Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:40 pm

Kaqurei

A neat little maid in vintage black-and-white attire came presently to the door. She was a petite little thing, her soft brown hair set in a bob and her eyes dark and doe-like. She moved in a curtsy and bowed to the visitors.

"Alpha Abravious, you are most welcome," she said as she rose, not meeting his eyes, but the woman's, and she afforded her another dip of the head and a polite smile. "Beta Reggadae has been expecting you. Please, do come in," she said, and offered them entry to the home.

The house, like its owner, was far from quaint. It was fashioned with some eccentricity after the style of the Victorian era, though all that would have been petite in a traditionally Victorian home had been exaggerated so that all that was grand was even more so. This was at the first apparent in the foyer, where all was made of polished oak and silver. Ancient paintings of gloomy-faced ancestors adorned the walls, wolven statue centerpieces stood as sentries at the door, and lavish silver chandeliers graced the ceiling.

It was up the stairs that the maid escorted the couple, to the lighted dining room. Some members of the family were seated there already, and these rose to greet the Alpha and his wife as they entered.

"Alpha Abravious," said a charming young man, hair red as his father's, tall, and thin, who approached the man in the crimson coat extending his hand for a shake. "We are most honoured by your presence tonight. My father will be down shortly."

A woman stood at the head of the table. Her blond hair was tightly curled in ringlets, also fashioned in a bob, but richly arrayed with glittering diamonds. Her face was pale, her lashes dark with several layers of mascara, eyelids shadowed by a smoky silver-blue, darker by shades than the nearly white-blue of her eyes, while her lips were painted a blood red. She wore a glittering gown, a ruff of silver fox fur about her shoulders. There was, pinched in her forced smile, either some discomfort or outright resentment, but her voice was touched only lightly with embarrassment as she said in melodious tones, "I do hope you'll find our humble fare acceptable, Alpha Abravious. This is quite the occasion. Had I expected your company, certainly the meal would be more suiting to one of your station. Even so, I trust you shall not be disappointed."

It was almost laughable that she spoke as though she had organized the dinner, which still had yet to be brought out by the household servants, with her own two hands. It would be a wonder if she had ever once in her life set foot in a kitchen.

"Please, come and sit," she said, gesturing to the appropriate seating arrangements for guests of honor. "You have met my sons, Szhekob, Yhamir, and Azaia? Yosir is still feeling a bit under the weather after his ordeal. He won't be much longer, I assure you. Our guest, too, shall join us, once she has had the opportunity to change into something appropriate for dinner. Sonnelette?"

And the maid stood at attention.

"Alert the ladies that the Alpha has arrived, and bring a round of champagne, will you? Ah," and she at last acknowledged the Alpha's wife directly with a soured smile, "But I remember, you don't take champagne, do you? Nevermind, Sonnelette, see that there is a sparkling white grape juice brought up as substitute. Thank you, Sonnelette."

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:40 pm

Addie

Out of all of the times I had been beaten, humiliated, bruised, scarred-somehow, this took to the cake. Never in my life had I been so outrageously violated.

I had no recognition of the woman in the mirror. They took my scars and covered them in makeup. They filled in my brow- I knew I was still missing a chunk, but somehow they'd taken that chapter away with whatever dignity I had left. Painted over it all, covered it up, made it look "pretty". But I wasn't a pretty person with a pretty life, just a pretty lie.

I had never seen myself in white. Not even when I were married - wore a yellow bridesmaid dress because the secondhand bridal boutique we found in that tired old town had no white dresses left. Not for me, anyway.

I was thinner then, too. Somehow living without knowing where you next meal is keeps your figure in good shape, but now in this mermaid tight dress that fanned out at the bottom, I realized how big my hips had gotten over the years.

My knuckles had gone white from clutching the edge of the vanity so tightly- I could feel the blood pulsing, trapped in my fingers, and I let loose my grip.

Maybe it weren't all nerves about the outfit. I cast a sympathetic glance to "my" hand-maid. She didn't want to be dolling me up anymore than I wanted to be dolled up.

"I'm sorry honey," I cooed. Let's face it. Everything else was a moot point. Up until about now, I'd danced every dance with every other criminal group for miles. But there was a controlled chaos about it, like the tango. You know what's comin', even if it feels intense at times. This was a dance I didn't know, and I felt dangerously close to last call.

But I wouldn't cry. Big girls don't cry. Anyway, I'd feel bad if I messed up all the work Honey did to put on that eye makeup, fake lashes and what have you. So instead I slipped on those pearl white silk gloves and gave her a respectful nod before leaving the room.

So be it, I think aloud albeit under my breath as I approach the table of unfamiliar faces-all dolled up, same as myself. How many were wearing makeup over their scars?

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:40 pm

Indy

If he’d appeared any manner of displeased in the back of Gabe’s car, then the chair had not improved Uno’s disposition. He glared firmly ahead into a dark empty place of the warehouse, serving as the only conduit of his displeasure. His nose was no longer bleeding freely; it had been set quickly and crudely with tools he’d been given in the car. A purplish bruise settled just at his right cheek. Metaphorically speaking, his feathers appeared positively ruffle, and literally speaking he was a fine display of disarray.

There was presently nothing presently attractive about him. It was a fair remark that he needn’t a mirror to confirm it. Nonetheless, it was yet another piece of information on the local terrain. It was always a question of magnitude — just how much trouble were they in? From the handful of names, pack culture, and sheer number of forces he’d witnessed the last few hours… a good deal. If it was a card game, he would have folded and gone home.

He exhaled wearily, briefly contemplating if Robin’s game played better or worse than his.

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:40 pm

Mae

Extravagance was the name of Reggadae. Everything from the vaulted ceiling of the dining room to the Chippendale feet of the chairs was bewitchingly beautiful. Every detail ached to be noticed. Everything shimmered. Everything shined. In fact, if one was not careful, the extravagance of the Reggadae household was sure to wipe away common contentment forever.

Led to her chair by the the man in the crimson velvet suit, the woman who came in company had the air of a queen. There was nothing as elegant about her as about the room, yet she gave the atmosphere a reason for being. Her slender face, her fair and delicate skin, her dark hair, and her modest blouse were all features she possessed in contrast to her hostess. The colors and jewels she adorned were nothing in comparison. Yet, the gentle woman looked lavishly beautiful under the candlelight of Mrs. Reggadae's chandelier.

"Thank you for your hospitality on such late notice, Igaunde." The woman said, addressing her hostess. Her voice was as the echo and coo of a mourning dove as she gave a short smile that was all too generous for the occasion. Then her escort took her shawl and gave up his own coat and cane to shake the hand of each young gentleman.

The man in the crimson velvet suit appeared just as regal in Reggadae's fine dining hall as in the blue halls of the hospital, yet here somehow he was more fearsome by far. Here, surrounded by the pleasantries only the rich could afford, he carried himself with an air of supremacy overshadowing even this lofty domain. Nothing could distract him.

Hand in hand with the eldest of Yosir's young men, the man in the crimson velvet suit said, "How is business treating you, Szhekob?"

Then Robin entered and the brown eyes of the woman standing by the table were raised. A warm smile too genuine to be hid by face-paint and mascara met her from across the room.

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:41 pm

Kaqurei

Mrs. Reggadae watched the proceedings with a cool sort of detachment. Though she herself was caked and faked and bedazzled, somehow the simple elegance of the Alpha's woman outshone her own, a beauty both within and without. Was that a flicker of jealousy? This woman, not a werewolf, but a common human female with no background, no breeding, and yet she graced the Alpha's arm and lit up the rooms into which she strode. Or darkened them, depending on one's point of view. She was allowed entrance to this house only because of Him, and He was ruined only because of her. The irony of it was almost nauseating.

Meanwhile, her eldest son's eyes lit up and a smile brightened his face, sweeping any any trace of uncertainty when the Alpha asked his question. "Very well, sir," he said, clapping his other hand on the Alpha's and giving him a perhaps too exuberant shake. There was a flinch, subtle, beneath the surface, more in the atmosphere than in the face (for he went on smiling), and he subdued himself a touch. "In fact it's never been better. The superiors at the head level are quite impressed with the Alyomous project my team presented at the convention last week. There's talk of a promotion for us, if all goes well."

"How could it go otherwise?" Mrs. Reggadae said, seating herself as the maids returned with fine glasses of drink. "My Shzekob is a remarkable leader, Alpha Abravious. If those heads are wise, they'll snap him up before someone else does."

Shzekob looked a little bashful, taking a glass from a maid while their foremost, Sonnelette, took the Alpha's coat. "Of course, I would be nothing but for my team. It was and is a group effort, mother."

"Certainly," said Mrs. Reggadae easily. "A lone wolf is powerless. But for the loyalty of those that follow, even the best leader would be an empty shell. With it and them, however, he can do anything, his power limitless." She took a sip from her glass, those crystal blue eyes not leaving the Alpha. "But what are they that follow, without a leader? Unrealized potential, and that is all."

She looked as though she meant for those words to hang meaningfully in the air, but Robin entered then and changed the atmosphere. She smiled brightly, "Ah, my dear, you look stunning," she said. She gestured to a seat on her immediate right, "Please, sit. If you don't mind at all, I should very much like to become intimately acquainted with you. From what I have heard, you saved my youngest son's life at great personal risk, and that places me deeply in your debt." She giggled, almost childishly. "You shall be my pet tonight. Ask anything of the maids and it shall be done, I assure you."

The maids fluttered about, bringing the food in now. Sonnelette, imperviously orderly, left the room to go hang the Alpha's coat. There were other duties, too, that she had to attend to, and proceeded down the long dark corridors of the Reggadae's home soon to find Yosir Reggadae I. He stood before a fireplace, from which emanated the only source of light in the darkened drawing room. It danced in the faraway eyes of the tall and imposing Beta, while he calculated unspoken risks and gains, taking in a deep draw of his rich cigar. Like a dragon or a demon, the tendrils of smoke curled slowly up from his nostrils before he breathed out a stream in a sigh.

Sonnelette set about setting his suit to order, her face as placid as ever. She knelt down to polish his shoes when he spoke.

"Beltronan's favourite assassin is prowling the grounds," he said casually. He was quiet a moment, eyes not leaving the flames and the rhythm of Sonnelette's preparations undisturbed. She rose and brushed the shoulders of his coat and straightened his tie, and he looked at her, a murderous coldness dancing now with the flames. "I want him sniffed out, Sonnelette, and sent back to Betine, if not with his tail tucked between his legs, then in a bag."

Her expression did not change and and finished tightening his tie, setting it in perfect center with his throat. "Will that be all, sir?"

"That should please me."

"Of course, sir."

She held out a box and he discarded his cigar. He turned and strode past her into the hallway, the plastered smile crawling back onto his face, as he prepared to meet his guests. His heavy footsteps faded, clicking down the long hall, and Sonnelette, cordially, turned down the gas of the fireplace, starving it out to a fading ember. She brushed up the ashes of Reggadae's cigar from the carpet, then rose and left the room dark. Somehow her eyes managed to retain a light of their own, and in the darkness shifted from doe-like brown to a serpentine yellow, her body changing soundless in the night...

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:41 pm

Addie

A lost saxophone player.

Dressed to the nines, complete with cuff-links and bowtie. His hair was slicked back neatly, still just-so wavy at the nape of his neck where the tips sprung upwards in stubborn rebellion. Presently, he wore no smell of cigarette stink nor coffee. As a matter of fact, he wore no smell at all. Cologne didn't grace the crisp collar of his shirt, the grease in his hair held no strong smell- his person, had no scent to be noticed by man nor beast.

To the wandering eye, he was merely a man waiting for his que to join the party. But he didn't come prepared to kill the crowd with his musical talents. He was however, well equipped to take out a crowd if needed, with an entirely different skillet.

He was a ways down the sidewalk, propped up against a tree. He glanced at his watch, then over his shoulder at his companion who leaning against the same tree.

Jodecai pulled at the collar of his undershirt, scowling like a child dressed by his mother. Too often did his job require him to wear things he'd never be caught dead in otherwise -- he felt like he was being suffocated by the layers of thick fabric.

And the cello. Who'd ever buy that? Never in all his days..

The sooner the sun came up from the horizon and stole the blackness from this night, the better.

Silas, seeing his allies bitter mood, decided not to make a comment. His eyes were drawn behind the man, down the sidewalk and to the lavish house aglow with the life of the extravagant party.

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:41 pm

Addie

I met the brown doe eyes of the woman who came in with Crimson Man. There was a subtle, unassuming grace about her manner- she reminded me of my mother. That woman had more grace in her pinky finger whilst her hair was put up in a mess and her hands were raw from scrubbing dishes than all of the patrons of this soiree. She didn't need an ounce of makeup or expensive clothes. She was a powerful, God fearing presence and drew the eyes of all who surrounded her. I thought she was royalty. Still do.

Without even realizing it, I was smiling back, mirroring her infectious radiance. For that brief moment, the heavy atmosphere seemed lifted, like a cool mist on a hot summers day.

I was drawn back to the reality of it when I heard a woman's voice speak out over the clamor of guests and food platters being placed about. I met her gaze too late to make believe I hadn't heard her address me, and like any trained dog, came to heel at her side when called.

"Good evening Mrs. Reggadae." I nodded, placing my hands on my lap - all dainty like. Who was I fooling, my callouses?

"I thank you for your hospitality." I said. "However, you done me a great service as it is- don't suppose I'll want for anything from your maids what with all this," I gestured to the table with a hand, "It's more luxury than I've seen in a lifetime." I admired the decorum, my eyes being drawn to those fragile details I scarcely cared about. "Even nicer'n the hotel lobby I slept at a few weeks ago."

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:41 pm

Addie

Josh entered then, dressed in a suit that looked like he'd been stuffed and pinched into it, and took his place next to his brothers with no more recognition than would a ghost.

"Indeed," Mrs. Reggadae said to Robin, smiling coyly as she sipped from her glass. "What hotel was that? Here in Pinerich?"

"Ah, hello, hello," said a familiar booming voice as the presence behind it followed. "Do pardon my lateness, darling." He came around behind Mrs. Reggadae and offered her a passionless kiss to the cheek, which she tilted her head slightly to receive.

"Not at all," she said.

And his attention was turned to his guests and sons, to each was imparted a firm handshake and a greeting, a remark on the weather or their apparel, and he nimbly made his way to his place at the head of the table.

"It is good of you to join us this evening," he said to the Alpha, once he sat down and raised his glass. "We are certainly glad of your company. I trust you had a pleasant walk?"

A bell was chimed, and the maids entered, bearing the first installments of the feast to come; fine salads, bread sticks, and lobster bisque.

Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:41 pm

Kaqurei

It was interesting, the contrast between the four young men at the table. The eldest, Szhekob, perhaps in his mid to late twenties, certainly looked most like his father, but for the ruffle of his mother's curls swept through his red hair in waves--though hers had been plastered with hairspray to keep them exactly in place. His face, too, was softer, gentler... not for the lack of experience, for certainly in his eyes was the countenance of a man who knew how to speak to shadows and exactly what was hidden under the glittering facade of his family's decorum. No, the softness was in personality; the boy had none of his father's overbearance, and in his eyes.... it was not innocence, but perhaps a forgiving nature, a willingness to look past faults and find the good--optimism, perhaps.

Yhamir's looks favoured his mother, though thinner and taller. He was pale, blond, and had her pale blue eyes, a wily jealousy in them, but his father's crooked smile. He had an almost feminine build, his shoulders narrow, his limbs long and thin. There was an alertness in his face which stood at sharp contrast to Szhekob's easy-going nature or Josh's subdued posture. His bright eyes seemed keen to every gesture, every movement, every word said and unsaid. And still he smiled, as though it were a game he was a witness to, and not participant. Whilst the others had to keep their cards close, there was no rule to keep him from knowing the hands of each player.

Azaia looked more like Josh, broad shouldered, round faced, and stout of build. His hair was a strawberry blond, cropped unevenly, and curled only in the back near his neck. He seemed entirely indisposed to engage in the frivolity of the evening--true, he'd donned a suit as the others, but it was noticeably wrinkled in places, his tie loose and his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He donned a bored and detached expression, save only when one of the younger maids drew nearer his place, at which point there would be a flicker of interest, a glance at his father, and again remiss.

And then, finally, there was Josh, tugging uncomfortably at his necktie and adjusting his suitcoat, as though the entire outfit were entirely foreign to him. He met no one's eye--except, briefly, Robin's, and he quickly looked down at his plate.