King's Return

Sheriff's Estate - The Vault

This room covers almost the entire ground floor of this house. The majority is taken up by a stylish reception area; three chunky, white leather couches places in a neat U-shape, with a low table in the centre. Another corner holds a modern, black table, six comfortable chairs placed around it as though for conference. The final feature is a bar, well-equipped behind it and with a pair of chunky fridge-freezers, containing a variety of synthetic blood. In one corner is a staircase, leading upstairs. On the same wall is a door through to the only area on this floor not part of this room, where sits a small bathroom and the route downstairs, a featureless door, metal constructed and lockable from one side only, though plated to fit with the design of the house.
Three walls are white, the fourth covered in ceramic panels to give some colour to the place. The floor is tiled, in a pleasant, neutral shade. Windows at regular intervals stretch from floor to ceiling, concealed blackout blinds above them. One wall bears a huge flatscreen television, and one aware of their surroundings will spot the speakers concealed at various points in the room. The general feel of this area is a clinical style, a blank, neutral canvas for whatever happens to be going on. Those who know Will generally refer to this area as The Vault, for the round pillars that stretch up to the roof.

The night is young, so young that the terrible light of the sun has barely gone below the horizon. The blinds of the Vault are down, the owner of the house here for the first time since his return to Dallas. He is lounged on one of the couches, a bottle of synthetic blood in one hand, and two more stacked up ready on the low table nearby.

He is, however, fully dressed for once. A dark tee, jeans to match and his newly-altered hair swept around in modern fashion. His own shoes are upon his feet, his face is impassive, his eyes are hard. Almost back to normal, if it weren't for the cold aura somehow surrounding his position.

Amusingly, Isobel has only just awoken. Amusingly for once, she is the one in a state of undress, making her way up the stairs in a scant, see through robe with marabou trim, and matching bedroom heels. Her hair is all haphazard instead of being pulled back, and she looks every bit the young woman she was when she was turned, rather than the stern monster she likes to portray from time to time. Her attention at first is not upon the man on the couch, rather on the fridge. Where she goes, extracts a bag of O-positive, and pours it into a cup. Drinking it cold, she turns.

"So you still live. I am happy that this is the case. It has been a pain, staving off the vultures in your absence."

There is a pause, as Will's head slowly turns, watching her with undisguised appreciation. He does look well, no obvious injury remaining and no tiredness or weariness to him, as one might expect. "I do indeed, Sheriff," he returns, coldly and darkly amused.

"Excuse me?" By vampiric grace she manages not to drop the glass of blood. Instead, she walks toward him swiftly, perching on the couch beside him. "You should, perhaps, fill me in on what happened in your absence, and I will fill you in on what has been happening here."

"It is you, or it is Michael Isonzo if you do not want it," Will replies, idly toying with the bottle in his hand, before taking a long and deep draught of it.

"I met with the other Sheriffs, and with the Magister. There were two choices; the lawful death of a tyrant, or regicide. Surprisingly, the other Sheriffs decided that I am too lovable to be a regicide," or perhaps otherwise convinced, "and the Magister suggested I take the throne, or he would see me ended." Another draught, as Will waxes lyrical. Still amused. A bit of a change from the serious responsibility one might accept.

"Then it will be as you desire," Isobel says, cheekily adding, "Your Majesty." And up she gets from the couch, to curtsey at him, as she was trained to all those many years ago, when first presented with her royal kin. "I am glad the decision was to let you live. It would hurt to have finally found you again, only to have you taken from me." Once done with the curtsey, she downs the glass of blood and smiles slyly. "Now for my news. Ivan Fontane was here. Apparently Hiro Nishimura took the claim too far. He glamoured and mishadled Miss Tyler even though I was adamant that should he lay claim on her it be of her own free will."

"Of course you are," Will replies, throwing forth a quirked half-smile, his face alighting with good humour. "Did I not mention how lovable I am?" He finishes the bottle in his hand, obviously considering something, though only briefly. He echoes of a long-past Valentinus, full of joy and revelry, dangerous in the game of thrones and politics. When he was attached to Ysolde. "Have Nishimura summoned to my presence," he orders, offhandedly. "Ensure that the others present during my scuffle with Kegan are rewarded, be it fiscally or with future promise of my favour and assistance, as they wish. Bring other requests to me. You may choose a Whip, or not, as you wish."

"Mr. Fontane wishes simply to handle the situation on his own," Isobel says somewhat dryly, as she recalls the conversation. "His only request is that no retribution be placed upon him if he manages to kill Nishimura. I have told him that if retribution be the case, I would supplicate a higher authority on his behalf." A nod, briefly given to the new King as she says this. Then her expression becomes grim. "He has also requested a meeting with you to discuss a special task force team. One human, one vampire, one other supernatural, in order to ensure everyone's safety. It is a political ploy to try and turn those of our kind who refuse to mainstream, into puppies, or deal with them in a harsh manner. I refused to make a decision on it until your return, and now that you are the utmost authority for our kind in Texas, I leave this to you. I have the paperwork downstairs, and insofar as what it is, it /seems/ sound."

"Mr. Fontane needs to learn that he doesn't get to kill vampires when he feels like it," Will tells her, his voice lilting with dark amusement. "Only /I/ get to do that. Have Nishimura summoned to my presence. Can't have a little mortal getting uppity ideas now, can we?"

"Task force," he muses, idly. His accent has lost the faint Southern twang, instead a fairly neutral English twist. "It depends on who controls it- which reminds me, I am ordering the obliteration of the Austin pack. There may be a few desperate survivors who you will need to deal with. I may swap him Nishimura for control of the task force when it is interfering with my own work."

"I will see what I can do, and set up a meeting with Fontane as well." Isobel twists upon the couch so that she can face him, her bedroom heels kicked off toward the floor. "So it was the Austin pack that was assisting Kegan? Would you also like a meeting with Mr. Donato to ensure that the Dallas pack does not attempt to retaliate upon you?"

"As far as I am able to ascertain, the Austin pack were assisting him," Will says, mildly now. He doesn't bother to move, other than to reach out for another bottle of blood. "They also killed Chloe's father." He cracks the bottle, his tone not really altering from cheery amusement. "Donato will likely leap on the opportunity to gather more territory. Yes, I wish to see him. Incidentally, this estate will be yours once I have built my new one."

Isobel, who really only came to Dallas on a business excursion just watches him. Stoically, though with a slightly odd look in her eyes. Without a word, she raises from the couch, pads her way to the fridge, and lifts out a bag of blood. A specially marked bag, with the seal of Lonestar Blood Services upon it. Silently, she fills two glasses with it, warms them in the microwave, and then returns offering one out to Will. "Consider this special blend a celebratory drink. I have a feeling that you will much enjoy it." The sly grin appears again, only to slowly disappear completely once she lifts her glass to her lips and takes a slow drink from it.

"Then I shall see what I can do about arranging a meeting with Donato as well." Her tongue flicks out to catch a drop of blood from her upper lip, and she moves to seat herself on the couch once more. "You wish to leave me in this estate on my own? Of course, your room shall remain intact and untouched should you ever need the safety of this manor should something happen to your new one." She seems almost, uneasy with taking the current estate over.

Will accepts the glass with a gracious nod of his head, taking a sip immediately. A smile touches at his lips. "Delectable, and different. Tastes like magician. Who is this?" For a long moment he relaxes against the couch, enjoying a further sip of the glass.

"Relax, my dear," he says, gently. "I will not be going for some time, and you are welcome to stay with me whenever you wish. I simply feel a larger abode is necessary, now I can afford one. Perhaps you could come to my new estate." He pauses, letting his smile spread towards a brief grin. "Besides, there is one further requirement. I am required to ensure the creation of five further vampires, all to be people of good standing. I will Make one, you another, and we shall see about the three."

"Ivan Fontane," Isobel says simply, finishing off her glass of the blood. Pity that it is not fresh from the source, but that will be rectified one day. After all. /She/ has all the time in the world. Her tongue licks over her lips again to ensure that she has not missed a drop. "That is a pretty hefty requirement, and a long term commitment." Only a small hint of jealousy at not being the only, nor the favored child any longer. "I presume you have made your decision already? I would say that I could easily make mine, however the one I desire is stubborn in his refusal, and I will not offer the gift to anyone against their will."

A slow, rumbling chuckle draws forth from Will. "The cheeky little swine," he says, through his laughter. Laughter from Will, a rare thought indeed. He tilts his head to one side, looking now at the picture on the wall. "I have spent all my political capital in this state, and it was not something I could negotiate upon further. I have made no decision, though we have but six months, and I do not wish to find myself Making four children in one week, selected from fangbangers I have barely met."

The laugh causes her to pause. In truth, it is a very rare occurrence indeed, and something she has only heard once, perhaps twice before. Isobel snuggles herself up against her Maker at the sound, and then says, "If you are unwilling or find none worthy, then I shall do it. Simply because the warehouse war was my doing. Had Nishimura's information been correct, we would have saved you and been gone before anyone knew we were present. How /did/ you manage to free yourself?"

Perhaps not so rare any more. Will shifts an arm to place around Isobel, happy to allow the touch for the moment. "I have commited to at least one, it is required, therefore it will occur." He does not sound particular against it, accepting instead. "The information was Nishimura's? Hmm." The gentle hum, another rarity with the normally vocally restrained man. "I was freed by, of all things, a human, a psychic, a twin-souled tiger and the arrogance of my captor. Sheer luck, in truth."

"If you provide me with the names of those you are aware of, I will see that they are duly compensated as well then. It was the librarian?" Isobel is well aware of who the red-head is now, though she knows not her true nature. "Isonzo said that it would be for she is stubborn and resolute in her ways, and would not leave though you had told her to." Silence reigns for a few moments. "Though I must tell you something. When I sire a Child, it is unlike anything I have come across in my life as of yet. There is a strange bond, that allows them to stay with me much longer than most. Perhaps an odd gift from /her/ through you? It is why Kotori was able to remain at my side for as long as he did with none of the adverse effects of nesting."

"Once I know names, I shall pass them on," says Will, finishing the glass of Ivan's lifeblood with a gentle smack of his lips. "That stubborn nature may have ensured my survival," he says, leaning slightly to place the glass somewhere where it cannot fall.

He does ponder that thought, for a little while. "It is possible, since we stayed together for a long time without becoming particularly vicious, though we were no slouches at other classic nesting traits." He stares out at the wall again. "That is another consideration with you having an estate to yourself."

Isobel laughs, taking a moment to stare at him. "Do you fear falling into nesting traits with me, Your Majesty?" Winking, she settles her own emptied glass upon the side table, then turns back to him. "I have never truly had that fear in regards to anyone, as the majority of my extended life has been spent traveling. Never staying in one place for more than a year. Yet here we are, only having just come upon one another, and you offer me both security and stability. A home. Something I have not had in many centuries." Away her head turns, a finger slipping up to delicately wipe at an eye. "Then I shall ensure that the stubborn one and her friends are greatly compensated then, as they saw to your freedom."

"No fear, just an acknowledgement that things could become a little complicated, my sweet," Will responds, with something like a gentle shrug. He does nod slightly to the rest, a relaxed and languid movement that defies his oft-times reticience. "You will always have a place by my side, Isobel. A home with me." He artfully ignores the beginnings of her tears. "I have an amused notion that they will likely be confused when they are rewarded. It should prove entertaining. The human was very much hostile; I fear she has had previous poor experience with us."

It takes a moment for her to get herself completely under control before facing him again. As she does, there is no sign of emotion. A stoic expression once more. "The human? Not the librarian?" Isobel considers for a few moments. "It may have just been fear that was driving her so hard. Humans are known for it, and not without good cause in some cases."

A mental shrug passes through Will's contact to Isobel, along with the general wash of relaxed, easy goodwill. "The librarian is mine, though she is currently undergoing some mental trauma. The other one is an unknown; I do not understand this fear causing anger. What purpose does it serve? Nothing but destruction of body and mind will come of it. Foolish mortals, so obsessed with their own impending doom."

"Had you been told when human, that there were monsters lurking about greater than the ones you fought already, would you not be fearful?" Isobel watches the look in his eyes when mentions the librarian being his. "Or perhaps had you been told that there were creatures out there who could potentially live forever, like a fountain of youth, would you too not be perhaps curious over obtaining it yourself? It is not odd that mortals obsess over their mortality. It is quite natural, I believe."

"When I was mortal," Will responds, "we knew there were monsters lurking. We knew there were demons inhabiting the bodies of children and women." They were purged or exorcised, oft-times without surviving the process. "I do not dislike the curiosity, I dislike their obsession. I never considered my death. It would come when the Lord decreed it would come, my duty was to fight and to die.""

"And the men?" Isobel quirks her lip up in an amused grin, then says, "Such is not the case these days. Very few people turn to the Lord, and those that do are torn between accepting that our kind exists, and can be Christian, or demonizing us as they children of Satan. Between this, they lead hectic stressful lives. Lives which are extended by modern medicine much like mine was extended by the gift bestowed upon me." Perhaps she has thought on it a little more than he has, because she was /meant/ to die and was saved.

"Oddly enough, it felt very much like the majority of demons inhabited the bodies of women and children," Will replies, dryly, darkly amused. He reaches forwards, to take the final bottle of synthetic from the table. "The misguided fanatics who do so irritate me when I am forced to suffer their diatribe without retribution. An older, simpler time would have seen them eradicated."

"They may be eradicated yet, if we prove ourselves to not wholly be the demons they make us out to be." Isobel leans against him once more, settling there momentarily. Were anyone not to know what they were, they would look surprisingly like a teenaged couple. "Was there any specific form of compensation for me," she teases, her voice never quite leaving the neutral zone. "I did rally the troops to come to your aide, even though we were not the ones to rescue you."

"I was going to settle for murdering them in their sleep, and killing their immediate family," Will responds, with dark and deadly humour. Not entirely obvious if he is joking or not. "Then destroying the government, taking over the country and settling in as a benevolent dictator for life." The look in his eyes belies the couple notion; there's a fire burning somewhere inside. "Well, if you do not wish to be Sheriff, I can certainly compensate you fiscally," he ponders, idly.

"Valentine, as deadly as you are I do not think you could continue your life as a murderer of the innocent." Isobel's voice is solemn. Her eyes dark as she watches him. "Though I could definitely see you attempting to overthrow the government, it may be wise to allow yourself to settle into kingship first." Her body tenses even more so than it was. "I have already said that I would gladly take on the unexpected responsibility. However, I was thinking perhaps more of an outing would be suitable in the future. I enjoy the theater, and I have no one to enjoy it /with/." For a moment, the pout can almost be heard in her voice. "Perhaps when I choose a suitable child this will change, but until then, if you ever chance to be unbusy some evening I should be glad for the company."

With a delicate shrug, the humour glinting shrewdly in his eyes, Will replies, "Are you sure?" All innocent. He settles back into the couch, drinking at the synthetic bottle and delivering the next with infinite majesty and calm. "Isobel Symon, are you asking me on a date?"

"If that is the colloquialism that you wish to use, then I suppose that is the case." Isobel does, however, lift an eyebrow up into an arch and gives him an odd look. "I do so miss the times when a man could innocently escort a woman to the theater without any underlying connotations to it. A ride in the park. A night at a ball…" A slight grin, the animated expression of youth. "You should host an inaugural ball!"

"With our current record of social occasions," Will responds, dryly, "are you certain that is a good idea? Although it would be nice to present a new princess of the ball." He leans forwards now, finishing the bottle of synthetic as he comes to his feet, disengaging from Isobel to turn and deliver a deep and teasing bow. "Then, Ms Symon, shall we have a delicate and pleasant evening at the theatre, with a long series of strapping young men for afters."

"I should be most delighted to enjoy such an enchanting evening with you, monsieur des Barres." Isobel offers her hand out in a very old fashioned manner, bowing her head forward in acquiescence. All play-acting, all fun. Something she has not bothered with for several weeks. "Perhaps not a large social occasion then. Though I will ensure that those meetings you requested are secured and dealt with as swiftly as I am able to do so."

The hand taken, and Will delicately presse his lips to it. "Enchante," he murmurs, with a sly and amused look upwards. "This is your city now, my sweet. Care for it well." With that, a whiff of air flutters through the room as a dark blur heads doorwards, and out. Will is on his way!

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License