2024-03-02 Her Final Verse Was Love.. a Star (re)born...
Her Final Verse Was Love.. a Star (re)born...
Participants: Angela Cheree Asenath Parker
Storyteller: Reverie
Location: Executive Suite - The Grand Tower - Downtown Los Angeles
Date and Time: March, 2nd, 2024 - 12:30am
Summary: An Embrace... But by who?
---<Reverie>---------------
Ah yes: the Executive Suites at the_Grand.
Getting here is just a matter of having access code for the elevator and riding up to the 48th Floor -- and given those who've been invited to Suite 48F this evening have been more than vetted and invited by Eva Pereira herself? It's just a matter of walking down that long corridor and entering the suite.
It's a wonderfully well appointed environment.
Sleek and black and key lit with moody lighting that highlights just how black and sleek the tall double-height ceilings and luxurious fixtures are. The whole first floor of the suite looks primed for a particularly hypermodern Architectural Digest editorial -- only there's people here.
Or something close to that, at least.
Eva Pereira is in attendance, for starters.
As if she needs any introduction. She's a young Israeli Ventrue from New York that came to Los Angeles with Bastian Fox, Harry Kane and others nearly three years ago. Eva's something of a quasi executive assistant... in the way that much younger Ventrue of much higher Generation, sometimes find themselves serving the more powerful and influential...
In this case, Eva's /true/ boss is likely Prince Lightbourne - though Herald Bastian Fox is who she's been assigned to. Her generally known resume highlights include dealing with Isaac Abrams during the Hollywood annexation - and it was her and Harry Kane who bagged that Sabbat infiltrator Mariella some time ago. Most of Eva's time is spent dealing with Venture Pacific business - the Coterie made up of the Bastian Fox, elusive Whip Lance Haywood, and a number of other notable Blue Bloods. She's bonafide.
Eva is also dressed in her classic sleek designer business suit of some unpronounceable brand, tight slacks included -- her post-Embrace complexion retaining it's olive tone, her short curly black hair swept back from her brow, as she stands in proximity to the glossy stone red-water feature that backdrops that seating area of low-lying angular furniture.
At the tail end of some kind of conversation with Asenath Demcouer. The Ventrue is sharing a smile with the Rose, hands spread in some confirmation of something recently said, perhaps.
Not that these two Kindred are the only ones here.
In the background, where one of the wall panels has slide back to reveal an assortment of screens and such? There is a man - recognisable by those who've spent any time in Eva's presence as Hartmann.
Detective Hartmann. If he has a first name, who could be bothered to remember. He's a seemingly middle-aged, bluff-faced man with thick-set shoulders and an alcoholic's nose - hasn't been an actual detective since he was fired from the NYPD over a decade ago. He still looks, walks and acts like a cop though. Well, more specifically, he looks like a man with a near terminal case of heartburn who just learned his estranged son's new job involves wearing a pink feather boa.
He's glowering at a screen, showing some 24/7 cable news and financial forecasting of markets still open oversees - all on mute. Detective Hartmann looks like he need an antacid. From further in the suite, there is some kind of noise - perhaps from the back corner, behind one of the other panels? But it's not so distracting to pull too much focus.
Eva Pereira ignores him, in favour of Asenath -- hands coming back together, as she briefly checks her smart-watch and smooths the cuff of her jacket sleeve down; remarking to her in that clipped Israeli accent; "I'm glad we're in agreement; it's best for everyone involved."
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath Demoncoeur, by this point, requires little introduction herself for most of the Praxis - but while the Toreador is influential in her own right, she would not think to compare notes on influence with Eva Pereira. And while the Ventrue is dressed in business-like fashion, Asenath is dressed for a party - though given who she is, that may in its own right be business appropriate. Her favored red gown, velvet and tailored to fit the long and lean shape of her body with exquisite care, leaves her arms bare; and thus, the left arm with its sleeve of tattoos sticks out like a piece of art in its own right in an environment more prone to the more staid, conservative affectations of the Blue Bloods.
While the Toreador's eyes are obscured by her ever-present sanguine tinted eyeglasses, there is no obstruction in their shape or form, nor where precisely they look; and at the moment, her attention is turned directly and wholly at Eva. The detective in the background is ignored, a familiar presence who has for Asenath faded into nonexistence. "I serve the Praxis, Ms. Pereira. I trust that if the Prince and the Herald think it is for the best, that it is." She inclines her head in what would be a bow, if her shoulders ever moved - but they do not.
"I only wish to ensure appropriate steps are taken that I may continue to serve." Her voice is honey and whiskey, a warm velvet purr that is as enchanting as is her appearance - if not, perhaps moreso still. And despite whatever reservations may have existed and already been discusssed, her ruby-painted lips curve into a small smile that almost (albeit not quite) vanquishes the Bitchy Resting Face for which she is almost as well known.
---<Cheree>---------------
If there's one way to annoy Cheree, it's to be summoned to a meeting with not her Sire, or her Grandsire, but their executive assistant. She's been quietly peeved by this the entire trip to The_Grand. She's barely said a word to Angela or Parker. Not in a sulky way. In a 'thinking about this very hard, trying to suss out what the hell Pereira is up to' way. The Ventrue Primogen did, in fact, summon Angela and Parker to her side before setting out for... whatever this is. When they enter, Cheree has her hair in a chic updo and her body in an even more chic black and purple Balenciaga Winter '24 dress which is aggressively asymmetrical. Upon entering, Cheree does her best to mask her annoyance: "Ms. Pereira." Then, to Asenath: "Whip Demoncoeur." The Detective gets no greeting.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela falls in behind Cheree with Parker at her side, her fingers entwined into his tightly. The pink haired beauty easily makes any outfit stand out and tonight she's in a lovely black leather designer vest, her many tattoos on full display, about her waist is a flowing black textured skirt, each step revealing part of one leg.
Miller is almost always cheerful, brash, and generally oblivious to her station... her Domitor never quite putting the thumb screws into the star perhaps? But tonight... she is on edge, there's a bit of a forced smile, eyes flickering about the room from face to face, and a small moment of surprise as she finds Asenath there, though she manages to squeeze out a soft genuine silent smile of greeting towards the Toreador Whip as her hand squeezes into Parkers a little tighter.
---<Parker>---------------
Parker is indeed holding Angela's hand, fingers wrapped up together as they walk along with their shared Domitor. For his part, there is that ever-charming smile that is almost always present. Almost being the operative word. It is gone. Completely. And those eyes that light up with that enchanting grin? Cool. Distant. But he's here, dressed as always in things custom-made, well-fitted, and far too expensive for any normal person. Jacket, pants, shirt, shoes, watch, all of it suggesting a deliberate attempt to look casually well put together. His walk, his movements, tense, tight. His eyes, flitting from place to place, taking in the surroundings.
---<Reverie>---------------
"Of course; that's an entirely reasonable position - demonstrating remarkable perspective."
Eva Pereira remarks to Asenath, before the sounds of Cheree et al's arrival has her turning to consider the trio -- her expression remaining cool to almost but not quite the point of cold. See? There's something of a smile on offer as she dips her head in greeting.
"Good evening, Primogen." Eva's hand sweeps to invite them all in towards the seating area, though the Ventrue's dark eyes do something of a slip past Angela and over to Parker, considering him with a slight pursing of her lips. If she's remembered his name? Eva doesn't say it -- instead she turns back to Cheree, continuing; "Thank you for finding the time, I know we're all so busy these nights."
Eva gives Cheree a swift visual assessment towards the aggressively asymmetrical nature of her dress - then takes a step towards her, gesturing to Parker and Angela as she speaks; "With everything as it is, I want to take the moment to extend acknowledgement towards you for everything that you do, Primogen - things haven't always been so easy, yet you've such capacity to face every bump in the road with an elevated sense of endurance. It's that kind of fortitude which really engenders one towards dignitas."
In the background, Detective Hartmann continues to glower at his screens in an ignorable manner.
Meanwhile, Eva gestures towards Parker and Angela - a vague motion to the seating area, as if excusing or allowing them to get comfortable or at least out of the way. This gives the Ventrue time to look towards Asenath for a fleeting moment, before dark eyes settle back on Cheree.
"What more could one want for?" Eva remarks to her fellow Blue Blood.
---<Asenath>---------------
"I am of course delighted that you think my position reasonable, Ms. Pereira." Asenath offers only this in response, and then turns her attention toward the entrance just as Cheree and her ghouls arrive.
Upon that entrance, Asenath inclines her head to the trio - or at least in their general direction; more specifically, the gesture is aimed at Cheree. "Primogen Crowley." She does not quite match the Ventrue Primogen's colder energy, though she does match at least in that moment the brusque nature of the greeting. And though she remains attentive of the pair of ghouls, the eyes behind the sanguine tint remain focused most fully upon Cheree.
While Eva greets Cheree, the Toreador remains quiet aside from that brief greeting, and simply watches the interactions of the Ventrue, her left hand lifting just enough to brush tattooed fingers idly through the curtain of her hair where it spills over her shoulder and along her front - a gesture not of vanity, though it may very well appear to be only that; but one of idle consideration. And though she continues largely to pay little attention to the ghouls present, her eyes do occasionally turn in their direction - brief, swift, as if merely checking in; and when she does, it is Angela most specifically toward whom she looks and who she watches, much more so than Parker.
---<Cheree>---------------
After Eva speaks, Cheree is silent for a long beat, bordering on two beats. She's staring right into Eva's eyes. It's one of those Ventrue things. Cheree's expression is inscrutable. Whatever's going on inside her head right now, she's keeping it completely to herself. "You flatter me, Ms. Pereira," Cheree says, her Dignitas demanding some kind of proper response, though tonight not a florid or warm one. Cheree motions both ghouls toward the seats. She herself sits; any hesitation is clearly of the 'Jesus, if this is a meeting that requires sitting down, then clearly Pereira isn't going to make this quick' variety.
---<Angela>---------------
There is the briefest of hesitations from Angela as the star moves towards the seating, her hand not leaving Parkers, her eyes not falling anywhere for too long. When she finally sits, it's smooth, graceful, drawing Parker down to sit beside her. There is a slow deep breath and exhale, her gripping hand relaxing a little though staying within Parkers, her eyes shifting to Cheree to see if her Domitor's expression can give her any idea of what might be going on... ya right...
---<Parker>---------------
Parker does follow Angela then, to the seat. His movements much more stiff, his eyes on the assembled women in the room. The Detective gets no mind for right now, Cheree, Eve, and Asenath get every ounce of attention he has except for when he looks at Angela. There is a moment that his hand gives hers a squeeze. Just the smallest of gestures but one someone might notice if they look hard enough. Still, he's saying nothing, and not smiling.
---<Reverie>---------------
There's an incline of Eva's head in Asenath's direction, but that's about the extent of her focus on the Rose before she continues with Cheree - and on her reply? Widens her mouth in something of a smile before responding;
"It's not flattery, Primogen - only facts."
Remember that corner of the room where some muffled noise of activity was earlier? From the recess behind that slipped-aside panel steps a new figure. She's a fit albeit diminutive woman of ambiguous heritage - possibly Hispanic or Filipino - dressed in a sleek set of dark slacks and matching v- necked tunic top, sleeves cuffed up to show a smart-watch on a wrist.
She moves on sensible-shoes to go and dip down behind a island counter in the vicinity of that far corner -- ignored by Detective Hartmann, as she presses a pair of round glasses up her nose and hefts a black leather bag, only to retreat back to that obscured alcove from whence she came. Not once does she look towards the gathering of Kindred, or the Ghouls for that matter.
Eva Pereira ignores her brief presence in entirety.
She's been fixed on giving space for the others to take their seats -- smoothing at the open front of her blazer, the one button glinting with deep navy-gone-midnight sheen. The gathering has gotten comfortable - and Eva remains standing as she speaks with Cheree;
"There's no arguing with facts, not now or ever -- and the fact of the matter this evening is we're going through something of a reshuffle. With the current climate as it is, it's been decided that the best course of action moving forward will be in promoting Angela Miller, and giving her opportunity to cut her teeth among the Roses."
Dark eyes drift to those gathered as she speaks, taking in their faces before settling back to Cheree.
"Prince Lightbourne has permitted her Embrace into Clan Toreador."
There is barely enough time to register that, while Eva continues;
"I want to thank you Primogen, for having successfully introduced Ms. Miller into society, and setting her on a path of ongoing service for the Praxis - you've put in the work in identifying talent, and demonstrating how you keep your Sire and Grand Sire's interests to heart. It's not something easily forgotten."
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath is a little late in taking her own seat, but she does so before Eva quite gets to the actual topic of the evening - and, with it, the entire reason of her own presence. While with one hand Asenath pulls the length of her hair aside, she settles into her seat; and looks briefly to the pair of ghouls, before her attention reverts wholly to Cheree, just as Eva get to the point about Angela cutting her teeth among the Roses.
The Toreador present does not immediately speak after this; she waits while Eva notes first and foremost that this comes from the Prince, and then offers compliments - sincere or otherwise - to Cheree. Only once the Israeli Ventrue is finished does Asenath speak, and that velvet-warm voice is directed solely at Cheree.
"Primogen Crowley, in honor of what you may feel to be a loss this evening, I would like to extend the offer of a Minor Boon. You will understand, I hope, that this offer came to me unsolicited, and that I therefore feel I owe you a measure of debt - Ms. Pereira's own thoughts on the matter notwithstanding."
Briefly, Asenath's attention turns toward Angela and Parker both, and her lips purse as if to say something - but she chooses instead to say nothing, and revert her attention to the Ventrue Primogen, her expression placid and calm.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree is the lowest-Humanity creature in a room that contains several undead obligate predators. There is a palpable sense of Otherness and Wrongness that can emanate from here when she's not putting in the work to try and offset it. As Eva speaks, and when the hammer drops, so too does Cheree's veil drop as well. It's like flicking a switch, or a magician's trick. One moment, she seems annoyed. The next, she seems alien. Cheree's stare is fixed on Eva. When Asenath speaks, Cheree gives no indication of whether or not she even heard it. She's like a porcelain statue. Her stare is so frigid that the room might seem a bit chillier. "Did His Highness, my grandsire, the Prince share with you any insight as to what led him to this judgment, Ms. Pereira?" Cheree doesn't sound angry. It's much, much worse than that. This is the kind of upset that doesn't boil until it explodes -- it's the kind that causes frostbite.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela had been sitting quietly, listening... quietly... and it certainly did seem like the pink haired beauty had finally found some comfort in using Parkers hand like a stress toy, her gripping and relaxing finally slowing to just holding, heart not beating nearly as fast as when they first arrived.
But as the conversation takes a sudden turn towards the Roses, then very specifically towards her Embrace into Clan Toreador, her eyes widen slightly... then even more... her hand tightening again within Parkers, crushingly so as those pale blue eyes of hers flicker back and forth between Cheree and Asenath.
The Ghoulish Star finally managing to break whatever vow of silence had been cast over her.
"Wh..what d..doyou mean"?" she asks, Eva, the... firmness... of that question borders on anger... the answer already obvious, the question really quite unnecessary as she shifts in her seat, turning towards Cheree as her eyes fall upon her Domitor, leaning towards her, free hand on the arm of the seat as she tries to get her attention "What... what is this?" she asks, "What is this.. M.. Mother..?" there is a crack in her lovely voice as the last word is spoken... it takes a takes a lot of effort to get it out, there was purpose in it though as she tries to meet Cheree's eyes.
---<Parker>---------------
Parker simply holds his hand through all the crushing that Angela might want to do. Thankfully he has no instruments to play and is a bit stronger than he used to be before entering this world. He looks over at Angela, watching her, offering a steady touch, his eyes cold and distant but worried when he focuses on the pink-haired rocker at his side. Turning back to Eva, then Cheree, then Asenath there is nothing in his gaze but ice. It seems the tension in him is only increasing, even his neck is tense, his face an obvious mask of restrained energy. If he was at all physically threatening (he's not) - this would be the moment where someone should be scared.
---<Reverie>---------------
With her prior statement being processed, Eva Pereira remains standing there: one hand resting idly at her midsection - not quite touching her jacket or dark belted slacks, merely poised as she considers the various responses.
For Asenath, the Ventrue has no comment on what's shared - it seems in this moment, Eva's dark eyes are for Cheree only. If Angela and Parker are registered? It's with some situational awareness that doesn't require direct eyeballin' -- though perceptive members of tonight's gathering might not that ol' Detective Hartmann over there has taken point on eyeballin' the Ghouls instead.
Parker, in particular. The old Ghoul has taken a casual step away from his screens - all the better to pace in the background behind Eva, and settle in as a notable presence.
Somewhere farther still, nose from a recrssed room towards the corner is a subtle reminder of that bespectacled woman from earlier, going about... whatever the hell she's been tasked with doing in whatever that area is.
Eva Pereira has not seemingly paid any of this any mind - she remains focused in open study of Cheree. If her fellow Blue Blood has any feelings about the Primogen's disposition? She's a tough read, herself -- but there is a cool sort of confidence as she replies to Cheree's inquiry with that clipped professionalism:
"Longevity."
There are a several beats of silence - and presuming no interruption, Eva's dark eyes glance briefly to Angela --- looping over her and the recent struggle to speak, before returning a glance at the others and back to Cheree. The Ventrue's expression doesn't change much - but there is a flicker of something there; almost like a question. About what? Unspecified.
Eva holds space for any further processing of this brief Q & A.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath, for all her love of her own voice, does actually know when it is best to remain silent - and this is especially true when the need to be silent hangs so palpable in the air. So it is that the Toreador simply maintains her placid expression and relaxed posture in her seat, legs crossing at last left-over-right and fingers lacing over her velvet-hugged thigh.
The only truly notable difference in Asenath moment to moment is that now she's watching the ghouls more than she is Cheree. Parker, particularly, is the recipient of the Rose's attention; and that attention comes with the slightest, almost imperceptible tilt of her head as she regards the man. Angela's questions, being not directed at her, go unanswered /by/ her - mostly. She does offer the /other/ rock star in the room a small smile, just enough of a quirk at the corners of her lips to be notable. Reassurance, perhaps.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree holds her death-stare on Eva for a long moment. It might start to come off a bit threatening, in a genteel, effete Ventrue way. They don't thump their chests like Brujah, but they're still scary in their own way. Cheree closes her eyes like she's centering herself, and when she opens them, that dropped veil of Humanity is... maybe HALF replaced. She turns in her chair to look at Angela, and place an ice-cold hand atop the singer's. "What's happening is..." Cheree falls silent for half-a-second, like she started talking before she knew how the sentence would end, and got caught slipping. "What's happening is your first taste of what it's like to be one of us, Angela. The Prince has decided that your future isn't with me. And we serve the Prince. When he says jump, we ask how high -- and when he says that he wants you with the Roses..." Cheree pats Angela's hand, twice. "I've taken you as far as I can. Make me proud. Bring a little bit of Ventrue dignity." She winks. "Parker and I will be watching. And rooting for you. As much as Clan decorum allows."
---<Angela>---------------
Angela locks eyes with her... unblinking... searching as she stares into them, working perhaps to find her soul... that one can only presume is very much long gone.
"That's it...?" she says firmly under her breath, a touch of anger, the look of disbelief on Angela's face at what she perceived to be the total lack of fight is obvious. She turns to offer her gaze towards Eva and Asenath, brow still furrowed as she turns back to Cheree as her Domitor pats her hand, her other one sliiiips in slow motion from Parkers, leaving him empty to place upon Cheree's. "Really?" she asks, leaning in, eyebrows raised, "That's fucking it?" Really?" getting even closer, her words though do get softer as her eyes search the other womans, perhaps seeing something she didn't notice immediately.
---<Parker>--------------- Parker is released from that grip as Angela moves to confront their shared Domitor. He reaches out a hand towards her arm, her wrist, her hand again, to pull her back. To hold her and not let go, unless she struggles so violently that he can't hold her any longer. "Angela..." His voice soft and sad and distant. "don't....please." He remains seated even as he looks at Cheree. The worry, affection, sympathy just fades from his eyes as he looks at the Ventrue primogen. Certainly that devotion that the blood brings is there. A wistful longing. But it lacks any real feeling now. His head just shakes briefly as he turns back to the pink-haired woman that this whole debacle centers around.
---<Reverie>---------------
Eva Pereira remains stoically silent as space is held, and the cool intensity of Cheree's stare in turn. Is it daunting for her - or just par of the course of Ventrue internal social-politics? She doesn't blink - or look away - or say anything to her fellow Blue Blood; expression fixed, if there is something happening beneath the surface that's in contrast to the image of fortified resolve she's serving up...
Well, it's all very difficult to access by a casual observer, isn't it.
Only Cheree has looked away - and thus breaks their shared moment of holding space together. There's a subtle dart of Eva's dark eyes, as her wrist is turned ever-so to catch a glimpse at her smart watch. Did she just get a notification? Barely a moment's consideration as a thumb slips across the screen to darken it, before the hand-stitched cuff of her sleeve is shot to obscure the possible interruption.
Alright! Back to the business at hand.
Eva looks towards Asenath -- lips flexed in an approximation of a smile that's surely there as reassurance and acknowledgement of the Rose, a professional sort of courtesy - encouraging, even! For what? Progress! As Cheree explains things to Angela, there is a brief glance towards Parker, as Eva considers his contribution.
Marks it down as encouragement for Angela to reconsider any concerns she may have, apparently, because Eva's hands extend upwards in emphasis of the following statement:
"Primogen Crowley is right, so consider this for what it is: a privilege to embark in a fresh partnership, marking a transformative shift towards expand potential on new horizons. A rare opportunity, and I'm glad we've all been able to make it happen together."
The Ventrue nods, and then lifts a hand -- looking towards the until-now ignored Detective Hartmann, before gesturing towards the back corner with a hand-swish. He steps back, to attend to something - eyeing Parker en route.
Eva Pereira has turned back to the group; addressing Cheree and Asenath;
"We'll continue with the transition now; Primogen you are welcome to remain present of course, while Ms. Miller is invited to make herself comfortable. It will be a straightforward process; Miss Ocampo--" Who? Eva doesn't clarify, just continues; "--will attend to the primary initiation, and Whip Demoncoeur will step in when required to seal the deal and Embrace her Childe."
Turning to Cheree, her fellow Ventrue gestures towards one of the other sleek sofas over yonder - an encouraging swish to Parker, before Eva adds; "Every precaution has been taken, with comfort in mind -- so, by all means."
...go get comfortable over there? Seems so!
As Detective Hartmann returns, ushering in that bespectacled woman - Miss Ocampo - from earlier; carrying a black leather bag, and a steel tray covered in a blue medical-grade paper.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath shifts a little in her seat, but still remains quiet while Cheree tells Angela to make her proud; and as Angela notes her dismay and surprise, both in the matter at hand and the apparent lack of fight from her domitor. But as Angela leans closer to Cheree, and makes her anger and frustration more apparent, the gothic Rose finally does speak - and her voice is flat. She will never match the inhumanity of Cheree, and she does not make any effort to; but the warm invitation so common in the enchantment of the Toreador Whip's voice is, for the moment, absent wholly.
"Ms. Miller, there is no 'it' here. There is the Praxis which we all serve, and we are each called this evening to serve in ways we may all find unexpected." Says the Toreador who, by all appearances, does not find any of this unexpected in the moment; and for whom this may well be first time ever addressing Angela by her surname. "Embrace the opportunity set before you: to continue to enjoy your art, and under the tutelage of one of the only Kindred in this city who can claim to know what it is to be both Kindred and celebrity."
That, apparently, will serve as the entirety of Asenath's commentary for the moment - because after, she is again silent as things get moving in preparation for the Embrace. She watches the trio still, and pays particular attention still to Parker - but is otherwise still and quiet, save for the slow rise and fall of her chest in habitual breath, once more.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree gives Angela's wrist a squeeze. "I understand how you feel." She looks past Angela, to Parker. "How both of you feel." Her eyes track back toward Angela. "But there's nothing to be done, except get on with things." To the ghouls who know her best out of the room, they may be able to suss out some kind of sadness in the way Cheree says that. Or it could just be grim fatalism. "You would understand if you had ever met the Prince. But I pray that however long the two of you roam this world -- that neither of you ever do." Sadness or no sadness, fury towards Eva or no fury, there's one thing that's guaranteed about Cheree's reaction to all of this: she's not going to challenge her grandsire. "Parker. Come." Cheree rises from her seat. As she does, she gives Angela a kiss on the forehead. She's ready to walk over to the couch, but as she does, she says to Asenath: "A Major boon would really have been the correct offer to try and smooth over the loss of a family member, Whip Demoncoeur." And then, without waiting for an answer, Cheree steps over to the sofa that Eva indicated, to sit and watch, her expression completely blank.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela's eyes are drawn away from Cheree as Eva speaks, across her face a look of confusion as the plan is set out before them all, "Primary.. Initiation?" brow furrowing, but then Asenath's words cut through her confusion, eyes drawn to the other woman, watching, listening.
Angela is not pleased... but... her emotions are somewhat tied to Cheree's reaction, and as her Domitor seemingly remains calm, offering guidance, so does Angela step somewhat into line.
As her words settle on her she reaches back to fumble for and find Parkers hand, rising from her seat, her other one beneath Cheree's finally slipping away as she makes her way slowly across the room, to turn and with a little hesitation slide into the prepared seat.
---<Parker>--------------- Parker moves to stand up and follow Cheree as she beckons. His hand lingers on Angela for quite some time but his response, verbally, is quiet. If anyone listens, he's not trying to hide it. But it's just for Cheree. Angela can likely hear it clearly, the others? Who knows. But it is said with all of the edge and disdain he is holding back with every ounce of willpower he has. Whispered..."Fuck you..." And then he walks with his Domitor as he must, turning back to watch Angela with that deep, cold, distant sadness before sitting himself down. Or getting himself slapped. Hit. Eaten. Whatever.
---<Angela>---------------
As an extra note shoved in here... Angela does not let go of Parkers hand.
---<Parker>---------------
Parker moved with Cheree for a little bit, intending to let go of Angela's hand. But when she doesn't let go, then he doesn't let go. He stops, pausing, then turns back to Angela just holding her fingers in his, watching her. His eyes reddening a little for the first time, but not saying a word. This is hard. Cheree said 'come' and Angela's hand said 'stay' and now he's in no-man's land. Quite literally.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree is much too professional to show whether or not Parker's words hurt her. There are other vampires in the room. But when Angela doesn't let go of Parker's hand, Cheree gives him a subtle little nod, as if to silently say to stay with her.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela stands and walks with Parker, following Cheree to slide into the prepared seat, Parkers hand still tight within her own.
---<Reverie>---------------
Eva Pereira has remained standing - no immediate interrupt, just a hawkish observance as the group exchange words with one another.
From the looming presence of Detective Hartmann shadowing her, Miss Ocampo steps softly in sensible shoes towards the group -- gleam of her round spectacles obscuring her expression in part as she assesses the situation.
Does this woman seem daunted? Miss Ocampo seems like she has a job to do, and is very intent to get started on said job - and if she has any feelings of discomfort, well, it simply wouldn't be professional to spill unwelcome feelings all over the place.
Yet this doesn't stop Miss Ocampo from smiling at Angela -- and in contrast to some of the others here in attendance? It feels downright hospitable. She seems to be in positive spirits.
The same cannot be said for the fleeting glance Eva Pereira gives Parker -- did she hear that? She certainly sees him holding onto Angela's hand in No-Mans-Land. No immediate comment - but Eva turns and looks to Cheree in silent consideration. Warning? Observance.
Miss Ocampo has stepped over to where Angela sits, blanking on Parker and the others, in her own little bubble of down-to-business -- gloved hands setting the tray down on a side table, before she shares another smile with the Ghoul and reaches out to pat her arm. Pat pat. There there. The glass of her spectacles gleams as she speaks through a smile;
"Look at all those tattoos -- how beautiful, like a work of art. You've got such lovely skin." Miss Ocampo is speaking softly, while busying herself with that tray -- blue paper partially removed, to expose what could easily be described as a phlebotomists set. A rubbery band is taken from the tray, and Miss Ocampo moves to secure it around Angela's upper arm as she titters out instruction; "Make a fist for us darling, flex those muscles; let's see what you're working with."
If there is no interruption, she's going to continue her process here: and given the tray of sharps and tubing, and glimpse empty plasma bags peeking out of that leather satchel she placed down? It will not take a rocket scientist brain surgeon to make some informed guesses about Miss Ocampo's projected trajectory with Angela.
Detective Hartmann remains on watch in the background, unmoved by the proceedings.
---<Asenath>---------------
"Were I the one putting you in this position, Primogen Crowley - or if I had solicited this to begin with - I would offer a Major Boon. Perhaps you can ask those who did for such a thing; but the offer I gave by my own choice and which was in no way compelled of me remains on the table until Ms. Miller is a Toreador in full." Asenath's own tone is cool, if not flat. There may well have been a time she would have been less cool in the moment - but not now, and not here. She makes no effort to equivocate; no attempt to make a new offer.
Yet as Angela is brought to another seat, and the unfamiliar Miss Ocampo begins to prepare for her work, the Toreador does stand. It is not a sudden movement: it's slow, methodic, completely in line with Asenath's typically measured grace - and speaks, perhaps more eloquently even than her words, to the Rose's own surety. Whether she had heard Parker or not, she offers no hint; but she does draw nearer to Ground Zero of the night's events, if not so near as to infringe upon the bubble of personal space surrounding Angela and Parker both.
---<Cheree>---------------
Asenath has barely finished speaking when Cheree replies: "I'll make do without, Whip Demoncoeur. Thank you for the offer, regardless." She sounds like she might be having some kind of dissociative moment from her seat on the sofa. Her normally bright eyes seem to have no light behind them. Maybe that's just the inhumanity. Maybe she's daydreaming about inventing some new, amazing kind of cleats that would allow her to Eric Cantona karate kick Eva into a different zip code.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela gets momentarily lost in Miss Ocampo's soothing voice, watching as she puts the band about her arm, eyes wandering to the plasma bags, to Cheree and Asenath. There's a shift on the sofa as she relaxes back against it, taking in a deep slow breath, and exhaling even slower, then again, and after that her eyes find Parker's, and do not leave him unless the need arises, her hand squeezing as she grips his own, thumb moving lightly over his hand.
---<Parker>--------------- Parker stays there then, seeing as no one moves him, or forces him, or makes him depart Angela's hand, or side. He'd look, maybe be curious even, at what the woman is doing. It's obvious really, and he's not dumb. But he'd still be curious, but for the fact that Angela's eyes are locked on his and that has a pull to it that rivals Cheree's blood. Maybe it can't overcome the bond but in this moment it's all he can focus on when she looks at him. Softly now, the anger gone, replaced by deep affection and sadness, his words are soothing or at least a human attempt at them. "I'm here. I'm not leaving."
---<Reverie>---------------
Eva Pereira continues observing the evening's business from her vantage point over yonder - though whatever attention she had for Parker, Angela and Miss Ocampo makes a brief detour to consider Asenath as she speaks with Cheree.
Puzzled? There certainly is something a mote curious on Eva's expression for the briefest of blips - before it's brushed off with a glance to her smart-watch. Tap, swipe, tap-tap, swipe. Just light admin, nothing exhaustive - or demanding on focus, as she's turned back to the strange vignette on the sofa as it unfolds.
Miss Ocampo continues her situation with Angela; that soothing bedside manner of ... she has to've lived the life as a nurse, right? By all accounts, that's exactly the energy she's serving up tonight; gloved hands moving with certainty to select a sharp, pop the amber cap off, and go about the process of inserting the needle into Angela's arm.
"Just a little pinch - there we go -- deep breaths." There's the sticky sound of the butterfly -shaped IV cannula is attached -- and soon after? The piping, connecting it to the plasma bag as Miss Ocampo titters to Angela; "Just as easy and comfortable, as sinking into a warm bath - relax your arm; deep breaths - there we go."
Expressed like an experienced professional.
Barring interruption? That plasma bag will fill, like any number so do at any number of blood donation sites - and then another bag, and then another bag - and whatever Angela feels... Well, that's her own internal experience to go through.
On the outside: it really is as simple as time ticking - gravity pulling - hearts pumping - blood flowing, and flowing, and flowing, draining away...
While Miss Ocampo kneels alongside where she and Parker are - a finger on Angela's pulse while she studies her watch with an ongoing attitude of positivity radiating out relentlessly.
Detective Hartmann remains: glowering in the background throughout.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath inclines her head toward Cheree, in that way she has that is deeper than a mere nod but never quite becomes a bow because her shoulders never hunch and her waist never pinches. There is, at least for a moment, something like a flash of sympathy across the Toreador's features - not pity, but something that is, perhaps, understanding. It rings, too, in her voice. "As you wish, Primogen Crowley."
Aside from that, the Toreador remains quiet, watching as Angela's blood is taken, and taken, and taken; and waiting, still placidly though with the subtle frisson of tension in her stance to note a kind of anxious energy as the moment of actual Embrace draws closer and closer, minute by minute and pint of blood by pint of blood.
---<Angela>---------------
Angela can see out of the corner of her eye the blood being pulled from her body, her breath becoming a little awkward, though it's more from nerves than anything else, thumb slowly stroking over Parker's hand, eyes on his very purposefully as she uses him as her anchor, keeping herself as calm as can be imagined.
"You're... you're right here..." she nods a little, offering him a soft smile as her eyes get glossy, "I'm here to... " she laughs a little and that laughter breaks a couple tears from her eyes to roll down her cheeks, blinking them away. The pink haired woman doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away, just lets them trail down her cheeks, there's a slow puffing of her cheeks on a steady exhale, and on the next inhale she seems visibly weaker, relaxing back even more, blinking a few times to refocus on Parker, lips pursing, the flexing of her neck as she swallows once, then again, relaxing... Her eyes flutter closed.. then she gives her head a little shake like someone trying to fight off anesthesia, opening them once more to stare at Parker, the grip on his hand starting to weaken, she gives it a little squeeze before relaxing, her breathing more shallow, "I... l..love you. ..Parrrker.. Wi..il.....son.." and with that she finally passes out.
---<Parker>---------------
Parker is watching her, and when she goes to brush a tear away from her face his free hand goes with hers, taking away what is likely the last few tears she'll ever have like that. Nodding his head, his voice stays steady, calm, soothing, reassuring. He's been practicing. Thankfully no one has seen him spending endless days practicing what he'd say in this moment in a way that didn't have him a complete mess. Practice makes perfect. And when she starts to fade, he leans in a little more. Still holding her hand, but getting closer and closer so he can feel those last breaths she might take, and when she passes out, when her lips are warm for the last time, he presses his to hers and gives her a lingering kiss before pulling back, his own eyes watering now freely. It's too hard to control it. "I love you too Angela." A big sigh. Damn you all but he can breath normally and right now he needs to take in oxygen just to stay calm-ish.
---<Reverie>---------------
Miss Ocampo keeps her finger on Angela's pulse --- paying little mind to her exchange with Parker, beyond the sharing of a very small but notable smile somewhere along the way, like the sentiment is plucking at her heartstrings.
In the silence that follows Angela's words to Parker, light gleams off Miss Ocampo's round spectacles as she observes her watch - seconds ticking on, the trickle of blood into a bag slowing, slowing further, ceasing to flow... and with that?
Miss Ocampo taps her watch twice, then turns to detach the medical tubing from the IV - coiled and placed into one compartment of that insulated bag - before a gloved hand lifts to shoo Parker's away. She's not looking at him, though.
The night nurse is looking to Eva, and giving a nod.
Eva Pereira doesn't seem to notice it at first - glancing as she is, in Cheree's direction. Or the space just beyond Cheree? But as Miss Ocampo clears her throat and nods at the Ventrue once more, she reanimates with a...
Moment of consideration.
Looking past Parker and to the unmoving body of Angela on the sleek sofa. Eva's hands have pressed together, fingers steepled and pressed to just below her lips, as she studies the scene - Angela notable for her absence of a heartbeat - and... It looks as if Eva might turn to Asenath.
But Eva doesn't quite turn to the Rose in full, or address her in any way; just takes another pause to contemplate the current moment, apparently. Is she waiting for someone else to break the silence? Take action? Or just give Miss Ocampo a few more seconds to make some space for what's next? What's Eva doing?
No comment. Or anything else for that matter.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath is prepared, when Angela's blood flow ceases - and yet, she doesn't immediately move. No matter that the Rose is prepared to move and that it shows in every fiber of her being, she holds off; and looks, for a moment the Eva, and then to Cheree. Her brows - severely arched courtesy of the same genetics that gave her the rest of her angularly sharp features - knit a moment, above the sanguine tint of her eyeglasses, but still she waits.
Yet as the seconds continue ticking by, she finally does speak. Her voice is quiet, even gentle; not quite reverential, but something close to it. Respect, maybe, for Angela? For the sacrifice made by Parker and Cheree? "Primogen; Ms. Pereira. She remains a Ventrue until I am told fully otherwise." There is, perhaps, a suggestion - an allowance? - there, in the Rose's tone. Angela has been drained; now she need only take vitae to finish the process.
But Asenath, at least, isn't going to finish the process until she is certain that the planned outcome will remain the desired outcome - at least for someone other than herself.
---<Cheree>---------------
"Parker," Cheree finally says. Her voice is soft but hollow. "Come over here. She's going to wake up hungry. And potentially not fully in control of herself." The unspoken implication is that Cheree will protect poor Parker against any attempts to bite his throat out by a frenzied fledgling. It's the least she can do. To Asenath, Cheree says: "She's your responsibility now. If you dither too long, she's not going to be anything but dead."
---<Parker>---------------
Parker turns his head in Cheree's direction. That explicit command pulls his eyes away from the 'dead' woman that he's still holding onto. There is a struggle there. In his eyes, in his body, his muscles (he has -some-) and his bones. But his will wins out and he narrows his eyes as he refuses his Domitor. "No." Turning back to Angela he starts to curl over the woman, to hold her, or maybe shield her. From Asenath. Maybe he's just grieving. Maybe he's a mess. Maybe all of the above. If before was the moment someone might have been concerned he was going to attack, then now is the moment where the toddler clings to the leg and refuses to let go.
---<Reverie>---------------
Eva Pereira's brief detour into whatever contemplative space is ended, as Asenath speaks up - drawing back her attention, as the Ventrue turns to consider her; pressed palms shook twice in her direction, before they sweep in indication between both her and Angela.
Something of a nod in concurrence to what Cheree says, Eva gestures to Asenath again and speaks;
"By all means, Whip Demoncoeur."
Invitation to proceed given, Eva turns from Asenath to Miss Ocampo -- gesturing with a flick for her to do... Something. This something results in the bespectacled night nurse unzipping the other compartment of her insulated satchel, and doing a quick-change to place three full plasma bags on the small table in proximity of where Angela is.
They've each got a lilac sticker, and written on the front are: 'O-' and yesterday's date.
The tray of medical supplied picked up alongside the bag of Angela's recent donation, and Miss Ocampo steps on sensible shoes out of the immediate vicinity of the former Ghoul and the current one. Did Parker just say 'no'? If she's noticed, Miss Ocampo makes no comment - just carries herself elsewhere tout suite.
Eva Pereira turns to consider Parker - then Cheree. There's no comment from her either - but it doesn't feel quite so hospitable as the night nurse.
Detective Hartmann glowers in the background -- and fixes himself in proximity; giving Asenath plenty of space to move forward.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree stands up from the sofa. The movement is unnatural, almost mechanical. Her voice has gone from soft to sharp. "Parker," she says. And then, with her next word, her voice changes. Actually, it doesn't /change/. It's not like the register or the pitch or anything differs. But for a moment, the power of Caine's favored Discipline flows through her, like a tidal wave. "~Sit.~" She points at the floor next to herself. Like she's commanding a dog. Or a child.
---<Parker>---------------
Parker shudders then, he's wrapped around Angela's dead body, heart racing, breath ragged and mixed with sounds of sadness. Cheree's voice is too much though. The power of her blood and her command is too hard to resist, even in these circumstances. He peels himself away from Angela, quite literally. Like his body is trying -so- hard to disobey but his mind is in control and Cheree controls that. Turning, he walks over to where Cheree has told him to sit. His eyes now focused on his Domitor. And frickin lasers shooting from them. If he could. He can't - but he'd like to even as he lowers himself down to the floor, sitting on it like a pet. Or a child. Or a servant who wants to murder everyone in this room.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath looks between Cheree and Eva until they both give her the go-ahead; and hten she inclines her head again, this time complete with a little hunch to her shoulder, a small dip to her waist - and that bow, however slight, is wholly directed at the Primogen.
And then she moves toward Angela, only lifting her brows slightly when Parker is pulled away by that single dominating command. She doesn't pause or hesitate now, though; she simply moves to the spot Parker vacates, and moves with an easy and practiced grace to kneel over the velvet of her dress. One might question where Asenath had practiced /kneeling/, but the Toreador cares little in the moment; she simply opens her mouth, fangs readily visible, and lifts her own wrist. She bites herself once, hard and deep enough to ensure vitae bubbles to the surface as blood would be expected to for Kine.
And then the Toreador presses her wrist to Angela's mouth, while she presses her other hand to her Childe-to-be's upper chest, pinning her in place. She says nothing; does not look again to Cheree or Parker. The detective and nurse both may as well not exist. The whole of her focus is upon Angela.
---<Reverie>---------------
In the background: there is a subtle popping sound. Did Miss Ocampo just open a hibiscus LaCroix? No, astute observers will note those were Detective Hartmann's knuckles, as he looms on the peripherals taking stock of the situation.
Hartmann's got eyes on Parker, even after the other Ghoul goes to sit down by Cheree.
Eva Pereira meanwhile, has drifted back on those red-soled shoes to exist outside of the immediate splash zone--- that is to say, intense moment that Asenath will be sharing with the recently deceased Angela. The Ventrue observes the situation with the same cool professionalism one might expect from her -- though...
After Asenath's fangs are bared, self-bitten - and vitae wells up, to be deposited in Angela's mouth from the bloodied Rose? Eva might be caught checking her smart watch.
Tap, swipe, tap - tap-tap, swipe. It's barely notable in the resounding quiet of the moment.
Doesn't take long before her sleeve covers that watch once more, and Eva's dark eyes to turn - looking Cheree over in silence. Is Parker still sitting? The Ventrue turns back to Asenath and Angela, her hand coming to an idle rest by her waist.
---<Angela>---------------
There's a beat... then another... the cold flesh of Asenath's wrist pressed to what is amazingly the still warmer lips of Angela in comparison. As she lays there motionless one might think they were too late, or perhaps something else has gone horribly wrong... or right?
The only initial movement of her body is her cold pale blue eyes as they flash open wide, followed soon after by her lips as they open wider beginning to move against Asenaths exposed wrist, getting most of it, spilling a tiny bit. Some might think for a moment that she's about to bite the Toreador Whip, but with the blood already flowing she instead brings her arms up suddenly, hands gripping underhand to Asenath's forearm, holding it tightly to her mouth as she drinks, starting to squirm a under her as she drinks feverishly, trying to sit up, to push her mouth further against the arm, and with each gulp of blood her strength grows and her aggression against the wound increases, a low groaning growl muted by that blood and flesh escapes her lips as she fails to contain more of it as it works down her jawline and chin, her eyes finally starting to look up to focus on the other woman.
---<Cheree>---------------
Cheree has gone back to looking bloodless and like her mind has exited her body for parts unknown. Her hands are folded in front of her lap, and her posture is irritatingly perfect. She's watching, but there's no real concrete sign that she's processing what she's seeing. It could just be going in one eyeball and out the other, you know?
---<Parker>--------------- Parker is breathing. In. Heavily. Siting on the floor like a good little boy who's been scolded. And thinking all sorts of thoughts. Not murderous thoughts. Of course.
---<Asenath>---------------
Asenath watches as Angela re-animates, and starts gulping down vitae. The Toreador Whip just holds her wrist in place, letting Angela take and take and take. For long, long moments Asenath is still, allowing the new fledgling to take significantly more than would be required - an effort, no doubt, to ensure that the fledgling does not frenzy with starvation. Or, at least, one hopes.
Only once Asenath is satisfied that the risk of a hunger frenzy is significantly low does she pull her wrist away - yanking only if necessary, if Angela attempts to hold her in place. Licking at her lips then, the Rose notes simply: "She will need more, and soon." And because likely Angela wouldn't have thought to - or had time to - seal the wounds from which she'd fed, the Toreador licks her own wrist; and then turns her eyes toward the bags of what was Angela's blood. "As no one thought to have Kine ready, I assume those are for her as well?"
---<Angela>---------------
Angela does not let go of Asenath's wrist so easily, she even furrows her brow up at her like someone suddenly awfully confused at why the other woman would take away her precious tasty lovely arm from her, she even goes as far as to lean up and towards it with mostly her neck since she hasn't really realized Asenath is also pinning her.
One of Millers most interesting features is a rather expressive and often oversized mouth, perhaps it helps her with that voice of hers, in normal every day life her laughter brings it out, when on stage her powerful vocals bring it out...
How lovely...
But here... in this moment it just accentuates her teeth... or more importantly her fangs as they come slowly out as if reaching desperately for Asenath's arm. She doesn't fight her removal of the arm though, which is a good sign.
<OOC> We fade here, the scene being quite long.
