Who's Your Daddy?

The Witching hour is upon us. The time when the blackest of hearts stride forth, to scurry around and organise the most base of entertainments. When the night people thrive, and those of sense are locked up tight and squirreled away within deep blankets. The time when vampires rule the city, when witches cavort in the shadowy cover of trees, and those who shun the light of day do their best business.

The site is quiet, overseen by camera and eyes that look only upon the darkness. The new mansion, for that it is, is already under construction, walls starting to take shape, the underground levels already hollowed out. The architect, the finest of his age, has been doing his job for two hundred years. The site managers are alive, though their masters are long since gone. Worker rotate, no man allowed to see more than a fraction of the whole. Security is tight, the disguising walls at the edge of the grounds patrolled by camera and dog, as well as more invisible guards.

The vehicle of the King of Texas pulls in to the entrance, the tinted windows leaving the faces of the occupants but a shadow. Within sits the King himself, relaxed and languid as always, the good humour of his eyes sitting over an otherwise impassive face. "I assume you have

"The presumption would be a tract of land where you are planning on building your new, ostentatious manor." Isobel peers out the window, watching the building thoughtfully. "You will be adding a room for me." Perhaps the young woman is overstepping her bounds by posing it as a statement rather than a question, but this has been her style of late.

"You should be made aware that there are several new vampires in the region, young ones who have left their Makers much too soon." A frown mars her expression briefly, yet she makes no move to exit the vehicle. "One of whom is apparently quite cozy with the Tyler girl."

"My favourite daughter," says Will, "shall have a suite of her own." Already planned. He glances out of the window, as the car begins to draw to a halt. "Little babies are of little interest to me, but should you need the fear of the Lord himself instilling within them, send them to me for an introduction. It shall amuse me." The last receives a faint twitch of disapproval to Will's nose, the tiniest hitch of a muscle that speaks volumes. "Ensure it does not cause any further trouble for them. The other Tyler is currently occupying my spare moments for amusement. I shall be drawing her out into discussion, if I am able, and I do not wish that opportunity for hilarity to be comprimised."

"Your only daughter," Isobel remarks. At least she is for the moment. But the fact that she's a favorite and likely to remain that way causes her to smile. Much like a child would from praise. "He afraid enough of me, and all /I/ did was offer him employment," she says with a laugh. "I will do my best, though I got the impression from the pup that he was quite enamored with Fontane's girl." There is a moment where a sheer evil gleam can be seen in her eyes, but it subsides rather quickly. "I cannot promise perfection, however. I cannot monitor the pup every waking hour of the night, though I will have my loyals keeping an eye out for him and reporting his whereabouts."

The King reaches out one slender hand, tugging the door handle and opening the door as he starts to move out. "It is good that he has fear of the Sheriff," he says, to no-one in particular. "I will not tolerate further dissension, be it active or passive, at least not until the city is fully settled." Whether he determines that to be the case in a week or a hundred years will largely depend on a whim. "I trust you to do your utmost. If this particular one acts up, give him a week in a coffin. A second time, destroy him. The necessary evidence will be easy enough to garner. How are things otherwise in your city?" Note 'your'.

"Tch. Far too adorable to destroy. He is merely two years old," Isobel points out. Ergo, he should not have left his Maker. "If anything, his Maker should be the one punished for allowing him to leave the nest far too early. However, I shall take him under my wing and ensure that he knows the way of the city." Should he fail in that, then she will deal with him. There is nary a wince when he says the word 'your' in lieu of 'the'. She does not consider it her city as of yet. "There are several of our kind that I have my eye upon, though I will take no action until a law is broken."

"Adorable?" wonders Will, now shooting a well-amused glance Isobel's way. "Are you particularly fond of him? I thought your soon-to-be priest would occupy most of your affection for the moment." He's teasing, difficult for most to spot, but likely easy enough for Isobel. Now out of the vehicle, the King starts to take quiet, measured steps towards the construction site proper. "I will not interfere in the city's affairs unless it is absolutely necessary. It is your opportunity to shine, my sweet child, and I shall steal none of your glorious light. I am here to assist should you require it." Making it very clear it's very much her problem now.

"Not particularly, but his fear is quite amusing." Isobel grins brightly. "I have not gone to see Mr. Hartigan for some time. I have been waiting until you are free so that I might introduce you." Since otherwise she /might/ be tempted to manipulate him just a little. Rather than opening her own door, she slides across the seats to get out of Will's door, and then closes it quietly. "You are /far/ too kind," she says, only a faint hit of sarcasm apparent in her voice. "I have been debating the pros and cons of taking on a Whip when you intend on building your palatial estate here in the city. It would seem a bit redundant to me."

"I shall never understand why so many choose to refer to people by surname," says Will, who rarely if ever does, and then only to those of equivalent rank. He's still clearly teasing. "I am looking forward to this meeting, to see what man dares think about stealing my little girl away from me." His attention sweeps over the site, a careful eye spotting various types standing guard, and allowing faint approval for the rapid progress. "The choice is yours. A Whip would allow you to maintain a semblance of nicety whilst allowing them the fear, or vice versa. However, I can provide a sweet smile when you need." A sweet smile that filters to his face, the very picture of innocence destroyed. "It is rather magnificent, is it not? Come." Then he is a dark blur, skipping from point to point and heading for what appears to be the highest point; a scaffold built high enough above the site to view it all. There he stands, a dark and majestic figure against the silence of the night.

"It is a matter of respect. I have spent most of my life in a man's world, and it is something that I have learned to become good at." Isobel /can/ very well play the game of submissive young girl when necessary. "He is very nervous to meet you. He knows nothing of your position, merely that you are the equivalent of a father figure." A mostly absentee figure but nonetheless the similarities are there. "I shall think more on the situation with the Whip. The difficulty being that I trust so very few of our kind that are currently within the city." There have been a few she could have trusted, but they have either moved on or are not interested. She waits until he stops before she too becomes a blur, following his path until she rests beside him.

Slowly, Will crouches, then a quick hop takes him to a seating position, legs dangling over the ongoing construction. "Do we think I should start using a surname or two?" he wonders, idly, as he studies a few different spots. A finger points. "Dungeon." He allows a nod for the rest, though does eventually deign to answer. "Would you like me to put him at ease, or let that fear grow?" he asks.

"You have a surname, Mr. Grant," Isobel teases. She does move beside him, but her choice of seating is much more delicate and refined. She lowers herself easily, legs folding under her body whilst she curves them toward him. "A much larger dungeon than you currently have." A brief nod as she peruses the site, then allows her gaze to rest upon him. "I shall allow you to decide that upon meeting him. Though as I do wish to possibly turn him, I hope you will not behave too harshly or scare him /too/ much."

"Funny," Will says, flatly, though without heat. If anything, there's a half-acknowledgement of a good pun to his eyes. "Ah," says he, sweeping further looks across the site. "I should perhaps qualify the difference between dungeon and prison." The look he shoots her is vastly amused now, as a hand slips to trace idly along her leg. "Then I shall be the picture of a perfect father. Kind, gentle, and ready to murder the man who dares come near my baby girl."

Isobel turns her attention back to the site, looking over it carefully. Memorizing the way the wall structure is. "Funny," she remarks almost quietly. "I do not recall ever having a real father." The simple fact is that she did not have an actual father. Merely a man who impregnated her mother, then claimed her once he realized she could be an asset. "That shall be rather endearing, I think. Though I do hope you will not expect me to call you daddy."

The older vampire allows a mental shrug to pass through their contact. His voice drifts towards gentle, even caring. "Biology means less than reality. I am willing and eager to be the father you have lacked." Suddenly, he's amused again. "I feel that would be appropriate. I should force the vampiric population to all refer to me as 'daddy'. I shall also let them know who had the idea."

"Vampirism amuses me," Isobel says, in a girlish voice. Much unlike the icy tone she usually uses. "You are everything to me wrapped up in one entity. Father, brother, friend, lover. There is nothing that would allow for that in a human relation." Suddenly she looks quite appalled. "You would not dare." There is a pause though as if she has just remembered something. "There is a young man in the city. I believe you have likely met his parents. Rosco? He has something to do with Kegan, or at least he was named after the man."

"Lover, alas," says Will, with a faint shrug, "will cause me nothing but trouble." His expression is amused, though. "You are correct, outside of relationships that- well, yes." The disgust at that train of thought is evident. He glances to one side, towards Isobel. "The Roscos are lawyers for much of the vampiric community, myself included, for some of my interests. The mother was gifted blood by Kegan, which allowed her to conceive. I did not know the fruit of that union was in Dallas."

His disgust is quite amusing, and it causes Isobel to laugh again. "I have long since not been disgusted by the vagaries of humanity. Considering that our kind oft becomes far more debauched than they can ever dream of becoming." The amusement continues, lighting her face momentarily. "Lawyers, yes. He did attempt to threaten me, as though I would waste my time feeding from him." Her lips curve into a wry smirk. "He believed me to be a high-priced lady of the evening."

"There are always lines," Will returns, levelly. "The reason why I will not tolerate children of the night in my realm." Which is true. No kiddie vamps in Dallas, unless they're being remarkably quiet. He does stretch to a smile, amused now. "I shall contact his father to see what action should be taken regarding the boy. At least he thought you a highly priced whore?"

"I admit that I was /quite/ amused by it all, considering that I /did/ tell him I was a photographer." Isobel leans against him briefly, yearning for the contact. Though just as suddenly, it stops. "Then perhaps you will have to slay quite a few of the younger vampires in Texas. Though I have to wonder what you consider to be a child." Several years old? Several decades old?

"I mean those who were turned as children," says Will, levelly. "I would rather destroy them." Out of pity, mostly. He continues to survey the site, another finger pointing. "The main reception area. Are you intending to play with the boy? I cannot see his father upset at such activity, if it is to teach the boy a lesson."

"Ah." On that, Isobel would have to agree. Anyone under the age of seventeen should not be allowed to exist. It is far too dangerous a world for a mere child to suffer through it for all eternity. "On that I concur. Destruction of those who have yet to reach maturity is well founded." She nearly straddles that line precariously herself. "Were he to sober up, he would probably be of more interest to me. As it is his body is filled with too many toxins for me to want to waste the time or effort."

"Ensure the populace is aware," Will says, with a note of order entering the tone. He allows a faintly inquiring look to pass between them. "Toxins? Am I to assume the boy is an alcoholic?" he wonders, mildly.

"Yes, my liege." Automatic response from Isobel, without even thinking about it. An order from a Maker is not one that she is apt to ignore. "Among other things, I believe. At least he appeared to be exceedingly drunk when I came upon him at the bar."

Will suddenly flashes to his feet, turning to survey the site in the opposite direction. "As noted, I shall ask his father what he would deem appropriate. It does to keep the lawyers happy, after all." He glances towards another section, pointing now. "The gardens and day room," he says, pointing towards a conservatory-looking section. "What do you think to the beginnings of my manse?"

Isobel will obviously not stop him from contacting the Rosco's. That would be his choice. "I shall have to meet these Rosco's at some point. I /did/ warn young master Rosco to not mention his namesake within my city. It will not go over well as a threat." She glances toward the areas that are pointed out. She considers momentarily. "Do set a moon room into the conservatory. It will be a lovely location to paint from."

"They are loyal to our kind, despite my killing of their erstwhile best customer," Will tells her, with some humour to his tone. "I shall introduce you at some juncture." He allows a nod. "There is already a plan in place for your painting, Isobel. An observatory at the rooftop level, with full vision around and across the city. Perfection itself for late night trysts with those yet to attain the cloth."

"There have been no trysts," Isobel states very neutrally. "It is far from that type of relationship." They have only spoken to one another. "I have not yet fed from him either, though he has offered." This causes a slight frown. "I do believe he reminds me of what /feelings/ are, and I cannot say that I enjoy that one bit."

"There have been no trysts," Will repeats, though he does add a single mental word, deliberately teasing. « Yet. » He stretches his arms wide, savouring the night over Dallas. "A dangerous game to play, is emotion. I shall be here for you should you require grounding."

Isobel makes a face at him. "Perhaps once he is turned. I am /not/ Ysolde," she says quite firmly. She is not going to make the poor priest-to-be fall for her. Fall to a life without the cloth, or show him what life can be like? Most certainly. "I appreciate that you will be here for me. I may need that grounding in the near future." He will see why once he meets Elliott.

The face is met by a blithe, apparently innocuous smile. The drop of the ultimate name apparently has no effect on his good humour. "I did not suggest you are, my sweet little firebrand. Having a little fun with a not-yet-frocked man is no problem, assuming you do not bring him amongst us without his permission." Informal of speech today, it seems. "I am here, as I said. Feel free to have a look around if you wish." He gestures to the site in general. "There is a copy of the plans in Erica's office."

"I would never bring him amongst our kind without his permission. I have no intention of turning him unless it is his desire." Isobel's brow raises slightly at the mention of Erica. "Do you believe it best to allow her to have a copy of the plans?"

"Why would I not?" Will queries, mildly. "Erica has been nothing but loyal to me for a number of years. I must decide soon whether she is to join us in immortality."

"I do not trust her." It is all Isobel says, but it carries with it a tone of something else. Trust issues mired with jealousy. "Loyal to /you/ does not necessarily mean loyal to our kind. Besides which, she is no better than a fangbanger. Remaining loyal to you and all the while wishing to become one of us herself." At least Kotori was not loyal out of anything she could provide him later on.

"You sound like Chloe," Will replies, with no small measure of humour. "She is loyal to money, to me, and to the future potential of immortality. I have trust in each of these things."

"Then perhaps your little friend and I will get on smashingly." Isobel glances sideways at him briefly, then back to where the projected observatory is to be. "Loyalty to money and the potential of immortality are all well and good, Valentine, but the truth of the matter is that once she is turned she will be an entirely different person, your child or not. Are you willing to sacrifice a good servant or employee for that?"

Will allows a briefly dark smile to touch his lips. "Whoever said she was to be turned? I am yet to make that decision, and it is unlikely I will bring her over myself. I have plans." He turns now, the dark smile staying in place. "She will learn a different type of loyalty, or she will die, if I so choose her to come unto us. I can always find another servant."

Gracefully, the vampiress stands. Suddenly beside him. "Valentine, it is ultimately your decision. I did not mean to overstep. You know my concern is merely for you." Isobel looks chastened as she stands there.

There is an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as Will reaches an arm to slip around Isobel's waist. "I know. Without you to question me, how would I ever make a great decision? I appreciate your input."

That he is not upset seems to make her feel a little better. Isobel laughs lightly. "Valentine, how did you ever survive without me all of these years? It has been scant months since we have found each other once more."

"Most recently?" Will queries, with a chuckle starting to rumble within his chest. "Erica." He draws her close with ancient strength, though gentle. "I am glad that fate brought us together once more," he says, fondly. "I fear my recent mishaps may have proved fatal without you. You are a rock for me, Isobel."

"I shall remain as such for as long as you need me to be." Isobel gets a mischievous glint in her eyes and she smiles up at him. "/Daddy/." Mostly said to disturb and bother him, due to the slightly incestuous connotations.

Now this he can accept, though he rewards her with an arch look. "Of course, little daughter," he returns, leaning to press a gentle kiss against her cheek. "I remember when you first arrived, uncertain of me. It is good it is no longer the case. You must have business."

"Upon realizing that Ysolde played the most horrid of tricks upon me, I learned to trust you." It is quite as simple as that for the Child. Isobel nods. "I do have to find Darcy. He is proving to be rather annoyingly difficult to meet up with."

"Good," says Will, levelly. "I would attend upon his home, and take something he holds dear. Then would he have the choice to come to me, or lose his precious toy. That, perhaps, or a simple phonecall." He flashes a quick smile Isobel's well. "Shall we?"

"I do not enjoy playing telephone tag," Isobel says with only a slight frown. Darcy is going to be a thorn, she knows it. But her Maker's words do hold some promise of fun in them, so she's smiling again as she nods. "I believe we shall."

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