Last Command

Hush, shhh. It's going to be okay.

The neonate nodded dully to herself, slumped in the driver's seat of the car. Polly had been a ghoul so long she'd lost her sense of identity, long taken up the mantle of Polly of the many pockets for the deranged and terrifying Ringmaster. Now, well, now the Ringmaster was gone. She'd vanished with only one scrap of paper left on her desk, instructions to meet one of her associates here to obtain new papers and to get out of the city.

Get away. Begin again.

She blinked, squinted against the shrill lights of New York. How long had it been? How many months, or was it years now, since she spent a night without being by the Ringmasters side? Whether it was running her errands, cleaning up her messes, organising the vaults of trinkets her employer collected. How long had it been since Polly had a free night to just be alone whit her thoughts, to be able to slump in front of the television and... and... what else had she done before she met the Master? There was something in the back of her mind hounding her to remember, faces of people who smiled at her, a name on the tip of her tongue. Who were these people? She squinted again, as if to focus on the memory and will it to bubble up from the bloody surface of her mind that the Ringmaster had left her with.

What was that?

She sat up, all thoughts banished, suddenly alert. Hr fingers gripped the steering wheel and her eyes scanned the parking lot, darting from one dark corner to the main road. Did the car slow down? We're those people watching her? Damned it all! She shouldn't have lingered after she'd collected those damned papers! She'd known for nights now that someone or something was always hunting her. The same thing that must have scared the Ringmaster enough into abandoning her beloved circus and left Polly alone.

No, not alone, never alone.

It'll be okay, she nodded again and swallowed, a nervous habit from her human days. The Ringmaster hadn't abandoned her, she arranged for her contract to meet, to gift her this new identity and allow her to cut all ties to this city. She was going to be safe and free. Then one day, when the time was right, she would return to her. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. The Ringmaster would return. However, that moment was a way off for now and the problem still lay before her of... where should she go? All her simple belongings had been packed, stacked in the car, the rest she'd burned and buried. She had no one, no further instructions had been given.

Head East.

Yes, East. That made sense. California, the state of opportunity, maybe Hollywood itself people literally reinvented themselves there. She fumbled with the ignition, a giddy smile on her face as the car roared to life and without a second look back she gunned it out of the car park, out of this tired city and its old shadows, onto new adventures that would see her crave out her own domain. Oh, the Ringmaster would be so proud!

I will return.

Santa Monica - 2 yrs later.

Emily strolled through the gallery with little, to honestly, no interest. Santa Monica was a pit stop, nothing more as it had already proved itself not to be fertile ground to lay claim too and build upon. The Voerman's had a domain here and whilst she had no qualms with them to begin with, the hostilities were slowly mounting especially when they recognised her for who she was once connected too and suspected her ambitions might infringe on their precious club one night. However, they did have a soft spot for those of their clan so for the foreseeable future she was safe enough, as long as she held her tongue and lay low.... for the moment.

For tonight, she had found herself free. She had little connections in Santa Monica, no friends or family to entertain herself with. Normally, she'd be out in the clubs and bars milling about but the flyers for this event had caught her eye for some reason. She roamed the art gallery, looking very out of place with bright pink hair, clad in jeans and boots. She'd done nothing to 'dress up' for the opening in any traditional way, merely come as she has woken that night with hardly a brush run through her hair.

She paused before one piece and tilted her head, considering it unlike any of the others that surrounded her. It seemed more.. vibrant, more alive than any of the rest. She liked that. She'd stop here for a time, admire this before moving on again, as was her way on these cold, lonely nights in Santa Monica.

It had taken three months to restore correctly. A thin layer of imperfections removed from the surface. Cracks in the paint itself carefully repaired. The frame removed, age damage sanded back, and then loving restored to its original lustre. The painting was far older than the vampire was, and he had treated it with the respect and patience it had deserved. It had all come together flawlessly, and now the piece looks as good as when it was painted back in 1424. A sense of pride filled Raphael Sorel. He was not as captivated by art as he pretended to be, but he enjoyed a long project coming to fruition, and he enjoyed nothing more than the satisfaction of a job well done.

From his vantage point, speaking to the arrogant Ventrue that owned the piece, his eyes were drawn to the woman admiring the work. He made his excuses to the host, whose name he had long since forgotten, and made his way across the floor towards her. He looks impeccable in his suit, and his voice was as soft and flawless as his attire.

"Annunciation, painted by Masaccio in 1424. Believed lost to the world in 1481 when it found its way into the hands of a very influential elder." He holds a glass of wine in one hand, completely untouched but he enjoys the smell. He smiles faintly to the woman. As much as he despised these gatherings, he needed to play the part. "Due to poor preservation, it was almost unrecognisable when it came to me."

Emily tilted her head slightly, her hair cascading down over her shoulder in a lush waterfall. She heard him before she saw him, a soft voice at her side, undoubtedly another of her kind, probably Toreador or possibly a Ventrue, they did like to hear their own voices. For a long moment she did not reply, only half glanced in his direction with the same sort of appraising look as she'd been giving the piece, her gaze flitting over him momentarily before muttering a conformation under her breath, "Toreador."

She glanced back to the piece on the wall, falling silent again, listening to the rest of his explanation without further interruption. Why did people always feel the need to explain things? With all her preternatural senses, surely he could have comprehended she could easily read the plaque on the wall that accompanied the piece but she'd noticed most Kindred, like mortals, seemed to posses this need to talk for the sake of it. Maybe that's why she did not have any close friends, when she spoke she only had interesting things to say.

-They are only out for one thing, themselves.-

She shrugged a shoulder lightly, as she batted the thought aside, he seemed harmless enough if a tad condescending. She was going to compliment the work but he had to inflate his ego and that caused her to offer a playful smile to cross her lips instead as she turned to stroll away once more, "I don't like it."

His lips curled into a smile. She did not mince words nor did she seeks to appease a fellow Kindred out of habit. She was different to all of the milksops here. In this shimmer sea of mediocrity, she shone like a beautiful, intricate coral. He could not help but chuckle.

"I don't like it either. I've never liked Masaccio's painting. My favourite part is the frame, to be honest." He steps closer, and his fingers ever so slight touch the ancient wood that he had so lovingly restored. His fingers no longer secreted oils so typical of the living, and his touch was not a danger to the finish. "Every inch of it, all of that intricate scroll work, done by hand. And no one will ever know the name of the man or woman who completed it." He smiles, almost bitterly. "It is like myself. Everyone praises the artist for the piece in the middle, and no one notices anything else."

He does not look back towards the woman anymore. In a city such as Los Angeles, he would no doubt find her again. They apparently moved in the same Kindred circles. His hand lowers from the frame slowly, and with a sigh, he turned back towards the host. He was bored and no longer wanted to be here. The one exciting thing in the whole city tonight had just walked away from him. It was time to make his excuses and depart.

Emily paused and regarded the man properly, something about his tone resounded within her, the hint of melancholy and the resignation. Did he know what it was like to be a shadow too? To linger against the wall whilst other strutted and clucked across a stage, no one knowing your name, only a silly designation forced against ones will? Her heart seemed to feel to flutter once more in her chest.

-Ignore it. Walk away-

"No." She whispered in response, for the first time ever challenging the Beast in her mind. The familiar image of the Ringmaster rippled and surfaced in her thoughts, her beautiful face contorting into a look of disapproval but before she could issue another resounding command Emily had spun on her heels, facing the Kindred as he began to move away from her, the courage of her convictions settling her former master firmly back into place under the dark ocean of her memories.

Emily glanced to the painting once and then back to him, her hand was reaching for his own before she registered what she was doing. Her touch was gentle as she tugged him lightly back to face her again, her fingers curling around his own in determination. "Well, we'll just have to fix that now won't we? I'll remember. Annunciation, painted by Masaccio in 1424, lovingly restored in the year 2019 by....?" She raised a brow quizzically, awaiting his response, her hand not leaving his.

A hand took his own. It had been over a decade since any other being had touched him, and he whirled to face his assailant. Ah, but he was not being assailed. The life of the Sabbat was behind him, the horrors merely whispers in his mind, in his past. This was different, this was a vibrant flower in a field of grey weeds. Her eyes met his, and for a moment he could not speak. No Kindred had been as brazen with him in so long. Cast into the shadows of his Sire's great legacy, he had toiled and laboured for nought. That was what made the deception so easy, the feelings behind it were true.

"Sorel. Raphael Sorel." He did not know why his name came to his tongue so quickly. He had been a true magician, as a mortal, and knew the dangers of giving your name to another. Things were different now, his Curse changed what he once would have called his Pattern beyond recognition, and the name was nothing to a magician now. And yet, old habits die hard, and he used his name rarely. And here he was, opening to this bold bright being like the petals of a flower open to the sun long denied him. His fingers tensed, somewhere half way between holding and shaking. "And you are...?"

"Nice to meet you, Raphael Sorel." Emily did nothing to hide the amusement in her voice but shook his hand firmly, resolutely. She had not been lying to him, a thousand years from now if anyone mentioned the Annunciation by Masaccio, she'd proudly proclaim is was restored by her new friend Raphael Sorel.

Her eyes danced with something akin to bemusement, what an unexpected turn of events but so far not an unpleasant one. She smiled brightly, her voice as bubbly as her desire to unnerve the other pompous fools who cast them disapprovingly glances for being so readily happy at the entirely serious event, "I'm Emily Masters and I think you have a magnificent talent. Anyone can learn to paint but without someone like you there to preserve it, no one would remember and give a damn long into the future. No offence, Toreadors are so pretty n' vain but fairly stupid when it comes to what is really important. It's nice to see one with common sense for once."

She cast her gaze about, grinning wickedly at Kindred who now glared at her for her audacity, she could practically feel their undead skin prickle with emotion. Maybe she should have been more respectful but she didn't feel any particular danger from any of her kind, besides, its about time they got a dose of the cold hard truth and somehow having Raphael by her side made her feel bolder, the voice in her head quieter for it. She wasn't ready to give that up yet. Her hand which still held his tugged, whisking him towards the gallery doors and the night air, her voice just as commanding and playful as it had been when she first spoke, "Come on, Raph. Let's blow this joint and find something fun to do."

Disdain. It was not unfamiliar. It was written on their faces as they watched him. Now, before, always. But now it was not as hollow, for there was someone else within their disdainful gaze. Not protect him, certainly, and provoking their disquiet to greater heights certainly, but there and enduring it as much as he. Images flashed through his minds eye, other Kindred from long ago who had walked the night with him. The Camarilla led inferno that had scoured them from his life. Was this what he had been missing? In casting aside all meaningful contact, had he been denying himself what he actually needed all along?

She was tugging him. It was almost cute. Despite the falsehoods he gave off, he was far, far older than this little thing that was tugging him towards the door. He could tear her arm from its socket, or boil her blood in her veins, or turn her mind into a quivering mess. And yes, he did none of these things. For the first time in over a century and a half of life, Raphael was awestruck. She had just... commandeered him. That had not happened to him since the night so long ago when a shovel had almost caved the back of his head in, and the vitae feed to him had returned him to life to dig his way out of the shallow grave he had been left in and to wreak havoc upon the Camarilla city he had been born to.

"Lead on, Masters." His voice was lighter, with a touch of merriment. Let us see where this night leads us.

"Calling me, Master, already are we?" She slowed at they met the nights welcome embrace, her arm slipped easily into his own as she began to stroll them both down towards the pier. She felt better in both mind and spirit now they were free of the trapping of that place, away from other Kindred and their petty, prattling ways, "Normally that takes a few feedings of my vitae, or at least a kiss." She offered him another easily smile and a wink, "Nice to know you're easy, Raph. I'll keep that in mind in the future."

"But I am rambling on, tell me about yourself. What's brought you to the sickly, neon halo that is Santa Monica?" She was companionable enough as they walked, arm in arm, her calm gaze flicking from one place to another to his eyes and back again with almost dizzying ease. Emily watched everything and everyone, despite outward appearances she was keen and cunning, always ready for action should the need arise. She'd let her walls down with this man though, which was unlike her and that both made her tense and thrilled. It was nice to have a change, a challenge, something different after so many years of the same.

The grin on his lips was genuine, and that came as a surprise to him. She had an unusual approach to flirting, and he found it quite disarming. It felt natural, and it even took a moment for the realisation that she was attempting to flirt to sink in. What was this strange fey creature that had wandered into this crushing ennui that had haunted him through the decades? His sight beyond sight told him she was Kindred, and yet there was an aspect to her that was wild and untamed and almost enchanted, as if she were one of the fey princesses. What an intriguing find.

"I am here because no where else will have me. My Sire is gone, following his Sire east, and leaving me abandoned. The other Toreador look down their noses at me because I simply restore, I do not create. And so I migrate along the coasts of these United States of ours, avoiding the eyes of those who wish me ill and plying my services to those whom merely look down at me." Not all true, of course, but true enough. Since the ashes of his last companions had settled, he had not stayed in one place longer than half a dozen months. Who knew when the Camarilla rats would find out about him and give chase. Even the Unchained looked down on those who had once associated as he had, and he knew if his secret were to come out, he would not be chased out of the city, but rather burned within it.

"And yourself? You feel as if you are as new to this city as I am."

Emily listened, his story was not so unlike her own in the end. She offered him a simple smile and another easy shrug, "Only a couple of years but I doubt you and I move in the same circles. I went tonight on a whim. My Malkavian clansman believe in prophecies and fate, perhaps I was destined to find you there, hmm Raph? Don't worry, I'll go easy on you... to begin with." Her laughter was swallowed by the sounds of the festivities as they strolled into the pier, the old wood creaking lightly under the relentless pounding of the water.

Emily paused mid-conversation as she left his side to hop up into the railing, no fear of the crushing waters below. She began to stroll along it, pretending to either be a gymnast or a child, no one would ever really know. Her voice came again across the murmur of mortals and waves alike as strong and sure as her footfalls, "I came from the Great Apple and left because of its worms. It may come as I shock that I admit this but I had been a ghoul, for longer then I know or perhaps no time at all." I shook her head, chuckling bitterly, "I don't remember and in the end, it doesn't matter. My Master turned me and in her final act of twisted betrayal abandoned me to these unknown nights... Where? I know not and I most certainty do not care."

She continued to tiptoe along the railing another few paces before pausing and extending one toe and performed a little spin. In past mortal years she'd have been too timid to try this but now... now she was free and Kindred. She issued a giddy laugh as she teetered only just managing to stop herself from falling by leaping down unsteadily into his waiting arms, expecting he'd be too much of a gentlemen to let her fall. "So... you see, Raph. I am an outcast too. Stigma from my immortal blood, rejected by my sire, looked down upon by all decent society... and I would not trade it for the world!"

Whimsical and wild, like the fey. She crossed boundaries, physical and social, with such graceful, innocent ease. Up onto the railing and wandering, arms windmilling as she loses her footing, and she leaps at him. Reflex alone is what causes him to catch her. The fall could not harm her immortal, undead flesh. And yet, he caught her all the same, with no thought behind it and simple action. He puts her to her feet gently, for a moment simply gazing into her eyes, before letting her go and stepping to the side, to gaze passed the railing and out over the ocean. The water sparkled in the moonlight, and it felt as if something sparkled within him as well. Emotions dead and discarded for decades were beginning to stir.

"It would seem we have much in common, little Masters," he says with a chuckle. It was her name only, but he realised he enjoyed the momentary banter that it brought. Something shifting through the dark waters of his soul, stirring, avoiding the shadows of the Beast and coming to the surface. Joy. A simple thing, a small thing, but made all the more value by its purity.

"You would not trade it, little Masters? There is nothing for the daylight world you miss? The warmth of the sun, the touch of a lovers caress? The simple joy of eating, or resting after a long day. Dreaming." His head tilts slowly, and he turns back towards her. "Ah, but those of your blood may dream, or so they say. Waking dreams, where you see whispers of what was, or what could be. Do you dream, little Masters?"

Emily smiled to herself as he stepped around her, in those few moments of feigned misstep she'd learned what she wanted too about his character. He reflexively cared about others still. He could have easily avoided catching her but his instinct was to keep her safe even when no real harm that could befall her. Unconscious acts spoke louder then actual words, this was an intriguing vampire she'd stumbled across. His words flowed over her and an anxious smile began to replace the genuine one on her lips as she regarded his back with curiosity. He had such a formal way of expressing himself, it wasn't often you met someone truly old in these nights, she'd sort of just assumed he was as new as she was and a vague trickle of fear began to build up along her spine.

-What if you're wrong?-

The old were to be feared, respected and avoided if possible. The Ringmaster had been old and cruel, there was little that was human left to her when Emily had become tangled in her web. Was Raphael the same, had she found another monster under her proverbial bed. "Little Masters? You speak like an elder, have I mistakenly assumed your age?"

She tried to keep her voice steady and light as she studied him critically as he turned towards her once more and asked his questions. She'd lost some of her playfulness now as she shook her head, invisible walls building up, the voice in her head mocking her for ever letting them down so easily. "There is no going back, so why dwell? However, for me there is no rosy tint to peer back through on my human existence. As I said, I was a ghoul. I had no friends, no family and if I ever did those memories was stolen from me along with my last breath."

-Hush, don't tell him too much.-

She shrugged and went to lean on the railing next to him, gazing at the ocean of diamonds below, there was a profound sadness in her expression now as she spoke. She hadn't really stopped to think of these things since she fled New York, she'd been driven forward, fleeing whatever darkness snapped at her heels. "I've heard of those in my clan who dream but I do not, I guess I am not special even in as an insane stereotype." She chuckled bitterly under her breath, "I am thankful I do not have that burden though, when I close my eyes as the sunrises I know peace, I surrender to it as if it'll be my last." She trailed off then, emotion glittering in her eyes as real and raw as the ocean surging beneath them but within a blink it was gone again, sealed away inside.

-Run. Hide.-

"Shall we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

His eyes watched her, his ears listened, and his soul reached deeper. He could see the play of colour in her aura, as the emotions shifted and changed making the colours eddy and flow. There was something that was not there before, something darker, something colder, something more lonely. "Old? In soul, perhaps. My Sire had an... appreciation for formality, and if you did not do things he approved of, it... did not end well for you. So I adapted to survive." He steps closer. "You said your name was Masters, and I can see you're little." His eyes roam her, up and down. "Tiny, almost. Would you prefer tiny Masters?" The gentle tone and the soft smile take any malice from the words. He is clearly playing.

His arm bends automatically when she suggests the Ferris wheel, and he offers her the crook of it. Always the gentleman, by habit more than anything else. And yet, he liked this woman, this young but strangely wise Kindred, this former ghoul now turned vampire, servant now turned master. Such strength and such frailty, boldness and fear. She was a marvel of dichotomies, and a delight to the mind as much as she was to the regular senses like sight. "The Pacific Wheel. Not the original, of course. The original was dismantled and sold on eBay, over one hundred years old. I put in a few bids myself, but could not gather the required finances at the time and it fell through." His shoulders rose and fell. "I have never attempted to restore anything so vast. It would have been an undertaking." He let his gentle, harmless conversation spill out. From past experience, it put others at ease, or bored them, and he certainly did not want her wary of him. Who knew if she would be able to see past his pretences?

Emily immediately began to relax, slowly the muscles in her back loosened and she offered him a gentle smile as she took his arm once more. He wasn't older, that was a relief, he was exactly who he presented himself to be and she believed him without question on that. Later, she'd look back and wonder why - maybe she was more lonely then she realised, maybe the stars had aligned to guide their way to one another but for now all she did was nod. She knew all about pleasing Sires, catering to their needless demands and whims, not so much family but toys, puppets or pawns.

"I said my name was Emily." She offered him a sideways grin, taking in his appearance once more without a hint of shame, he wasn't bad to look at really and she liked the way he responded to her teasing. If she was honest, she had not had this much fun in quite some time and it was almost a relief. "I understand your desire to give me a pet name already Raph, I really do. I know I am just that endearing but I think Emily will suffice, at least for the moment."

They made their way easily through the crowd, the hum of blood and life kept them unconsciously close to one another in their shared intimate secret. She offered Raphael another cheeky wink and left his side, suddenly abandoning him to the throng of people. Her stride was purposeful, taking her to the side of the man who ran the amusement. She tilted her head, gazing into his eyes and whispering so low even Raphael would not be able to catch it. Then she was moving back to him, taking his hand once more and tugging him to the front of line and onto the platform as the ride was already beginning to slow and an oddly empty seat paused before them. Emily acted like this was not out of the ordinary and climbed in, settling in against her companion, practically snuggling as the ride once again went into operation. "I've never shared this with anyone before." She muttered gently, to herself or to him? Who knew.

From aloft and away from the rabble and filth, the city was could only be beautiful, neon and glimmering, bright and hopeful. She smiled returned, more genuine as she leaned back into the seat, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Stunning, truly beautiful...." She blinked, as if to catch herself form the dream and looked to him again, matter-of-factly, "Ok, Raph, if we're going to be best friends you really need to stop talking like a museum guide. "

He smiled faintly as he walked, his mind cataloguing little things about her. Had she forgotten she had said her name was Emily Masters, or was this further playing? It was hard to tell with her, and the swirl of her aura was so swift, flowing from one mood to the next like quicksilver. What was this strange creature that had come waltzing into his life?

It was not until they were on the Ferris wheel that he was aware that this could be a very dangerous ploy. A Camarilla assassin who had learned his secret and sought to remove him? The long arm of the Sabbat, finally reaching for him? All possible, if unlikely. No, he was not in danger from her, she was as young as she appeared, and she lacked the nuance of an Elder, the devious mind required for their Machiavellian plotting. She was young, lost, alone, and... opening up to him? For a moment, he remember those who had crawled out of the shallow graves with him. Confused, scared alone. They had opened up to him, trusted him, and in time he had come to return these things.

Emotions were flooding him. Feelings he had not even considered in decades, let alone felt. It was a potent, heady sensation, as terrifying as it was beautiful. He listened as she spoke, lost in her own reverie, and then she turned to him. "Museum guide?" He chuckles softly. "You would prefer I was more relaxed, I take it?" He nods slowly, and then with a little grin he loosens his tie, undoes his tip button, and pops his collar. "I can do that."

Emily glanced from the sprawling skyline to Raph feigned embarrassment, fanning her face with one hand and putting on a rather gaudy southern accent, "Why, Mr. Sorel, you are positively naked!" She smiles again and reached out, scruffing his hair up a little and then nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect."

"Look at that, Raph. I imagined it would drive a Toreador mad at the beauty of this place, up above everything, a butterfly caught on the wind of our great city." She sighs deeply, content, gazing at the lights as they catch and glow like stars, "I know I should miss my humanity but in these moments, especially in this moment, how I can be not thankful for what I am. To see this city, not just with my eyes but ... to taste its people, its pulse and lifeblood. How could you not want to preserve that forever..."

She blinks, a lazy smile spreading over her lips as she fell silent once more and just enjoyed the scene laid out before her. She came here a lot when she first arrived in the city to get to know it and more recently to get away from it, pretend she wasn't lonely and didn't miss the Ringmaster despite her brutality, Emily could always count on her being there and now... now, no one was. Not when she woke, not when she stalked the streets and fed, not when she closed her eyes to the day. "You know... what you said earlier about the frame? When I die, no one will know my name, no one will remember me either..." She shook her head, laughing softly, blinking back emotion again, "Oh, look what you've done. Gone and made me all reflective and dull, unlife is meant to be fun."

"I will remember you, Emily Masters. She who does not miss the sun's caress. She who claims other people boldly as her own. She who dislikes art, for arts sake, and dislikes her companions sounding like museum tour guides." He smiles faintly, and he slowly begins to straighten his clothing. He does not fix the hair, however, leaving it exactly as she touched. "I don't know how long that will be. They say we can live for centuries. For however long I live, I will remember you. I know it's not much. It's no fancy picture frame that no one will ever see..." He chuckles softly.

As the silence fell, he looked out over the waters as she had. It had clearly taken her a lot to bring him up here. She was reaching for something, and she did not know if what she now held was the sweet fruit she desired or a fetid piece of detritus. In truth, he did not know either. He was a curse to those that got close to him more often than not. But something within him yearned for this as well, and as much as he knew he should let her go, he found himself unable to do anything to push her away.

"It looks like you're stuck with one new friend, at least."