multiversallogs | got no direction, just got my vamp;

Entry tags:

got no direction, just got my vamp;

Who: Katherine Pierce and you!

What: Getting a drink before dinner.

Where: A fairly upscale bar.

When: Late-ish.

Notes: Katherine needs to feed, but it's a bit too crowded out to do so without arousing suspicion, so she heads out to get a drink to curb the hunger until she can.

Warnings:

None yet, possibly some violence later on.

The bar is less crowded than the streets outside, but the atmosphere still feels a little too claustrophobic for Katherine's tastes. She's been out for a few hours, trying to find someone foolish enough to lead astray into a secluded place so she can drain them of enough of their blood to be satiated, but every time she's gotten close, someone's interrupted at the last moment, or the prey became distracted and headed in the opposite direction, and following would have looked too suspicious to an observer. There are very few people who are in on her secret, and for the moment, she wants to keep it that way.

The hunger isn't unbearable at the moment, not even close to the worst she's ever experienced it, but it's not terribly pleasant, either, and so she's decided to duck into a bar near her hotel to get herself a drink to curb the craving. She takes a seat and orders, keeping an ear out for any opportunity to feed. This is a lazier way of hunting, but it's just as effective.

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Ivan is cross, himself not having fed as recently as he'd like. He'd heard that Rejean was the one to approach, but he'd not succeeded in tracking him down yet, and in the meantime, he needed both a fix and a distraction.

Though he passes for human well enough, he's too old to hide all the small tells that might point him out to another of his kind. He takes a seat near Katherine, aware of his surroundings, but not striking up a conversation immediately. He's very slightly distracted, though it would be a fool who'd find him less of a threat for that.

There's been a lot of excitement since Eddie's gotten here - newfound freedom, exploring the city, the invasion, the Militia investigation, parties, meeting new people. That's all wearing a little thin, right now. He's settling into the routine of seeing all this fantastic, powerful, amazing stuff going on, all round him, while working this less-than-glamorous new job, trying his darnedest to stay away from old habits.

He isn't much of a drinking sort, but he wants to be around a crowd he can pretend he's a part of without needing to invest much into the interaction, so he's hanging out here. By himself in a booth, being quiet, reading through a stack of carefully folded, old newspapers and occasionally sipping a beer that's almost entirely just an excuse to keep this seat.

This is a nice bar. He could be bringing in enough money to fit right in at places like this and better, if he let himself play in this city. That's a bad plan. He keeps reminding himself that, as he flips through the papers for the crime reports and crossword puzzles, and drums his fingers on the table.

The man takes the seat near her as Katherine's served her glass of wine, and she glances at him briefly before taking a sip from it. Unlike most others, her brand of vampire can't simply detect those of her kind, and so nothing seems off about the man at first, though she does continue to watch him, very subtly, out of the corner of her eye.

He notices her watching him and, as he receives his own glass, comments, "I'd have waited if you wanted to buy me the drink." It's doubtful he thinks anything of the kind, but it's a way to note that he's seen her glancing at him, eventually.

He gets a raised eyebrow and a smirk that's somewhat reluctantly impressed in return, and a mental note to work on her spying skills is made as she takes another sip.

"My apologies," she replies after swallowing. "It's just a bit dull around here."

"So it is," he allows her. "Shall I ask if you come here often, to keep the conversation afloat?"

It's extremely likely that Ilde probably shouldn't drink as often in Baedal as she does, and yet: here she is, mercifully still upright on her heels, the tattoo on her thigh visible when her skirt's hem flounces out with her movement, carrying a half-full cocktail glass and looking a little bit flushed. (She shouldn't, rightly, but her illusions sometimes reflect how she expects herself to look.)

"Katya," she greets, swinging into the seat beside her and resting her elbows on the bar; she's breathless, a little, and has probably been staving off the worst of her tendency to get immediately trolleyed by drinking a little and dancing a lot more. Please don't eat her, Katherine.

Katherine hears Ilde coming long before she sees her, and she turns to face her just before she comes to sit beside her. There's a fond smirk in place, and she sets aside her own glass and nods to her.

"Hello, Nimfa," she replies, giving Ilde a nickname of her own. "How does the evening find you?" Although that's...pretty obvious.

Katherine picks up on the sound of fingertips tapping against the surface of a table several yards away. Restless energy being expended, they'll probably be leaving soon. She continues listening, waiting to hear if they do.

"My first time in here, actually," she replies. "I assume that you're a regular?"

The tapping continues for a bit, then stops, then there's a rustling of paper, a quiet, cut off laugh. It's frustrating. He wants to be around people and work and... screw it. No one cares if he's here or not. They're idiots. He gathers up his papers and heads out, leaving the beer behind.

Thus far, the evening seems to be finding her quite well indeed. She rests her chin in her hands, huge-eyed to the point that it's possible her illusion is slipping just a little, and looking terribly pleased to see her. "Better now. Are you going to come and dance with me?"

Who can say no to huge naiad eyes?

"On the contrary - I assumed you were the regular." He smiles, wry. "I don't think I've a regular anything here, yet."

He's not sure if she's a vampire, but her mannerism suggests someone older than she looks, and he's not going to get snippy when he doesn't even know her species beyond likely "not plain human."

Edited 2011-06-28 01:21 (UTC)

Certainly not Katherine, and she grins at Ilde after turning to grab her glass, intent on downing the rest of her drink before joining her on the dance floor.

"Of course I am," she says after doing just that. "How many hearts have you broken so far tonight?"

"All of them," she declares flippantly, which is - despite the charisma at play - pretty unlikely. Alcohol and self-indulgence work wonders for Ilde's mood, however temporarily, and for this evening at least she's indifferent to whatever audience she does or does not have. The cocktails are good, Katherine's company is good, and she likes to dance. It's good enough.

"I'm not at all surprised," she says, and, setting her glass aside again, she stands and extends her hand to the other woman. "Shall we go, then?" Katherine has always enjoyed dancing, and it and Ilde are a welcome distraction until she's able to feed again.

"Nor do I, but this place seemed charming enough," she replies, taking another sip. "How long have you been here?"

She turns once she hears the person gathering their things to go, frowning as she watches them (him, it's a man, someone she hasn't seen yet) start to leave.

"A few weeks." He sees no reason to lie about things that can be found in the Network archives. "I've been moving about the city. Yourself?"

He ducks out the door when all of his things are in order. He's neither tipsy nor oblivious, but he is grumpy, and ignoring people as he leaves.

Ilde tangles their fingers together, abandoning her half-finished cocktail as probably unnecessary; she can get another one, later, if she wants, but she's warmly tipsy and more in the mood to move than stumble. "Let's," she says, airily, punctuating it with a watery laugh as she starts pulling Katherine toward the dancefloor with her, picking her way through the crowd; the ability to navigate in heels like this without tottering around drunk is a bit like muscle memory, really, albeit one that's been long neglected.

Katherine lets herself be led for a change, keeping her balance perfectly (she's not even buzzed, and she's had quite a bit of practice in ensembles far more elaborate than this even while intoxicated) and tossing her hair off her shoulder with a flick of her head. Once they're in the center, she spins in, then out, keeping her movements light and carefree but in perfect time with the music. Dancing has always been an activity she's enjoyed, even back when she was still human, and it's been ages since she's done it with a friend.

Music is something that comes naturally to Ilde - like breathing, like water, the twist and pull in a melody is a reflex - and while her dancing has no otherworldly qualities beyond the mere fact of her own nature, she is more comfortable (more unguarded, more animated and more alive) like this than she might lead one to think with her stillness and her watchful silences. She doesn't have quite the same effortless balance, but it doesn't seem to matter.

"About the same. Trying to find more suitable living quarters than those that are provided at the inn," she says with a subtle roll of her eyes. She leans over the bar to pluck a cherry from the garnish well, then pops it into her mouth. "Where do you hail from originally, if I may ask?"

"You're quite good at this," Katherine remarks admirably, raising her hand above her head to twirl her around. The song eventually comes to an end, and another one starts up, one with a bit faster tempo this time, and she starts to imitate a salsa. "So what other types of mischief have you been getting up to?"

Simply by dint of being much less drunk than her little friend here, Katherine is probably still going to end up leading - however informally. There's probably a broader metaphor for Ilde's life and sense of identity in her comfort in following someone else's lead, but it's out of her grasp right now and besides, she doesn't really like that kind of self-awareness. She prefers this, here, the twist of her smile and her hips and the fondness she has for monsters.

"Life-guard duty in the river," she says, with a laugh, "but it's a secret." She presses a finger to her lower lip, which makes her look more ingenuous than secretive, for a moment, dragging it down and letting her lip bounce back where it belongs. "I'll tell you later. It'll be fun."

There are too many vampires in her life.

"Originally? St. Petersberg." It's a lie, but a habitual one and easy enough to back up - it's not so very far from the truth. "You?"

"Virginia." Another lie, but again, one she can back up. She knows her history on the town and has been following Elena's life closely enough to answer any questions about its recent goings-on. "I was heading home from a dance when I got pulled into this place."

Actually, she'd been trapped in a tomb underneath a church, but details.

Katherine is typically the leader in any situation, and it makes her mildly uncomfortable when she's not the one with the power. Almost all the friends she's ever had since her family exiled her from her home country have been to better her own situation and odds at winning the dangerous games she ends up playing, and they're usually the ones who pay whenever things go south. Ilde is a different kind of friend, one that she's not used to, but it's a type of friendship she's finding that she enjoys.

"You'd better," she replies with a wicked little smirk, then turns away from her to spin back in. "I do adore secrets."

"I'm sure your gentleman was beside himself." His voice is light, but he isn't making fun of her. Ivan finds the ways other people arrived in the city almost mundane, and he's picked his own mundane way for reference (even if he doesn't immediately volunteer it).

"I've never been to Virginia - New York, Boston. San Fransisco, once."

"I have lots of secrets," Ilde confides, when they're close, serious as only a drunk young lady can be. In some ways, the bluntly forthcoming way she is about the things that she doesn't see as secrets to be kept is a smokescreen over the things she doesn't wish to share. Hidden just out of sight, where no one will ask. (They're her secrets, and no one else cares, but- but she cares.)

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got no direction, just got my vamp;

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