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Good evening.

[There’s a woman speaking, tone clipped. The corporate jumpsuit hangs off her small frame, and her hair is swept up into an old-fashioned bun. Or so it seems - she’s standing a bit away from the screen, and it’s tilted at an odd angle.]

I am given to understand that this is how to contact my new coworkers? My name is Beatrice Brewer, at your service, and I assure you I am quite qualified. I am - was - an apprentice of the fifth circle in, ah, a collection of magi, have experience in a thrilling variety of crises, and am quite keen to get started on - [a heavy sigh, more notable for the fact that someone observant might catch that she doesn’t breathe] - this situation.

[There’s a long pause.]

Drat, is this bloody thing even on? Dreadful place, what sort of dog and pony show are they running, honestly. Stuff? Stuff? Of all the names?

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One of us has to suck the blood out of people to live. Nothing neat or civilized about that, far as I see it.

[ Mackenzie's retort is short and sharp. Not quite angry but there's an edge to her voice now, some of the jocularity falling away. Despite that, her reply almost comes off as light-hearted teasing. Almost. ]

And hey, fetch is a lot of fun. Don't knock it until you try it, Li'l Miss Leech.

Why do warriors of Gaia set humans apart? [The words are meant as snide, but there's some genuine underlying curiosity.] We all require something else's sustenance. Life feeds on life – there is no way around it, Ms. Haynes. Although if Garou are not the predators they present themselves as, and you have gone – what is it the children call it. Go vegan? In that case I salute your efforts.

[A pause, before a hint of slightly fang-y amusement.] I suppose our preferred prey are rather more environmentally unfriendly than the rest.

You've also made the error of underestimating my ability to play fetch. I assure you, I would be quite excellent at it, I've just no ancient ancestral desires.

[By good at it she means she would cheat shamelessly with telekinesis. Beatrice pokes back, oblivious to how it sounds-]

Why, are you offering to play pitcher?

'Cuz it's our job. We get just as pissy about our wolf-family too. More pissy, since there are so few of them left. I've gone vegetarian in the past, honestly. It's not bad--but I do like a good venison burger. Way better when it's a deer you hunted yourself.

[ There's a soft snort. ]

There are some of us who think we should go back to culling humans again. Think that it might save the planet. Not sure I agree.

[ Then Bea says that and the wolfish smile just gets wider and wider as she steps over and leans into Bea's space, bristling with predatory energy. ]

Oh, Bea, bless your heart. I don't think you could keep up with me, even with the whole undead thing. But if that's what you need to loosen up a li'l bit...

[ Kenzie's smile is positively lascivious. ]

Edited 2020-11-10 17:01 (UTC)

[Beatrice absolutely refuses to step back, frowning challengingly upwards at Kenzie. If the wolf thinks she can be intimidated into fleeing or some sort of fight–]

I didn't realize the merest suggestion of fetch would get you so raring to go. You might test me one day, Haynes – it's true that my speed has been sapped by this place, but you'll find raw physicals aren't everything.

[She adds, belatedly, in a blatant lie to anyone that has talked to her for five seconds-] -and I don't need to 'loosen up.'

I'd like to note that most of us do, technically, hunt our own deer ourselves. It's just not deer.

Aw, princess.

[ Kenzie is just 90% smirk by volume at this point. ]

I get it. Being a corpse makes it hard to make connections with other people.

[ She takes another step, intruding further into Bea's space with all her life and warmth and blood and Rage. ]

[In contrast, the closer Kenzie gets, the more Beatrice's aura of cold is palpable. Most leeches may be room temperature but her? She's actively freezing. Leeching the warmth back out of the air, as it were. She's also refusing to budge or cede any ground, the stubborn scowl growing proportionally with Kenzie's smirking – although her wariness has gone up a notch, her skin paled as blood giving the pretense of life rushes elsewhere in response to the threat.]

Connections? If you think that just because here I have no one –

[She stumbles over the words for a moment. Remembering that she has left everyone behind is – it's not something Beatrice has time to think about now. Or ever. She sets herself firmly back on track.]

– It doesn't mean that I will roll right over for you. If you want to go here and now, fine, tell me, but I haven't the tolerance for these games, Ms. Haynes.

[The pointed tone emphasizes how much she does not appreciate being called princess.

They may also be having very different conversations right now.]

Nah, if you rolled over it'd be boring.

[ Mackenzie seems to not be dissuaded by the literal frigidity that Beatrice is radiating. In fact, she seems to lean into it more than before. Her smile is wide and toothy ('the better to eat you with, my dear' comes to mind) and she actually reaches out to give Bea's chin a little nudge with a couple fingers. Brr. ]

I do like a good hunt, Bea. It's the wolf in me, you know? If you don't want to play games, though, all you gotta do is ask. You won't even have to call me Miss Haynes. 'Less you're into that.

[ Her voice fairly drips with insinuation. They are one hundred percent having very different conversations. ]

[Being touched is – unusual enough. Threatening enough, even when not by someone that feels like embers. Her nostrils flare as Beatrice jerks her chin up and away, meeting Kenzie's stare furiously. She may have reflexively hissed a tiny bit like a very indignant cat. Her fangs are fully poking out now when Beatrice speaks, tone clipped.]

I'm no one's entertainment.

Whatever it may be that you're on about now..I am fairly certain it violates both being vegetarian and the quote everyone be cool unquote mandate. [Yes, she really does say that outloud.] If you wish to put me to the test, you will find I don't disappoint – but decide carefully and stop blithering nonsense or stop talking at all.

Oh, you do have teeth.

[ Mackenzie knows she's probably playing with fire here, but that hiss? Hilarious, as far as she's concerned. She laughs, refusing to pull herself back even at this stage. She's already gone this far. Retreating now would just be cowardice. And Mackenzie Haynes is not a coward. ]

I am being cool, I promise.

[ Her voice is smooth and warm as honey. Almost cloying. ]

Have to admit, been curious about how the fuck y'all manage what with being dead.

[Huh? Beatrice pauses, tilts her head even as she keeps looking upwards. A confused furrow appears between her brows, breaking through the glower.]

Not to worry, Ms. Haynes, I don't need to sink my fangs or teeth into you in order to make my point.

Although for your information, vitae - our term for the life-essence we use from blood - permits us to act as pretty much any living body does, but I'm not sure what you're referring to. How we manage what?

[ Mackenzie tilts her head pretty much exactly like a dog would trying to figure out if you're going to throw a ball or not. ]

How you mange to bone?

[ Duh. That's what they've been talking about.

Right? ]

Bone?!? How dare you -

[i am your SUPERIOR VAMPIRE, detective werewolf. bone. booooone?!?!? She doesn't even spring backwards, she's too torn between rising confusion, outrage, and embarrassment. Wait, what HAD they been talking about?]

We can - if you're truly curious, the blood can, can, ah stimulate - but it's not - I don't - I haven't - why would you even ask that.

[Her sputtering continues. She jabs both hands outwards in what is probably meant to be some sort of gesture but mostly results in indignant flailing.]

Edited 2020-11-12 19:11 (UTC)

[ Mackenzie has the good grace to blush, at least at this point. Her cheeks, nose, and ears turn a delicate scarlet shade and she waves a hand, trying to fend off the indignant vampire energy pouring at her Bea. Even if Beatrice is kind of adorable when she's angry? It's just funny to watch her flail. ]

You asked if I wanted to play pitcher! What the fuck else was I supposed to think you were asking?

[ Translation: I thought you were coming onto me because I am big dumb idiot who can't contain herself. ]

...

[When in doubt, go on the offensive.]

If you wanted to throw! Like throwing! People who throw items, professionally! Such as - as baseball, and the Dodgers! If this is the finest Gaia has to offer, no wonder she is losing.

[Oh geeze, not even being mean is enough to stave off the overwhelming desire to sink into the floor. Beatrice finds herself no longer able to make eye contact with the damned werewolf. She's not able to blush, exactly, but the blood flowing back to where it should be now that she knows there's no fight coming has a remarkably similar effect.]

.........

Let us never talk about this. Ever again.

Oh fuck you! Maybe if you weren't so fucking old you had cobwebs in your fucking brain you'd know how it sounds when you say that to someone.

[ Mackenzie scowls, anger bubbling again. That remark about Gaia losing hits remarkably close to a big sore spot and she bristles for a moment, wondering if she can get away with just punching the stupid leech. She restrains the urge, though, for the sake of quote unquote being cool. ]

Ugh. Fine.

[ She stares off at a wall, embarrassment still write large on her features. ]

Fucking. Fuck.

[Beatrice turns to stare at the /opposite/ wall, doing her best to not look embarrassed and like she is completely in control of herself and this situation. It's a valiant effort if it weren't for the fact that she's still visibly dying. Wisps of hair escaping from her bun only lend to her frazzled air.]

No, I haven't the faintest idea of what that sounds like to - I thought wolves were supposed to be good at sports. It's baseball! There's nothing wrong with baseball!

Youths. You spend too much time on Twitter!

[She's not actually entirely sure what that accusation means, only that obscenity and twitter and the young have become indelibly linked in her mind.]

It's slang, you relic! The person doing the actual fucking part is the pitcher and the person receiving is the catcher!

[ What is her life? She's explaining this to a vampire. God. Bea is kinda cute with her hair like that though. ]

What! Who even comes up with these - these. Ugh. See – see! The Internets is a hive of iniquity and it is rotting your brains! Here I thought baseball was supposed to be the American pastime.

[She remains steadfast in refusing to look away from the precious wall, that would never betray her. Looking at the wolf seems a terrible idea, made all the worst by the fact that the woman is still terribly warm and earnest even in her indignation. It would be so much less embarrassing if Beatrice thought Kenzie was just having a go at her. Although she can think of one way to get revenge for being called a relic. Beatrice isn't exactly sure if they have The Google here for Kenzie to look vintage slang, but that's not her problem.]

Back in my day we used civilized terms, like tipping the velvet.

I can't believe you're willing to explain - explain nonsense like that, but not actually anything useful. What good are you?

[She's not sulking!! Shut up!]

It's not even an internet thing! It's just been slang for a while! You're not even American!

[ Mackenzie groans and turns away for a moment, a hand running through her short hair. She feels humiliated. Embarrassed. It would be one thing if it had just been a 'oh no, I don't like women' but this miscommunication is making her want to shrink into the ground and vanish. She turns back towards Bea, trying to regain her metaphorical footing. ]

Okay tipping the velvet is kinda classy and cute. I might have to remember that one. And what else do you want me to explain, huh, princess?

[ The pet name is instinct, inevitable. Oops. ]

Yes, my point precisely! You are the American here, not me, and yet. A disgraceful showing for the colonies.

[Even worse for Kenzie's dismay over it not even being an into women thing, if she manages to look up the ye olde phrase, she'll discover that it's specifically a term for cunnilingus. Sorry, Kenzie!
On the bright side for her, she definitely has the metaphorical high ground, because Beatrice still has her arms folded and is stubbornly looking down and away even as she tries to pretend she is super collected and not at all deeply flustered by the situation.] I'm no one's princess. Hrmph, you – probably either have nothing to explain of value anyhow, or you'll say it's too secret. [Ooh, howzabout them sour grapes, Bea. She totally didn't want to know anyway!!!]

N-nevermind. We can just forget this happened. Or – I don't know if you have any questions –

[Frantic conversation attempt change, go!]

It's a nickname, I'm not literally calling you a princess, princess. You're all prim and proper and pretty so I might as well call a rose a fuckin' rose or whatever!

[ Kenzie gestures emphatically, as if it serves to make her point sound any less flagrantly homosexual. Someone help her, she's just a disaster. She is probably just about as flustered as Beatrice at this point. All the wind has gone out of her sails and she has no idea how to come back at this conversation. ]

I dunno! Are there any vampires that aren't assholes? Or do I just have the worst luck in leeches? And it's not like I can just give away secrets! You wouldn't tell me about all your secret leech club bullshit if I asked!

Edited 2020-11-17 05:51 (UTC)

Yes, I know what a nickname is – even if I'm impressed it has made its way into your limited repertoire of knowledge. [If she turns up the condescension, the embarrassment and filthy emotions can't get her, probably.] That's a malaphor, you've combined the ones about spades and massacred Shakespeare. 'A rose by any other name-' but I am no blooming flower. My name is my name, no matter how prim or proper or–

[Wait, what was that last one? Beatrice falters and loses track of her words, the wind taken out of her sails so thoroughly that they may as well be punctured. Here lies her half-attempt at regaining her dignity, cruelly slain by the gay agenda.]

Er.

I don't – that is – [Oh god. At least nerddom can always be her last refuge.] – you may find that I am quite amenable to your questions, in any case. Our Masquerade serves to protect us from the wrath of mortals, but you already know we exist. Obviously. No matter how disappointed you may be with your luck. Personally..? I wouldn't hold out much hope on that front – Kindred are no more and no less than human, and people are a consistently obnoxious bunch.

What, you want me to call you 'Bea' instead? I mean I can, but hey--

[ Mackenzie is going back on the offensive a little, but the devolution into talk about vampires and vampiric society deflects it, mercifully. Because having a talk with a vampire about the fact that you find her really pretty in a pale, ethereal, might-murder-me kind of way would be really weird. Especially when she gets embarrassed as easy as this vampire. ]

Okay tell me about your stupid vampire mafia or tribe or whatever the fuck you guys call it, then.

At least that's my name, Ms. Haynes.

[She's just not going to touch on – any of the rest. It was clearly a misunderstanding. Maybe a cultural one. Yes, that seems right, this is clearly all just part of Garou culture. Right, of course. With that assurance in mind, Beatrice manages to make eye contact with Kenzie once more. Or close enough. She may be looking a few inches off to the side.]

We use clans, not tribes. There's a difference – we do not select our clans, and there is a measurable difference in the blood and our resulting traits, which I have been given to understand is unlike your tribes. Nor are we a mafia, goodness. I'll gladly leave such tawdriness to the Giovanni.

[A pause, before she realizes Kenzie has no context for that salt. She explains sourly – not exactly being their biggest fan.]

A family of Italian vampires. Necromancers. Thoroughly obnoxious and besotted with their own deviance.

What was my own clan is known as the Tremere. [She's been thrown to off her game to stop herself from letting that past tense slip in - or notice that it had.] We're the youngest across all the clans – but acknowledged all the same, for no other Kindred have our mastery of sorcery.

Yeah, but nicknames are cute.

[ She's not ready to leave that hill just yet. She crosses her arms, then reaches up to wipe away a stray bead of sweat from above her eye. She's been not moving for a short while now and it's starting to annoy her. Now she's engaged in this conversation though... ]

Tremere. Little babies who are really good at magic, got it.

Edited 2020-11-18 03:13 (UTC)

[Video]

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i'm crying

i'm dead. i have died and am posting from beyond the grave

we did it kids, we're professionals

Re: we did it kids, we're professionals

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Sorry for the wait!

no worries not like i'm not slow as hell anyway

Re: no worries not like i'm not slow as hell anyway

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