Late one night Deirdre rolls her motorcycle up to the glaring lights of the casino-hotel.  She's feeling particularly frayed tonight.  Jittery.  Strung up.  The music has been playing over and over and over, rippling guitar riffs and steady, echoing drumbeats.  There's a keyboard somewhere in there too, she thinks.  She probably should have waited another few nights before coming in.  Waited to compose herself better.  But she had already resolved that this would be the night, and then she woke up with the music in her head and she couldn't really change her mind after she'd set herself to it...

She tries to calm herself as she swings off the bike.  Sebastion had left a message that Arturo would be willing to see her.  She's on edge, it's only just occured to her that this could be a trap.  He could be waiting in there for her, ready to take her down, ready to put her out.

She flexes her fingers, and puts her hands in her jacket pockets in her usual air of calm Gen-X dismissal and ennui.  Best not to worry about this, best to keep her cool.  Best to let it seem like this just slides all past her...

She pushes her way into the main rotunda of the hotel.  She walks straight to the front desk. "I'm hear to see Mr. Arturo," she says simply.

Deirdre must have been expected. The desk attendant just nods and says:

'Take the stairs right back there, he will meet you in the private lounge.'

The attendant points to the stairs Deirdre would remember from the court meeting...

Deirdre heads up the stairs, still looking around the place, trying to hide the paranoia...no, not paranoia.  Just fear.  She's going to need a fix after this.  She hasn't had one in awhile.  She still has some of the heroin whats-his-name had given her weeks ago.  She'll go out to some bar, hook up, and hop up.  She hasn't done that in so long.

She tries to clear her head before entering the private room.  How do you calm yourself when the good old trick of taking ten deep breaths no longer works because you don't breathe anymore?  Well, she can artificially inflate her lungs.  But what's the point?

She opens the door and steps inside.  

The Lounge is quite different looking since the night she saw her brother executed here. Perhaps she was made to return here for a reason... a trap would be too easy. More likely her elder wishes to have her at an emotional disadvantage. The better to read her true feelings that way...

The lounge has been refilled with game tables and all the private areas are opened up. The gaudy old west decorations are back and strangely there isnt a soul in sight. The usual bartender, security or at least a few people with too much money for the downstairs tables are all missing.

Thomas waits for her in the center of the room, but greets her as soon as she enters.

'Deirdre, Welcome... How on earth did you convince a warlock to be your messenger boy?'

Strangely, he sounds impressed by this.  

--Last edited by Radiationjunkie on 2008-07-19 08:00:27 --

Deirdre closes the door behind her softly and stands awkwardly.  She's not quite sure exactly what to do.  She's never been comfortable in "formal" situations.  And she's never had a private audience with an elder, either.

"To be honest, he's been hounding me since we met.  If I didn't know any better, I'd think he has a bit of a schoolboy crush," she tries to say lightheartedly.  Instead it comes across as rather weak and bland.

Thomas is doing his best to keep this as informal as he can. An odd thing from him, but he wouldnt expect etiquette from Deirdre at this point anyway.

'I came to the same basic conclusion. He was awfully defensive of you...'

Thomas leaves out how prying he was.

'Come have a seat if you wish. Can i offer you anything? We have much to discuss..'

Deirdre sits in one of the chairs across from Thomas, easing back hesitantly into the plush, leather-upholstered cushions.

"I am alright, thank you," she says, looking around at the decor of the room.  She takes her hands from her pockets and folds them over her stomach.  Deirdre lets the silence sit for a few moments, unsure of how to broach the topic to be discussed, and figuring that she might as well let the elder begin.

She is taken back for a few moments to the times with her own sire, especially the last few nights when their relationship became ever more strained.  They would sit in his lush flat, silence hanging pregnant between them, interspersed by only the stiffest of dialogue.  In the end, Mark would rise without a word and stride into his own bedroom, shutting the door quietly, but with a heavy weight of finality to it.  Deirdre would sit there for a few more minutes before getting up and leaving.  One night she remembered tuning up her senses, and overhearing him on the phone in his bedroom, calling an escort service.  She hadn't waited further for the girls to arrive, and she never brought it up to him.  She didn't know why it should, but something about it hurt her.  She'd never wanted Mark's affections, so why should she care if he spent his nights with the high-class hookers instead of her?  Even now, she feels some pang of womanly jealousy at the memory...  

--Last edited by Tara532 on 2008-07-22 15:47:06 --

Thomas will get right down to buisness, resuming his seat.

'Sebastion tells me the sheriff has been hounding you ever since your passioned outburst in elysium. That he has gone so far as to attempt and provoke your anger by destroying and disrespecting your small domain...'

His tone indicates hes missing details and wishes for her to elaborate...

"Yes.  First, I suppose an...apology...is due on my part."  She sounds reluctant on the matter, or perhaps is merely hesitant to bring up a hard issue which is yet unresolved in her mind.  "My words were...inappropriate, to say the least.  They were quick and hasty, and fueled by the grief and rage of the moment.  I am hoping that you and the others may understand that.  While I cannot claim to have any love for the prince or his sheriff, I while I can't say I wouldn't smile inside should some misfortune befall them, I want it to be known that it is not my intent to move against them."  She sighs, looking down at her white hands.  "My brother's actions were his own.  They've always been that way, ever since we were kids.  I can't approve of what he did or the company he kept, but I can't condemn him either, not after the things we'd been through together."  Deep inside though, she still feels some measure of betrayal on her part.  She shouldn't be here making apologies and concessions.  But that was always her brother's way of thinking, not hers.  She'd always been the one looking to avoid confrontation, the one always wanting to compromise.  When Da had been in one of his moods, she'd hide.  When the creditors came calling on the rent, she'd avoid them.  But down inside, she's apologizing to Cayden.  She has to find some way to survive, doesn't she?  And obviously, his way hadn't been the right way in the end.

'There were times when your threats would not have been disregarded so easily. You should save your apologies for Prince Carter. He is suprisingly level headed for a member of his clan...'

Thomas shifts in his seat.

'I feel i owe you an apology. An uppity sorceror defended your emotional outburts before your elder did.'

He smiles weakly, admitting..

'The passion in our blood does dull. Were this two hundred years ago i would have been screaming alongside you.'

Thomas demeanor shifts back quickly. Elders arent known for their stability...

'So I wish to offer my aid. The sheriff owes me a large favor and I could arrange for him to leave you to your own devices as far as this matter goes... and perhaps arrange a little meeting with his ghouls who so defiled your domain.'

He offers, but waits for her reaction... the lingering knowledge that he will ask for something in return hanging over her head...

Deirdre nods.  "I am less concerned with revenge, than I am with simple justice.  I want those responsible to be held to that responsibility.  From the wind I've been hearing from others, the sheriff has a habit of throwing his weight around.  I want to make sure this doesn't happen again.  Before he trashed Thorns, he made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't hesitate to kill the people close to me.

"I thank you for your offer, and though I try to keep my head out of the political games of our kind, I know enough to know that such things come with a price."  Deirdre shifts in her seat.  "What is it you'd ask of me?"

No want for revenge? That Thomas doesnt understand. If those ruffians so much as set foot with muddy shoes in his domain he would have their heads.

'I will ask nothing of you until the matter with the sheriff is resolved. He can be thick headed and it may take some convincing, even if he does owe me a sizeable boon.'

Thomas drums his fingertips on the table and asks:

'What would you consider justice in this case, Deirdre?... We clearly cant involve mortal authorities. And ghouls are after all... just replaceable Ghouls.'

Deirdre is a little puzzled that they can't hand the ghouls over to the law.  She knows perfectly well about the Masquerade and its tenets, but to her this wouldn't seem to break any of that code.

"Well, my original plan was to turn them in to the proper authorities, though perhaps not after the bar's owner had a few 'words' with them.  But you say we can't involve the mortal authorities.  Can't we just turn them in to the police?  There's nothing about the crime itself that points to us; for all intents and purposes it's just simple vanadlism.  Perhaps it could be arranged that they are apprehended in the process of committing another crime?  Their fingerprints were all over Thorns, as soon as they're printed they'd come up for that crime too, not to mention anything else they've done."  She taps her chin.  She wonders if Thomas' fear is if they should talk.  "They are ghouls...aren't they compelled to love and obey their master...they wouldn't talk, would they?"

'You are right about the bond compelling their silence.' Thomas begins.

'But the bond is not permanent, and ghouls of such inferior breeding are sure to succumb to all manner of delusion or psychosis when they go through withdrawals from their domitors blood. That is when they would be a threat...'

Thomas shakes his head.

'Jail is no place for a ghoul. They walk the edges of the masquerade even closer than our clan. Its safer to just destroy them.'

Deirdre sits and thinks silently for a few moments.  All of this troubles her.  Her thoughts go back to those two groups of thugs she killed in the back-alleys and slums.  They had done nothing to her...at least they had not succeeded in doing anything to her, and she had found little compunction in killing them at the moment.  Oh true, the guilt had come back afterwards, but in the moment, she had been fired for the deed.  Now, she feels something completely different.  She should want them dead, shouldn't she?  They trashed her safe haven, the one place she felt she belonged in this city, and her best (and only) friend's beloved livelihood.  And what's more, they were the lapdogs of the sheriff.  This should be a double-revenge, striking a blow at both them, and Zaine.  But something just seems too...bizarre about it, macabre and deranged. Maybe it's the atmosphere, sitting here in this plush lounge surrounded by all the comforts of the civilized world, and coldly discussing the murders of three human beings, like possessions.  Perhaps now she is truly beginning to understand the monsters she and her kind are.

Unnerved, she shifts her mind away for a moment.  "I am worried...once we go through with this, what prevents the sheriff from retaliating again?  An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth..."  

--Last edited by Tara532 on 2008-07-24 15:26:51 --

'That will be my problem.' Thomas grins.

'If you wish, i will turn the transgressors over to you in less than fighting shape, you can do with them as you wish as long as it does not involve mortal authorities.'

And of course, the rub.

'All i ask in return is that you come visit once a week. I have grown out of touch with the young ones of our clan and city and it seems to me like your suddenly jumping into the heart of things...'

He leaves it at that, sounds like a simple request. It half sounds like he will grill her for information every week, but theres also the hint that he needs younger company to keep from falling into whatever ennui haunts the elders...

'Would that be agreeable, Deirdre?'

Deirdre sits and thinks.  Its sounds more than agreeable, though she's still expecting some sort of catch, something that may well come back to bite her in the ass.  But what can she really do about it?

She nods.  "Alright, it sounds like a deal."  She allows herself a weak smile.  She still doesn't trust him, but maybe this elder isn't quite as bad as she'd come to think.

Thomas returns a smile.

'Well then its settled. If theres nothing else you wish to discuss then I wish you luck with your benefit concert. I hope I havent kept you from it..'

Deirdre rises, feeling strangely...well, not exactly satisfied.  But at least like some kind of burden has been lifted, or something has been taken care of.  

"Nay, the show's tomorrow night.  Ye're...welcome to come.  I don't know if that's quite yer thing.  But..." she shrugs.  "Well, thank ye fer seein' me and handlin' this."  She bids Thomas whatever farewells are appropriate...shaking hands or the like...and then heads out of the casino.  There's a bit of a spring to her step.  She certainly isn't feeling as paranoid as she was just minutes before the meeting.  And she even thinks she can forego that shot of junk tonight.  She has preparations for tomorrow night, after all.