[IC] NO LONGER ACTIVE : Tides of Sedition

[Habibi359]

Michael grabbed his cheeks with his right hand and squeezed them a little as he listened the the details. Periodically it extended his lips even more and probably made him look like fish. He didn't know, he hadn't watched himself doing this in a mirror for lethal reasons. Nor did he care

He squeezed a tad harder as he heard reasons for them to be chosen. Invisibility in the big picture, political situation, lack of allies. Seemed he was a tad bigger fish than others, but he shouldn't get too cocky in this situation.
He squeezed another time when he heard about the payment. To be earned... They didn't discuss it to greater detail just yet but promised to return to the very point that interested him a lot.
He drummed his right hand's fingers against the left one as they discussed about the frictions between the barons. Fancy information, something that already gave the Fourth Face ideas on what to do. And how he'd perhaps get with Maccellan's gang into the mixture. Possibilities were there.

And before any more was revealed or discussed, one of the two thralls made a phone call. After that, Fourth Face was dropped into rabbit's hole.

It was a fraction, a passing moment. He didn't know how it had happened, it just had. First he was about to die; he was about to burst, his insides to be pressed into a single point. He grabbed his chair in pain. And then he felt his power intensify as pain vanished. The mists that were him, inside him... He didn't know how, but he knew that it was possible, even easy, to fill the room, even the docs with mists. Or turn invisible, with smallest mists needed for his existence. Fight against the winds, he understood now how little he had tried out his powers, how little he had expanded his powers... And then it was gone. He was no longer a real monster but mere mob boss's lap dog again.

This he thought is what I yearned for. Power... He understood from looking from others that they too had experienced what he had. They had power too... To be used or to be watched out for, he didn't know. He took a deep breath and tried to relax again in his chair.

“We will give you the tools to take back control of your immortal life that has been denied to you. Any questions?” Michael had none. He understood that this was the chance he had longed for. And he was ready to aid in this rebellion just to get the two things he wanted. Power... And Power. But there was a long road to that goal.

For Michael's dislike someone still had doubts about this whole plan. Michael was more than happy for the Detective to talk out loudly in order to explain the situation for the sickened creature. But there was far more interesting facts that he revealed to the group. A possibility that their employer would be a Baron was an interesting one and would make a lot of sense. They should prepare to be betrayed by such a Baron if it'd come to it.

Peter was an intelligent man and one reason he was hired once. But a fool also; such information could be saved for oneself. Still naively trusting others, Fourth Face thought. Or trying to make himself look trustworthy in other's eyes.

“So, if you can’t take the heat it’s time to get out of the kitchen, because I’m saying we need to sign a blood pact, secrecy or death, as I’m sure I’m not the only one of the opinion that none of you can be trusted.” The Detective, Peter Reed said, looking at Michael while saying this. Michael tilted his head and made half a smile. A small one, but still. He was guilty for small betrayal in their short time they had worked together. But he agreed that he either didn't trust a lot of them either, so a blood pact, while he disliked the idea to a great length, would still be the best opinion here.

“But of course” Michael said, confidently, straightening his pose (Which didn't improve his situation much thanks to his bad posture) and grabbing the jacket's front, yanking it downwards. “None of us wouldn't like to have a dagger in our back.” he said before turning his head towards the two thralls.” And if that's what you call... “ He licked his lips and made a smack. “Proof of concept, I definitely will offer my assistance. Others?” He finished, looking left and right with his eyes.

Perhaps one day he'd be betrayed thanks to this whole ordeal. But he trusted he would be the smarter one when that day came.

[ayzrules]

The thrall began to speak, answering the questions posed by the vampires in the group. When he addressed Willa's inquiry, she felt a slight jolt of surprise and realized that she hadn't spoken a word to another person, alive or undead, for months now. Willa wasn't particularly keen on striking up a conversation with Stella, who would have ignored Willa if she did anyway. As the thrall elaborated on the plan formulated by "X", Willa found herself feeling overwhelmed. Willa had never even heard of one or two of the Barons and Baronesses he mentioned-or, at least, she didn't know their names but knew of them. The thrall's whole explanation was flying over her head. Willa had always known that she lived under a metaphorical rock as a vampire, but the newfound knowledge that she lived under such an enormous metaphorical rock left her reeling. It made sense, though; Stella didn't need or want Willa to understand the politics of the vampire world, she just needed Willa to be able to feel physical pain.

Willa had an uneasy feeling in her gut that intensified as the thrall went into more detail. It all seemed too risky, too chancy...but then again, it would be worth it if this intricate plot of X's succeeded. That, Willa was sure of. She had everything to gain and nothing besides her undead life, as miserable as it was, to lose. And dying didn't seem so bad when Stella decided to pay Willa a visit. But still...Willa couldn't help but to wonder how in the world X got a hold of her. She didn't even know that she was going to go out and feed until a few hours before she went. Was this somehow a trap that Stella was involved in? Why would Stella want to ensnare Willa though, when she could kill her in a heartbeat if she chose to? Could this be a ploy meant to deceive the others in the room, or were the others in the room also a part of it? Willa gave a derisive snort at that thought; it was arrogant of her to even consider that she was important enough for some kind of well-thought out plan.

While Willa was wrapped up in her thoughts and the questions swimming through her head, she listened closely and tried to make sense of it all. The female thrall made a call, and the male thrall suddenly was strangely excited; and Willa waited in anticipation for whatever it was. What the hell was going on?

Willa got her answer a few seconds later. The air began to press down on her, and something seemed to force its way into her body, into her skull and stomach and lungs and arms, coming from everywhere yet nowhere all at once. Willa instinctively thought of Stella, imagined her glaring coldly down at Willa while she screamed, her green eyes as emotionless as ever...but no, it couldn't be, because this kind of pain was on a whole different plane, and Willa somehow just knew that it was beyond Stella's ability to do something like this. She gasped softly as the sensation pressed outward against her flesh, feeling as if she was about to explode into a million pieces.

The uncomfortable feeling stopped just as quickly as it had started. Power, pure and insane power rushed through Willa's veins like water bursting out of a dam. It was like a nearsighted person putting on glasses for the first time-everything was strikingly clear and defined. Willa could sense even the smallest degree of pain. She found a slight itch just as easily as she found a gunshot wound; the pain seemed to undulate and pulse inside each vessel, and Willa could see it even though there was nothing there. And everybody in the room, no, everybody within a one-mile radius seemed like an open box. All Willa had to do was pick a box, and then the ache in her bones and the soreness in her limbs and the throbbing of the last vestiges of pain from Stella's visit a few weeks ago would all be gone, packaged neatly in one of the boxes. Willa found herself subconsciously running her fingers lightly over the scars that had formed on her face, her limbs twitching slightly. When she looked down at herself, the pain was practically tangible. She could pick it up and throw it all into someone else without breaking a sweat.

And then...it was gone. She was normal Willa again, the Willa who walked with a permanent limp and never lifted her eyes off of the ground, the Willa who always had livid bruises dotting her skin like sprinkles on a cake, the Willa who was frail and tiny and weak and couldn't beat a five-year-old in a fight. All of a sudden, Willa craved more of that power. She wanted to feel like that again, to feel like she was something other than a box for Stella to add and remove pain as she pleased. She glanced down at herself, filled with the irrational hope that she might be able to practically touch the pain inside her again, but of course there was nothing besides her ratty sweatshirt and worn-out jeans. She was keenly aware of what she must have looked like in the eyes of the other vampires, with her skin stretched tightly across her gaunt frame and her hollow cheeks and eyes that sank deep into her skull and scars and bruises covering her face-and she hated it, hated feeling powerless and at the mercy of others, but most of all she hated feeling like an object, hated feeling like a box for pain.

The vampire who Willa thought looked like he came straight out of a murder mystery began to speak, replying to the vampire with claws. She cast her gaze around the room and saw that the others seemed just as shaken and disoriented as she did, meaning that X did whatever X did to all of them. Murder-mystery vampire proposed a blood pact, and Willa found herself teetering on the edge of the fence. It was true that she had nothing to lose but her undeath, her worthless miserable undeath...and yet Willa still clung on stubbornly to this undeath. The entire situation was fishy, and if they were caught, things would not look good for them, least of all for Willa. She already knew what would happen-Stella would tell whoever was in charge that she had nothing to do with it, and then Willa would be killed, and this time it would be permanently. But oh, to feel that kind of power again-that made everything worth it. Willa would endure Stella's beatings for another twenty years if she had to if she could have power like that one more time.

The chubby man in a hat said that he would offer his assistance. Willa nodded, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Me too," she said softly, staring at her hands. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but when Willa lifted her eyes from her hands and let them dart around the room, it could be seen that there was a determined light to Willa's formerly meek and frightened expression.

"I...I'm in."

[idlehands]

Darek leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands. The thrall spoke of the person behind the letters, someone of power and desire for more that was clear. He or she was a mystery and that was no surprise, saying it was a great risk to start this subversion was an understatement. Targeting the barons would be delicate work and fraught with risk. Silently he went over what he knew about Lenore and the Friesian, none of it comforting. He listened and watched as the female thrall made a phone call, curious as her dull aura flickered with something more.

The power hit him like a shockwave, he could feel it down to his bones. The auras around his fellow vampires exploded into brilliant shimmering light, a variety of colors rippling along the ubiquitous violet, like oil sheens on puddles. Darek could see the emotions of them flicker and change as the power surge hit them as well. Long hidden desires and fears bubbling to the surface for that moment, exposed to him without their knowledge. He blinked slowly, sinking back in his chair as the rush of his own emotional powers exuded outward.

A slow smile formed on his lips, the dimple deepening on one side of his face as he locked eyes with Willa that sat across from him. Small, scared and weak he had judged her but at the moment he saw something ripple through her aura, faint but there. As the rush faded he turned away, glancing at the pretty blonde next to him, the colors fading into the lush purple of her aura.

No doubt they had all felt it and wanted more. Like any drug that brought a heady rush, it was easy to desire it again but no doubt it had a price. That price was their blood and loyalty. Darek rubbed a hand over his mouth, still unsure of the group but what did he really have to lose? Besides, he was a sucker for a lost cause. With a sardonic grin, he raised his hand, “Alright, I’ll bite. We know there are no guarantees, that goes without saying. What does this X want us to do first?”

[Noxious]

September 10th, 2016. Charleston Harbor. Dock 15 Warehouse.

As the vampires spiked with power the somewhat more masculine thrall pressed his hair back with the flat of his palm, perhaps it was a nervous tick that seeped through conditioning. The woman had disappeared into her phone, seemingly ignoring the display entirely. It seemed to take some of them a bit more time than others to regain composure. He nodded in response to their questions and when it appeared they had asked all the questions they would be asking, the male thrall offered a nod and a muttered, “Ok,” and then he clapped his hands together. The female thrall made her way around the room, handing each occupant a cream colored envelope, reminiscent of their first contact, while he launched into another rehearsed and loquacious speech.

“X would hate to be the cause of any unfortunate circumstances befalling you on his account, so, before we get any more detailed it would be best to see who is with us. If you decide to stick this out the envelope mainly functions as a more permanent blood pact. Once you are a mile away from this place the original one will no longer protect any future meetings or information. The second function of the envelope is the information within, activated by the blood pact.” The woman had finished passing out all of the envelopes and had made her way back to a chair she chose not to occupy. The male’s voice carried on.

“We considered that a blood oath would be in order so X drew this one up for you. If you choose not to participate then this will be the last time you should think about us, so thank you for the consideration and good luck.”

He cleared his throat and retrieved a single cue card from his back pants pocket and began to read:

“Any knowledge pertaining to this blood bound group; including, but not limited to: relationships, conversations, contact, reflection or attention will be inaccessible in any attempt to share, of your own volition or otherwise, by way of any and all forms of communication with anyone that has not entered into this same blood oath.”

“While we”, gestures to himself and the other thrall, “can not be included in such a blood pact, there is an added addendum that includes us in this business arrangement, circle of trust if you will. X ensures that our minds will be cleared routinely of this matter on the off chance we are captured; it is included in the bloodpact that makes up the envelope. It is advised you read it over and be sure it is to your liking. Until next time, have a lovely evening and best of luck to you.” They made no move to exit, but he clasped his hands in front of him and began looking towards the door while the female thrall continued to be disconnected.

Inside the Envelope

I am pleased that you have decided to fight. I apologize for the unfortunate circumstances that keep me from attendance. At the current time I have as many friends as enemies that would frown upon my endeavor with such an eclectic and youthful group. I am weary of both. Though no one seems to be weary of you. They are stuck in a mindset, in a system where you barely exist. Sometimes the only way to fix a system, a ruling class, is to tear it apart. One way to do this is from the inside out. There are other ways, and I trust between a few of you creativity, deceit and destruction shouldn’t be a problem.

I find myself with a wealth of knowledge pertaining to the self absorbed Barons, but I lack the invisibility to use it to the greatest advantage. That is where you come in. Any plans I have made are loose. I leave the majority of the planning up to you. I provide the knowledge, and you do as you please with it.

Orthrus: The Baron of John’s Island & Lissa: The Baroness of James Island

Orthrus has previously angered many of the other Barons. He is an easy target to isolate. I believe the others keep him around for entertainment purposes and because they fear the mess he would cause. A thin treaty exists between himself and Lyssa, one that can easily be disturbed. One of the main conditions of this treaty is that those under his watch do not disturb the mental institution. So I suggest you do just that. This will keep Lyssa occupied and emotional while also isolating Orthrus. Isolating him further from any allies will be beneficial.

The mental institution is off of River Road before you reach the Charleston Executive Airport. If you head east you’ll reach the Stono River which separates Lyssa and Orthrus’ territories. Lyssa’s territory is moderately guarded. There isn’t much to steal and most rogue vampires stay away due to the rumors about the insanity that lives there. I would expect a few roamers here and there, nothing a bit of stealth and power can’t handle. Consider staking it out prior.

Lyssa is powerful and honestly, quite terrifying. Do not attempt any confrontations with her. Run. She ventures around often, so drawing her attention elsewhere is advisable. Fear is extremely relevant as a means to convey the Orthrus calling card.

Lenore: The Baroness of Mt. Pleasant & Maike: The Baroness of Cainhoy Peninsula



A little background: Maike and Lenore have never liked one another, though Maike used to be much more aggressive in her hostility. Maike is a formidable foe, specifically in a physical fight, but Lenore is much more conniving. Maike would attack and steal some territory only to have Lenore retaliate in unspeakable ways. The Monarch forced them to move beyond it, so they pretend, but if you ever happen upon the two their eyes will tell the story of a battle most eternal.

Ah, So many powder kegs in this city of ours and so few matches.

I digress, I have a particular plan, but if you feel you aren’t prepared by the time frame do not attempt it. On September 28th. at approximately 3AM a shipment will be removed from a ship at the port authority in the French Quarter. This is completely out of Lenore’s MO which means that there is something she is hiding in that box. Lenore runs some of the largest ports out of her own district. assures me that the Baroness plans to keep a distance from the box for deniability reasons, but that it is important to her. She has discussed the delivery with no one of importance, which means she hasn’t cleared it with anyone.

This will take a keen eye for detail and a well thought out plan. The Raven may not know anyone is coming, but she always suspects it. It is likely the shipment will be heavily guarded. She employs vampires from a multitude of lines with a variety of skills. She almost has at least one scout and one trail so don’t only focus on the group.

On the off chance you might be seen I would advise some sort of disguise. If anyone sees enough of you to know who you are, kill them. The Raven will never forgive an injustice and if she is able she will hunt you down. The Frisian slaughters like a crazed animal. She is ruthless and savage. While I personally hope that the kills will involve the Frisian calling card, it would also be rather intriguing to see the scope of your abilities and how many directions it will point the Raven in terms of a perpetrator. Rattled Barons are the best Barons.

As to what is in the box; keep it, give it to the Frisian, mail it to the Monarch. That part I leave up to you. Maybe there is nothing in the crate and there will be no guards and no win or gain. I can never be fully sure.

In regards to the expansion in your abilities, well I had to get rather creative with those. To maintain it consistently is exhaustive. Plus, it is rather addictive and without the control, even if you master that, it is rather noticeable. I fear a large part of your necessity derives from being unnoticeable. That being said, on the reverse side of this page is a small magnetic clip. It is simply a beacon, a request. In and of itself it cannot increase your abilities, but I will be monitoring.

To be honest, I have been monitoring you all and I chose you for a reason. You have drive and you have skills. You will be required to use your brains and brawn for this endeavor to be at all successful. You will have to work together, as a unit. At 12 Paludis Drive in West Ashley there is a house, furnished and currently unused. West Ashley is one of the least monitored of the Baronships. The Oracle heavily frowns upon any violence, and has strict treaties restricting other Barons from interfering or snooping. Nothing is completely safe, but it’s the best I could come up with. I would suggest meeting at the house on the night of the September 17th to give you enough time to create a plan. Keep your heads down and your ears open. I will leave the majority of the rest of the planning in your capable hands.

September 17th, 2016. 12 Paludis Drive, West Ashley, SC.

Any map search will take you through a wealthy and secluded district off of the Ashley River. Stoplights and then stop signs fall away and the traffic seems nonexistent. Soon the sounds of the city completely fade behind a hum of insects, the weeping of the nearby river and the breeze whispering against autumn branches. The address was a metallic 1 2 placed on one of two columns that were parted by the rocky pebbles of a scrawling drive that looped around to closure in front of a generous victorian home. A staircase fell from the front door down to the path leading from the drive, placing the entry on the second level of the home. Wrapping around the entire second floor was a wood porch, complete with a couple of rocking chairs, miniature tables and ceiling fans.

Taped to the front door is a note that reads: “When I was young and rebellious I found that having a safe place of my own assisted greatly, and it is the least I can do. Consider it a gift to you all.” The home is unlocked and past the threshold is a wall with a thin table upon which rested sets of keys to the house, each labeled with the name of a vampire expected in attendance.

To the right you’ll be greeted by an open concept floorplan with a minimalist kitchen, dining room and living room that housed a wasted bar in one corner. The furniture and rugs were dark, contrasting with pale walls and light wood flooring. Stairs with iron railing extended from the back of the living room area leading up to the third floor which seemed populated solely by bedrooms and bathrooms; four bedroom/bathroom sets that seemed to mirror one another and then a larger set at the rear.

Turning to the left at the entrance of the second level reveals a hallway with doors along the right wall. The first door leads to a large half bath. The second is a set of french doors leading into a study, stocked with an odd collection of books that spanned a myriad of genres and time periods. There was an oak desk that spanned a solid seven feet that sat a comfortable distance from french doors that led to the deck at the back of the house. A few leather armchairs sat in various corners of the room, accompanied by varying piles of books placed close by.

The final door off the hallway appeared dark and dense and contained no nob, but a pad containing the outline of a hand rested at its center. When pressed the door opened smoothly and lights flickered on in a downward progression revealing stairs. The bottom of the stairs faced a prison cell built into the corner, equipped with shackles and looking quite medieval. Turning to the right made the cell look even more out of place. The area did not sheer the medieval vibe, other than the fact it contained no windows and appeared to be a remodeled wine cellar. A few racks remained, containing wine bottle vessels filled with blood, labels hand scrawled with bottle dates, age and notable qualities. Most of them were bottled recently and gave the room a slightly metallic smell.

But, there was a modern feel in the majority of the space. A pool table sat closest to the stairs and a poker table was a little closer to the back. On the other half of the large space was a work out mat, various weapons, gloves, weights and bars. Television sets catered to every chosen angle in the basement and another bar held the treasure trove of remotes. Along the back wall was a single door that opened into a hallway with twelve separate doors. These doors held sleeping units; minimalistic and closet sized. The hand locks on these doors were more intricate, touch initiated a programmable lock for a varied time frame to limit access from the hall without authorization of the original initiator of the lock.

[MelonHead]

September 17th, 2016, 12 Paludis Drive

The sun had only recently set and so Peter had been the first to arrive. Curiosity had got the better of him once again, and the old saying struck true, in for a penny in for a pound. The pact had been sealed as soon as he opened the second envelope. To his understanding there was still wriggle room, he could always abandon the group and hideout. The only thing it had prevented him doing was divulging information or playing the spy, which he wouldn’t have done for all the money and blood in the city. Whoever X was, betraying him would be suicide under such circumstances. The pin in Peter’s cuff was both a vital playing card and a double edged sword. He was giving his location to X because to abandon the pin was to abandon the game. He had to admit, X had played well thus far.

Peter’s eyes read the note with a certain grim amusement, his steely features folding into an uncommon smile. He wondered if the others would come tonight. Brushing open the door he peered into the corridor beyond, half excited, half terrified. Why was it that the games with the highest stakes appealed so much? His eyes were drawn to a small table and the familiar contours of his own name. He snatched up the key in an absent minded fashion, more interesting in exploring the house. Having lived in a run-down apartment his entire adult life the place was luxurious by comparison. Or at least, he assumed it was, as he never made it further than the second floor, specifically the bar in one corner of the living room/dining room area.

Should any of the others decide to take up the invitation and investigate their safe house, they would probably find Peter behind the bar investigating a number of Irish whiskeys in decanters. Dressed much the same as previous, albeit in a somewhat more rumpled shirt and with his fedora conspicuously missing.

[ConstableWalrus]

Alban rested his head recalling the events of the boat flipping through his mind. His eyes closed and a smile on his features as he listened to the sounds of the underground, the faint thrumming of music from clubs above, Scurrying rats their nails scraping the stone as they moved in small hordes towards the next bit of food and the dripping.

Alban inhaled and opened his eyes, the blackness behind his lids faded into easily predicable darkness as he fumbled the slightly crumpled and dirtied letter, the seal still very much intact and he turned it again and again lightly flicking the seal with a sharp claw as he let his mind drift. What is the game we play in this? Will I be discarded after this is done? This... Rebellion it plans?' The thoughts spoke to him. Years of a gang mentality made him very aware of how precarious a situation where one is quite disposable can be and he broke the waxed seal a bit more with the tip of a claw.

The power, it was like hitting the stuff again Alban. Like the needle or the line, straight into the vein. 'Coulda fooled myself that I was alive again.' The thought was cast away as he looked at his own clawed hand and he shook his head. Options were to be weighed, he cared little for any of the other mongrels in that room. All pretty and well kept trying to fool themselves into playing the role of something they are not.

Pulling his head forward and letting out a sigh he tore open the letter, reading quickly and he shook his head. turning it about and yanking the small clip from the back and placing it in the lining of the ragged hooded coat he wore before standing and reading the address again. "Boarding school bullshit." he muttered to himself. Still, he thought it'd be best to at least check it out. He had little desire to stay indoors and even less to spend it with the rest of the ones that surrounded the boarding table the day prior. Especially the one with the big mouth.

Arriving at the home in question, the entire neighborhood was lavish he let out a growl under his breath. This is why he was better, this... Facade. Stepping into the yard Alban looked around, it all screamed pretentious and soft. Inhaled sharply he turned his head and spit out onto the ground. Walking and entering his eyes lay upon the many keys and found his name. Rolling his jaw he picked it up playing with it slightly as he turned to shut the front door. Taking a small tour around the house he continued to shake his head, opulence is why when the cattle finds out about them. They will be the first to die.

Stifling the thoughts as he continued the small tour, hoping for some access to the world below and if the note was true. This benefactor would know of his preferred habits towards living. Making his way to the basement ignoring the games and pleasantries he went straight for the sleeping area finding one to his liking he opened it, the closet sized space was more than he had below. But it was to quiet. Still he stepped inside and dropped against the floor his back against one of the walls and closed the door with a foot.

[Habibi359]

September 17’th, 2016. The fourth face had taken wine-red suit with black bowler and turquoise ribbon to complete the set. Like anyone at the meeting could have guessed, he had taken quite an interest to the case and promises this Mr. X had given them. He pitied those that wouldn’t show up. Idiots, too weak for the brave new age. He himself had the most tingling feeling from the very moment he had opened the envelope. His employer had information, plans and means to fulfill the plan with the power increasing. Michael kept the magnetic clip close by and rubbed it every now and then with his thumb.

Michael was walking in the West Ashley. Quiet place and fabulous in the night. Michael had read the envelope few times and thought about plans himself. He knew he had some pieces in a puzzle to make war between Lenore and Maike with the plan given, but there few more pieces he needed. Pieces he hoped to find this night in 12 Paludis Drive.

Franklin Maccellan had made a call to him before he had left. A man had turned out to be a snitch, making deal with police for protection. Fourth Face was ordered to do whatever it took to find the man and make an example out of him; it had been long since their people were reminded that their little family didn’t like betrayal. Nor police. Michael had sent Jack and Joe to snoop around the usual places. He’d love to have few more brighter ones under his command but that would have made Michael targeted by his superiors. A sad role for Michael in the play, never to get the lead roles… Which is another reason why he hadn’t torn the envelope nor took down Mr. X’s offer.

12 Paludis Drive. Michael looked at the note on the door, and if his heart would have been bigger he might have shed a tear. But he didn’t, so he merely made half a smile, shrugged and opened the door. He eyed upon the keys laid on a table behind the front door. He pointed to every single one to count the keys and look upon names in each. He found his own, put his index finger on the label and pulled the key slowly towards him. He made a final look upon the keys before grabbing his own and investigating what the safe house held inside.

And who were inside? He made a look to his right. Peter Reed was there. Michael had enjoyed the fact that there was a kitchen and a living room with a bar, but the one inspecting the bottles was far from a barkeeper. Michael hoped that he could make it to the left without Peter noticing...

He did, or Peter just didn't care. Either way, he found himself in the corridor. Three doors on the right side. He opened the first door and found a bathroom... With a mirror. He quickly backed out and slammed the door shut, trying to relax his panicked breath.

It took him good thirty seconds.

[ayzrules]

September 10th, 2016

Willa left the warehouse with the envelope, pondering the implications of all the information that had just been revealed to her. X-whoever X was-obviously wanted more than to simply stir the pot, that much was obvious. But what was it that Willa wanted besides getting away from her sire? The realization that she had no idea what she wanted beyond that hit Willa hard. Her life revolved so much around Stella and pain and hunger that she'd never even bothered to consider what she truly wanted.

Willa supposed that it didn't really matter. The opportunity presented by X was her best chance to get away from her sire, and there was no in way in hell that she was going to pass it up, now that she'd made up her mind.

Back at Stella's home, Willa entered through the back door like she always did. Stella was inside, she knew, but not likely to pay any attention to her. Willa tucked the envelope into the baggy sleeve of her sweatshirt and began to walk to the room that she slept in. Stella passed her in the corridor, her footsteps brisk and echoing loudly through the house. Indeed, Stella simply ignored Willa, like she'd predicted. X wasn't kidding when they said that we are invisible, she thought dryly to herself. Willa went inside her room and took out the envelope. She suddenly felt much too drained to open it, so she carefully put it away and sat down on her bed. The room itself was not much larger than a closet, but it was all she had. Willa wondered if she should make an effort to hide the envelope, although Stella rarely ever came in. Only when she needed Willa.

Willa yawned. She was tired. Giving the envelope one last glance, Willa curled up under the ratty covers and closed her eyes, deciding to get some much-needed sleep.

​September 17th, 2016

There had been no sign of Stella for the past three days, much to Willa's relief. That meant she would be able to do what she wanted to without fear of being discovered, at least for a little while. Willa had read the contents of the envelope multiple times, attempting to fill in the gaps in her knowledge of the vampire world as she did so.

Willa knew of the barons and baronesses in name only. She was unsure of Lyssa's abilities, though she had come across vampires of Orthrus's bloodline before. She shuddered instinctively, remembering a close run-in she'd had with one of them a couple years ago. As for Lenore and Maike, Willa had no memories of encountering any vampires of their bloodlines, and frankly, she had no desire to. The plans that X proposed were certainly interesting, although Willa did not know if they would be the most plausible. However, Willa could see they didn't really have any other options, so they would have to trust X's instructions and information for now.

Willa was sitting on the ground, waiting for the sun to fully set. She idly fiddled with the small magnetic clip that had been in the envelope as well, re-reading the message. The day before Willa had fed on a couple small birds and then attempted to fix her leg that had healed wrong, to no avail. She sighed. It seemed like she would be stuck with the limp until Stella decided to break her legs yet again.

There was also the matter of how pitifully unskilled she was in regards to her...powers, if you will. In order to feed, Willa had managed to move some of the pain out of her into the birds, though just barely, and even that made her feel dizzy and faint. Willa supposed that she needed to actually make use of her ability more often if she wanted to be able to use it properly, but she was always too drained of energy to do so.

Casting a glance outside, Willa decided that it would be safe enough to set out. She pinned the magnetic clip to the inside of her jacket before walking out the back door, as she was accustomed to doing. Willa's eyebrow twitched, and she grimaced slightly. There was a dull, throbbing ache coming from her leg. The pain had faded a bit in the past week, but her leg still gave her trouble. She gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore it. It wasn't like she could do anything about it at this point anyway.

Willa slowly but steadily made her way to the address X had given them back near the warehouse. It was located in one of the wealthier parts of Charleston, and in the Oracle's territory. Willa supposed that the safe house was most definitely a good thing to have, and the fact that it was in the Oracle's territory provided her with some degree of reassurance. It wasn't long before she found herself at the address X had provided-12 Paludis Drive, West Ashley, South Carolina. It was eerily quiet in this part of the city. Willa was so accustomed to the steady hum of noise from the city that she barely even noticed its presence anymore. Only when it was gone did Willa realize how it always seemed to be there. She eyed the house warily. There was nothing about it that indicated that it belonged to a powerful vampire or something of that sort, but Willa supposed that was to be expected. No vampire was stupid enough to be announcing their presence for the entire human population to hear.

The entire neighborhood spoke of well-to-do families with houses reminiscent of those found in the antebellum South. Willa felt like she was intruding on something sacred as she climbed the steps to the house. Willa came from a town where paint peeled off the walls, permanent stains and cracks littered the floors, and everything seemed to be run-down and worn-out, even things that were newly bought. And after being turned into a vampire, Willa had been living in a wealthy but modern part of Charleston, with sharp edges and sleek surfaces and minimalist decor. The charm of the Old South that permeated this neighborhood felt foreign to Willa, and she half-expected that somebody would come out of one of the houses and tell her to leave because she was trespassing on private property.

Of course, nothing of that sort happened. Willa made it to the door of the house with some difficulty, stopping once or twice on the staircase to wait for the throbbing in her leg to recede before continuing. She took a moment to catch her breath before placing a hand on the door knob, scanning the note that X had left.

Inside the house, Willa came across a small table with a number of keys placed on it. She picked up the one that was labelled with her name, running her finger across its teeth before pocketing it. The sound of someone rummaging around drew Willa's attention to the right. She tentatively walked into the space, eyeing the area nervously. Willa decided to wait for those who hadn't arrived yet in the kitchen. She gingerly sat down in one of the chairs, wondering what was going to happen next.