Of a Crown Most Hollow
13th of November 2006 A.D.
Truth be told you are not entirely sure how mom is going to handle Eleanor, on the one hand she's a victim, little more than a biological vending machine where he had to put in the right buttons to get snacks. One would hope... no you know mom would sympathize what that, but on the other hand she is the kind of woman your mother never really liked, living the kind of life she really does not like. Home's still the safest place you know, so home you send her with encouraging smiles and fingers metaphorically crossed.
"I need to ward the station better," you mutter to her retreating back.
Even over the rising tide of Bohemian Rhapsody Lydia hears you. "You need a place for people to stay that is not in the sewers. Buy a house, a nice one, I know a real-estate agent... well OK my lawyer knows a real-estate agent, but it comes out to the same thing."
"I was going to buy an apartment..." The words trail off as you consider. That is what someone's supposed to do when if they have money at eighteen and need some space right? But here you are, taking in the grounds of a vampire's estate as at your back, the pari, the incubus and succubus, the cold eyed manipulators of mankind sway not quite dancing, not even realizing how the lyrics foretell their doom and that you will be their executioner tonight.
Maybe it's time you stopped paying so much attention to 'supposed to'.
***
The food is good, most of the the drink is weird cocktails with names fit for people who got bored of drinking centuries ago. Lydia calls you a Philistine, you counter than you do not even know where
Caphtor is supposed to be so you can't be from there. For the first time ever telling that joke someone laughs at it proving the value of a classical education you guess because she definitely did not go to Sunday school.
"You know that is the fourth one you tried," she points out, motioning to the pink fizzy cocktail with green whirls, neither of them colors one might find in nature.
"Alcohol doesn't really affect me as much..." You try not to glare at the handful of vampires trying for a thankfully non-magical come hither look. "I don't feel like dancing..." Because I might be wearing the blood of the person I danced with ten minutes ago, you add mentally. Lara had made it clear that anyone trying to protect a traitor or facilitate their escape was also a traitor so while she would prefer you not splatter anyone not on her list, which is twice the lenght of your list and includes the head of House Skavis, she's not going to be broken up about it. Personally you think one of those marble pillars in the entry hall is more likely to get 'broken up' than Lara Raith
It is not Lara who will be firing the first shot, not her who will be proclaiming that the 'justice' of the White Court is to be done. Constantine Raith, lord, though in the sight of your Crown no longer master of the White Court, steps onto the literal stage upon which the more dramatically inclined members of the court had been performing sacred plays older than Rome moments ago with a kind of understated menace that brought to mind that old hankered expression 'he had the look of a Greek god', not in the way it is used in romance novels these days, short hand for being 'hot' in a way that is supposed to sound culture, rather he putting one in the mind for what those gods are most known for, seduction and spite, tangled tales... tragedy. One could well imagine those eyebrows arched in judgement over some foolish mortal who dared challenge the the power and perfection of Olympus... and it is all of it an act.
From Sarah to Bones, to Thomas and Isabela you are aware that you have a certain presence before those who walk beyond the lighted paths and you are aware also when it is absent, when the one standing before you may by their own weight of being look you in the eye untroubled. So it was with Lara, so it was of course with Mab, though not most of her court, so it was with the heir of House Malvora.
"Friends, companions, family near and far, citizens of the most glorious and joyous of domains, we are gathered here on a day of celebration and of contemplation, in recognition of our common heritage and the bonds that join us. Some are more lax than others on this day no doubt when new lovers are taken, new friendships sparked and new rivalries tasted..." By his every word and gesture, by the sharpness of his smile and the sureness of his step Constantine Raith aught to have it, but he does not. It is a little like meeting someone with the sun at their back who does not cast a shadow, strange even without looking down.
According to Lara you will know the point in the speech when it is time to strike. The doors are already guarded, and every one of the fourteen people you are supposed to kill is in sight,
What do you do?
[] Keep a close eye on the Skavis delegation, they are the only House whose heir and head you are meant to kill
[] Stick close to Madrigal, as the only Raith in the conspiracy it would be particularly problematic if he were to escape
[] Keep an eye, magical and mundane on the heir of house Malvora, he set your teeth on edge
[] Nevermind the targets, try to get a read on the White King. What kind of hold does Lara have on him?
[] Write in
OOC: My internet went out halfway through writing this, thankfully I did not lose anything, but as I was thinking of how to finish it occurred to me that the White King deserves at least a bit of gravitas, if only to show how hollow it is.