Elvesztett

[Dorian M. Black]

It rained. Hard. One of those absurd English downpours that arrived like a sudden burst of religious conviction. Dorian tipped his head back and let the rain fall full into his face for a few moments. It helped.

Taylor had insisted on accompanying them to the shop, much against George's wishes. Well - as far as the shop. Dorian didn't entertain the idea of taking either of them visibly inside. He bid the Malkavian farewell and ignored his Obfuscated clanmate.

And so to the present and preposterous sequence of events that brought him here in the first place. The girl was a vampire. George had confirmed that fact - before he and Taylor... confirmed it more thoroughly - and no older than twenty. At least in appearance. She was, from time to time, so manifestly elsewhere that they'd started talking about her as if she was deaf. Rain plastered the girl's dark hair to her forehead in wet waves. Pale blue eyes. Coupled with the disciplines manifest in her blood, and he'd not missed the similarity to another such case.

Her drenched cotton dress belonged to Alice, Taylor's ghoul. They'd had quite the event getting her here; police swarmed the south, and a drenched woman with an upper class escort was only marginally better than a drenched girl on her own in the dark. They really should have picked up an umbrella.

"This is it," Dorian murmured. The low-lit shop stood amidst the gloom and pouring rain. "No - wait, not that way. The delivery entrance is at the rear."

In fairness, she looked a sight better than she did earlier, naked and covered in blood. Dorian held open the door a touch longer than necessary, ostensibly glancing over his shoulder as if distracted by something in the street, before he too stepped over the shop's threshold.

"Miss Audley," he greeted idly, taking the path to the craftroom. Footfalls clear, presence pronounced. It didn't do to startle another vampire, though Dorian entertained little doubt that a Toreador would hear him enter.

He paused in the workroom's doorway. It was one of those moments - one of those situations - wherein the absurdity of the content vivifies the mundanity of the context, refreshes the humble molecules of walls, floor, table, sewing machine, light.

"In sooth there is no easy way to begin. Williamson and I stumbled upon this childe from thy clan. Presumably, from thy clan. At lack for Elder Fredrics' contact, Williamson suggested yourself as first port of call. Are you available to talk? You'll be interested in this."

[Valentina Audley]

The rain was drumming on the window but inside the workroom was cosy. Valentina's work table was covered in scraps of green and red, with a small pot of sparkling stones in the corner. At the side of the desk is a pile of parcels, all neatly wrapped in brown paper and addressed in delicate handwriting. The embroidery hoop in her hands shifts slightly up and down as she plies her needle back and forth, making tiny, darting stitches to secure lace to her work. As she works she's quietly humming Christmas carols. All in all it's a scene of domestic tranquility.

Until the shop door opens. The humming stops and Valentina quickly secures her stitching as she puts the hoop down and listens intently. Biting the inside of her cheek she summons that peculiar focus which serves her so well and watches the doorway intently. Dorian's arrival surprised her. The drenched form partially hidden behind him merited a raised eyebrow in curiosity.

"Good evening Mr Black. We usually start with the social niceties darling, regardless of the situation." She looks longingly at the banner before sighing. Still... A childe of her clan unknown to her and in a generally wretched condition? Definitely worth looking into.

"Won't you both come in?" She smiles sweetly at the other girl, looking at her curiously.

Suddenly she stands. "One moment, I must get this parcel delivered and then my attention is at your disposal" She quirks a smile. "Briefly at least..."

She moves past them to the doorway. "Jacob darling, can you step in here for a moment please?"

[Jacob Swainswick]

Quiet footsteps presaged the young tailor's arrival.

"Of course Miss -" He stopped in the doorway, taking in the new arrivals, a tea-towel in his hands.. "Miss Audley," he finished, his tone a little flatter. "Forgive me, I didn't appreciate that we had guests." He folded the towel neatly, taking another step into the room. "How may I be of assistance?"

He flicked a concerned glance at the drenched pair; but any further solicitation had to depend, of course, on whether they were just leaving or not.

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina affects a tone of annoyance. "The wretched boy hasn't been and I simply must have the parcel for Mrs Cunningham delivered this night." She opens her desk drawer and hands him a parcel, carefully. By the look of it, the parcel contains a shirt or similar.

"Would you mind awfully popping out and making sure it reaches her? Take a cab, darling, the weather is vile." She fishes a few coins out of another draw and hands them to him as well.

[Jacob Swainswick]

"At once, Miss Audley."

He nodded once to the young aristocrat and his maid. "Sir," and then, almost as an afterthought, "Miss."

A coat; his hat; an umbrella: all that stood between the young Swainswick and his mission.

The front door bell of the shop tinkled with his departure, the sound of a key in the lock.

[Valentina Audley]

Vaentina smiles, catlike.

"That deals with that little potential problem. Now my precious pet has left us we can talk in private."

Valentina seats herself at her desk, steepling her fingers and pausing to gather her thoughts. "Now then, to business Mr Black. You say your companion is of my clan? Perhaps you would care to explain in more detail?"

[LittleBird]

Finally the inquisitive darting, and sudden drops down in her gaze cease, and after trying to mimic Dorian's posture, while shrinking her shoulders inwards, despite the wet pressing of the borrowed shift, she remains wholly still. Listening intently, trying to follow a story she's merely had summarized.
The silence twists knots! Was this a cue for her to begin niceties with this Miss Audley? With clinging ringlets obscuring her view, she slowly raises her gaze to her. Her lips part, it feels as if a gear needs oiling. She knows not what to say!? Yet still...this is important right? Cross referencing, reassuring, a slow dwindling path that may eventually strengthen to knowing?
Straightening her shoulders for as long as this thought holds, she performs a tiny nod, before shrinking back, and returning her gaze to Dorian... he who hardly spoke to her at Taylors home, now speaking completely for her.
She listens and watches between the pair, intently eager and anxious to learn more herself.

[Dorian M. Black]

"Let's not pretend I care for social niceties."

Despite that, Dorian searched and found in himself vague concession. Even with furthering her own position, curiosity or whim, it was an unusual visit for Valentina to receive. Still, Dorian wasn't about to apologise. Either the seamstress was interested - or she was not. Toreador couldn't be that hard to find; surely there was a museum or art gallery nearby within which one degenerate loomed.

There's a peak in his own curiosity - and distant relief - as the girl straightens, but it's lost again as she withdrew into herself.

"Manifest in the girl's blood is what you would call Auspex, but, to a greater degree, your clan's speed. So far as it affords the available evidence, Celerity remains her primary anchor. I could find no trace of a third, but it's not impossible that one hallmark be absent. If she's as young as we're assuming then it could be a matter of nights until it appears."

A pause, Dorian tilted his head and took in Valentina's reaction.

"Alternatively, in certain insects the analogy would be hemimetabolism, an incomplete metamorphosis. It can occur in kindred who have experienced a particularity traumatic embrace, anything that might retard the blood's development or proper adhesion of the venom to the internal structures. My methods rely on quantifiable evidence; there are times when unusual or passive disciplines are present and unable to be observed."

[Valentina Audley]

The nerve of the whelp! Valentina's eyes narrow. He couldn't know.... Could he?

"Your lack of concern for the social nicetities is clearly evident in that you have visibly bought her into the trade entrance of my establishment. I shall have to take steps to remedy that little issue later." It's said absent mindedly, as Valentina focuses her attention on the girl.

"Come here childe, let me look at you." She beckons the girl forward.

"I can only assume her sire is unknown otherwise you would be seeking them. Yet you have taken the effort to bring her to me, rather than take charge of her yourselves. I say yourselves since you mentioned Mr Williamson earlier. I assume you do want me to take charge of her?" Valentina's eyebrow rises.

[Dorian M. Black]

"There are police everywhere. Would you have the gossip that comes of us taking your public entrance in this state? Don't mistake my dazzling courtesy for lack of foresight."

"However: I would recommend locks." A dry chuckle. "Should you ever want this place trapped more effectively against kindred, my services are available."

"I am not seeking her sire, no. Both Taylor and Williamson have taken an unfortunate shine to the stray, and wish her not slaughtered. We are - temporarily - absent of a Scourge." A shift of attention. "You're very fortunate, but only so long as you remain a ward of another."

Returning to Valentina, "We're looking for a new sire," he clarified, eyes glittering above a slow smile. "I can all too easily guess who her blood's sire is."

Dorian moved to one side, enough so as to make it clear that his companion be free. The aristocrat watched quietly before considering Valentina's question.

"The likeliest guarantee of her immediate survival is to be mentored by an established member of the court. You count as such an individual, whereas a neonate would not, despite what grief this brings her romancers. What's more, your Primogen may well have reason to use the girl's... situation to his advantage. It's a dire, final favour to Williamson, since he so dreadfully lost his last obsession. It would be a little sad to see the new one be executed so swift."

A glance to the girl in question. "Don't worry, it's unlikely for at least two weeks."