"We only had a meeting just last week, Thomas. What could be so important that Prince Panhard felt the need to call us back here again?"
"You know well enough my dear that New York, even her underworld, never sleeps. But what makes you think that I have any inkling of what is going on? Divining with hares, are we Andrasta?"
"I still wonder why you gave me that name, as fond of it as I am, you have yet to clarify the reason. It also becomes awkward trying to explain why you and some of the others call me Andrasta when my birth name is Shannen." Green eyes glance over to the other person sitting in the back of the car, lips quirking up into a slight smile. "Harpy. It's your job to know. And you know how much I love it when you leave me in the dark when there is no reason to do so."
The other Kindred chuckles, patting the other vampire's hand. "Very well. It seems our illustrious Sheriff has made quite a name for himself, being meticulous at doing what he does best."
Qadir al-Asmai- the Archon-turned-Sheriff who was known by the city's Kindred as someone you did not want to be on the bad side of- was a vampire very effective at doing his duty and was determined to protect those he deemed worthy of his notice. "Oh?" the dark-haired woman goes, her curiosity piqued. "Who angered Prince Panhard this time?"
"Surprisingly, no one," he responds, brushing a rogue lock of curly brunette hair back where it was supposed to lay. "The person seeking an audience tonight is asking to be granted their Final Death. They feel they are too broken from a long string of trials and tribulations to be of any use to the Kindred anymore."
"I thought the same thing when I first arrived in New York, but I had people to help me take those experiences and learn from them, to become who I wanted in this afterlife… even if there was some molding from both you and Qadir. They are still talking about how strange it was that the two of you actually agreed on something, even if it was about an unworthy Childe from Los Angeles."
"It seems we still have work to do when it comes to your esteem, little one." Thomas Arturo peers at the young woman in the car beside him, the streetlights of the Manhattan street glinting off the rim of his glasses as he watches her look out the window. "Perhaps he just needs someone to do for him as we did and continue to do for you, Andrasta."
"Ah, the plot thickens, you manipulative Harpy. What makes you think I'm ready or able to take care of a wayward Kindred?" Thin fingers tap the door handle, more out of frustration with herself than at the elder vampire's statement. "Sometimes I think I'm unable to care for myself some days… when the memories become too much. I feel as weak as I did back-" Whatever the raven-haired woman was going to say gets cut off when the brunette covers her mouth with his hand.
"Shh. None of that, not now, not when we're nearly there. The sharks will know something is troubling you and will stop at nothing to figure out what that is so they can use that for their benefit." A slightly calloused hand grasps her chin and pulls slightly, causing the distressed woman to look at Thomas. "You've grown so much since you've come to New York. Do not let your past undo your present and destroy your future."
"You sound like you speak from experience." A knowing yet somewhat sad smile is the only response he gives her. "Alright then Gandalf, keep your secrets. Nothing stays secret amongst the Kindred for long anyways."
The two turn to safer topics- him discussing the new home he was asked to design and asking the woman for opinions; her talking about the struggles she was having regarding the next novel she was trying to write. The young woman often bounced ideas off her more artistically inclined mentor, who also humored her and allowed her to ramble- usually leading to some clarity or some otherwise unthought idea. Before long, however, the car pulls up to the appointed meeting place. Thomas gets out first, holding a hand out towards his companion to help her from the vehicle.
"Such a gentleman," the dark haired vampire quips as she swings her long legs outside, the heels of her boots tapping as they land on top of the concrete sidewalk. Standing upright, Andrasta glances around to see who noticed- she knew well enough that Thomas, while keeping the proprieties expected of the Kindred and one of his rank, always did a little bit more to reinforce his claim on her to both mortal and undead masses. Qadir, on the other hand, never deviated from his usual habits publicly, but if anyone noticed his watching anyone who got near his younger charge with hawklike eyes, they wisely did not mention it- in or out of his hearing.
"I do have my moments, my dear, few and far between though they may be, but there are fewer people than those instances who truly deserve them," the Toreador Harpy points out as he helps Andrasta from the car. "Besides, anyone watching this would most likely not believe it, rather they would think I am manipulating you or that I'm getting soft with age."
"You? Soft? Never." A snort escapes her as she adjusts the strap of her purse so that it sits back on her shoulder. Tugging at one of the cuffs of her gray blouse, the woman continues with "Emphasizing a point? Very much so. That's just something you instinctively do- never letting the Kindred forget the sort of power you have, even if you don't flaunt it like the others."
The two share a quiet laugh as Arturo escorts his protégée to the gathering, his jacket covered arm wrapped around her silver garbed waist. They knew what rumors were being whispered in the shadows about the pair- that they were intimate (very far from true), that the Harpy was grooming the Ventrue for a position of power (mostly true), even one that the Toreador orchestrated the young woman's change, calling in a favor with her sire to make it happen. The last one was her particular favorite as Thomas, despite being a well-known architect, rarely strayed from the East Coast of the United States, choosing not to mingle in Kindred politics in the rest of the country. Any aspirations that he had for her though were tempered, albeit somewhat, by New York's Sheriff and his wanting Andrasta to make her own decisions regarding her future.
Any time Andrasta thought about her past it led to a string of questions she would never have answers to- who was her sire, why of all the people did he choose her, did he know he was going to die that night? It was also a thought process that led to dragging up memories of later events and the Kindred involved: Armando- she never called him Nines and never will, Tung and Golden, Beckett… and then eventually to the Kine: Fat Larry, Trip, Mercurio… The last name always brought up mixed thoughts of one person, the one she strove to prove herself worthy of the chance they gave her, the one she gave her love and loyalty- only in the end to realize that the only thing that truly seemed to matter to them was power. Despite all that, that betrayal of sorts was not enough to push her into the arms of another Kindred as her Beast would not budge on the issue.
Sebastian.
The young woman had not seen the former Prince of Los Angeles since she fled from the city and the oh-so-wonderful treatment Strauss had been putting her through. She had, from the moment she turned over the key to the Ankaran Sarcophagus to the Tremere Regent, been under his control, forced under his tutelage as well as used for experimentation and ingenious punishments when she got belligerent as only a Ventrue could. He had tried to break her Beast's resolve in denying him, his dark obsession and eventual barely hidden anger lashing out against both Kindred in the attempt to convince her to give in. Eventually, the vampire made the run for her freedom when one of his experiments (in the guise of creative discipline, of course) nearly brought on her Final Death, which would have happened had it not been for the quick work of the fallen Prince and his ghoul. Mercurio, luckily, was kept with Sebastian at all times in order to make sure that the male vampire survived the sadistic treatment he received each night.
The smuggler was the only person Andrasta kept in touch with on a regular basis, but that had started only when he, too, was no longer in Strauss's care- the pair exchanging letters every week or so. He wrote about the people she left behind from gossip he picked up from the contacts he still had there, or, as time passed, the new places he got to see after leaving Los Angeles. Mercurio never directly mentioned his regnant to her in his writings, but the midnight haired vampire could almost hear the stress and worry in the words scratched on stained paper that things were bad for her former lover. In hindsight she could have, should have gone to wherever they were to try and fix things but she wasn't ready then. Maybe I'll never be ready, no matter what Thomas says.
"Arturo. A word," the Sheriff of New York nearly growls out as the pair make their way into the main room. Qadir's normally stony glare lands on Andrasta and they soften slightly at the corners. "In private."
A sigh, then "Duty calls, my dear. I trust you'll be alright on your own for a bit?"
"I don't think it should be me you worry about, Thomas," the young Ventrue goes, placing a kiss on his cheek as she glances in the direction of the scowling Indian vampire. "I would be more concerned at figuring out what you did to anger Qadir."
"The better question is when is he not angry with me?" the Toreador says to her with a restrained chuckle, as if telling the woman he knew exactly why al-Asmai was displeased with him. "I will try not to be too long but if I am, I will find you amongst the other Kindred. I am sure you can find some way to occupy yourself while I am dealing with the interruption?"
The raven haired woman agrees with him, adding "I need to see if Agathon was pried from his workshop to attend tonight. As you know, there is something he and I are working on with some assistance from the High Regent- I want to ask him when it would be a good time for us to speak about an idea I had."
Thomas nods at the vagueness of her statement and the lack of emotion in the words spoken in public. After he and the Sheriff oddly came together for the sake of the then broken neonate, they had to start the Ventrue's education from the beginning- something the former Prince of Los Angeles should have tended to instead of using her as a pawn and as a bedwarmer. Well, more than a bedwarmer, he hums to himself as he remembers pieces of information his network in California were able to send back to him- rumors of the Frenchman having sincere feelings for the woman but refusing to admit to them as he believed such ties were dangerous. Which was true, as seen when the Tremere Primogen of the city had become rather frustrated with Shannen's refusing his repeated requests to court her. Upon learning the reasons why, Strauss began to lose the restraint he was known for, slowly becoming obsessive to the point of madness. "I hope to hear about this possible project when you have the groundwork laid out."
Ten years of damage, that obscene infatuation caused, and it took us so long to mend part of the damage. The Harpy watches as his charge walks off to find the Apprentice in question, the small smile vanishing as she vanishes into the crowd of mingling Kindred. The board has been set, the pieces are in motion, but is the Queen ready to be the strongest and most dangerous player in the game? A brown head shakes in uncertainty, then goes to find Qadir, who he is sure will have many things to say and not all of them pleasant.