Vaughn Davis (shebringscurses) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-03-05 17:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | black forest witch, dracula, snow queen |
Who: Vaughn (narrative, but open for reaction)
What: Oh, nothing really. Just breaking into Vlad's apartment.
Where: P3.
When: NOW.
Warnings: A little cursing.
Notes: If there are typos or some kind of inconsistencies, I apologize a million times. I'm running to work in 2.4 seconds.
Shane was right. Didn't she have anything better to do? Shane was right! Although, the idea of aligning 601 with veritableness made Vaughn very nearly choke on her cigarette. She'd have liked to of keeled over in a fit of shock, but what was the fun of playing dead if there was nobody watching? That tangy, mentholated smoke clotted the blood in her lungs, and had her lowering the dainty edge of her witch-boned chin with a soft laugh. Oh, Shane was right. There were so many more fun things she could be doing than this monotonous, innocent bullshit.
Vaughn was bored; she'd been lying low for what felt like weeks. Mostly in order to get settled with Aaron. While she didn't completely understand how Aaron's perceptions worked.. she got the impression that running around and stabbing people might mess things up with the new happy family motif she had going in 104.
So here she was. Smoking outside of Bellum, wandering the sidewalks. Crawling out of her skin. Faded, gray jeans that stretched like thin dust over epic, black widow spider legs. The oversized dark sweatshirt made her look like any another poor, bundled up wanderer. The hood was drawn up, half obscuring the pale cut of her eyes. Just another straggler on the sidewalk, sucking down the filter of a menthol cigarette.
Daniel had left the building, which was fine. Daniel Webster would soon learn that even if he was away, he would never escape her. He would pace and sit restless forever and ever.. wondering what Vaughn was doing now. Wondering who she was hurting. He'd discover how much more comfortable it was to be closer, to know for sure that her only target was him. Daniel did this all to himself, and that was the saddest part of all! If he just cooperated and played nice, none of this would have had to of happened.
Of course, Daniel wasn't without accessories to his crimes. There was Boyd, who was admittedly inconsequential. She was a child, as obstructive and significant as a pebble in the path of a hurricane. And Shane wasn't a worry if Boyd wasn't a worry. They would still be dealt with, of course. Boyd could not go unpunished for her past transgressions. And, in hurting Boyd, she hurt Shane.. a two-for-one deal was really too good to pass up.
There was also Rosalie, but thinking about that one was almost too easy.
The doors of Bellum breached with someone's exit, and it broke Vaughn's concentration. A brief, partial lift of her fishbelly eyes from beneath the dark hem of her hood registered the profile of the man. Alexander. Even if she was not wearing the likeness of Leah, she turned with caution toward the street as if he might recognize her. Dropping her cigarette casually, watching from the corner of her eye when the man took down the other sidewalk, toward the park, with his two dogs. Impressive animals. Vaughn turned slowly, cagey as a fox on the outskirts of a barbed, electric fence. Waiting and ensuring that the man was far enough down the sidewalk that he wouldn't be turning back anytime soon. She recognized those dogs; they were featured prominently in the sketch that Helena had shown her. The dogs belonged to P3, of course. Alexander.. was P3.
Her eyes tightened, although she was not surprised. The man kept close company with Shane, and therefore obviously not to be trusted. He could be dealt with now. She had so much free time on her hands!
She broke into the lobby at a full sprint, and the elevator complied with her ride all the way up to the penthouse floor. Vaughn removed one of her boots, jamming it's hypodermic heel into the grooved track of the elevator doors, ensuring that even if they tried to close, they would not be able to. The elevator would not be leaving the penthouse level anytime soon. When Vlad returned, he'd have to take fourteen flights of stairs.. which promised Vaughn an extra ten minutes for what she had planned.
The door of P3 was shut and locked, but this did not stall or slow her. Vlad was not the kind of man to keep his secrets so unguarded, and that made them all the more mouthwatering. Vaughn reared back like a cobra, and slammed the heel of her remaining boot against the door, just above the handle. Her shoe's heel snapped like a bone, and tension sang up her leg, but the door frame cracked, ever so slightly. Teetering for balance, she kicked again, and again. Harder, more vicious with every drive. Eventually, Vaughn stepped back, and hit the door with everything she had. Using the carve of her shoulder to force the cracked wood of the frame into giving that last inch. It hurt like a bitch, but the door spilled open. Pain radiated through her arm, although it was not dislocated. She rolled it gently, and stepped into P3, kicking the door (mostly)closed behind her. While the door would click back into it's frame with some amount of struggle, it no longer locked properly.
She was inside P3. First order of business? She lit a new cigarette. Curls of minty, noxious smoke rolled from her mouth as Vaughn shook away the hood of her sweatshirt. It fell back like the cowl of a demoness' cloak.
The kitchen was to the right; she went through it quickly. Ripping dishes and glasses from their cuppards, leaving the floor a shattered, twinkling mess. For no other reason than it's chaos pleased her. The living room was easy to mark up; a vase smashed through the coffee table's glass surface and the television screen met with the same fate. After that, the room was ignored in lieu of the hallway.. which boasted more promising things to destroy.
The bedroom door was locked, and while she considered beating her way inside it as well, Vaughn recognized how very little time she had left. It was unwise, she should turn now and leave before anyone came to investigate or even Vlad himself returned.
Although, just as she was about to leave.. another door caught her eye. For no reason aside from her own morbid curiosity, she tried the handle and found it unlocked. Inside, Vaughn instantly determined that this was the spare bedroom. It felt cold, and unused. Still, she pilfered through the barren closet and rolled across the bed once -- spotting it up with her cigarettes burns and mascara smudges. Then, the nightstand table was pushed over, the lamp upon it went shattering against the wall just as the table's drawer spilled open and a music box fell out. Vaughn froze because this.. this little, nothing music box.. was something she recognized. Recorded by some worthless corner of her mind, Vaughn recalled it being on a surface in Boyd's 1002. While she'd seen it then, it had never interested her. It interested her now, and Vaughn scooped it up. That was the very last thing she did before skipping out of P3, stamping her cigarette out on Vlad's comfy couch before she left. The final image of her was rotkink curls sticking up from her crown like Medusa's snakes, and a smile of pure joy. Skipping, absolutely skipping her happy ass down the hall where Vaughn wrenched her boot loose from where it jammed the elevator doors, and climbed aboard with a smile.