Pens and Swords

Sheriff's Estate - The Vault

So it's night. Again. Surprise!

And there's Susan. Again. About as big a surprise. Seems like each time she gets down those stairs she's a little more careful, specially since the kitchen upstairs proved to be a hell of a worse choice to get something to drink than the downstairs supply. She's got the pale hungry look going on big time. Three guesses.

There was a jolt not so long ago, one that had Isobel's head reeling in pain. There is something to be said about a telepathic bond with one's Maker, and it really is not anything good. Thus it is that the Sheriff of Area 9 is waking up in a less than stellar mood. So much so that she's dressed for an evening out. A mock medieval dress is what she wears, the outfit bearing the same design and style as the days of old, though the skirt coming up much shorter in the front while maintaining its length in the back.

Without bothering to even glance at Susan, she makes her way to the refrigerator and opens it up. Digging into the back to a bag of AB negative, she tears it open with her teeth and dumps it into a nearby mug. This is then shoved into the microwave, and the bag tossed neatly into a trash bin whilst she licks her fingers clean.

Happy Marius.
As happy as the veteran can be, of course. On the floor at his feet, a long wooden slat-box sits open, wooden shavings within. Upon his lap, however, is a steel sword, an antique-looking one at that. In his hand, a sharpening stone. Slowly, carefully, the stone moves across the blade, and taking up the sword by its handle every third run, checks it by eye by straightening it in front of him. Soon enough, he runs a thumb over, testing the edge.
The entrances, however, may serve to spoil what might be a very happy reunion.

No difficulties from Susan, really not. One quiet, uneventful day with -and this is important- a complete lack of pain. That would just be lovely. Of course the silver anklet kinda spoils a little of the no pain, but she can grit her teeth and pretend it's not there. Some. Upon seeing Isobel enter, the tiny woman is taking an envelope out of a back pocket of her jeans. Upon seeing Isobel's mood, she sticks it back and waits way at the side of the bar until Isobel's finished. Face blank. But listening.

"Headache," comes the only verbal reply from the Sheriff. As the microwave dings, she tears open another bag and pours another mug full and shoves it into the microwave as well. Like the first time, she licks the droplets of blood off the tips of her fingers before taking a sip from her perfectly warmed blood. Icy blues drift over to Marius and she nods at the weapon.

"Have you procured yourself a gun as of yet," she queries.

Susan's movement is noticed and her eyes snap back onto the woman. "You had best hope that things are cleaned upstairs, or I will allow Marius to test the sharpness of his blade with your midsection."

"I have.." Blue eyes still gauge the keen-ness of the swords edge as he speaks, ".. and even some of the special ammunition to go with it." Marius doesn't particularly feel the need to elaborate. No need, really.
Turning his gaze away from the blade, his eyes first land upon Isobel in reaction to her statement regarding her particular well-being. A headache. Eyes narrow and he looks away, his attention moving towards Susan even as he considers the potential reasons behind Isobel's headache. Believing the worst is what keeps him alive.
Studying Susan's general appearance, beyond Isobel's admonition, there's no need for his adding anything. He and the young vampire have come to an understanding, in his mind, and with the addition of the sword, well..
"It is an error that will not be repeated, Susan?"

Susan tries her damndest to keep her face a clean slate, really she does, but as always it's the eyes that give her away, a hot fire starting the moment Isobel adresses her. When she finally forces some movement to her limbs, it's t pull out a small note block and a pen of the remaining pocket and write something down. She holds it up for Isobel to read. You know it's clean. And she did clean the kitchen saturday, all by herself, about an hour after her face stopped dripping. When Marius speaks up, her face snaps towards him, as does the note block, for him to read as well.

"Yes, I do. Next time you and Clarence have an altercation, try to see that you have it outside on the lawn like proper children." The first mug is finished off swiftly and Isobel sets it into the sink so that one of the cleaners can take care of it. The second mug is extracted from the microwave, and she nurses it much more slowly. "Though you would do well, I think, to keep that anger in check, Ms. Baker. I should think by now you would have learned your lesson. Where that attitude may work with your Maker, it will not with me."

Eyes slowly drift back toward Marius. The look as he turns noted. "I will explain the headache a little later perhaps, when we have a moment to ourselves."

"That is not what I said, Kleines kind." It's a quiet, neutral statement regarding his earlier question. He couldn't care less about a clean room or a messy one; he simply is one who makes sure the wishes of the Sheriff is carried out. No.. what he wants to know is whether her lesson is learned. That, of course, assumes that she was in the wrong for her to be chastised so. "Rooms coated in blood only bother my Lady Isobel."
Putting his stone down into the sawdust-filled box, he lays the sword on his lap tenderly, as would a lover sit. "I would expect nothing, my Lady.. but if it requires my attentions, you will have my eager and willing ear."
Looking finally at Isobel's attire, Marius' head cants. "Your tailor, my lady.. should I speak with him at length?"

Say what? That's about Sue's expression, lifting her hands briefly into the air in a gesture that tells the world she gives up, it's no use, there's just no reasoning with, etcetera. Then the hands go palm outward to isobel. Alright, alright. Whatever. Hastily she moves to the fridge and pulls out three bottles at random, to turn and aim for a hasty departure back to the stairs. When brushing by the bar so as not to even remotely be able to touch the sheriff, the letter she was keeping falls out of her jeans. It's a simple long envelope, folded in two.

"My tailor, Marius? Whatever for?" Isobel looks down at her dress and then shifts direction back to the man. "I thought to modernize it a little. The length in the back gives the illusion of the older days, though the front is a little more fun and sassy. I did the work myself." Not that she is the world's best seamstress, but she can make due. Any woman from her time period had great ability with needle and thread.

"Ms. Baker," she calls out, "You have dropped something."

Inclining his head, Marius offers a seated bow, "I offer my apologies, then, Lady Isobel. I am certain that Valentinus will be enamoured with your beauty this evening, and all others in attendance will burn with envy and shame."
The drop of the envelope takes his attention, and with a swift move, Marius makes to pick it up, the sword held gently in his left hand. Holding the white paper between fingers, he studies the fleeing girl and waits for her to turn around for it. "Yes, it appears she has." A step towards the stairs is taken as he toys with it. "It is not addressed."

What? Susan turns when adressed, the blue eyes following Isobel's meaning to land on the envelope. Right before Marius picks it up. There's a flash of regret furrowing her brows, but she straightens her shoulders after a moment's thought. And feet that would much rather take her back to her room now take her back to the bar -safe safe distance from both of them- where she sets her meal down and again digs up the note block and pen. The writing is hurried and when she holds it up they can read, well, Marius would have to twist his neck since it's mostly meant for Isobel, /It's a letter I wrote to Ivan Fontane. I wanted to ask you if you could give it to him/. Again there's an effort to keep her face as clean as possible.

That is perhaps the wrong thing to say, or write to Isobel. Her eyes narrow upon Susan's face, though she makes no move toward the woman. "Marius, do read the letter aloud to me, if you would be so kind?" Afterward, she will decide whether it is to be delivered or not, though most likely it will not be. Fontane is, after all, the reason Clarence was sent to watch the Tyler girl, and she has her reasons for wanting to keep Fontane close.

Marius walks his sword back to its box by the couch before he tears open the end of the envelope. Searching the interior to be sure nothing more is within but the paper, he pulls out the sheet and opens it slowly. He looks it over slowly and begins to read:
"To Ivan Fontane." Marius' words are slow, and as he reads, his german accent becomes more pronounced, "I wish to give you my sincerest apology over any and all grieve I've caused you." Looking up from the paper, he corrects, "Grief.
"This was -and I hope this will somehow make adequate reassurance- not my intention. I was made aware of special regulations applying to Faith Tyler. When thrown together under less than favourable circumstances, I tried to ease Miss Tyler's panic of being in a confined space with me. What I did was in direct violation of forementioned regulations and I can assure you that the matter has been dealt with profoundly. Please consider this letter evidence of my penance."
So far, a suitable beginning.
"You have my word I will not try to get in contact with you without the express approval of my peers. Furthermore, I promise you that should I be (made) aware that my public schedule coincides with yours, I'll try my very best to change mine so as not to cause unnecesary tension. My superiors will be monitoring so you know this promise is not an idle one."
Marius' gaze moves towards Isobel and watches her reactions as he continues, "I'm a woman of my word. This also means that should you ever, in the near or distant future, wish to take up my offer of afternoon tea, then know that it still stands and will continue to stand indefinitely, but it will never be mentioned again until you decide to accept the invitation… Sincerely, Susan Baker."
Folding the note, he looks towards the girl. "Tea?"

Susan looks back, defensively folding her arms. "Tea," she mouths in affirmation, in a way that assumes he's in the know that having the Tyler girl and her boyfriend over for tea is what started this entire mess.

The Sheriff's reactions are exceedingly well kept in check. Her face one of icy neutrality, her eyes never leaving Susan's face. "The apology is adequate, however, discussion of repercussions and vampiric policies are not to be held with humans. Nor will you be offering him tea, being as how I cannot trust that you actually mean tea." Holding her hand out for the note, the icy eyes peer almost through Susan.

"You will rewrite the letter in a more appropriate manner, Ms. Baker, and then we shall read it again to assure everything is in order before we see to its delivery." Oh, and she knows just the man to deliver it to Fontane. One who will cause a bit of a stir for the man while making the Tyler girl ecstatic.

"Thank you, Marius. I do appreciate that."

A step is taken towards Isobel and he hands the note over, with the envelope. Once the note is taken, Marius returns to the couch were he's placed his sword and takes it up again, as well as the stone. "Who is this Ivan Fontane? Should I know of him?"
With a single pace, Marius moves away from the couch in order to begin his ministrations to the blade once more.

There is a sigh escaping Susan's lips which she only catches when it's only halfway out. Shrugging, she holds out her hand to Isobel for the letter she spend hours composing. But she's not about to contradict the sheriff, not when there's still a chance she can make it back upstairs without being beaten, choked or otherwise. Her free hand puts away her writing gear and picks up the three bottles by the neck.

The letter is not handed over at all. Isobel actually slides it back into the envelope and taps it against her mug. Finishing off the second mug of blood does have her in better spirits. She glances at Susan, and then states, "Dismissed." There is a slightly wicked grin upon her lips as she adds, "Should you need anything this evening, Ms. Baker, simply ask Clarence. He will now be with you for every waking hour." There is a slight pause. "And while you sleep, there will be a trusted employee monitoring you with both the anklet and physically." There will be someone there until Clarence awakens.

"Marius, when you finish sharpening your sword would you fancy a walk with me? I shall show you parts of the city you may have missed and introduce you to a few others in the area whom should get to know the Whip."

"As you wish, my lady." The scabbard in which the sword fits is buried deeper within the sawdust. One, two, three more strokes with the whetstone are taken before he simply walks it back. Putting it back in its crate carefully, the stone is placed beside it, and the cover is replaced. Picking it up, he sets it on the end of the couch, ready to be taken back into his room. "I would be honoured."
Clarence. That is a vampire with whom he still needs to speak so he is assured there is an understanding. As for the assignment? He's not entirely certain who is being punished more. "Until we meet again, Susan."
Marius' attention is returned firmly to Isobel, dismissing the girl easily from mind. "I have no doubt there are still areas of the city of which I am unfamiliar. Time enough, though time spent speaking with you is never wasted." Then, he can discover what the reason behind the headache is as well.

Susan almost misses the last of the three bottles when Isobel makes her life that more difficult. If she were human the blood would possibly be draining from her face by now and it's all she can do to turn around and walk away on stiff legs, not offering either anything in adieu. Up the stairs, to the imagined safety of her room. Yup, that stung.

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