The Universe's Mixer

(Backdated to the night of the return from RC)

It was late when Mazanderan Manor welcomed its master. As the door opened at his approach, Erik wearily shrugged out of his suit jacket. It was caught by white-gloved hands that whisked it away while he headed across his marble entryway and into his home. His butler followed quietly and at a respectable distance, waiting either for a direction or a dismissal. Yes, Erik supposed he should let the man rest. If he were as tired as Erik himself, the sooner the better. But first...

"Where did you put her?"

"The lady retired to the Regency Room, around 10:30, sir," his butler responded. As if drawn, Erik turned toward the east wing before thinking about it. He nodded, then turned back toward the north wing -- where his chambers lay.

"That will be all for tonight."

"Very good, sir. Good night, sir."

~ * ~

An hour and a half later, Erik finally threw off the blankets, tugged on a smoking jacket, and headed to his kitchen. There was no sleeping tonight, regardless of how tired he felt. His mind refused to be silent. Not just his mind. Tugging out a bottle of ... what, chardonnay? fine... from the fridge, Erik made quick work of the uncorking, grabbed and filled a wine cooler, then snagged its stand and a glass on his way to the library. Some reading would help -- and if it didn't, at least he would have gained knowledge he didn't have to begin with.

Once in his darkened library, he flicked on a lamp, set the stand and ice bucket down by a nearby chair, poured a glass half-way, and set it down on the table, then headed to the closest shelf and blindly grabbed a book. As he set himself in the arm chair, he turned the spine to examine it. Anatomy of the Human Body.

Not the topic that he would have chosen, himself. With a sigh, he started flipping through the section on shoulders. There was nothing more innocuous than a shoulder, he mused to himself, until his mind started painting a pale white shoulder in paler lace. Perhaps not so innocuous after all. Wine, then. He swirled the liquid twice in its glass, then swallowed.

Nothing was helping, tonight.

The crone stretched and rolled over to find that the bed was empty. It wasn't overly shocking, but there were times she did like waking up to the Viking's cool body beside hers. She smiled slightly, knowing he was somewhere in the City without even trying. She could find him, pinpoint him, and be at his side as quickly as she'd like, but she was pleased with simply knowing he was indeed around and did not seem to be in any trouble. A hint angry perhaps but not in trouble.

She stretched again, got out of bed, and put on the usual summer dress and sandals after a quick shower and a look in the mirror. She had changed, and she might continue. It bothered her on a little; she liked being more in control, yet she knew it wasn't always in her grasp. She laughed softly at how she seemed to accept that a little better at that particular moment. With a shrug, she headed out.

Her destination was wherever the City took her. They weren't as connected as they had been, but the City wasn't keeping itself completely from her either. She had access to its power, and tonight, she simply let it change the streets around her. Of course, when it put a building directly in her path she might have been a touch upset, but, keeping with the rather laid back theme of the evening, she only slapped the building's wall and turned, stopping when she saw what felt more like a bad monster movie monstrosity, even if it didn't appear to be obviously so.

It was but wasn't Fangtasia. Well, the City had something in mind for her after all.

She stepped off the curb, crossed the street, and walked in, only to be hit by just how wrong the City had gotten it. The crone tsked softly as she took a seat on the more vampiric side of the bar.

"You really screwed this one up, didn't you?" The crone spoke softly into the air.