Tuesday, 4 November 8:30 p.m.
Geneva by Night.
"Shouldn't we presenting ourselves to the prince or something? The capital of the country should have a prince." Ben wondered as he and Seldes searched for a tailor's shop that was still open at this hour. The Nosferatu had put on what he called a 'mask', which was actually just the Nossie version of fleshcrafting. In the form Seldes took now, he could have been Ben's older brother, they looked that much alike. A big contrast from Seldes' natural form.
Seldes thought for a moment, then shook his head. "This is supposed to be an undercover operation. If we went to the prince, we would have to explain what we're doing here. And besides, we're just visiting the city. We're leaving tomorrow night."
"I guess you're right." Ben shrugged. "Oh, hey! There's a light on in there!"
The Nosferatu and the Toreador ran down the cobblestone street as fast as they could.
Mei gazed intently at the skull candle on the stand in the corner of the shop. She had long tuned out to the sound of Maria arguing with the alchemist, even though she had come here to see what a Giovanni would want with embalming fluid.
Alectz had been with them for a little while, but the Malkavian had taken off to 'go play with the stars' several minutes ago.
The little Cappadocian wandered over to the table that served as a business counter. Maria was still screaming at the poor alchemist.
"What do you mean you don't carry it?! What kind of establishment is this?!"
"One that does not deal with the trafficking of corpses!" the man shouted back.
"Then what's the POINT?!"
The man decided he'd had enough of this crazy girl and her little sister. "GET OUT OF MY SHOP!!!"
After five more minutes of arguing, Mei and Maria were ejected from the shop by the alchemist and his two apprentices/thugs.
"Can you believe that?!" Maria huffed in indignation. "The nerve of that guy! If only I could get in touch with my family.....That shop wouldn't BE there tomorrow night!"
"Now, now..." Mei patted her shoulder. "You can take it down just as well without your family. All you need is a box of matches."
Maria stared at her. She had expected the sweet little girl to say something along the lines of 'violence is not the answer', or otherwise try to talk her out of destroying the shop.
"Actually, drawn out death might be more fun. You have anything we can make a poisonous gas out of?" Mei asked.
After a pause, Maria grinned. "I think I just might...."
Sugar belted another drink and banged her empty glass on the bar, demanding another. This was where she was supposed to meet Michaela. If they were going to be partners, they should at least learn where to find each other. When Michaela had separated herself from the rest of the group last night, she and Sugar had agreed that if they were ever separated, they would meet up at the nearest pub. If Michaela was looking for Sugar, look inside because Sugar would be getting smashed, and if Sugar was looking for Michaela, look around the back because Michaela would be playing with the rats in the garbage.
An ideal arrangement.
Particularly for Sugar. She had lifted six purses in the last twenty minutes alone. And there was no need to leave, because none of the more smashed patrons had even noticed her. And the less smashed patrons had only noticed her to try to pick her up. Of course, these were subsequently fully smashed....with her fist.
Ah, it was great to be a vampire! You could enjoy alcohol without losing your wits -unless you wanted to, of course, and she sometimes did- and you could knock down a white slaver or potential suitor with a flick of your wrist. Then there was the increased stealth that came with being a Ravnos. Never run out of money or nice things.
Sugar couldn't understand why some people were so afraid of unlife. Or why some called it damnation. If this was torture, chain her to the wall.
The bar door swung open and Sugar saw Michaela's reflection in the glass behind the bar. She raised a hand and waved over her shoulder to the Gangrel. Michaela, still clothed in the white shirt and now that they were in the city, a pair of high boots that covered her calves, walked over to Sugar and took the stool beside her. Sugar had seen her toss those onto the back of the carriage last night. She wondered why the Gangrel hadn't worn them while running, when they might have done some good in protecting her feet.
"Hola." Sugar greeted her partner. "Want something to drink?"
"No." Michaela said simply. "Must we stay here?"
"Until I get another shot of whiskey, yes."
Michaela opted not to argue anymore; she just sat there and looked uncomfortable.
After a few moments of awkward silence and Sugar's being ignored by the bartender, she decided it was time for a little bonding.
"So, where you from?"
Michaela looked up at her. Conversation? Well, anything to get her mind off the volume of humans around her. "The Kingdom of the Netherlands...." she told Sugar.
"Cool. You speak Dutch? That's such a weird language....Not that weird is a bad thing."
"Of course I speak Dutch....." Michaela said as if it were the most ridiculous question in the world...which it was.
"I'm not sure where I'm from." Sugar said as she finally got her whiskey. "I'm full blood Rom. But I'm blonde. Everyone thought I was cursed." she took a swig of her drink. "My mortal life wasn't too fun. What was yours like?"
Michaela frowned. This was getting a little personal. Oh well, she had never been above telling any of her own clan members about something as unimportant as her mortal home.
"My father was a merchant. My mother was a malcontent. I did my father's account management for him from the time I was ten. Then I was Embraced."
"At ten?" Sugar asked jokingly.
"Seventeen." Michaela answered, not jokingly.
"Well then." Sugar smashed her glass oh the counter. "That's for ignoring me!" She called in the direction of the barkeep. "Come on, let's go." She said to Michaela. The Gangrel was only too happy to comply.
Once they were outside, Sugar began to go through the purses she had collected.
"Where did you get all that?" Michaela asked.
Sugar grinned. Apparently the wolf girl wasn't too far above stupid questions herself. "From the bar."
"OH." Michaela said, realizing what should have been obvious.
"Yeah, you're gonna like traveling with me." Sugar grinned. "We'll never be hard up for cash."
"We live on blood. What do we need cash for?"
"What about transportation?"
"What's wrong with your horse?"
Sugar shook her head.
Courtney sighed lightly, gazing up at the cloudy sky. She had been walking the streets aimlessly for what seemed like hours, not really thinking about anything at all. There was little for her to do here. All the dress shops had closed half an hour ago (the price they paid for stalling so long), and she had no need for the various other commodities she imagined the others were looking for. Come to think of it, she had no real need for more clothes either. Since her things had arrived the previous night, she would be just fine until the next fashion upheaval came around, and if she monitored the cycles of good taste correctly (which she usually did), they weren't due for one of those for another decade. So everything now was just more of the same.
Very dull. In fact, this whole trip had been very dull. Not to mention annoying. First she had been forced to sit in a badly driven carriage with a collection of Camarilla and Independent Kindred who ranged from those who disgusted her to those who made her want to scream in frustration for nearly an entire night, then subjected to sleeping in a filthy basement with said Kindred, and now stuck out on the streets with absolutely nothing to occupy her.
If this were London, she could easily visit some of the more posh clubs and be set until dawn. Even though most of the most of the mortal clubs claimed to only admit men as members, well dressed ladies were welcome to visit from time to time. Those were just an opportunity for food, though. The real fun happened at the Sabbat-run gatherings. On the second floor, you had the socializing, and on the first, you had an area in which those who had grown tired of socializing could rip each other's heads off without disturbing the less psychotic patrons.
Who says the Sabbat doesn't know how to have fun?
The clubs in London were also valuable centers for the forming of powerful connections and good places to learn how to manipulate fiends and antitribu. NOTHING like those pointless Toreador soirees.
Courtney kicked angrily at a pebble. She missed London. There was nothing to do in this pathetic excuse for a city at night except drink at the local inn/bar. She sighed, more heavily this time. Oh well. She had to feed, didn't she? It wasn't the caliber of her usual fare, but it would have to do. She hoped she could find an inn somewhere out of the way, where the others (particularly that damnable Ravnos!) would not be likely to happen upon as well.
She walked, a little more quickly, across the road and down an alleyway that seemed to provide a decent shortcut to the other side of town. But she hadn't taken twenty paces before she felt a hand descend upon her shoulder.
"Welcome to our humble abode, my lady. Won't you join please join us inside?" a male voice rumbled tauntingly.
Courtney turned to face him. And his two friends. They weren't drunks, she could see that much. Just your average degenerates.
How irritating.
"Such a lovely young lady shouldn't be out so late." One of the other men sneered, circling around behind Courtney, apparently thinking to block her escape.
"Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to you." the third grinned.
Courtney felt a cool blade press against the back of her neck. "So long as you don't make any trouble." the second degenerate added.
Courtney didn't say a word, just gazed steadily at the man who had spoken first.
"No kind words, my lady?" he said with mock gentility. "Is that any way to treat your hosts?"
Behind the man and his snickering companion, a long tendril of shadow began to slowly work its way up from behind the garbage and debris scattering the alleyway.
"Now don't you even think about moving, my lady." the guy with the knife sneered once more. "I'd hate to damage this pretty white skin."
The shadow arched up behind the two men before Courtney and split into two long ropes. The second man, standing behind her, suddenly realized that a shadow was not supposed to move like that. He dropped his knife and screamed.
His friends saw the direction of his gaze and spun around just in time to see the animated darkness for a moment before it wrapped itself around their heads, throats, and legs. Their arms flailed for a few moments, desperately tugging at the stranglehold of the shadows, but to no avail. With a satisfying crunch, their skulls were crushed under the weight of the constricting tendrils.
The man with the knife, who had watched this all in petrified horror, suddenly recovered his wits and made a run for it. He slipped on the loose gravel in his haste, but managed not to fall. Courtney allowed him to almost make it to the street, allowed him to think for just one instant that he had escaped, then sent another shadow warrior to shatter the bones of his legs and drag him back to her feet. The cry of anguish he released when his momentary hope was shattered was every bit as musical to Courtney's ears as the piteous wails of a thousand others like him in nights before. It was so gratifying, that moment that they realized their efforts were in vain, that they would not escape.
The man writhed in terror under the gaze of the girl he had assumed to be helpless. The bands of shadow curled around him, crushing him more slowly than his companions. Such was his punishment for bringing a weapon to her neck.
"Wh-What ARE you?!" he gasped out just before his rib cage imploded.
"The spawn of hell." Courtney sneered down at him, mocking the expression that up to a moment ago, was on his own face.
The man's body writhed in agony one last time before the shadows ground his body and bones to blood and dust.
Courtney stood for a moment, admiring her handiwork. The shadows retreated back to their hovels and all was silent again.
The Lasombra stared at the pile of filth by her feet. "That was a pathetic question to waste your last words on." She said to the pulp as an afterthought, before she deftly stepped over the mess and back out into the street.
She almost didn't notice the messenger horse that tore down the other side of the street in the direction of Carleigh's factory.