Tooth For Tooth

Ravello - Baker Apartment

Weeks have passed since the Sheriff of Area 9 charged Braeden Keely MacKeirnan, and the American Vampire League with dealing with a problem that was not only painting vampires in a bad light, but the organization as well. Weeks have passed since Isobel expected notification of the retribution. Weeks wherein she has been busy helping a new child enter the realm of the night, and taking said child to seek out the Magister. The time with the Magister was brief, while the King was taking care of the city, though a punishment settled upon.

There is quite a bustle going on in the Baker Apartment this evening, though Ms. Baker may not yet be aware of it. Ten rather large, sturdy looking vampires are currently carrying out objects and furniture to place them into a truck that waits down below — with or without objection, none of the men bothering to stop or worry about the occupant's whereabouts.

There is but one piece of furniture left in the living room — the coffee table. This is where Isobel Skye Symon perches herself, awaiting the vampiress in question. At her side are several devices that look none too pleasant, as well as a monitoring anklet.

Ka-click. Even the turning of the key sounds ominous and hollow in the now all but empty living room, but the appearance of the usually radiantly smiling Susan Baker turns it back into an every event. Radiantly smiling at someone down the hall, that is, for the sentiment dies a rather pathetic death the moment the woman lays eyes on her home. Her sanctuary. Only it isn't anymore, is it. In the icy blue first confusion, then slow comprehension while she closes the door behind her. Another ka-click. And her melodic voice questioning of the sheriff at this safe distance, "There'd better be a very good explanation for this. Or a gorgeous brunette to make up for this poor, poor joke."

Just like that, Isobel is off the table and her hand is at the woman's throat. "You are about to learn your place, Susan Baker. It is high time you learn who is the authority in this city, and you learn to respect that authority." There is no wavering within the Sheriff, no sign that this is at all a joke. "You overstepped your boundaries when you blatantly attacked someone here in this building. Someone whom everyone was aware was under my protection." Her voice is icy, cool, and not at all forgiving.

"I have spoken to the Magister, and it seems that you have a long history of not knowing your boundaries. You are in my city now, and thus you will be abiding by my rules. You may nod once if you understand what I am saying."

No nod. Rather increased confusion (right before highly increased outrage) on that cheeky round face that shows emotions to a fault. Dropping the purse, Sue brings her hands to that one hand at her throat, to vampire standards in slow motion. Even though she's not and never will be a match to Isobel's strength. "Ma-iste?" She tries to croak, forcing air past the cords. "'U-go Bosch is under…?

The increased outrage is merely met with an ice cold smirk. "You would do well to remove your hand from my person, Ms. Baker, or you will incur much more punishment than what was agreed upon with the Magister. I suggest that you do it… now or I will snap your neck." There is no ire, no heightened anger. Merely that icy coolness.

"Hugo Bosch is of no consequence. You are hereby charged with glamouring the breather known as Faith Tyler, who was under my protection as well as the protection of your King. You are further charged with portraying your organization, and vampires in general in a bad light by attacking an innocent girl. You may not wish to mainstream, but now you are forcibly going to mainstream or you are going to find yourself dead. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Baker?"

Reluctantly, so very slow, Susan's hands open, hovering by Isobel's wrist a moment longer before she forces them down. Such an unnatural thing to do and it's costing her, biting her lip in frustration to the point of bleeding. Well, that's actually more a result of the elongating teeth when Sue's temper starts to rise, the anger darkening the blue of her eyes, unwavering on the sheriff's. "Ty-ler?!" She forces out with almost the last of the air she stored, "Did-n't!"

With force, Isobel slams Susan backward toward the wall. Now her voice takes on something more than icy neutrality. "Do not lie to me, Ms. Baker. I have had a full account from both Clarence, and Miss Tyler herself. Do not ever mistake me for some idiot that you can try to manipulate."

A glance behind her, and she motions with her free hand toward the silver monitoring anklet. "Please attach that to Ms. Baker's ankle." The device will not only track Susan, but be a painful and constant reminder that she is being watched with great scrutiny from here on out.

One of the men takes the anklet in a gloved hand, and snaps it over the woman's ankle. Tightly as possible. A button is pressed, and the device activated.

"An alarm will sound should you attempt to remove the anklet. This alarm will be heard not only by myself, but will be heard by the Magister who will then order your death." Is it a lie? It could be, but the Sheriff definitely makes it sound serious.

Susan is a little busy fingering the back of her head, the sharp pain of it for a moment breaking eye contact with the sheriff. Not that she'll try and make it easy for the man to put the bracelet on. Next time he might try to take off 4 inch heels before he comes anywhere near it. But on it goes, there's just no preventing it. Which does nothing for her temper, anger bordering on rage by now and when she stares hard at the sheriff, the eyes are narrowed, the lips pulled back in a snarl. But she has no air left to speak, croaking in protest. Or maybe a polite request to speak. Who can tell.

"You are going to curb that anger, Ms. Baker, or I will curb it for you," Isobel snaps.

The man recoils his bruised and battered hand, though he makes no move at retaliation. That may come later, but not at the moment. In fact, the man slides behind the Sheriff, placing his hand over hers so that she can step away briefly.

When Isobel does step away, it is toward the coffee table, and one of the devices — a simple Medieval torture device known as the Tongue Tearer. She taps the steel against her palm several times. "Now, my dear, you have a choice. We can remove your tongue so that you are unable to glamour anyone including for meals for at least the next three to six months, or we can pry your eyeballs out with a silver dagger so that you can never use your ability on anyone ever again."

There was a sharp gulping for air at the change of the guard and Sue already opened her mouth to protest. Again her hands fly up, groping the man's wrist as now fear enters her expression, her gaze not leaving Isobel - or the device at hand. She knows it, though previously she was the one that did the hand tapping. She wriggles, trying to get away hoping nails dug into skin might help. Or else frantically shaking her head. "F- Fuck's sake!" Susan manages, "-Y side … Story?!"

"Story time is over, Ms. Baker. You went against my explicit wishes, and you glamoured someone that was under my protection. You will be held accountable for your actions." The tongue tearer is tapped against her hand again. "Your time is short, I suggest you choose your form of punishment and swiftly, before I change my mind and drag you to see the Magister, or worse. The King could always handle you, and his favored form of punishment is to let you starve to death in a coffin of silver."

The Sheriff advances on the woman and nods toward the man holding her in order to have him ease up just a little. "Beyond that, your story matters very little to me. You disobeyed an order while in the presence of another vampire, and now you will be dealt with accordingly."

Susan wastes no time the moment the hand is lifted, and the first order of business would be, "Not the eyes!" Not that those words lift her tension, blurting out in her haste, "The girl was terrified when she saw me again! I tried to make sure your protection wasn't violated by taking away a little of her fear. Damnit, that's ALL!" Still, when Isobel nears, she tries to shy away. A threat of common sense still lingering. "Your man would know," she continues, in a hurry, "I never tried to harm a hair on her head. I invited her and Fontane over for TEA!!" And should she check, her men would confirm large quantities of tea and even biscuits taken from the cabinets in the kitchen. Then again, the woman is British by origin.

"The punishment has already been decided, Ms. Baker. You, as well as every other vampire within this city was made aware, that the Tyler girl was under my protection. Yet you all persist in harassing her, and glamouring her." Isobel is not saying much more than that now. Edging ever closer toward the woman, the device kept tightly within her hand. "My man told me all I needed to know when he brought the breather to my estate for me to deal with her."

With all of that having been said, she nods toward the man again and has him hold Susan tightly to the wall. The tearer is then brought up, and the woman's mouth forced open so that the iron can be pressed against her tongue and the device utilized.

The Sheriff does her part to keep her face a visage of icy neutrality, though she is inwardly cringing at it. Using the woman as an example for others is necessary, but that does not mean she actually enjoys having to tear out someone's tongue.

And had she been able to talk still instead of squirm and scream -not at all above that bit- Sue would've told her that they at least agree on something: she really isn't enjoying this part. A mix of emotion pass through the frantic eyes, darting between Isobel and her henchman, now pleading, then blazing, panicking, and finally, simply shut in pain. There's one words she manages to shout through all this, and it's simple as it's effective in bringing across her state of mind. "Nooo!"

After a few minutes of using the torture device, Isobel yanks it back. With it comes the pink mass of tongue as both it and the device are thrown to the floor in disgust. Even with this happening, the icy neutrality doesn't waver. It is one of the things that Isobel has schooled herself on quite a bit over the last several hundred years.

"Please shove some gauze into her mouth until she begins to heal, I really do not fancy being covered in blood."

One of the men moves to do so, while another lifts both the device and the tongue. The device is wiped off and placed upon the table again, the tongue is placed into a wooden box which is closed.

"That was at the Magister's request. You will be unable to glamour anyone until it heals, and that will take several months. Now for my own brand of punishment." Beyond the move and the anklet, which was all that would have been necessary had someone within the AVL handled this. "I shall pry one of your teeth free. You will still be able to feed, though anyone you feed upon will be easily marked as yours. Should said person make a complaint, the other tooth will be removed."

Is this how obedience is ensured, or how enemies are made? Still reeling with the pain of having her tongue removed, Susan only faintly registers Isobel's statement. Maybe she's wondering why she hasn't been released yet, isn't the stream pouring down her skin enough proof that the sentence was carried out? Her face is a mask of pain, but the eyes hold a promise below the anguish. And that promise is cold, is deadly. And again clouded over by agony. Maybe Isobel even missed it.

Obedience or enemies, matters not to Isobel at this point. She is carrying out orders of someone much more powerful than she is, and she's more than aware that she can easily kill Ms. Baker if it comes down to it. She's seen the look, and knows it well from her days with Ysolde. It is an expression she herself often wore. "Should you seek retribution, Ms. Baker, I assure you that I will see you dead. You do not stand a chance against me, and should you find someone that would succeed in injuring me, the King would see to dealing with you. Consider that I am being lenient."

Reaching for the pliers, she moves toward the woman's mouth once more. However, instead of yanking the fang outright, she instead seems to issue a little pity. Merely clipping it, so that it will grow back around the length of time it would take the tongue, as opposed to the years it would take to regrow the fang.

"She will be taken to the estate this evening, and allowed to recover through the night. See that she is fed and comfortable while I see to her room at the hotel."

It's not the words that seem to impress the small vampire, but the pliers… That's a different story. She didn't see them until they were before her face and Susan wails. When the tooth is clipped, more streams start to run over her face, bloody tears streaking in stark contrast to palest skin when pain is now matched by humiliation. It's a good thing she's still held up, unlikely that her legs would carry her right this moment. As such, she's easilly carried out, though if as is, a story would have to be fabricated to explain the pain the woman is in, as well as the blood ruined garments. The perks of being a public figure.

Garments are easily replaced, and she will not be without clothing at the estate. Merely comfortable and well cared for until such a time as Isobel deems her fit enough to be on her own once more. The Sheriff may be cruel in doling out punishment when it is necessary, but she is not overly mean about such things.

There is much Susan will not be privy to until much later, but for now the fact that the woman will be staying at the hotel indefinitely is much better than the Sheriff locking her in a coffin of silver.

"Within three months, I do hope that you adjust the error of your ways. I shall be to the estate to check on you once I ensure your items have been moved unharmed." There is a pause and she snaps her fingers at one of the men. "Do wipe the tears from her eyes, and offer her a bottle of True Blood once you have her in the vehicle. Take her swiftly to the estate."

There is little response from the once proud Susan Baker, the woman giving no sign of registering Isobel's words. A little too occupied with pain and self pity. And a healthy dosage of growing resentment, that helps too. On the plus side, there is no resistance, no 4 inch heels planted in feet, no hair pulling or eye scratching. Easy as can be.

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