Selene (dealing_death) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-08-07 10:01:00 |
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Current music: | Claude Debussy : Voiles |
Who: Selene (open)
Where: The Huntington
Why: Fulfilling social obligations with a dear old friend.
When: 9:00pm-ish
Status: Complete
Rating: R: I think this might get violent. Cover your eyes kids!
((OOC: As I play Selene she is post-Evolution. There is no one left of her coven and the humans that helped run their company Ziodex pretty much just took it over without the Elders or Regents to stop them. Selene cares very little for diplomatic entanglements and has no desire to run a business. So, Dr. Miller, a doctor and board member at Ziodex secured her ownership of St. Vibiana’s and money to live on. He has invited her out to The Huntington to see Allan Sekula’s display on it’s premier night.))
There was an embossed invitation to the art gallery opening in her hand, on her arm was a regal older man, one of their human consorts at Ziodex. While the rest of the board may have seized the moment her family fell as a way to steal all that was theirs, this good doctor was her greatest advocate. Dr. Miller had ensured that Selene had a place to call home and financial stability; his eyes spoke to her of great regret for not giving her more. She understood his predicament and held no ill will towards him, one day she would have what was rightfully hers. What she had bled for over six centuries for. That had nothing to do with ownership of a company.
As they strolled in elegant silence her eyes spoke of longing for something she could not claim. Behind her focused, dark eyes she thought of his features fashioned from smooth, warm sandstone left to bake in the sun. Of eyes carved from leopard Jasper, rich flecks of color in warm, wet sand. In her mind were thoughts of an enigma, a man without details that she was desperate to learn. A new branch in the road and Selene did not have the map. Daydreams. Flights of fancy. Nothing more.
Curious questions swept through her mind as they walked towards the doors held open by two silent gentlemen dressed in tuxedos. Between her thumb and forefinger the burgundy fabric of her silk gown was pinched and lifted from the ground. Sparkling jewels adorning her heels peeked out from the gently raised hem of her gown with each languid sweep of her legs.
Dr. Miller remained silent as he escorted his pensive lady to the display in the courtyard. It was not unusual to see her in such a thoughtful state, this was often her mood. Thoughtful silence.
Crisp, cool air nipped playfully at her exposed skin. Raising her eyes to the sky that did not sparkle as it should she hoped to see a star fall. Whispering in her heart was a wish that would not be granted. Not this night. Was that the reason she had come here, to an event such at this, the slim hope that perhaps a familiar face would be stalking through the posh crowd? So far disappointment was found in the eyes that returned her gaze. Not one pair glowed with the light of the large golden star.
“May I ask, Dr. Miller, which patch of earth has the honor of calling you native?” Selene placed a placid smile upon her lips as she chased the ghosts from her somber, cavernous eyes. Having always lived in Budapest she had not been given opportunity to get to know those that had dealings with the New World Coven in America. This was the first time she and Dr. Miller had spoken in person and not about matters of business.
"I was originally born in Maine," he replied. His voice was even and smooth and always carried a comfortable resonance when speaking of himself. He paused for a moment and canted his head slightly. They had gathered creatures like Selene from all over the globe, turning Ordoghaz into a melting pot of European culture. He too knew little about the youthful, in appearance, woman on his arm. All he knew were the limited details provided, she was the last, and his heart had broken for her when they had turned her away so quickly. "And yourself? Hungary, yes? I have been told that the Győr Summer Festival is simply amazing and that the Rába River is breathtaking during the summer months."
Taking the lead he took them to stand before the Sekula work. Before them, clasped professionally to a deep red metal easel form was Herkules , the artistic submission by Allan Sekula. Dr. Miller maintained a responsible distance from the portrait as he allowed his maroon gaze to inspect its every detail. His eyes inspected the facial expression of "Herkules" and noted the deep lines of wrinkles that cornered his eyes and chin. The heavy wear of labor had drawn the lumberjacks face as somber as the wilderness that his blade had rendered useless. He compared the scene of the stacked mass of cleaved trees against that of the tall pines that continued to stand in the distant landscape.
"Do you believe that they know?" He posed curiously to the woman at his side. His deep gaze remained to the portrait for a moment before he offered her a brief glance. "Do you suppose that the pines there in the distance understand that their fate will be the same as that of their fallen brethren?"
Maine. That was not the response she anticipated. Though, his years spent entrenched in her world likely had to do with the stately demeanor that carefully hid who he really was. The perfect cover for the deadly viper that lay beneath. Selene saw danger lurking in his eyes. It was a concerted effort to not reach out and brush a thumb under the lustrous, burnt rubies. To tell him she knew he was not merely a brilliant doctor. How could one not be affected when surrounded by the harbingers of death. His eyes held no dread as he looked into hers. There were not many that looked into the windows of her sinister soul, saw past the endless hours of darkness to what truly lurked behind the glass and still gazed upon her with confidence. Did he know as they looked into each others eyes that what he really saw was death?
The impassive stare softened as he pin pointed the source of her muddied accent. Those living within the walls of the Devil’s house came from every corner of Europe. It had been many years since she had spoken her native dialect on a frequent basis. Lack of use had watered down the once harsh tone. Most thought her to be British. How wrong they were.
Years of battle had taken them across every territory of the Carpathian Basin. While she was not from Gyor she knew of the beauty of the river Raba. Selene smiled at him as she gave her answer. Never having the opportunity to enjoy the city she watched grow-up bathed in sunlight, the veins that cut through the ancient body of land would always be seen in her mind under the blinding light of her name sake. “The Queen of the Danube is home. Beauty such as hers is best seen under the glow of the swollen moon. I have yet to see the land of ‘Pest ablaze in the rich tone of a summer sun.”
While it seemed like a simple answer the ancient vampires’ origin reached back through time before the land once known as Aquincum was settled by Hungarian nomads in the late 9th century. The blood that flowed through her veins was bestowed upon her by an immortal warlord ruling the lands of their old world near the time of the infamous Attila. While her answer was an easy one, she was from Budapest, the jewel of the harsh Hungarian landscape, there was far more to her then the deepest well.
A responsible distance was not kept by the woman who felt entitled to touch and affect the world as she liked. Stepping closer she looked over the unassuming photograph with great interest, the tips of her fingers nearly touching. It was not spectacular, it was not even particularly moving in its composition. A burly man in flannel stood among a pile of fallen trees. Herkules he was not, she scoffed with dismissive eyes. Dr. Miller’s question shed a different light on an image she likely would have looked past without a second glance. Now, she saw something.
“Fate.” She whispered. “They see their fate. Choice is not theirs yet they do not tremble.” Each word was spoken with great care as her eyes glistened against the sheen of the photograph. “The end of the axe he holds is the key to their destiny. Once they rose to the sky as mere trees, but with the helping hand of this goliath, they will fall only to rise again, changed, greater then they were before his touch.” A building. A home. Cities were built upon the backbones of these towering giants. Perhaps her words had another meaning. Or maybe she was not speaking of the trees at all.
Metamorphosis was the meaning behind her words. Evolution. An alternate path to what was destined to be. Not many were brave enough to look down a dark unlit path and take the first step. One stormy night covered in the blood of her father Selene had done just that. Made the choice to forever alter her world and the very essence of who she was.
All for a lie.
Now she stood in the same place she had so long ago, at the mouth of an unknown path, only this time it was one she would walk alone. This time it was her path to walk.