Liliya Kennedy (evenindeath) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-04-04 21:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-14, liliya |
Your world is a beautiful place
Who: Liliya & Rosalie
Where: the Sforza’s gallery
When: 11pm-ish
No... No, it won’t do. It won’t do. Won’t do, won’t do, won’t-- The rapid build-up to incoherency was cut off with an internal shriek that echoed in the minds of every Illuminatus in that family line. Rosalie could hear it. They really needed to stop their pseudo-alarmed chain of thoughts; they had known where her mood was headed and they were going to disturb Briallen. And if they disturbed her, then... Well, given her twin’s recent... episode, that was a bridge to be crossed when they came to it. If they came to it. Perhaps she was asleep. What time was it? One hand raised to check the pin holding up her hair. The other tried to brush a splinter from her neck. Instead, it wedged stuck a moment. Rosalie’s brow drew together in a delicate frown as she registered that her temper had put her hand through the keyboard of her grand piano. There was a definite pause in the back of her mind while scales tipped, the vampire’s psyche trying to figure out if that was the last straw. Silence reigned for a minute. “It needed tuning anyway,” she informed thin air, her accent colouring her words instead of her temper. She wasn’t really in a bad mood this evening. Her outfit was testament to that. Black, the smallest flashes of red. Arguably nondescript with the slightest hints of aggression - yes, it had suited her perfectly for the past few hours and it would continue to do so. For she did not feel like changing. The gold was always there, naturally. It was only fitting for creatures of the twins’ status. And she had no idea how anybody expected her to compose a single bar on an instrument that was out of tune. Really now, the notion was absurd and it had lead to an unfortunate incident meaning that she had to buy a new one. Glancing around the room, Rosalie all but hissed at her harp before turning on her heel. She had artwork to rearrange downstairs. She didn’t care - or even notice - if people were looking at it. They could hardly appreciate her art if it was not displayed adequately.
Visiting Nikita had been interesting. As always, Liliya had suspected that there was some underlying reason that the other vampire wanted to see her - she suspected that of everyone - but she had been proven wrong. Which was actually perfectly acceptable because she had still been given a lovely meal. Air elemental blood always left her mind wandering all over the place, coming up with new ideas that she would likely dismiss the moment that her mind decided to clear. Likely to happen after she rested. However sleeping would require actually being tired, which she was not, so instead of taking her car home she had decided to walk. And instead of ending up at home she had found herself wandering downtown Scarlet Oak. She knew the city like the back of her hand, both from time spent in the city and from having memorized maps and the like after she told that she was going to be living in the area. To be able to be successful it was required that one know everything of an area. So when she came to a stop in front of a building, or display area, that she did not recognize? A frown tugged at her lips as she searched for a sign declaring the hours. Stepping towards the doors she was a little surprised to find that they were not locked. “Hello?” she called as she stepped in. Some sort of an art museum, or perhaps a personal collection... but whatever it was, why had the door not been locked? All she knew was that it was not a private dwelling, at least not this part, because no one had needed to invite her in. Reaching into her purse she fished out her Blackberry to check the time. Just as late as she had suspected. Though it sounded like someone was walking around in the building. “Is there anyone here?”
From behind the counter at the back of the gallery, Rosalie tilted her head at the first sound of life... and then turned her attention back to the little play-doh sculptures her sister seemed to have left on the floor. Stowing them away on the shelves underneath the register she could not remember acquiring, she made a mental note for someone to tell Gio to tell Briallen they were there. ‘I can hear you.’ How nice. She had no desire to hear from him, however, so he could just do as he was told and leave her alone. Like the good childe he was. He may well have been the older brother, but the twins were still his elders and they were not squandering their immortality on bureaucracy. The moment she was certain he was at least pretending to keep his thoughts to himself, the Illuminatus turned her head back in the general direction of the doorway. The scent of air elemental was on the air, though regrettably in blood only. She was old enough and her addiction was strong enough for her to know the difference between that and a living, breathing... Hips swivelling around the counter, Rosalie strode across the gallery to get a closer look at the creature that had just walked in. Much like when Gretel had waltzed in wearing the body of a teenage girl - not a detail her elders would have allowed her to forget even if she wanted to - she was a touch fascinated. She could not remember the last time she had come across such a young vampire. No - yes, she could. “You.” One index finger gestured idly at the vampire while she placed the face. “You were at that... fashion event. Cyri os si Vyri.” It wasn’t a question. Rosalie remembered. They had been called first. If she focused long enough to do so, she could probably have provided the name and house of everyone who had been there while she and Briallen were. Leaning back on one heel, hand on hip, she studied the girl’s face, her own chin tilting up with the height disadvantage. She had beautiful bone structure. And eyes. “You wanted something.” Again, not a question. It stood to reason - why else would she have asked if anyone was there? Curiosity? The statement was left hanging, though. Mostly for the girl to finish an explanation that Rosalie had already started.
A sound. Liliya turned in that direction and waited for whoever was making the noise to appear. As she had turned she had spotted one of the pieces of work and stepped closer to study it. Not all that bad, actually, perhaps even better than some of the things that she had seen in the actual museums in the area. For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of starting her heart back up and flushing her skin so that she appeared a little less dead, but then she caught sight of the person coming. Another vampire. One who had been in the room at Whisper’s house, also waiting to be called in. Apparently, whoever she was remembered as - oh she’s old. Older than her sire, even. Potentially the oldest vampire that Liliya had had an actual face-to-face meeting with. “You were there as well.” Liliya did not know her name, or her house, but she would after she actually looked at that magazine that had been released. Chances were high that the copy she had ordered was actually waiting on her desk at home, she had just not gotten around to being home so she could look at it. “But yes. I had never noticed this place before and did not know what it was. The door was open so I came in to see. I’m Liliya Kennedy.” The last name had to be included on pure principle. “Are you the owner of this place?” Vampires owning things always made them better by virtue... unless whatever they owned was terrible. Then they were a little worse than a human would have been because vampires should know better. Especially if they were older.
“Mm.” Accompanied with a single nod. Confirmation after a fashion, though Rosalie’s attention had immediately wandered upon registering a question she viewed as redundant. Of course she was there, how else would she know this... fledgling had been? Actually, there had been a fair few fledging vampires there and one who either herself or Briallen had been certain was actually human. One of them had mentioned it. Did it matter who? And she had no idea the photographs taken at the event had been published in any manner of speaking. The idea would have appealed to her vanity no end, but she was simply not in tune enough to modern media to care. What she cared about was that somehow one of her paintings wasn’t quite straight. With a frustrated sigh and the glare to match, she moved across the gallery - yes, it was noticeable from that distance - to fix it. It didn’t bear to think what any viewers might have thought of her for displaying her work so messily. And - what was the subject’s name? ‘... The Azraelan.’ Frowning at the inadequate answer provided by one of her elders, she turned on her heel to face the Cyri again. For all of their collective genius, her family members could be quite useless. Again, Rosalie simply nodded. That was the reason most people wandered in. They saw an open door they were not familiar with and so they just walked in. She was sure they had found more than one meal that way. Before they remembered that the ground floor was the gallery. “Rosalie Isabella Sforza.” Last name also added purely on principle, though Liliya’s name meant nothing to the Illuminatus despite the whisperings in the back of her mind. They were not her thoughts, she was not listening to them. Mostly because the word ‘politics’ had been mentioned. “The co-owner, yes. My sister, Briallen, being the other.” These details, they do not matter. Well, they obviously did to an extent. Niceties and then the twins’ sense of pride meaning they could not and would not live in or display their work in something they did not own. Unless it was in a museum. History had not yet realised they were not completely dead. She reached to move a deliberately half-formed sculpture of a demon into a more favourable position on its stand. “We are the owners of many things.” Mostly things that no longer featured in Rosalie’s memory, but nevertheless. They had an entire law firm to sort things like that for them. “Why? … You have wonderful bone structure.”
When the other vampire started to move, Liliya automatically shifted just a little farther away. Just because she was older did not necessarily mean that she was all there. In fact, things that Liliya had heard from others usually gave indication that the opposite was true. Vampires who got up to a certain age tended to lose a little something. Oh, sure, Liliya would respect her elders because that was the thing to do but she also could not believe that older always meant better. And that attitude was partially due to being put at the head of something despite not being anywhere near the eldest. That had a way of getting to someone. Watching as the vampire rearranged the picture, she had noticed nothing wrong with it, Liliya waited for an answer to her question. Rosalie Sforza. Italian? “Because I was curious.” It was the truth. Liliya did not always satisfy her curiosity, it could take up valuable time that needed to be used on something else, but with her most recent meal still rushing through her veins there was little she could do but satisfy it. Besides, Naoki was not expecting her anytime soon and she saw no reason why she could not just enjoy the - what? Blinking, actually caught by surprise, Liliya looked over to where Rosalie had shifted what she thought might be a sculpture of a demon. Angels and demons were going to become far more popular in modern culture. “Yes, I do. Why does that matter?”
That wasn’t the answer Rosalie wanted. Curiosity was commonplace. “Air elementals will do that to you,” she answered with what was almost a shrug, looking the girl over. She was aware that she had a name and that she was perfectly capable of remembering it, but she didn’t feel like bothering herself with details like that. At least the little Cyri was not shy. She could not abide false modesty and saw little to no use for it when it was genuine, though the following question made her arch an eyebrow rather sharply. “How could it not?” Her incredulity faded the moment she realised she could not expect such a young creature from entirely the wrong family to truly understand the arts. Especially from an artist’s perspective. “Ugly has no place in our work.” One hand gestured vaguely around the gallery while the other rested atop the demon-sculpture’s head. Even that creature had been striking in the very least, and she was far more interested in its manner of movement than how it really looked. Tiring of the inane chatter that had been aimed at her since the other vampire introduced herself, Rosalie resisted the urge to pinch her nose. “Are you truly related to the family that produced President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, or is it merely for publicity?” Someone somewhere up the family line wished to know and was not going to be quiet until she asked. If this infant of a vampire caused them all to give her a headache, she was going to lose what was left of her good humour very quickly. “And are you averse to being drawn, painted or sculpted?” Her answer to which did not actually matter, since Rosalie would create what she wished to. But most considered asking to be polite.
Yes, air elementals would do that and the last time that she checked, that was what she had had for dinner. Yet another reason why they were really not her preferred meal. Angelic for calming, not air elemental for inspiring unless she had a reason that she needed to be inspired. Currently that was not the case at all. Wasted inspiration since there was nothing for it to be used on. Wait, was it possible to waste inspiration? Not if you’re artistic. Which she most definitely was not, and had never been. Likely never would be for that matter. “Yes, well, your collection seems well put together but I am not part of it.” Last time that she had checked the only ‘collection’ she was a part of was that that had been ‘put together’ by the Cyri. And there she was, according to Maureen at the least, a masterpiece in the making. “But no, I am not. However it’s not a publicity stunt since that is my last name.” Sometimes it just got annoying when people assumed one way or the other. To Liliya it was a neat little additive from time to time even if she refused to lie and claim links to the famous John Kennedy. She would not need to ride on his coattails in a few years time. That next question caused her eyebrow to quirk up. “No, I am not, though it hasn’t happened before.” Just pictures because this was, last she checked, the modern age.
Seems? Seems well put together? Rosalie’s eyebrow shot up. Nothing the twins ever did seemed well put together. It was. Ignoring the rest of the sentence, she glanced around the gallery with an overly critical eye, restless in the knowledge that there would be at least one piece of her work that was no longer arranged to suit her tastes. Inadequate. Her attention had been lost to how each and every item that was hers lay in its display, down to the last fraction of a millimetre out of place. “You are a politician,” she finally voiced, using the previously ignored thoughts of her elders to try and settle herself. Nobody expected a politician to recognise the most fundamental of flaws in artwork. It was one of the reasons she didn’t like them. On top of that, they generally failed to appreciate what they were looking at. More often than not when what they were looking at were fangs. Rosalie liked the politicians of the era she had been turned into. The creatures with hot running blood and a pulse that was not consciously controlled. The ones who just assumed that young ladies were doting on them because of their status. The ones who did not realise the ladies were not young at all. “I am surprised our collection seems to be anything at all, since you don’t know what you’re looking at.” It wasn’t said as an insult - it wasn’t meant to be. It was simply true. Which was why their work only seemed well put together, she reasoned, putting a torch to any real doubts the young thing had managed to put in her mind. Rosalie Sforza of The Enlightened would not be made to second guess her art by a fledgling of the Cyri. And Kennedy was the girl’s last name, but it wasn’t the last name of her husband. She knew this because the husband’s name had been in one of the articles currently covering the studio floor. It was an interesting detail, but not something she cared about. Politics took a back seat to almost everything else she felt like lending her attention to. Rosalie’s head tilted at that answer. One thing she did not appreciate about the passage of time; the loss of art on a much larger scale. “Has not happened yet,” she corrected, glancing Liliya over and committing her to memory. “And one hopes more than one artist recognises a subject worth noting when they see one.” Though unless said artist was among the Illuminati, she doubted it. Rosalie had no faith in the artistic talent of contemporary artists.
Why was her being a politician being brought - ah. It seemed that this Rosalie was one of those artists who did not think that others could understand her work. Well, whatever, Liliya was not that into art as it was. Politicians were more interesting because they actually changed and affected the world on a daily basis. She decided to not voice that opinion though because who knew how stable Rosalie was. She definitely had enough years on her to be a potential threat if she was upset. Or more than just a threat and more like an actual danger who could make her wish that she had just gone home instead of letting her curiosity get the better of her like it had. Has not happened - does she intend on drawing me? For what reason? Despite the fact that she was obviously in an art display room with one of the people responsible for making it that way, Liliya still could not just accept that there was not some sort of an ulterior motive behind everything that people did. “If you would like to draw me for some reason, then I’d be glad to sit for you or whatever it is that artists need.” Also, it would look good to have connected with another member of the vampire community. And Via would probably like it. Plus... Rosalie was older and if she wanted something, then Liliya believed it was probably in her best interest to go along or at least not impede her.
Oh, plenty of people ‘understood’ Rosalie’s work. The way that suited them best. Though it was true that many people simply did not try and that should anyone catch her in a good enough mood to allow anyone to purchase her work they usually bought whatever they found the most aesthetically pleasing. Oddly enough, that was an attitude the Illuminatus could understand. Anyone who bought a painting or a sculpture because of what they thought it might mean rather than how it rather obviously looked was a fool. Why would anybody buy something they really thought was quite ugly? Of course, nothing ever created by the twins was ugly, but that wasn’t the point. Letting her gaze wander over the collection in general, Rosalie vaguely acknowledged the background commentary she was receiving from her elders. She did not need their input on her and Briallen’s work either. She knew they were masters of their arts. “Sit for me?” She glanced over with a note of incredulity. She hadn’t had an animate model for... How long? … No, it doesn’t matter. “I’m sure I’m grateful for the offer, but it would be quite pointless.” One hand waved the notion away entirely. “I am of The Enlightened, child, our memories are second to none.” There were muttered agreements in the back of her mind. Did they truly have nothing better to do than spy on her? Having completely forgotten how this young thing came to be in the gallery, Rosalie merely tapped her foot and stared at her, waiting for some kind of explanation. No one saw fit to inform her she had already had one.
The Enlightened. Oh, yes, that sort. Liliya thought that she deserved a measure of credit for not rolling her eyes after realizing it. She did not even really understand that vampire family, nor did she possess a driving need to. They were... unique, she supposed that unique was the preferred phrasing right there even if she had a few other possibilities that she could have thought of. It’s not as though she can read my mind, I can think whatever I want. Except Rosalie was her elder by probably several centuries so it was just a better idea overall to not think poorly of her. If Liliya fell into that habit then it was only a matter of time before it carried over to her own elders and then it might slip out and she would beyond regret it. One did not openly disrespect an elder no matter what they might actually think of them. “Well in that case, I take back what I said. I meant no offense by it but I had no idea what you were, therefore I could not know that your memory was among the best.” As though she could actually agree with someone declaring any sort of even minor superiority. Even if it was completely true. “I’ll just see myself out then since my presence is rather pointless. It was interesting to meet you, Ms. Sforza.”
Offense? Rosalie looked over the fledgling for a moment as though some part of her somewhere would provide an explanation to the confusion that word had kicked up. She was not offended. Why would she be? Did the girl not understand that she would be more than acutely aware of it had she succeeded in insulting a Sforza? At least for however long it took for her temper to obliterate any connection between Liliya’s brain and wherever the rest of the damage was being inflicted. Eyebrow raising sligtly at the mental images stirred, she gave an almost unladylike snort and shook her head. “You have not offended me.” See herself out...? Oh, of course. This floor was public. Rosalie shrugged slightly. She did not care if the girl came or went. “Miss Sforza. And it was a pleasure.” A lie, perhaps, but parts of her still remembered how to treat guests. “Be an angel and let me know if you wish to see the finished articles,” she said distracted, moving back towards the counter to produce the twins’ business card. Truthfully, she did not know if the number on it was their own. She doubted it, for Briallen did not cope well with technology and they never received any calls but those from their lawyers, but she didn’t suppose it mattered as long as word got back to them. Her. Whichever.
This was one of those situations where Liliya found herself at a loss, unsure of what she was supposed to do. So she accepted the card, placed it in her pocket and inclined her head. “Good evening, Miss Sforza.” Really, the next time that she had a desire to stop by some random building she was going to curb it and learn of what was inside and who ran it first. Vampires that much older than her were not the sort of people she really felt a need to meet or be around for any length of time. Even if they happened to be rather talented artists if the works that she had seen were any indication.