World of Darkness: Balance of Power - Eternity and a day

[Lavinia Foscari]

January 6th 2010

Mathew had just left the room but she could still feel his kiss on her skin. Her hand absentmindedly traced the line of her neck wiping away the last traces of blood. A cold chill ran down her spine but it put a smile on her face nonetheless. She felt elevated to have been chosen by him. His divine presence was her reason to live and endure eternity.

Lavinia had spent the last nights gathering information about Clem Broson, one of the recent Gangrel newcomers. Their last encounter had ended abruptly - had to end abruptly...

An idea had formulated in her mind an idea that had given her recent nights an inspiration she last felt when she was in Italy. Finally one of her servants has found a trace, a lead they found and took advantage of. All she needed was some luck and the courage to risk something.

The plan was quickly put to execution - a short message, a few personal lines and her fragrance.

The next step would have her frequent the places the dashing Gangrel preferred until one night he would approach her, unable to ignore the obvious 'invitation'...

[Clem Broson]

In the pulse and swirl of the human throng around him, Clem was hunting.

Gone were the gunbelts, the battered hat and patched duster he'd worn on that first night in the city. He'd caught up with his 'banker', a Mekhet who'd lived in Kansas City since before the Great War, and secured both a safe haven and some of his long-untouched funds. With these, he was making himself comfortable in the 21st century.

He felt naked without his hat and gunbelts, but that couldn't be helped. His traditional image was no good for blending in here, at a fashionable nightclub. And a hunter must always blend into their environment. So it was with him now, dressed as he was in tight black leather pants, mesh shirt and black leather jacket. At first glance, the handsome Savage seemed no older than many of the other clubgoers, and his mismatched eyes attracted a fair amount of interest from the young women he spoke to. A couple had already been lured into dark booths for feeding, to be left comfortably dazed with a soft kiss on their lips and a whispered thanks before their mysterious beau disappeared.

Clem emerged from the second such booth, sated for the night and trying to decide what to do next. The first thing to do, he mused with some irony, was to get the hell out of these damn pants.

[Lavinia Foscari]

One of the many challenges of Lavinia’s requiem was trying to fit in with the canaille. Fortunately for her she hasn’t completely fallen prone to an unflexible anachronism, obviously a gift of her blood. The clothes she was wearing would’ve caused an outrage of epic scale back in her living days and part of her was still thinking that way. It had something forbidden for her, a taste of excitement – tight suede leather pants, ankle bootlets in matching color, a halter top that ended just under her breasts exposing her slim waist and displaying a beautiful navel. Her skin was white as porcellaine and seemed just as delicate.

Lavinia’s servants prepared her hair and jewellry completing her look and style to help her blend in with the nightclub society she was about to join. All in all she was an apparition of sublime seduction and feminine dominance. A huntress ready to prey the night.

Arriving at the place of her choice, the one she had picked from the possible places Clem would frequent, Lavinia closed her eyes and took in the scent of live – then she entered the place, ready to conquer the night…

[Clem Broson]

Clem was just in the process of exiting the club when she entered, and the sight was sufficient to make him forget about escaping the unfamiliar clothing and crowded environs. She looked like a rich daddy's girl squeezed into too-tight clothing and out looking for the danger and excitement that regular life denied her.

Not too different from the truth, Clem reflected wryly. He was wary, of course. Ever since that scumbag Ganker had revealed that he'd spied on their near-intimacy on Elysium, Clem hadn't been able to help but wonder if the whole thing had been a setup. Was this the next stage, then? The letter had come to him, and now a few nights later she showed up at one of his more regular hunting spots. Were the Hound, Bishop and Sheriff trying to make him a pawn in their games? One thing that Clem was fairly sure of was that Lavinia hadn't been faking her reaction to him. Perhaps there was a way to find out if people were trying to pull his strings... and if so, to pull some of theirs in turn.

He stopped his progress towards the exit and took up a spot where he knew she would see him as she came in. Leaning up comfortably against the bar and ignoring the mortal herd around him, Clem kept his mismatched eyes on the pale, slim beauty making her way into the club. He was a still, silent shape amidst the tumult of sound and movement, a faint smile curving his lips as he waited for her to notice him.

[Lavinia Foscari]

Lavinia felt alive inhaling the heavy scent of fresh blood around her. Her lips were curved into a smile that almost exposed her elongated fangs which she seldom had retracted. Licking her lips in anticipation the tightly clad beauty almost floated to the dance floor with graceful steps as the music intoxicated her. She turned around her eyes finding Clem’s for a brief second and the world seemed to freeze completely, all sounds shut out as for a single heart beat their unique senses singled out their nature among the crowd. They were wolves among sheep, predators in false skin who preyed on the unassuming.

Lavinia slowly found her rhythm to the frenetic beating of the club’s music swaying her hips hypnotically with inhuman smoothness. Her eyes were half opened as she extended one arm to Clem beckoning him with her fingers to come over to him and dance. She danced like a snake to the snake-charmers tunes but was she hunter or prey?