Cruel and Crueller

Sheriff's Estate - The Vault

Day 1. Susan got downstairs early. Met Clarence. Not one of her greatest moments.
Day 2. Susan got downstaris earlier. Met Will. Not an experience she'd quite like to repeat in the same fashion again.
So now we're talking the 3rd day of Sue Baker at the estate. Recovering as per Isobel's orders. And she's downstairs earlier still. The sun has yet to set even though in the darkness of the vault there's not a visual sign of it and the tiny woman tiptoed to the kitchen. Took two bottles, popped them in the microwave and drank them on the spot. Messily. That's what you get when you keep to your room, not risking another trip to the fridge all night. Now there's another three random bottles slowly turning around in the internal light of the microwave and Sue's waiting impatiently for them to be done with so she can hurry and hide back upstairs. And time passes.

Marius is an early riser. Always has been. During his breathing years, it was required in order to keep basic foods on the table and their Count in the money in order to pay the Emperor his due. And, of course, to give the Royal the lifestyle they'd so richly deserved. Early to the fields, late in returning was his early life. Early to battle, late to drag the riches to camp and taste of the wine and song was his formative years, and now?
No different.
Silent fall the feet of the veteran, and as the door opens, there is the German, crisp in black shirt and pants (hides the blood well!), down to his boots. Eyes narrow to see the flitting girl at the microwave, the empty bottles still within sight. His voice is quiet, soft, a whisper in the air but carries the tenor of a man used to command, "You are.."

"Gregory. You have found his resting place then? Good." Isobel, so taken with her phone conversation, has not yet bothered to dress properly. Sporting a Victorian styled white chemise, she stops at the top of the stairs. "You should leave before he awakens and decides to make a meal of you. Keep the coordinates in your GPS unit, and I will meet you at Mary's shortly. There is business I must tend to."

Where she got a new phone so swiftly after throwing the other against the wall is anyone's guess.

"Ms. Baker," she states icily, eyeing the woman from across the Vault. "I see you are making quite a stir in my household." In a flash, Isobel is across the room her hand lashing out to strike the woman. "Though I highly suggest that the next time you mean to injure one of those who works for me, you think better of it. I will not be as kind as he was and simply let it go."

Icy blue eyes flit to Marius for a moment, and she states, "This is a proverbial thorn in my backside."

The moment Isobel's hand rises to strike the child, Marius moves, and quickly. One hand reaches out to stay Isobel's hand from the strike, and the other, the more forceful motion, is to reach out and grab Susan by the throat, fingers clamped just under her jawline. If Isobel sought to strike the girl, and he wasn't told of an infraction? It's not the violence he abhors, oh no.. it's simply, he wishes to mete out the punishment himself.
After all, it is what Valentinus asked, yes? And after the conversation he had last night, there is much work to be done to bring things into line again, even if some lives needed to end.
The words echo, 'This is a proverbial thorn in my backside…'

Before the microwave has a chance to sound, Susan comes to the conclusion that, not only did she start out too late again, but that this day really isn't going to be any better than the days before. Maybe there'll come a day she can laugh at the irony that is the world, as the moment fingers grab her by the throat, there's a cheerful

~ Ding ~

to announce her blood is at /just/ the right temperature. She didn't even have a chance to start to respond, speed never was hers and might prove to be her undoing yet. So there's a choaked little growl and the fangs hope to intimidate along with it, even if one is severely clipped. As it is, it's all she can do to try and keep her toes touching the floor, nails clawing at the hand that holds her.

That her hand is stayed is perhaps a good thing. Isobel does not mind swatting at a gnat when the situation warrants, but it will take some time to get comfortable with Marius being in residence. Her hand is yanked free from his, and she sends him an icy death glare. Until her mask of neutrality snaps back into place.

"Susan Baker," she says to Marius, no longer focusing on the woman, "will be unable to respond to you, as I have removed her tongue." Slipping past to the fridge, she extracts a bag of AB negative from the fridge — a gift from Mary — and sets about pouring it into a mug. "She glamoured a young woman that was under the King's protection, and attempted to gouge out the eyes of my bodyguard."

The icy death glare is then sent to Susan, along with a rather evil smirk. "Should she do anything untoward to another vampire while this punishment is being carried out, you shall have a lot of fun with her."

Squeezing the side of Susan's jaw as one would a snapdragon flower to have it open, Marius peers inside to see the results. He looks completely unfazed by Isobel's displeasure, and it's a calm, deathly neutral expression that echos his tones, "Tongue removal for an assault against the King?" Mild. Much too mild.
"Kind," he speaks to Susan in low, hissed words, "you are lucky you are still on this earth. And to attack one that protects Lady Isobel?"
Cold, dead crystal blue eyes turn to Isobel now, and a touch of a smirk creases his lips. "Shall I show her how he would have lived life for some months should she have been successful?"
Marius returns his attention to Susan and laughs low, "Put away your fangs, girl."

Such false accusations! Susan's eyes, wide with outrage, scream of it. She can't even shake her head in denial though Marius would probably feel the intend, feeling how he opens her jaw to be judged like a horse at a market. And coming up way, way too short. So a 'little' high on emotions, it's all she can do not to go kicking and screaming, but retracting those fangs is, at this moment, not even an option.


The word resonates within Isobel, and though it was meant as an insult for her being too soft, it gives her a brief moment to remember who she is — a kind soul that was thrown into the position out of necessity.

The feeling of lightness that fills her being quickly plummets to the ground when he poses his question to her. "Clarence has healed nicely since the incident," she remarks, eyeing Susan to perhaps gauge her reaction to the new Whip. "However should she continue to protest in the manner she is at the moment you may." A gentle warning to Susan to behave, because the Sheriff does not intend to stay the hand of her new sword arm for long.

"Put. Them. Away." The three words are warning, and Marius is not about to be ignored, even for the slightest infraction. His fingers tighten and his own come out in threat. Leaning forward, his voice falls to a whisper, "You are not the first, kleines Madchen, and you will not be the last. If you wish to find your life turn for the better, you will follow my every word. If you continue to choose.. a different path, I can make you beg for final death and not bat an eye." Canting his head, his voice still moves as a whisper, "Do you believe me?"
With his attention upon Susan, Marius' words are louder as he addresses Isobel, "I would like to speak to him later, if I may, my Lady."

If they could make a cartoony sound, the retracting fangs of Susan Baker would go 'Eeeeeeep', those big blue eyes focusing only on the whip and his promise. Out of habit, she tries to swallow but finds that the finger make that too impossible and while she allows her hands to slowly drop down by her sides, she blinks. Just once. And while she can't speak, her gaze speaks volumes, one emotion after another flashing in succession. Distrust. Belief. Understanding. And between them a hint of rebellion still, calculating options.

"Ms. Baker, I would highly suggest that you think twice before attempting to rebel. You believe me to be cruel, but you have yet to see what Schlachter is capable of." His name, 'Slaughterer' is definitely well suited to who he is.

Isobel shifts past the pair to remove the synthetic from the microwave, and place her own mug of AB into the device to be heated to human temperature. "I shall inform him as soon as he check in with me. As it stands, he is currently keeping an eye on someone for me."

Watching the play of emotions flicker behind the eyes, Marius catches that last bit and makes a mental note. This one will either die or she will be of use to me. Eyes are, after all, mirrors to the soul, and to look into his own, there is.. nothing.
A step back is taken, and with an open hand strikes the face of the girl with little held back. Some, perhaps.. as a warning, but there is no compunction about striking a female. None.
Marius takes a step away from the microwave now, getting out of the way completely of his hostess' morning routine. "Ah," he sounds as if nothing unpleasant has occurred. "Something I may help with, perhaps?"

So disconcerting, those eyes and Sue can't take her own off them, not trusting what will happen if she does. But in the end it matters little and before she even has a chance of regaining her balance, that smack literally sends her flying sideways, almost past the bar - had her head not hit one of the handles on the cabinet at the end. She slides another few feet before she comes to rest, bleeding at the side of her head. A steady stream down her cheek that dissolves with the synthetic smears around her mouth and further down onto the previously white shirt. Fighting the dizziness in her brain, she stays down for the moment.

The loud DING of the microwave sounds out at the same moment as the slap, emphasizing it nicely.

Extracting her warm mug, Isobel pauses to consider it. "Should you wish something more substantial than the synthetic has to offer, you are more than welcome to the bags from the blood bank." The way it is worded, her posture, all meant to convey that only Marius should touch her special reserve. At this point, she is paying very little attention to Susan, knowing that he has the woman well in hand.

"No, I do believe his task of watching over one of those protected by our liege would be absolutely dull for you."

When attention is finally given to Susan, she clicks her tongue once. "You will clean this mess, Ms. Baker for it is your own fault that there is now blood upon my cabinet and floor."

There's a snapped motion as Marius' feet come together, a *click* of the heels and Marius inclines his head at the same time. "Thank you, my Lady, but I think that will not be necessary." He's found a feeding ground south of the border, and it's remote.. and very easy to get to and back from. "I will, however, keep it in mind."
The dismissal of his offer is greeted with equinamity. If the bodyguard can handle it, then it will be so. If he can not, he will simply… clean up the mess left behind. "As you wish. Today, I think, bodes well for us, Lady Isobel. I can feel that it will be a good evening that lies before us."
Without sparing a look to the downed Susan, Marius moves to the furniture and sits down on one of the seats. "This provin— state has many interesting rules. Guns.. guns are very popular and common." Rolling his head back to look at Isobel, he grins, fangs retracted. "This means I will send for mine."

Using the fabric at her shoulder to clear away some of the blood trickling in her eye, Susan rises a little unsteady, taking a moment, then another to regain her footing, her sense of direction even. With hot eyes to the ground, firmly, and a hand fingering her throat, she hears her feet softly slap the floor when she makes her way back to the bar where she starts opening drawers in search of… A cleaning rag is produced from one. Pen and paper from another. She quickly jots down a few words, pushes the note block in Isobel's general direction and moves over to the sink to wet the rag. Still, very carefully not looking anyone in the eye. Maybe because her look could kill at the moment. Or get her killed just as easily.

[ I'll be out of your hair within an hour. ]

"As you wish, but the offer remains standing on the off chance that you need it in an emergent situation." The dismissal was merely because it is truth: Marius would be bored watching some breather until nearly dawn and handing her off to a human guard. He would be more apt to kill the woman and be done with it, and that would cause much animosity within human politics.

"Ms. Baker, you are not to leave my presence until I dismiss you. You are not to leave this estate until I decree that you may leave this estate. Should you do so before you have gained my approval, I will have Marius torture you until you are begging for your unlife to end, and then I will end it with a silver stake in your heart. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" Isobel is aware that it comes off as exceedingly cruel on her part, but she is growing weary of the petulant little child.

"It is America, and while Texas likely harbors more weaponry than most of the other states, it is not uncommon for an average citizen to carry a gun." Her nose curls up in a sign of distaste. "The fools have begun marketing silver bullets."

The words to Susan garner Marius' attention, if simply for the promise of his favoured pasttime. He didn't have near enough time last night to play and truly satiate his needs, but after the synthetic garbage?
It was enough.
Isobel's words, to him, don't go anywhere near his definition of cruel. Where he drawls the line at being— well, he doesn't. Raised in a time when drawing and quartering was still in vogue, that was tame in comparison to what he's learned over the centuries. She does, however, make her demands quite clear, and Marius is more than happy to be sure they're enforced.
"America," he repeats, "an amazing place. A country to call off the Great Hunt and encourage us. Where her people openly wish to be with us.." A laugh exits the man. "Silver bullets, hmmm? Those could be useful to me. I will look for them."

For a few seconds the water runs useless. Susan risks a glance sideways while she thrusts the rag into the stream and starts to get it thoroughly soaked. It's an automatic gesture, one she doesn't need her attention with. After all, 'give the woman an apron'. Filling her face with questions, she mouths to Isobel, "Why?!" On second thought she dumps the rag in the sink and grabs the pen again, hastily writing. The paper is torn off and handed to Isobel, with just a flash of a wary glance to see if Marius is still seated.

[ Why would you want to keep me around. ]

"Because I am your Sheriff, the ruler of this Area, and you will learn some respect or you will die," Isobel says icily. "You are a child, a petulant little child with your demands and your questions. These will cease immediately as well, or I will have every pen and every notebook in the estate removed and have you locked in your room until I am satisfied that you understand this."

In one shot, she downs the cooling AB from her mug, and sets the mug atop the microwave. "See that she does what she is told, if not, have your way with her, bind her and leave her in the yard for the sun." In short, Isobel has no further patience for Susan this evening. She has her own Child to tend to.

"There is a shop in the western part of the city that sells them. He has been glamoured by that fool Darcy, but will not sell the bullets to those who tout themselves to be Fellowship."

Rising to his feet once more, it sounds all the world as if Isobel is going to depart once more. "As you wish, my Lady," is accompanied by a slight bow.
Turning his attention on Susan, he cants his head as he considers her. He's very aware that he's struck the proper chord in the madchen, so he's pretty sure that there will be no real issue with her.
He's not stupid, however.. and one never turns one's back to anyone and expect to live.
"I will assure that she does not depart the premises. When I leave to visit the proprietor that sells the bullets, she will be properly.. restricted in her movement until such time as I return."

Susan puts down the pen and has to work visibly to keep her mouth a thin, thin line, venting her frustration on the cleaning rag. When she moves over to the end of the bar to clean blood from one of the handles, her movements are stiff as they are proud, the overall appearance being one of a spring wound too tight. The cleaning falters when Marius tells Isobel about restrictions and she glances up briefly, gauging from the sight of his shoes where he's standing and guessing from there what will happen. Wiping so briskly now the handle nearly comes off. Still, a very commendable silence: not a hint of a growl.

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