The rain is drumming on the roof of the limousine when Blaise
returns to Thierry's mansion the next day. She waits for the driver
to park, protected in the dry womb of the plush leather seats, and
ignores the offered assistance when stepping out under the covered
carport.
Descouedres has made his driver available for her quick sojourn,
respecting the solemnity of the occasion, and now Hannah is holding
lunch for Blaise's return. The plebeians that surround the Lord and
Lady of the Night World are aghast at Blaise's casual address of
their revered nobles, but Blaise is not one to bow and scrape before
anyone. Hannah seems to find her candor refreshing.
The scent of rain lightens her mood, cleanses her of the morbid
thoughts that still cling tight from the cemetery. The sharp clicks
of her heels on the tiled walkway soothe her.
The mansion's stained glass doors swing open to reveal a dour
looking Lupe, who offers an unenthusiastic greeting.
"Ms. Harman. How do you do? It's nice to see you. Again."
While not normally friendly with beings outside the mansion, Lupe
makes it a point to be excruciatingly polite to Blaise, perhaps
hoping to raise her ire. The witch merely smiles.
"Always a pleasure, Lupe. I see you've cut your hair. Interesting
style; it makes you look almost feminine." Blaise strides past her
briskly, invigorated and in control, not waiting for a response from
the werewolf, who does not deign to offer one anyway.
"Lady Hannah is in the drawing room," Lupe offers belatedly, waiting
until Blaise has started in the opposite direction first.
The mansion is over twenty years old, a possession of Thierry's he
has been loathe to part with and a practical place for the Night
World dignitaries to gather. Blaise can remember holding tightly to
Thea's hand their first visit, so young and delicate in their
homemade dresses, gawking at the tall ceilings and lavishly
decorated rooms as they trailed behind their grandmother. Sometimes
she and Thea would spend the summer in the echoing place, being
granted free range of the rooms and grounds while the Crone went
about Craft business.
Blaise remembers the uncomplicated, mischievous times with a
fondness she had not thought herself capable of. Then she berates
herself for brooding, and firmly locks her memories away, focusing
on the present luncheon.
"Hannah," she exclaims with practiced delight, coming into the
brightly lit drawing room with a flourish of her pale slender
hands. The Lady is not alone, but Blaise directs her attention
solely on her until introduced to the other three women present.
"Blaise! How was your trip?" Hannah rises from the settee and
Blaise admires the deep gold hair reflecting the light, the smart
trim of clothes Blaise herself chose for her. A light embrace, and
Blaise sinks gracefully to the cushioned seat.
"As expected, and not a peep of complaint from anyone."
Smiling politely in spite of the morbid humor, Hannah turns to the
remaining guests. "I'm sure you remember Winnie, Blaise, and her
partner, Nissa. Keller is off on an errand for Thierry at the
moment."
"It's been some time, Winifred. Nissa. You're both looking
wonderful."
Winnie smiles tightly, mumbling something resembling a greeting,
while Nissa merely nods coolly in return. Blaise's own polite smile
becomes somewhat predatory when she notes Winnie's minute shifting
toward the vampire.
"And this is Iliana Harman, the Witch Child."
Blaise truly looks at the other girl for the first time, taking in
the long, almost silver hair and demure eyelashes. Iliana blushes
shyly under the intense scrutiny, thin cheeks turning an appealing
rosy hue. Her pale pink tongue flicks out to wet already shining
lips, and she regains her confidence, fairly bouncing on her seat.
"Hello! Hannah mentioned you're a Harman, too?" She seems so
bubbly for a moment that Blaise takes the time to recline and study
her a bit more.
"Yes, a far distant cousin, no doubt. Welcome to the clan."
Draping an arm casually across the overstuffed sofa back, Blaise
narrows her eyes artfully, creating a pleasantly distrustful tension
in the room. Part of her wants to push at this naïve bit of fluff
until she breaks, and the other half debates the advantages of
ingratiating herself with the Witch Child. The half that kicks
puppies wins out in the end.
"So, Iliana, what's the Witch Child up to around these parts?"
Hannah and Iliana are oblivious to the underlying mockery in the
statement, but Winnie tunes in right away.
"Iliana is here visiting the enclave. She's going to officiate at
the Ostara ceremony." The red headed witch seems to be waiting for
a snide response, anything to find fault with Blaise. The Harman
heir gazes back impassively.
"Is that so?" She looks pointedly to Iliana, who is busy wrinkling
her nose as the bursting carbonation bubbles from her soft drink
tickle her face.
Blaise has the passing thought that maybe the world is doomed after
all, whether the dragons win or not.
Then the Witch Child looks up, her eyes alight with an inner gaiety
foreign to Blaise, and gives an unaffected, impish grin that
automatically disarms and reassures those around her. Blaise's self
preservation instinct is screaming at her, steeling her backbone to
that tempting charm. She will not fall under this trifling girl's
charm as Winnie and the rest obviously have.
"They said I get to wear whatever style robes I want," Iliana
chattered happily. "I didn't know robes came in different styles,
but I'm glad I get to choose because they had some really horrendous
ones in a moldy old chest that I absolutely refused to wear. I
mean, we're talking Dark Ages here. I was expecting Dracula to come
out of the nearest wardrobe."
"Mmm. The more… traditional members of the enclave prefer to keep
to the old ways." Blaise smiles wickedly. "Personally, I prefer my
rituals in the buff. Especially with the weather changing. . ."
Blaise represses a grimace as Iliana giggles and blushes. It really
is getting to be a bit much for her to take, so she furtively
glances for the lunch tray.
"We do not do rituals in the nude!" Winnie is aghast and blushing
furiously, although whether over the actual content of the
conversation or the fact that Hannah is present to hear it, Blaise
isn't sure. If Iliana were any younger, the firey witch would have
her hands clamped tightly over the girl's ears.
"Oh, live a little, Winifred. It's a great way to get back to
nature." Blaise is having fun now, as always when she has the
chance to bait Winnie.
"I don't think I have the body for going nude, anyway," Iliana
comments with a frown, studying her own waist through her tank top.
Blaise tries not to stare at the firm flesh displayed beneath the
light cotton. "Not like you, Blaise. You have Barbie doll
proportions."
"Thank you," Blaise returns dryly as Hannah nearly snorts her
drink. Blaise looks sideways at the Lady, raising an inquisitive
eyebrow when Hannah waves her off with a chuckle. "Did you not say
you were going to feed me today? These Barbie doll proportions
require sustenance."
"Oh, yes. I completely forgot," the younger woman stands with an
amused grin. "Would you care to stay for lunch?" Addressing the
remaining three, Hannah looks hopeful.
"We'd love to, my Lady, but we have to get the fabric for Iliana's
robes before dinner," Winnie declines with an honestly regretful
expression. Blaise fights the urge to sneer; no doubt having lunch
with the Lady Hannah would be one of the highlights of her meager
existence.
"Maybe we can get together tomorrow, then?" Hannah offers. "We can
discuss it more at dinner."
"Of course, my Lady. We'd be honored," Winnie agrees eagerly.
Blaise rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, that would be cool." Iliana stands, and Blaise is treated to
a perfect view of a lightly tanned strip of belly where her top
doesn't quite meet her shorts. Her legs are skinny but toned, and
the dark witch shifts uncomfortably with the thought of touching the
light cover of downy blonde hairs around her belly button.
Iliana and Winnie leave, with Nissa trailing silently behind, and
Hannah escorts them to the door. Blaise wonders if it's wise to let
the girl out in the open so close to the Circle Daybreak head
quarters, yet can't seem to care too much. After all, Blaise
herself is not a member of the 'peace and love for everyone' circle,
so it is not her concern.
"Isn't she something?" Hannah asks as she returns to the drawing
room, motioning for Blaise to follow her to the kitchen.
"She's. . . something. Exactly what is the question?"
Hannah looks heavenward at her cynicism with a laugh, and pulls open
the double doors of the professional quality kitchen. The counters
are all gleaming chrome, and pots of all sizes hang from the
ceiling, reflecting the fluorescent lights dully. It has always
reminds Blaise of a butcher's shop, and she wonders what Thierry
used it for before his mortal staff moved in.
"I'm thinking of having a little get together," Hannah mentions as
she pulls a tray from one of the refrigerators. "Just something to
get people's minds off this Apocalypse business for a night. I
think we've all gotten too tense."
"Fear does that to people, darling. Moving, changing careers,
getting married, end of the world; all major stress factors to our
poor little psyches." Blaise inspects the freshly prepared
sandwiches on the tray, poking at the unrecognizable contents of one
before settling on a bean sprout looking creation.
"I was thinking a costume ball," Hannah mentions innocently, picking
at a turkey sandwich. Blaise looks at her suspiciously, eyes drawn
for a moment to her pale pink birthmark.
"Just how 'small' will this soiree be?"
"Only the people who are involved in the peace efforts."
"You mean, only Circle Daybreak, the witches, the shape shifters,
and a few select vampires? Just them, huh?" Starting to chuckle,
Blaise shook her head ruefully.
"I'm sure I can convince Thierry," Hannah protests.
"I'm sure you can." Blaise smirks, provoking a blush from the other
woman. "It sounds like a wonderful idea, Hannah."
"I've just never really had to plan one before. . . ."
"Of course I'll help."
Grinning with smug anticipation, Blaise finishes her sandwich as
Hannah begins outlining her project.
