strongly offend Grout or further develop the friendly connection the two seemed to have with one another. From the corner of her eye she could see LaCroix silently watching them from afar with great interest. Obviously this did little to calm her nerves as he was no doubt judging her ability to maintain the conversation with the Primogen. Knowing that she would have to take a risk, she decided that honesty would probably be her best policy in this instance. If Grout did disagree with her opinion, then she had faith that he would be handle an intellectual debate should one arise.
"Honestly? I found his work to be a load of bull," she expressed bluntly which automatically put a humored smirk on Grout's wrinkled face. Seeing his pleased expression, she continued, "I can appreciate the fact that he was essentially the father of psychology and that he had little to work with during his day, but every time I read about the field of psychoanalysis I find myself laughing at most of his proposed theories. His obsession of sexual desires and how they stem from our childhood is absurd, and don't even get me started on his belief that women are somehow lesser versions of men because they lack the male genitalia. I truly believe that most of his work was probably inspired by his opium addiction rather than actual logic, but I guess we'll never know." Grout was silent for a moment as though he were musing over her words, while her master looked incredibly surprised for some reason.
"What an adroit young woman you are. I do not believe I've had the delight of officially making your acquaintance for surely I would have recalled such a charming aesthete," Grout began, "Allow me to inaugurate this exchange of titles then: My name is Doctor Aleister Grout, renowned psychiatrist, Malkavian Primogen, and host of this amiable congregation." With that the Primogen held out his hand for her to shake, which she did. Before releasing it however, he brought her hand up to his mouth in order to gently brush it with a small kiss. It was a gentlemanly move to make, and one that was no doubt common during his time period which she was still trying to figure out. For some reason, LaCroix had never given her this knowledge (which would have better helped her plan her interactions in advance), but if she were to take a guess by his accent, unique speech pattern, style of dressing, and actions, she would have said he was originally from England during the 1800's.
"It's a pleasure to meet you doctor. I'm Valeska Latimer, humble ghoul to my master, Prince LaCroix," she replied. Almost immediately the Primogen retracted his hand from hers like she had badly burned him.
"I-I see…I was not aware the Prince had such servants in his employ," the nervous doctor stated. His eyes which before had been full of fascination with Valeska, had quickly been replaced with a high level of suspicion as she could practically see that he was mentally reevaluating her character. Her boss had been correct in his assumption of Grout's paranoia, for just the simple mention of her affiliation with the Ventrue Prince had driven him to wear his mistrust upon his sleeve.
"Times change, as do we all," LaCroix announced walking up to the pair with his Sheriff towering behind him. She hadn't even heard the colossal being enter the manor, but that was probably due to her distraction with the good doctor.
As the Prince neared the Malkavian Primogen, the environment of the room changed suddenly and drastically. A high level of tension sprung up between the two elders and it was so heavy that Valeska swore she could have suffocated had it been any worse. Dr. Grout, who had stood so tall and proud before was only a few steps above cowering in the presence of Sebastian LaCroix who seemed to be relatively pleased with the power he held in the situation. Often it was the Sheriff that intimidated Valeska more, but in that very moment, the amount of energy that her master seemed to command chilled her right to the bone. It was as if the Prince was mentally grasping his opponent by the throat, but in the same eerily calm way he had literally done with her landlord. It was a startling discovery for her to see what her master was capable of, and it was a side to him that frightened her nearly as much as it did the Malkavian psychiatrist.
"A pleasure as always to see you again Dr. Grout, it's been far too long since we've had an opportune moment to converse," LaCroix pointed out calmly before holding his hand out for Grout to shake. To maintain some level of civility, the Primogen hesitantly grasped LaCroix's hand and shook it firmly with an obligatory smile.
"Indeed, these lengthy atramentous nights preclude even the most significant of conversations," Grout agreed as calmly as he could. Part of him seemed quite distracted, like somehow he was speaking with five people at once, but it could have just been his nerves.
"Myself and the other Primogen missed your presence during the last conference doctor, but I was certain my secretary forwarded the meeting time to you via telephone. Did you not receive it?" the pale Prince queried. As LaCroix spoke, not once did his cold grey eyes leave Grout's nervous green ones, and in a small way it seemed like he was purposefully taunting the poor doctor. It wasn't something Valeska enjoyed seeing either as she was just starting to hold favor with the Malkavian who hadn't outright done anything offensive to anyone as far as she knew. Still, she had a job to complete so getting attached to the Primogen wasn't a wise thing to do. No matter how blameless he might have appeared, he was a serious enough threat that her master had assigned her to her current task.
"Ah forgive me Prince LaCroix. I was preoccupied with my studies which regrettably have been proceeding at a languid pace. It's vexing to know that the answers to my queries lay within reaching distance, but night after night they serve to elude me," the Malkavian psychiatrist informed the Ventrue Prince. There was a little less unease in his voice and it seemed as though he had regained a bit of his composure. Perhaps it had just been his surprise that had overcome him when he saw LaCroix, but she doubted it. Obviously he was terrified of her master, but at that moment he was acting like a completely different person. It was quite inspiring to see such a believable performance, but since Grout's paranoia had already been revealed, it was less impressive than it could have been.
The two continued to converse for the next few minutes and if Valeska hadn't known better, she would have said that they were having nothing more than a casual every day conversation. Yet she did know better and it was mesmerizing to see the two go back and forth with words that seemed to have hidden meanings behind them. Literally standing before her were two individuals who possessed vastly different objectives as well as the means they would utilize in order to achieve them. Although she wasn't aware of what their individual goals were, she knew that neither one of them would rest until they were made complete. It seemed then that the pair resorted to a mild battle of wits in order to pass the time, with one opponent indirectly taunting the other and vice versa. LaCroix appeared to be a master at this game, while Grout on the other hand appeared as a newcomer with little knowledge of the rules. The Malkavian could simply have been disguising his true capabilities out of fear, but she honestly couldn't tell anymore between what was real and what was the product of a practiced performance. It made Valeska wonder if all vampires had such strained relationships with one another or if these manipulative games were the norm.
"Well this has been quite the thought provoking jaunt, but lamentably I must attend to the influx of guests upon my entrance doorstep," Grout informed the small group. "Venture down this passage to the left and you shall happen upon the ballroom. You all appear quite famished I might add, so please feel free to indulge yourselves in the hors d'oeuvres I've had prepared. There is a large variety I am certain both vampires and ghouls alike should appreciate, so if you will excuse me. Prince LaCroix." He turned to Valeska. "Miss Latimer."
LaCroix simply nodded, allowing the Primogen to walk off and leave the Prince, Valeska, and the Sheriff to stare after the doctor hurrying to answer his front door. Exhaling deeply, LaCroix shot an unreadable glance at his ghoul before taking off toward the ballroom. His Sheriff was no doubt always watchful and ready to move when his master did, but Valeska was not. Scrunching up a handful of her dress so she would not trip over it, she had to run down the red carpeted hallway in order to catch up with her boss.
"Sir I th-," she began before being harshly cut off.
"I gave you a strict set of instructions not to speak unless spoken to," he snapped, taking her for surprise. "Are you so dense that you cannot comprehend a simple command?" He had stopped right before entering the supposed ballroom and was angrily glaring down his nose at her. No one was around to see this explosive display however, so she was left to cower before his presence while waiting for him to finish his lecture.
"I-I'm sorry, sir," she apologized. "I thought you were the exception to this rule." Before she could explain herself further, the sound of footsteps could be heard from behind them. Immediately LaCroix's icy glare vanished as his attention was drawn to whoever he now saw.
"Ah Prince Sebastian LaCroix!" a confident female voice proclaimed. Walking past Valeska as if she weren't even there, was a pale woman dressed in a reserved yet very beautiful white gown. Like Valeska she wore a pair of glasses and her blonde hair had been pulled back into a tight bun. Unlike Valeska's demure behavior though, everything about this woman's sharp facial features to the way she stood showed that she could have easily commanded an entire room with little to no effort. It was like looking at the female version of her boss and she wondered if she too belonged to the Ventrue clan. She definitely had the whole business persona going on, so it wouldn't be surprising if she was.
"Miss Therese Voerman," the pale Prince retorted with a polite somewhat forced smile on his face.
"Just the brain I was hoping to pick in regards to my most promising business venture," Therese began, "First however, allow me to apologize on my sister's behalf for the vulgar email she recently sent you. Had I realized she had secretly acquired your email address from my computer, I would have immediately stepped in and prevented her ill-mannered actions. None the less she has been severely punished, so I can assure you with a high degree of confidence that any events similar to this one will not repeat themselves in the future."
"I would hope not, Miss Voerman, for if you ever hope to obtain any standing recognition with the Camarilla in the near future, then I would advise to putting a tight leash around the neck of that insolent sibling of yours," LaCroix suggested with more than a bit of irritation. As if the frustration in his voice weren't obvious enough, he already looked quite ticked off at having to be reminded of whatever message he had received from Therese's sister. Valeska had half a mind to hack into his computer just to figure out what it was, as it would no doubt provide a much needed laugh. Part of her also hoped that this trickster sister would show up that evening just so she would have someone to trade tales of mischief with.
"Of course, my Prince," Therese quickly agreed, "Now I…" She paused and stared at Valeska as if she were only now just realizing that someone else was there. "Who's this?"
"My ghoul," the Prince answered dully, "She's insignificant, but if you desire privacy then we can go elsewhere." Valeska's heart felt like it had literally been stabbed square in its center. Sure she had been insulted by him before, but to be blatantly labeled as a no one and especially in front of another person no less, was like shoving salt in a wound. It was incredibly painful, and she had to wonder if he had purposefully said that due to her earlier insubordination. Deep down she wanted to break his jaw for his rude comments, but she knew displaying more rebellious behavior was not going to get her what she wanted. If she wanted to appear as a noteworthy individual in the Prince's life, then she would have to work at it. If that meant being seen as a pile of garbage until she proved herself, then so be it.
"Yes, please," Therese requested. As if to add further insult to injury, Therese's lips deliberately curled up into a sneer as if to show just how disgusted she was with Valeska. Hurtful as it was, the snobbish vampire was acting like the ghoul before her had some kind of contagious disease, and it was taking all of Valeska's willpower to restrain herself from shaking Therese's hand. The result of said action would have been hilarious to witness, and the image alone of the prude woman frantically waving her hand to shake loose Valeska's cooties brought a small smile to the ghoul's face which in turn lightened her moods. What made the moment even more amusing was that Therese accidently attributed Valeska's current smile as an act of courtesy, and though obviously forced, she allowed the ghoul a smile of her own. LaCroix on the other hand had seen right through Valeska's little act and he shot her a glare that probably meant in crude terms that she had better knock it off or he would lecture the shit out of her later.
Silently Valeska directed her attention to the ground, and waited for the small group of vampires to walk ahead of her and into the ballroom. Deciding that she wasn't about to stand all night in the hall awaiting her next set of orders, she took the initiative to follow them inside, but move to the side of the room. In this way they would have their privacy, and she would be perfectly positioned to eavesdrop before sneaking off to explore the manor later on. It would be awhile before more vampires started to arrive, so she began to look around to distract herself.
The ballroom was probably the largest room she had seen so far in the mansion, and it more or less matched the décor of the rest of the house with the same type of flooring, wallpaper, and lanterns (these ones were red in color though). However the ceilings here were even higher than the previous rooms, and what was particularly odd was that there was a huge staircase that lead directly up to the roof. There wasn't even an apparent opening, just short but horizontally long stairs and then the ceiling. Following the stairs down with her eyes, she spotted a few internal balconies that permitted her to see the different parts of the second story. All along the underside of the wooden banisters to the balconies, were interesting metal inlays that looked a lot like dark chocolate melting down the upper half of the pale walls. The last noteworthy thing about the ballroom, was that placed up against the walls was a handful of soft looking couches, as well as a few buffet tables that Valeska decided to sample.
Approaching the buffet tables, she was sad to see that there was very little human food for her to munch on. It wasn't surprising seeing as how many of the guests would be from the ranks of the undead, but seeing all the wine glasses and punchbowls full of blood made her stomach churn. Her curiosity distracted her from her queasiness however as each table had been labeled with a different letter: A, B, AB, and O. After a short moment of contemplation, she realized that each of these letters signaled a different type of blood.
Looking back at the food set out for mortals, she found the selection to be kind of funny. To her it almost seemed like it had been thrown together at the last minute by a vampire who had raided a vending machine. Picking up a small bag of plain potato chips, she settled herself down onto one of the sofas. It would be awhile before anyone arrived, so while munching at her chips, she readied herself for what was certainly going to be a very long night.
Author's Note: So that was Chapter 20, probably the most difficult one I've worked on because of Grout. I was conflicted with how to take his character so I decided to just make him sound like he did in his recordings to the best of my abilities. I made him a bit paranoid around LaCroix including the whole distracted aspect because of his internal voices, but I didn't want to make it to where he was completely incapable of conversing with the Prince. Grout's creepy and cold hearted factor will be kept hidden until Valeska explores his mansion later on, so don't worry about that! Therese was relatively easy to write (female LaCroix!), and I decided to have her dressed in white due to her whole illusion with being pure. Lots of other tidbits I could explain, but I'll leave it to the reader to comment on what they want, if they want. The next chapter will be the one to have more of the main characters we all know and love who may or may not interact with Valeska (haven't decided yet). To name just a few: Strauss, VV, Gary, Imalia, etc. Stay tuned and drop a review if you can! Thanks! ^_^