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Visitors that bring lectures...

Logfile from Ivanya.

It's Tuesday, September fifth 2006

Underground: Room - Lake Shore Drive: North
    This room has been outfitted as a small squallid yet servicable little apartment. There is a bed that is not terribly comfortable, with a simple hospital-style metal frame made out of heavy iron, and is strangely bolted to the floor. A desk, a table and a small mini-fridge also sit in the room, along with a TV with assumably cable access, though the reception must be terrible. A door is acessed through a secret panel in the wall that leads to a bathroom with shower and sink. A dresser holds sundry needs, while a couple grommmets in the wall hold brackets for heavy chains. The door, of course, is locked. The floor is cement, with a generally terrible threadbare oriental rug. A vase of bright cheery sunflowers rests on the table.
Obvious exits:
Underground Room <UR>  <O> Out

When the coffin opens Rolf has a chair sitting within a few feet of it. His coat is folded neatly over the back, and he has his custumary one leg over the other, his hands arranged just so and a placid look on his face. "Miss Kozlova," he says in his normally quiet whisper.

Gretchen stands by the door. She is as pale and expressionless as usual, like a shroud of sad were draped over her. Her dress is as usual, and her hands are behind her back, leaning against the door. She will be a silent observer here.

It takes a moment for Ivanya to adjust to the light in the room, for her voice to be found. "Mr. Wagner, Sir," she says with a small bow of her head. She turns so she can better see him with that one brillantly blue eye, and then Gretchen. "Ms. Petrie." A bit surprised at the appearance of company.

Anything For A Friend.

Logfile from Ivanya.

IC Date:
September 2nd, 2006

In the car on the way back from the barn, Erik would have talked if she'd wanted, and not if she'd been silent. Before they got out of the car, he would have said, "Don't forget your dancing shoes, Princess."

Ivanya was silent, for the most part, seeking a reassuring touch every now and again, looking out the window. A kiss stolen from Erik's lips, soft. "For luck," said simply for its reason.

<NIGHT> Floor -5: Office - John Hancock Building - Michigan Street:North

This rectangular office is decorated in an Old World style. The walls are rough white plaster with an espresso glaze. The ceiling is of the same material, and across it run dark cherry wood beams a few inches in diameter. The front half of the floor is set with ochre hexagonal antique terra cotta tiles engraved with a Byzantine pattern. The back half, upon which rests a classic Queen Anne executive desk, is large-plank aged French oak, varnished to a dark glow. in the left back corner is a mahogany curio cabinet filled with various antiques. The back right corner holds large cabinet of the same wood. The Queen Anne desk faces the front of the office and behind it is a matching chair. An area rug of red and gold sits on the terra cotta floor and upon it are arranged an oak coffee tables and trio of oak arm chairs with padded seats and backs. A large ficus sits in the right front corner and an leather overstuffed chair sits in the the front left corner.

Koray waits in his office with Ember and Gretchen. He sits behind his desk, with his temoin and enforcer flanking him. They are, of course awaiting the arrival of Erik in whose custody Ivanya now is. It's clear from Koray's demeanor that he dislikes this whole affair, but politically has little option but to deal with it now. The guards, Donovan and Stevens have instructions to show Erik and Ivanya in and then leave the vampires to their business.

Gretchen stands with her fingers lightly twined before, her shoulders back and her grey hair piled on the top of her head the same as always. Litle changes about the grey lady, except maybe today that she stands behind Koray. Her face is a placid mask, like the calm of a mountain lake in winter. Her grey eyes are distant and any energy is kept close.

Ember is silent behind Koray. Her hands are clasped in front of her, and her attention is on he door and the noises outside of it. Her expression is calm and patient aside from her eyes. Those violet eyes are void of any emotion. She may look like a girl, but she is as cold and still as a wall for now.

A phonecall was made approximately an hour ago to inform the Master that Erik would be arriving with Ivanya. Announcing their arrival, Eric's presence is felt before the man makes his way off the elevator and into the office which seems now too small for the Norseman. His energy is a tangible thing, writhing about his figure like a nest of serpents, held close but not entirely quenched. He walks a few steps behind the slender form of Ivanya, moving as her shadow. As she continues futher into the office, he remains in the background, near the door.

Ivanya keeps her own power close, little sparks like static electricity jumping every now and then. Her face tries for neutrality, lips pressed in something that's expressionless. She does not look back to Erik, her hands folded infront of her. "Master," she greets Koray, before giving a small bow of her head to each of the three. There was no playful flirting with the guards, this night. Silent, until spoken to.

Koray waits impassively until the door is closed and the guards have had plenty of time to retreat up the hallway as instructed. Once that time has passed he regards Ivanya. "How long did you wait before going to him after court and thereby making yourself a traitor to this court?" he asks. He sees little point in setting any stage here, or making any speeches concerning the situation of which everyone here is already well aware.

Taking the Wheel, Driving to Fate

It has been a several days since the Court and several weeks since the frantic shotgun encounter in the Snakebite bathroom. He promised to make it up to her, but has not been around much lately. He called once in the intervening time, to see how she were doing and if her brother was okay. It was a quick message, but at least it proved he hadn't forgotten about her.
Tonight, however, the message insisted she be ready to go out the next night. Several hours after the sun disappeared over the horizon, he called and asked "You ready Princess?" When she steps outside, he's already waiting in his black Chevy in front of the Seventh House Cafe. Jeweled eyes take in the skirt, admiring her from head to toe with purely masculine admiration. The corner of his mouth crooked, he ushers her into the car and slides into the other side.
The Chevy sails on the highway like some sleek sailboat might across the Atlantic; it is meant for the road, joining with the asphalt below it as it speeds effortlessly towards the unknown destination. Erik, has refused to say anything about their destination. Thankfully, however, there is no blind-fold tonight. "You remembered," he says with a glance towards her skirt-sheathed legs. Shifting into the last gear, his hand is free to wander, and it does.

The message, like the previous one he had left before when the whole brother thing started, surprised Ivanya a bit, brought a smile to her lips after nights full of less than happy expressions. Not being forgotten, well. It's a good feeling. Most of the time. She was ready when the message told her to be, waiting outside the Seventh House, leaving instructions with the waitress that would close up the shop. Longer list than normal, but the pretty blonde just took it all in stride.
A smile, showing only a hint of her fangs, curls Ivanya's lips as she sees him looking over her, the paleness of strong legs. "Ready, Sir Knight," she said before brushing a quick kiss to his cheek. She smells of jasmine and roses, of ancient books and cigars this night, not quite her usual perfume. But it's been a difficult few nights for the young vampress. Court wasn't exactly pleasant for her, after all.
This night, she isn't as nervous as she was their first drive together, leaning back into the seats in an almost relaxed manner. After asking twice about where they're going, Ivanya gives up--and gets a little nervous. She was looking out the window as he spoke, watching the scenery fly past, but turns a little smile towards him. "How could I forget?", she asks teasingly, moving over slightly in her seat, so his hand doesn't have to wander so far.

She remembered, and Erik is a lucky man. Callused fingertips touch her thigh, sliding across the soft fabric of her skirt, lower to her knee. "I had plans," he says, distractedly keeping at least part of his attention on the road. "But I may have just forgotten them."
Perhaps he's aware, somehow, that it's been difficult for her these last nights. An absent lover at best, he does seem to be at least partially aware of what's going on in the city, and more specifically with her, then it may appear at first glance. The car smells of tobacco, a recently smoked cigarette. The acrid scent clings to the man as well, mingling with the aroma of cologne, and beneath that soap proving that he's recently showered. As always, there is the scent of metal and oil, lingering sawdust, as if these things are burned into his flesh for all time. The feminine sweetness of her own skin is pleasant to him, as is the softness of the flesh he reveals as his fingers tease up the hem of her skirt.

Hot Summer Nights

Sat Jun 10 2006

You got the call the night before. "Ivanya", Erik said over the phone in that rough around the edges accent of his, "I want to take you out. See the city." He wouldn't answer if you asked him where. "Dress for something fun." He was infuriatingly ambiguous. But there was whiskey laughter in his voice and you could tell he was up to some mischief or the other.
When the next day rolls around, Erik is parked in front of the Seventh House in a black Chevy Impala. It's an old car, made in the day when miles per hour were more important than things like miles per gallon. In excellent condition it's been recently waxes to a sleek polish. Leaning against the side of the car, smoking a cigarette, he's waiting for you. Out here in the street, beneath the warm glow of the streetlight halo, he looks like out of place, out of time. He seems to know immediately when you arrive. Perhaps it's the scent of your perfume. The corner of his mouth curls upwards crookedly, gemstone eyes watching you with predatorial intent. "You ready?"

That call would have put a smile on Ivanya's face for the rest of the night. Even if you were unclear on what type of fun was to be had. She would ask, of course, the pout on her lips something that could be heard over the phone. "I'll look forward to you arrival then," she purred, with that honeyed Russian accent. "And the surprise of it." And then, she hung up, curious and perhaps just a touch nervous.
    Finally having decided that pants and this shirt were good enough for unidentified fun, Ivanya moves away from the cafe, relighting one candle before truly going. She smiles, something that isn't guarded, but open. Warm. The scent of roses clings to her faintly, jasmine. Something not off the shelf, something special. "Ready," she agrees, moving over in front of you, as if to open her own door.

"So am I," he says with a laugh. As you near him, Erik takes a final drag on the cigarette before dropping it onto the sidewalk and crushing it beneath his boot heel. Simultaneously, he pushes away from the car, reaching for the passenger door to open it thereby demonstrating that the man has manners. His nostrils flare as you closer to get in, sucking the scent of jasmine and flesh down into his lungs. Tendrils of the exotic-scented smoke drift from the corner of his mouth before he lifts his chin and blows smoke rings at the stars. Making sure you're tucked into the seat, he shuts the door with a click. And then, with a slightly contented smile on his lips, he moves around the front of the car to the passenger side.
Slidding into the driver's side, he revvs the engine and it purrs like a kitten, before he shifts it from reverse into first, then second and third; in a moment, the two of you are racing down the main road and he knocks it up into fourth, his broad hand circled around the head of the gearstick. As the two of you sail through the night, he lowers his window, and the wind whips through the car. The benchseats are pristine white leather. Occasionally his attention drifts from the road over to where you're seated. He makes small talk for the first few minutes. The customary questioning about how you've been, what's happening at the store. And he seems genuinely interested in the answers. Then a few minutes later he asks out of the blue, his mouth curved in a wicked lopsided grin, "Do you think I'm a trustworthy guy?"


Love so fierce it burns like baby stars...

Fri Feb 03 2006

Some time, long after midnight, before the pale glow of the morning lights the sky. It's those quiet hours of the night, still and timeless. In Gaz' Victorian house, (which Wes has managed to appropriate), Wes is down the hallway, in the kitchen talking to Gaz. There is a clink of glasses, as well as a metallic click, the sound of some cloth sliding along metal.

"Go back home, Wes," Gaz is saying, "Go back home and leave the girl, for her sake."

"I'm marrying 'er, Gaz," Wes says, as he puts something hard and cold down on the table.

"Are you taking the piss, mate?" Gaz hisses to him, "With your bleedin' history. It's only so long before you get caught, or..." he trails off. "Leave the girl, Wes," he says, and looks at Wesley. "Leave the girl and go home."

Their voices float softly through the corridor.

Perhaps it's the clink of glasses or the metallic click that wakes Lexine up, or maybe just a dream. Either way, she is awake, or atleast partially, in that place that's in between awake and sleeping. She rolls over onto her side, in the bed she's shared with Wes. A hand reaches out to touch him, and closes on thin air. It's then that she really begins to awake, eyes opening as she sits up. The voices stop being distant noises and she listens, pulling her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

"'ave you e'er, rilly, loved any'un, Gaz?" Wesley asks, the floor creaking as he walks around the table, the quiet slip of metal on metal as he adjusts something. "You 'aven't, that's the difference. That's why you'll ne'er understand why I could ne'er just leave 'er." There is the scrape of a chair as someone, probably Wes, takes a seat.

"Then just go home, Wes," Gaz says, "Leave London and go bleedin' home, take your girl with you." There is an urgency to Gaz' words as he says this, some half-concealed strain. There is a pause, only the clink of ice, the creak of the wood audible.

"I was going to ask you, mate, if you'd be my best man, but..." Wes says, and then opens a cupboard, storing away whatever he had been working on. "Good night, Gaz." He says, his footsteps on the wood quietly thumping as he heads back to the bedroom.

"Wes, you bleedin' idiot," Gaz says, shaking his head.


One Last Hope To Cling To.

Wed May 31 2006

<NIGHT> Seventh House Cafe: Indoors - Grand Street: East

      This long hallway is lined with a half-dozen tables along one wall, opposite the window into the kitchen. A line of old fashioned track lighting runs down the center of the ceiling, casting indirect lighting onto the cement floor under foot. The walls are papered with play bills for musicals such as 'Fantasticks', 'Fiddler on the Roof', 'Darling of the Day', 'Hair', 'Godspell', 'Grease', 'The Wiz', 'A Little Night Music', 'Chicago', and 'Cabaret'. At the far end of the hallway away from the patio, a sturdy metal door is marked "Stairs Down -- Managers Only".

Later in the evening, well after the setting of the sun, the rain accompanied by rolling thunder, and lightening that lights up the night sky. Few people braving the weather finds the cafe near empty. The lightening flickering through the windows, outlining Breena as she makes her way through the front door. She didn't bother with a raincoat is rather obvious as she shakes her head a little, pushing the wet curls of her hair back from her face making it appear almost slicked back on purpose. A bit of a shiver moves through her as she begins to make her way toward the counter, not bothering to even look at the menu..she obviously came for a specific reason or intent in mind. Heels sounding on the flooring with her graceful steps that carry her across the room before she inquires softly, "Chai please?"

The girl behind the counter takes the order with a smile, curly brown hair bouncing slightly as she makes the drink, and gives it to the wet woman. Alone, in a corner, is Ivanya. She watches with a cool, observant gaze over those few within the cafe. Breena catches her attention, of course, a face remembered from some time ago. Her lips pull into a small smile, and she gives a faint nod of her head. Delicate fingers wrap around a steaming mug, enjoying the warmth it gives on such a bitter night.

Breena accepts the drink after putting a few slightly soggy bills onto the counter. She apparently was out walking in the rain given the amount of wetness that appears to have soaked into her attire. Heels once more sounding on the floor softly as she turns to locate a seat. A slight smile working its way over her features seeing Ivanya. Walking over toward the other woman she waits till she is within comfortable speaking distance before inquiring softly, "Mind if I join you?"

"Please, do," Ivanya says, that thick Russian accent playing in her voice. She gently guides a chair out with the tip of her foot, offering it with a small gesture and a smile. "If you'd like, as well, I am sure that we have some clean towels in the back. You can dry off, a small bit. Get warmer." Her fingers tap along her mug, before she sets it down sofly infront of her.

Breena moves to accept the chair offered, setting her mug down onto the table. Slipping off her jacket she shakes her head a little, "Thanks..I'll be fine. The Chai should do wonders to warm me." she offers gently, "Kind of you to offer though. Much appreciated." slipping down into the seat she makes herself comfortable before reaching to breath in the spicy aroma of the tea then taking a slow sip, "MM..very few places in the city can make it so good. Most either don't have it at all..or use that instant stuff." she comments setting the mug back onto the table.

Ivanya inclines her head smally, a little glimmer lighting in her eyes. "Thank you. I'm glad that the beverages here are pleasing to you. I had never been a fan of the instant stuff, myself." When she could drink it, of course. She looks over Breena curiously for a moment, takig the other woman in slowly. The waitress behind the counter bustles around quietly, busy work as the patrons this night are so few. Ivanya looks outside for a moment, eyes caught by the lightning. "Not many brave this sort of weather, not tonight."

Breena nods her head a bit reaching up she ruffles the waves of her hair back from her face, the waves turning more into spiral curls that drape down about her shoulders when wet. Glancing outside she smiles a little, "I fear some prefer either moonlit nights...moments of snowfall..gorgeous spring days and evenings. I however, enjoy all sorts of weather. What better way to enjoy it then being out amidst it. There is something truely powerful..and alluring about a stormy night..electricity of the lighting in the air." she shrugs a little, "Intoxicating."

Ivanya smiles smally, nodding. "There's a certain magic in storms like this. I have always loved storms, the feel of electric air dancing across my skin." She rubs her hands along her arms, as if she can feel that charge in the air now, and it thrills her. "Snow, I enjoy. But this?," she says, gesturing to the storm that is growing outside. "This makes me feel almost alive again." There's a brighter smile at that, something that nearly shows fang.

Breena nods her head a bit, "Up in the clouds..you can see the lighting jumping from cloud to cloud...its very different then watching it from below." lifting her cup she takes another sip, feeling the warmth spreading over her.

"That must be amazing," Ivanya breathes, seeking to meet Breena's eyes. The pair are sitting off in a corner, each of them with a mug as they converse. "I have never had the pleasure of flight, when there was a storm in the skies. Or if I have, I was not awake to see it." Her legs cross, and she reaches to tug down the hem of her skirt.

Breena doesn't meet Ivanya's gaze as she watches out at the lightening flickering across the sky. Drawing in a slow breath she nods her head a little, "Its best on night flights. Once you've managed to climb above it of course. Still..its a rush to fly in such weather. Especially when you're flying alone." She glances over toward Ivanya offering a bit of a smile before taking another sip of her tea.

The cat didn't drag it in, but Amun certainly looks as such. He leans heavily upon the frame of the patio doors as he stops there, his eyes closing against a moment of pain. Those eyes come back open and look around the cafe, the man still leaning in the door.

Whatever Ivanya intended to reply with is forgotten, words lost as Amun enters the cafe. She goes from smiling to concerned in less than a human's heartbeat. Rising to her feet with grace and quickness, she takes in a breath despite the fact she no longer breathes. Wordless, she strides across the floor, a hand going to Amun's cheek, looking into his eyes. "What did they do to you, my love?" <Speaking in Russian>

Gavin steps in and there's flashing lights outside when the doors open with his entrance. He's not here for personal business it appears and then he spares a moment to look around the cafe. When he spies Amun and then Ivanya going towards him he holds his hand out, "Stop." he orders Ivanya and then he shifts his stance and draws back his coat to put his hand on the hilt of his pistol at his waist, "Amun." he looks at the wounded man.

Breena blinks as Ivanya gets up so quickly. Her gaze trailing across the room toward Amun quirking a brow. Every muscles tenses, more so as she sees Gavin. A look of fear flickering through her gaze likely flashbacks from the other night. She looks toward the girl behind the counter, with concern, and then back toward those gathering by the door. Drawing in a slow steadying breath, remaining very still for the moment.

Amun looks for a moment at Ivanya,clearly wishing to say something, but he says nothing. Instead, he turns towards Gavin, holding his arms somewhat to the side and palms towards the police officer. "Detective Howell?" comesthedeep voice.

Ivanya stops, her eyes flicking towards Gavin, his gun. "Gavin," she says softly, clearly knowing this man as well. Her eyes go to Amun once more, and she shakes her head. "Please, Gavin. All I want to do is kiss him. You have my word." Her words ring of truth, as she looks to Amun. She has no idea what's going on, but she knows it can't be good. One kiss, she thinks, is not much to ask. The girl behind the counter stays still, looking towards the phone, before she hears the word 'Detective'.

"Then you can come to the station and do it." he states clearly. He nods as Amun holds his hands out and then he steps out of the stance and he motions, "Come on, Amun. Let's go. It's time to get you to what you need and someone you can talk to." he flickers his eyes to Ivanya and then Breena and then back to the man, "Come on."

Prelude to a Nightmare ( A Call From Amun)

PHONE> You answer your phone.

Into her phone, Ivanya says, "Hello?"

From your phone, Amun is quiet for a beat of a heart. "Ivanya," he says in Russian.

Into her phone, Ivanya smiles, and it comes through in her voice. "Amun, what do I owe the pleasure to?," she purrs in Russian.

From your phone, Amun says, "Your Master has turned his colors to thuggery at last. Be ware of him. He has seen to attack me, he and his thugs.""

Into her phone, Ivanya pauses, for a moment. "What happened, my dear one?"

From your phone, Amun says, "A group attacked me in the Wyld Hunt, Ivanya. Your Master showed up at the end; I felt the force of his will upon me. I live, barely. Emma will tell you the story. I must go, my love."

Into her phone, Ivanya's voice holds anger in it, at the bit of the story she gets. "I am sure she knows where to find me, then? Be careful, my love, until you are healed again."

From your phone, Amun says, "Be careful."

PHONE> Amun hangs up his phone.

Dangerous Company

Wed May 10 2006

Seventh House Cafe: Outdoor Patio - Grand Street: East

    Coming down the stairs one finds themselves stepping onto a broad bricked patio. A green and gold awning affixed to the far wall shelters tables from both fair and foul weather. A grill provides space to cook, the food served is all vegetarian fare.
    The real attraction of the Seventh House Cafe is its teas and juices, however. Hippies, pagans, witches and Earth children of all makes come together to brew up potions that tantalize the mouth while providing all the natural goodness the body might desire. Six small tables are draped with colorful cloths and candles, each of these bearing a small bowl of fresh flowers taken from the nearby flower market. The walls here have been painted to resemble the Major Arcana, the ornate images of the tarot sending the mind toward an expansion of consciousness. Rumor has it, if one has the proper words, other things can be gotten in this place. Whether that is a foolish rumor or not remains known to only Ivanya herself.
    The sky begins to brighten as the stars fade out. It's a chilly morning and the sky is clear blue and cloudless.

Having taken to her lessons well and finally shown a measure of Control, Ivanya is allowed a night of freedom to feed her bloodlust and do as she wishes. Save for those things that she craves most. Wanting company, Ivanya considers the options she has...and calls on Amun, one the Master of the City has very little like for. But, it is her night, and as usual, Ivanya will do as she pleases.

Let Me Entertain You...


10:55 PM
Logfile from Ivanya.

The Second Circle - Michigan Street: South
    ABANDON EVERY HOPE! That's the first thing you see as you enter 'The Second Circle'. It's scrawled on the wall of the small hallway that leads to the main room, and it seems to glow in the black lights that light this entry.
    The main room of the club is fairly large. The decor is set up to look like a fire-lit cave. The predominant feature of the room is the stage. It has a long runway in the middle, and two smaller ones off to the sides. There's the obligatory metal pole in the center of the main runway. There are wooden benches that line the stage, so that folks can get an up close view. Tables are available further back from the stage, with a few odd booths the farthest back from the stage as one can get. In one corner rests an Inquisition Torture array that's really a well stocked faux-bar. While no alcohol is served, virgin drinks of all types are available.
    The staff are all courteous, and quick to respond to a patron's need in their little black bikinis, black wigs, and red bodypaint. The club has a small menu of food and non-alcoholic drinks available, at fairly high prices for what you get. A DJ stand is settled in the corner of the stage, filling the club with music for the girls to dance to. There are several large men who wear red horned baseball caps placed around the room. One is stationed at set of stairs that head up to the members' lounge.

Rolf told Ivanya to be dressed and ready by 9 p.m. and made a quick phone call while she was doing so. A quiet - silent - ride in his rented dark sedan with driver, and he arrived at the club. Hope was outside, and Rolf in his quiet voice made his introductions. "Miss Kozlova, this is Miss Nahja. Miss Nahja is a friend of mine, a recent close friend. I did not wish her to miss this opportunity, and she and I have infrequent opportunities to share experiences like this. Miss Kozlova is a recent student of mine, assigned by my superiors. She requires a particular sort of instruction in some ... abilities, and tonight is one of her first lessons." he says. He slides in past the bouncer, and into the club proper, flicking his gaze left and right before he finds a seat at a table, pulling two chairs out and settling into one with elegant grace. "Amaretto, honey Miss Nahja?" he murmurs in his soft voice.

Teadora moves from table to table in the club, quietly taking orders, slipping empty glasses off tables and onto her tray, as she tries to avoid customers trying to grab her bikini clad ass, smiling all the while.

A small, but genuine smile was offered to Hope when introduced, Ivanya taking the woman's hand, raising it to her lips. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Nahja," she purrs in that Russian accent. There is an air of slight nervousness as she is brought into the club, following behind Rolf, hands folded infront of her. She does not sit, looking to the stage, and then back to Rolf. "Sir. Do you wish me to go back, and prepare, now?"

The Trouble With Foxes


11:49 PM
Logfile from Lexine.
Friday April 21

Guan-Ki Kwoon: Rooftop Gardens - Halsted Street: Bridgeport
    Outside and open to the elements, the rooftop has been transformed from a place of tarpaper and crumbling brick ledges to a garden with a Zen flare. Sand, rock, and crushed gravel are placed about the roof. The rocks and sand are worked into meditation gardens, waves of the sand frozen in time as if the rock at their center had been cast there. The gravel forms pathways that meander about, sometimes moving near to potted herb gardens or tiny bonzai trees.

PHONE> You dial Michael's phone.
PHONE> There's a click on the other end, as Michael picks up his phone.
PHONE> You hear Michael hand the phone to someone else.
From your phone, Dahlia says, "Hello?"
Into her phone, Lexine pauses. "Hi. Is Michael there?"
From your phone, Dahlia says, "He is, but he's busy. Got a message?"
Into her phone, Lexine says, "Tell him it's Lex. I want to talk to him, now. Thanks."
PHONE> You hear Dahlia hand the phone to someone else.
From your phone, Michael says, "Hello?"
Into her phone, Lexine say,"'ello. Where the bloody fucken 'ell have you been all night?
Into her phone, Lexine says, "N' why do you sound like shite?"
From your phone, Michael says, "No.. I'm fine, I promise. I'm just kinda worn out? It's been a late night and.. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Lexine had invited Nalio to meet her here, for some sort of surprise or another. But those plans? They just may change, from the sound of things on the phone.

Nalio looks over at the Vixen, her eyes have the look of worry and curiosity. "Wha..." she waits and listens to half the conversation.

Into her phone, Lexine rumbles into the phone. "No. You'll see me now. We've talked about this, Michael. Home."

Lexine doesn't look to happy at all, as she paces the roof, messing up the landscaping just a tad.

From your phone, Michael says, "I.. I can't right now, I'm sorry I didn't check in I'm just.. I'm busy. I can't explain it now but.. I promise I will later. O-okay? We're just. I'm helping with something, I mena.. I've been helping with something and.."

Nalio looks a bit scared, she hasn't seen Lex like this before. "Lex? what... her voice is low, not really looking for an answer.

Into her phone, Lexine sounds like she's getting upset, voice raising slightly. "Pet," she growls into the phone. "You. Are. Coming. Home. Where are you? I swear to god, Michael, if you..."

Lexine's clutching her cellphone hard enough that it just might break. She looks to Nalio, eyes circled in amber-gold, catching the light.

From your phone, Michael covers the phone a moment, his conversation mumbled, "Yes Mi.. Ma'am. I just need to see where you can pick me up, okay?" He continues to bargain, covering the phone again, a few more muffled words, before it's placed to the boy's ear again. "Can you pick me up at Jack's garage?"

Nalio is visably frightened now. "What happened? Pet? Lex what's happened to Mike? he ok?" The girls voice is shaking and she is watching the Vixen with worried eyes, heart beatting so fast it hurts.

Into her phone, Lexine says, "We're not far. Be there in less than ten minutes. And luv? Tell whoever you're with not to expect to see you for awhile."
PHONE> You hang up your phone.

Lexine clicks her phone shut, rumbling deep in her throat as she puts it into her pocket. "We're going to get him. He's fine now, but he might not be when I'm done with him. Come one, I'm parked outside." Her accent? It's nearly gone. And her vixen's energy is running high, hot. Ready to break free.