The Universe's Mixer

Lisbeth spoke aloud in Swedish: "What a pathetic fool you are, Salander."

After deciding she was in love Mikael Blomkvist and going so far as to buy him a thoughtful gift and a confession of her feelings, she saw the journalist with his boss and -- their body language had been quite obvious as to their intentions -- lover. Lisbeth turned on a heel and began to walk home, throwing the gift into a dumpster when she had really wanted to throw it at Berger's head!

By now she should have passed Zinkensdamm, but instead found herself on a street that could not have existed anywhere in Stockholm. The night sky had turned to black and there were only stars, brighter than stars in a city ever should be, to light to path on the sidewalk.

I've lost it, she thought. I am completely insane and it's Mikael Fucking Blomkvist's fault.

It was a nice sentiment but if Lisbeth had gone mad, she wouldn't have imagined a city like this. She remained dead calm as she walked, in case it was some sort of temporary insanity that fresh air might correct. It didn't and, Lisbeth began to suspect, the roads were shifting on her. Her sense of direction was aided by a photographic memory. The alleys and turns she took didn't add up.

Lisbeth saw a bar, Purgatory, up ahead. Her mind had already considered several scenarios which might account for her Wonderland-like displacement. If she was drugged or had gone insane it was probably an appropriate time to get crawl-home drunk. The bar's interior didn't make Salander feel much better about her situation, looking like two establishments cut and glued together in half. On one side, there were burly North American looking rednecks. On the other, goths who were decked out in various degrees of fetish gear.

And everyone was speaking English with North American accents.

Lisbeth had the don't-fuck-with-me attitude of a hunter, but the tattoos and piercings of a fangbanger. The truth was that she didn't belong on either side. She took a seat at the bar as close to the invisible divider as she could and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Lisbeth didn't see any No Smoking signs, and was having the sort of day where she couldn't be assed to care about any ordinances, either.

"Vodka," she said while holding up three fingers. The shots were just to start.

It was a usual night. A very usual night, which meant boring. Pam was dressed in some of her fetishistic finest, black leather, corset, heels. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun; a leather collar with a very nice buckle wrapped bout her neck. She seemed very comfortable in the gear even if it wasn't her normal. She rested her hands on the counter as she waited for the tourist to stop staring and order.

There were hunters on the other side of the bar who looked very much like they wanted to end the vampires who were serving the humans in the "nicer" side of the bar. There were vampires who were watching the hunters as if they wouldn't have minded feeding or scaring them. Pam wouldn't have minded scaring many of them brainless; then again, she honestly wondered how much brain these hunter types really had.

Yes, just a usual night in Purgatory. Just another night of brainless bore.

Pam stood at the door, checking ids and learning more of the people who lived in the City. She didn't need to know them, but it wasn't like she had a choice at the moment. She refused to go in to the damn place, although she had admitted that she liked the new name. It was better than the old name, and it wasn't so painfully on the nose as Fangtasia.

She was wrapped in dark denim jeans and a sweater that didn't hide much in the way it hugged her body. The boots went above her knees, and they added over five inches to her height. Her hair was pulled up in some ridiculously intricate braid; she had had practice so very long ago, not with her hair alone. Then again, Eric would probably not care for her sharing that information.

She glanced at the clientele, the very mixed and painfully not what she wanted to deal with at times clientele. She sighed softly, and continued to look at ids and faces.

The petite vampire sat across the road from the hideous monstrosity that had once been her business, or partly hers. Now, she was sharing it with a blond who was tasty and wouldn't mind killing her. Of course, she was sharing it with a blond who wouldn't mind sharing his bed with his wife and her, but that was something and someone else entirely. She hadn't gone in unless she really had to, and even then she spent as little time as possible inside.

Pam sat perfectly straight, her ankles crossed and tucked under the bench. Her gloved hands folded neatly on her lap. She looked like a Stepford wife, a very young Stepford wife. With a hint of Alice of Wonderland fame thrown in. Her hair was pulled into a bun with a bow that matched her pink of ensemble. Her dress' skirt was full, but she managed to sit there without an apparent worry that it would fly up to reveal those things it shouldn't; she'd worn one of these skirts before. He waist was cinched with a cute little black belt that matched her kitten heels. She looked as if she'd stepped right off a 50's Harper's Bazaar. The petite thing could dress rather nicely.

She stared at the door leading into the establishment. She probably been sitting there for quite some time, and it was possible if no one noticed her she would continue to sit there until the sun demanded she go to ground. It wasn't that she was wallowing, but rather she was examining the problem and trying to determine the best solution. Eric wished to co-exist with the hunters, at least for now, but she did not see a profitable end to it. It was an unpleasant bit of surviving as far as she was concerned.

Pam stood in the middle of what used to be Fangtasia. She didn’t move. She just stood there in her khakis and cashmere. There were small red spots on the pink, and if one only looked at the sweater, one might think the strange pattern had been on purpose. If one moved closer, or one had preternatural senses, one would know what was on her sweater was blood, and it wasn’t human. If one actually looked at her face, one would see the telltale traces of the vampire’s tears on her cheeks.

The petite vampire had worked hard with and for Eric to build up the hole in the wall place in a hole in the wall city of Shreveport. She’d worked damn hard to make it a booming business, and could be credited for part of its success. This was partly hers, and now...now some fucknut of an unseen entity had come in and ruined it.

She might brush away the tears with words, saying that the decor hurt her soul or some such, but it was the very nature of the beast that brought forth tears. Or more the very undoing of the bar as she had helped to make it.

So, there she stood, still as a statue. The bloody tears dried to her cheeks and her sweater. She knew eventually she would have to stop moping, but at the moment, she didn’t really care to.

( ---- )

Note: There is no posting order in this. We know that some people won't be able to throw in very often or as fast as we will. Don't worry about it. Just jump if you see a chance you want to take. Otherwise, we'll count your kids as there and witnessing what happens

Eric had sent out a messenger with the invitations to the actual wedding ceremony. A thing that would be small and intimate with only those in attendance who were important to either him or Baba or the both of them. He didn't think that this part of it needed to be in the public eye, and he didn't want any interruptions or missteps. This part of it was very important to him. Eric had not taken a wife since Aude. He'd never thought to ever again. He wasn't the sort of vampire who enjoyed living in a nest and he didn't require constant companionship that other beings craved. But he did love Baba and did want for this to happen.

The time he picked for it all to happen was late night. He wanted his vampires able to attend but not have to worry about too much time between the ceremony itself and when the reception would begin. The moon was full and the stars were out in force. It was warm but breezy.

Location had been a little more difficult. He didn't want it to be traditional, but he also didn't want it to feel as if they were getting married in a school cafeteria. In the end, he picked a building he had found when he'd first begun to be able to walk in the sun. It was an old building. It had been in the City for a very long time. It looked as if it had been transported from England, from a time before Pam was even born. It was also empty and had been for some time. It was unused and ignored. Eric had it cleaned and decorated. Everything was in darker shades of purple, even the flowers which were orchids and some of which were almost black. Candles were the only illumination, and there were hundreds of them. All carefully placed around the edges of where they would be.

Eric had gone with her suggestion of royalty in some ways, but not others. The colors for one. But instead of some garish kingly outfit, he was wearing a very nice and finely tailored Armani suit. On his head he wore a simple iron crown that was very much like the one his father had worn. Just a circle of metal with a little decoration carved out at four points. He had sent Baba a crown as well. Hers a little more fancy than his own.

He waited with the man that she had picked to officiate the wedding. Eric didn't know him, but knew of him. He would have known immediately upon meeting that this wasn't just some human, though he'd been told as much already.

Hunting. Pam was ever careful about feeding; she didn't do it out of fear so much as wanting to avoid inconvenience. That blond hunter had been quite a pain in the ass and then some. So, instead of bothering with the alleyways some nights, which did make her feel a little like she was feeding on vermin, she went to the park to chase down a few late night joggers. They did give a good run when they were frightened. Also, the chemicals produced by fear made the blood interesting, much better than what it usual in the City's people.

It was after one of these little excursions that Pam felt sated enough to sit on a bench and just stare up at the stars. They weren't right. They weren't how they should be back home, not that she was an expert, but being a vampire did give her quite some time to become acquainted with the little night lights.

The petite blond leaned back against the bench, her eyes lifted to the heavens. Her hands folded in her lap. She wore a button up blouse, pale pink almost thin enough to see through, and a pair of black pants, not Mom pants and definitely nothing one would find in the GAP or Old Navy. The shoes were simple black ballet flats, which probably cost enough to pay for a good night out including the dinner, show, and drinks. She might have just run down a jogger, but she looked like she'd just gotten out of her little Tommy's PTA meeting.

Pam stared at the phone. It wasn't the one she was used to, but she'd learned it quickly enough. Apparently so had her maker as he was using it to give her orders. She considered for a moment throwing it at the wall, but tantrums did nothing when they went unseen. That and she wasn't one to throw tantrums, not often if at all.

She was to have a sibling. A sibling she had never met. One that was keeping her maker very busy in the making. As it was a very last minute thing, Eric had told, with the understood 'order,' her to inform Baba Yaga that he would be MIA for a few days. He did not say that she was to inform the witch what exactly he was doing, only that he was busy, which meant she had the very strong inclination to keep the why to herself.

The petite vampire didn't go immediately to find the woman - Eric had told his progeny where to find the small creature - because the bar wouldn't keep itself. She did all she could to stall the inevitable task of finding the witch, but soon, her work ethic of actually doing something had her out of the bar and racing to the library. It took her some time, zipping through the building, but she finally found the dark hard beauty surrounded by books. ( She blinked at the sight. )

Pam was hungry. When Pam was hungry, she fed. Now that she was in a place that she didn't have to worry about certain ridiculous rules that kept her pent up, Pam could feed how ever the bloody hell she wished. How ever, when ever, and where ever.

It just so happened, that this particular night had the how, when, and where right behind a particular bar, that was not exactly vampire friendly. She'd lured the man in with a smile and a very good bit of eye contact. Sure, glamouring might be cheating, but she wasn't there to play fair.

She knew there were humans to watch for...maybe. Small women who had the idea that they could actually do damage to vampires. She knew nothing of hunters. There had been those Fellowship types, and they did know a thing or two about killing vampires; yet, they didn't seem to have a foothold in the City. As far as she knew, other than this Bill human, who wasn't completely in the know, she could do as she wished. She was cautious, of course, which was why she would keep the human under her "spell" until she'd fed, and she wouldn't take too much. In fact, she'd make the whole thing fun for the idiot.

That had been the plan anyway. When she found stakes on said idiot, she strongly considered killing him. Or...

(happens the night after this)

Pam sat in Eric’s office, or more their office. She often used the room for business; at least she had until they came here. There wasn’t much need for it now. The petite vampire was still getting used to that idea. She wasn’t one given to pacing, so when she needed to think or wait, she would sit or stand perfectly still and...wait. There was no blinking, no twitching; she seemed a vampy little statue.

It wasn’t until he entered the office after seeing the woman off that Pam actually moved; actually, it wasn’t until minutes after he had entered the office she decided to move or speak.

“That woman is not human.” It was a simple statement.

“She feels old. And she has magic.” Two more statements.

“You were jealous of her. Of her and the boy.” She finally turned a little to look at him. Her eyes focused definitely on him. “What is she to you?”

She’d gotten very little information about this Baba, and she was beginning to wonder if Eric wasn’t developing a strange name fetish. She supposed it was better than other fetishes she’d found in the vampire community.

( ---- )

Pam glanced back at Eric as she started seeing Beauty, what a ridiculous name. At least it actually meant something, rather than other certain people's names. She had been pleasant enough while Eric introduced her to "Beauty," and at first, Pam had actually thought that maybe something had infected Eric's brain and picked that name. A spell perhaps, but then she realized that was the woman's moniker. Well, at least it wasn't exactly false advertising.

She'd stepped away after the introduction long enough to call a cab, and was soon back in time to see Eric place Beauty back on the floor much like he had put her on the dais. She hadn't said anything about it, but Eric did get a slightly bemused smile with a hint of brow lift.

"Don't worry. We won't let anything too nasty bite you." She said almost flatly as she shooed a few of the curious away. The little human girl had garnered some attention from the tourists anyway; she was a human, and she had sat on Eric's throne! The petite vampire just shook her head and continued to get them out of the club to the waiting cab.

"What's your address?" The question almost seemed as if Pam was just going to drop the girl off in the cab and be done with it.

Fangtasia

Once Beauty got an idea in her head, it was difficult to sway her. She went about her plans methodically, first setting up a goal, then planning each step as meticulously and carefully as she could, missing nothing. Planning had been one of her strengths at home, and it'd served her well when her father's fleet went missing. Taking care of her sisters and father required quite a bit of planning.

And planning is how she ended up in what she thought was a daring dress, hair brushed to a glossy shine, makeup darkening her eyes and paling her skin, walking straight for the neon sign and its awning beside it. She didn't know what she'd find, exactly, once she went through those doors. But she knew that this is where she needed to be to have the best chance at finding Eric.

After thorough research at the library, and not a few magazines and books, Beauty thought she knew how to achieve her goal. The first thing she did was pick a mark, someone she was sure had no intentions toward her (even though Baba seemed to think otherwise). The second was to find out what he liked. If he owned Fangtasia, then he must like it. She learned more than she cared to know about nightlife, then shopped until she found the dress she was wearing now. The third step was to find and engage Eric, then use the advice she'd learned from her research at the library.

Fangtasia.

Lestat told her once that she should never go here. She hoped that he was wrong.

Hannibal had been curious about the bar named Fangtasia since it arrived. The flyer for it had stated it was a vampire friendly bar. He had no doubt that Lestat had already explored this place, the vampire wouldn't have let his curiosity slide as long as Hannibal had. He had no real excuse for waiting, he just had.

Baba's mention of an old vampire had whet his interest further, and finally Hannibal's curiosity was just too overwhelming to let it go. He did try to call River to see if she would like to explore as well, but he only got voicemail, and realized that she was probably off dancing. He didn't want to interrupt that, he knew how much it meant to her.

So he was off to the bar on his own. It would be his first step in exploration. There was, after all, still Caritas and The Roadhouse to experiment with as well. He'd yet to hear much about the latter, but if he was going to one, he might as well do all three. Caritas boasted a green demon, from what he'd heard. And something about karaoke.

The building itself was red, with no windows at all. On one wall was a big red neon sign reading Fangasia, which he supposed looked fairly gaudy during the day. The door was thick glass that Hannibal couldn't see through even in the smallest way. There was a line outside, almost to the street. That he hadn't expected. There seemed to be somebody standing outside, under the red awning, deciding who could go in and who could not.

Hannibal thought of somebody else who might be interested in being here. Not because she hadn't been already, but because she would appreciate seeing his reactions. He could picture her teasing and playing with him while he inspected this new world around him. She had told him how best to get a hold of her when they'd made the sacrifice to work her spell on the City.

Putting his thumb to his mouth and using the edge of his eye teeth, Hannibal bit until he drew blood. He let it drip onto the concrete, perhaps an unwise choice in front of a vampire bar, but he didn't care. Doing this, he thought her name, and thought of where he was, and that he would like to see her.

The dress was the usual vamp vamp. She didn’t feel ridiculous in it; it was just another outfit. She’d get to wear her more comfortable clothes once her shift was done; plus, she had to things to do at the bar. Business. She had a mind for it, even if her father hadn’t thought that way so long ago. There were times she actually thought about him and how very odd he’d find her life, even if she weren’t a vampire. Then again, if she weren’t a vampire, she’d be dead, or deader than she already was.

Pam gave a slightly fangy hiss at some silly human, then had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as the silly thing squealed and pointed. She would have been happier if the squeal wasn’t a sound of joy. Well, in this case anyway. She liked it when her food when it actually understood she could hurt it, or them.

She’d noticed that the bar felt a little strange; the humans were..docile. They felt off. She glanced around the main room. Something didn’t work. She hadn’t expected to see Eric at the throne, as it wasn’t his night, but she would have felt more comfortable to see him there, ( feeling just as bored as she. )