Practice makes perfect sense Who: Elizaveta and Whisper Where: Whisper’s home When: Sundown
Whisper had not paid much attention to the going-on’s of Scarlet Oak because they did not concern her and also because she had been busy organizing her newest shoot. Well the shoot had taken place weeks ago but it was finally about to come out in Vogue and Whisper had needed to pick and choose the best shots to send in and make sure that they were organized how she wanted. Also to make sure that they did not go and try to add any blood. Ugh, that would be repulsive and defeat the purpose and on top of that there was never anything red in any of her lines. The last time that a jewelry designer had tried sneaking a pair of ruby earrings in she had been a half-step away from removing his head. People apparently needed to learn things the hard way these days. But no, this one was perfect and would come out tomorrow for August’s edition and all would be well. Let the little model-turned-designer see that and choke on it.
“Tilly!” Whisper called, sticking her head out of her office and peering down towards the little room she had given over for her assistant’s use. Because yes, Tilly was actually her assistant now thanks to proving her use. “I need you to go out and get me five yards of that silver gauze that... Tilly?” Hearing no response or even the sound of feet she went down the hall and peered into the room with the frown. Where was Tilly? Blinking she looked out the window and saw that the sun had gone down. Oh, she had probably left or not even arrived for the evening. What a bother, she needed that material. “Hmm... where’s Karine...” There was always someone to do something for her and even if not she hated knowing that she was in the house alone. A vague probing out proved that her sire was in her sitting room, likely going through - yes, histories again. How dull, she would be engrossed for another day. Muttering to herself, Whisper retrieved her keys and headed down the stairs.
There were a number of reasons Elizaveta was rather enamored of fashion. The first naturally being the clothes, although it also marked the passage of time and changing social eras far better than many textbooks did. Once upon a time she would not have dared considered showing her ankles to anyone but her husband. These days, she was quite comfortable with showing whatever as long as what she was wearing still carried a decent touch of class. After debating whether or not her skirt showed too much leg, she allowed Galileo and Emilie to usher her out of the house. She did, after all, need something to lighten her mood. The previous day had wiped the eternally polite smile from the Russian’s face and she needed to bring it back again. Preferably before she gave her blood dolls nightmares.
Of the two fashion designers in the area, she owed Via a visit. That said, the lady was of the Cyri, and Elizaveta did not particularly want business on her mind right now. So instead, she found herself visiting a Whisper Charlton. Also a vampire, according to the little information she had found on her, and one whose habits she was not familiar with. It was better, then, to time her visit for sundown rather than simply guess Miss Charlton’s waking hours. And if she was wrong altogether, she could always return another time. Eyeing the door for a moment, she hesitated before she knocked. She was not entirely accustomed to knocking on strangers’ doors with no invitation and no warning that she may turn up. Nevertheless, best that she find something else to concentrate on before she considered wiping out the entire human population of Scarlet Oak in the Cardinal’s name. She did not think he would appreciate it. Finally knocking, she took a step back and turned her attention to her appearance. Namely the length of her skirt again. She wondered whether the truly trusted Galileo’s judgement. He was, after all, both young and Italian. Not necessarily the best combination for the respectable attire of a lady.
Whisper was perhaps ten feet from the door when she heard a knock sound. Had she been expecting company that evening? No, not that she recalled... perhaps it was Kikuya or K-lee or even Rowan, her models being some of the only people she knew that would have any reason at all to show up at her home without a warning. Unless, of course, there was an appointment and Tilly had not told her. The fact that Tilly knew better than to do that and that Whisper was really just likely to forget these things if they did not seem important to her was completely forgotten. She did pause a moment at the door to smooth down non-existent flyaways and to listen for the sound of a heartbeat that was not there. So a vampire. Not one of her models.
Pulling the door open she smiled, though her eyes widened a little as she took in the vampire on the other side. This could not be an appointment that she had simply forgotten because if it had been then she was going to have to make sure to keep her book up to date more often. “That’s an interesting outfit,” was the first thing out of Whisper’s mouth before she remembered the manners that Karine had practically drummed into her. “Please do come in, I’m Whisper but since you’re at my home I think that you likely already know that. Was there something you needed?” Her trip to the store to retrieve that gauze was completely forgotten.
Out of sheer habit -- over three hundred and fifty years worth of it -- Elizaveta returned the smile, fangs and all. She had not bothered to don the Cyri guise of a could-be human, so she saw no reason to keep up the smaller details like keeping one’s mouth shut. At any rate, she had eaten within the hour; the only people who had anything to fear from her were those inclined to attack her. Well-dressed she most definitely was, but she was also armed this time. The first human to antagonise her would land themselves in hospital. Any attacking vampires would receive a face full of lead, as it were. Both were subjects she needed to stop thinking about. She blinked at the first remark, glancing down at her clothing, unsure as to whether the ‘interesting’ was intended to be a good or a bad thing. Then again, everyone was entitled to their opinion and Elizaveta was more than prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt as far as accidental insults were concerned. And of course, the invitation rather made up for the offense that hadn’t actually been caused. Sometimes she really needed to remember that not everybody functioned on the same level of social etiquette as her. Or, indeed, the other Vyri. There was something to be said for family manners.
“Thank you, Miss Charlton,” her smile broadened. Manners were never truly lost. Sometimes they were just forgotten. Really, she seemed perfectly pleasant. “I’ve been told you are something of an authority when it comes to fashion -- a designer? I admit to having something of a weakness regarding the industry and was wondering if I might take a look. That is, of course, assuming you have the time. I can always come back at a later date.” She was nothing if not flexible with her appointments.
When it came to clothes and fashion there was not a chance in the world that Whisper would ever be able to keep her opinion to herself. She had been in fashion design since before the turn of the last century and her opinion was completely right. Anyone who said otherwise was wrong and needed a good education that she would gladly give - in her own manner. Closing the door behind the other vampire she dropped her keys back on the table and nodded. Like she would ever pass up the opportunity to show off her work and have it praised. She quite literally lived off of the attention that brought her and getting it from a brand new source would be like a junkie finding something that gave them the feeling of their first high all over again.
“Please, call me Whisper.” Smiling warmly now the Kilcrowen started back towards the stairs and motioned for her to follow. “And I’m more than happy to show you what I currently have in the house, though I imagine that you’ve seen my work before and perhaps not even realized it. N&C Designs is my company and anyone with money and good taste has at least one of my pieces.” If it was otherwise than Whisper did not know that and did not want to, it would damage her ego. She did not consider even for a moment that she should not be having a new person into the house while knowing nothing about them. They had guns and besides, Karine would be there in an instant if she called. “I don’t believe you gave me your name?”
Money and good taste. Elizaveta had both, which left her casting her mind back to her wardrobe -- her entire wardrobe, because she had no idea what had been packed to bring to Scarlet Oak past what she had already worn. “I believe I may have been wearing one of your pieces to address the Vatican,” she mused. Along with shoes and accessories from more recent up and coming Italian designers, because it would not do to out-style everyone in her company without some of that style coming from their own country. “From the summer of 1984, I believe. It really is quite timeless,” Elizaveta flashed another smile. It was pleasant to both meet the designer who had created that dress and consequently confirm that she did, in fact, have good taste herself. Not that she needed anybody else to tell her that.
Eyebrows raising slightly at that last remark, her smile faltered -- as well it should. She was forgetting herself. It said something when she of all people had forgotten how to conduct herself in public. “My apologies, that was incredibly rude of me,” the smile was pulled back into place in time for her own introduction, “Elizaveta Barishnikova.” A full title and double-barrel name was a little too much on top of forgetting to introduce oneself entirely.
The Vatican? Whisper was almost certain that that was some sort of a religious organization, having never paid much attention at all to religion after her changing. Or before for that matter because if god really existed then he would not have allowed all of her people to be treated as they were, correct? She had heard a preacher once say that he loved everyone but clearly that was a fairy tale, like Santa Clause that she heard these days. “1984 was one of my good years.” Karine had been with her. Whisper’s designs were always just a little bit better when she had her sire around to give her all of the attention that she could possibly need.
“A pleasure.” Not a name that Whisper recognized but since she only paid attention to the world of fashion that was not much of a surprise. Without thinking she went to her workroom and flicked on the light, stepping up to the dress she was working on and feeling the edge with a fingertip. Yes, the blue would be nicely set off by the silver just as soon as she could get out. “I just finished a line that is going to be shown in Vogue August edition, twisting death and fashion since the world seems so fixated on that as of late. Now I have nothing in mind and I’m always willing to take on personal projects. If you needed anything.”
“May you have many more,” she responded with a nod. Interesting. Old enough to have met her fair share of designers, the Russian had to admit she was intrigued by Miss Charlton’s -- Whisper’s -- general outward disposition regarding her own work. In her experience, if you gave two words of praise to any form of fashionista they filled in the gaps themselves. Some people did not tire of hearing how wonderful they were, which was understandable in many cases, but they tended to show it. Whisper, on the other hand... That wasn’t modesty, exactly. An acknowledgement, perhaps. Elizaveta couldn’t put her finger on it, and she supposed she didn’t care to. It wasn’t that she was not appreciative of her work -- quite the opposite -- but she did not feel like beginning the utterly ridiculous shower of praise that so many designers and models seemed to adore. There were only so many ways one could say their work was marvellous and she was not the sort to wield her full vocabulary to do so.
It was just as well that she did not expect to be recognised, really. Her appearances were only noticeable when you knew where to look and who to look for. The nature of her social events and the race and status of the guests being the main tell. Recently, however, that was being turned on its head. “I am sure it will be well received,” she said with every sincerity as she looked over the apparently unfinished dress. She wasn’t going to say it aloud lest she manage to cause offense, but Elizaveta would otherwise confess to being willing to wear that as it stood. And now, of course, her interest was piqued. One hand moving to brush back fly-aways that weren’t there, her expression became a touch more contemplative. “I admit, I would certainly be interested. You would not consider it an inconvenience at all?”
“I will.” Whisper knew her talent and how appreciated it was by the masses. Her models told her, Karine told her, random people who recognized her on the streets and the magazines, of course. Maybe she was so tame and unneeding right then because normally she would not have allowed Elizaveta anywhere near her designs without having been told how amazing she was. That was one of her little quirks that quite a few people in the fashion world knew of it for no reason past it became obvious after the first meeting. Better to warn future contacts so that they knew what to expect from her. Not that she ever did the warning because, of course, Whisper saw nothing at all wrong with her behavior.
What did Elizaveta do? If it was something relating to the public eye at all then of course Whisper would see it to be no problem, all the better for getting her designs out there where they needed to be. And even if it was not well, money was money and she just looked like the sort of person who would have plenty of it. “I wouldn’t, I love a good challenge and it’s been a week or so since I’ve done a personal commission.” She turned towards Elizaveta, tapping her lip with a thoughtful look on her face before walking around her, studying her with an eye well-trained to find different curves and such. What Elizaveta was wearing did not make that at all difficult either. “You’d look wonderful in something silver with a little sheen, not metallic though, oh no. What would this be for, darling?”
The girl -- it hadn’t taken Elizaveta that long to label her as such, she was what, just short of a bicentennial? -- had a confidence that she could appreciate, shown with yet another smile. She may have been a little odd, something that would never be voiced, but then many designers, artists and musicians were. One needed only to look to the so-called Enlightened to realise just how strange they could really get. But then, age did that. A vampire’s mind was not so different from the human mind, which was only supposed to last a human lifespan. By that reasoning, Elizaveta realised she should have been more mentally affected than Whisper, but she was certain she had her own quirks. Along with centuries of blood dolls to keep her grounded.
And that was generally what she liked to hear, though she wasn’t sure she considered her taste in clothing a challenge, even if it consisted of the fashion from over three and a half centuries. Well. Perhaps that was a touch awkward to play with. She wasn’t necessarily used to being quite so closely examined, however. Then again, those she had approached of late had either been human or really quite breakable, and less inclined to approach the Countess with the interesting canines -- a thought that lead her to absent-mindedly run her tongue over them. Lips tugging back into a smile, she had to admit she liked that assessment as well. “I’m a firm believer in flaunting what I have--” Within reason. “--which extends to my wardrobe. I have a habit of dressing up even when at home, though since I’m in town for purely social reasons... it would be for as many people to see as possible, really.” A comment both aimed to pull at Whisper’s vanity while betraying her own just as much. “Do you do many personal commissions?” Her apparent inability to conduct a polite conversation to the standards she set herself was currently being blamed on a vague preoccupation with Liliya’s debate with that ridiculous Calvert boy.
When Whisper said that she was being faced with a challenge she did not mean that there was anything wrong with what Elizaveta was wearing. Mostly because what she was wearing did not affect what she would make at all. One vampire had come in wearing something that Whisper had actually stolen and burned solely so that her thoughts were not haunted by the memory of them simply existing. As they should not. Whoever made them should have been tortured for it, Whisper firmly believed that bad fashion should lead to punishment every single time. She nodded along with what Elizaveta said, reaching out to pick up her sketchbook and a pencil. Already she had an idea for what would make the other vampire look good, show off her figure since she liked flaunting what she had. Something that Whisper also believed in as was evident by every last thing that she owned. Hiding one’s figure did not pull attention after all and that was the goal of wearing clothes. “I do a fair few,” Whisper replied as she sketched, glancing up from time to time to remind herself of Elizaveta’s various physical attributes. “One was recently for the governor of some state, she was quite pleased with it. Do you often commission individual outfits from designers?”
“As often as I can without overindulging.” Which wasn’t strictly true, since Elizaveta indulged a fair amount, and not just for herself. Emilie and Galileo wanted for nothing; all they had to do was ask. She was more than willing to pay as much as was necessary to keep them both comfortable. Nevertheless, she felt a little odd stood there as though she were posing for... something. She was aware that for a woman of her time she was actually remarkably tall. It was a detail she had always considered minor even though it did draw attention over time. Nowadays, it wasn’t as much of an issue even if she did insist on wearing heels. Maybe it was just in her nature to meet the eyes of people who would otherwise tower over her, thus towering over everyone else. She was never going to pretend that she didn’t appreciate the psychology behind such details. With that said, she still felt like some kind of model. A still life model, really. For some reason that lead her to restart her heartbeat and put the colour back in her face. She didn’t feel like playing the marble statue, however animated she may actually be. “So how are you finding Scarlet Oak?”
Overindulgence was something that Whisper regularly encouraged and not only because it tended to mean good business for her. Human lives were for restriction and moderation, eternal life was for doing whatever you wanted. That was why she had a house larger than she needed, a wardrobe that could surely be half the size and still outfit her appropriately and a never-ending desire for more. Especially if the more came by way of gifts from Karine, or anyone, because then it would always be a reminder of some bit of attention that she had received and deserved. She felt a stirring of surprise when she heard a heartbeat and glanced up from her sketch, blinking when she saw that there was suddenly color in Elizaveta’s face that should not have been. Vampires did not look like that. Karine said there’s a family that can play at being humans. What did she call them? Oh, whatever they are Via was one. Irritating little girl. “Scarlet Oak is small but for my current tastes, quite serviceable with a surprising little stock of models for me to use.” Kikuya, K-lee, Rowan, that new designing girl who had her head in the clouds. “And you - why do you currently choose to appear human? And how? I’ve met someone who can but I don’t recall her house.” Could not be bothered to recall, actually.
It was quite silly, really -- almost childish -- that even after all these years, Elizaveta still found a fair degree of amusement in the bewilderment her family’s gifts could bring. Of course, it had the same effect on humans. Time and time again, she had watched her blood dolls and other human acquaintances stare as her body seemingly took on a life that had been lost for centuries. The blood that coloured her cheeks was no longer her own. If anything, Emilie and Galileo ought to take credit for it. But the heartbeat, the moisture in her eyes, the slightly warmer touch -- everything else was down to her bloodline. Thus, something she was quite proud of. “Admittedly, the town is far smaller than the cities I am accustomed to.” She tried not to sound too put out by that. She respected those of her family members that resided here well enough, though one could say that about any of the Vyri and she missed her usual target audience. She was not about to admit to feeling any discomfort, though. By rights, she was too old for such nonsense. Later she would chide herself for being an idiot. “Habit, mostly. I forgot I had stopped using it after I left the debate. I can stop, if it bothers you at all.” Ever the noble benefactress, Elizaveta’s lie came accompanied with a touch of courtesy. “It is a gift of the Cyri os si Vyri,” she answered, broadening her smile. She would never say outright that the Cyri were superior -- but they were. “You know of a Vyri? May I ask who?” There was a chance the vampire Whisper spoke of was from ages past, but she was interested nonetheless.
“It’s the smallest I’ve ever lived in.” Discounting where Whisper had lived when she was a human but things like that did not count. Nor did the various manors that she and Karine had inhabited over the years since they were always near to large cities. Here the nearest large city was Detroit and Whisper was not particularly fond of it. And Whisper did not mind what Elizaveta was doing, it just came as an unexpected surprise. “And yes, her name is Via... Cohen, I believe.” Whatever, she was not a concern of any sort. Little flicker of annoyance. Whisper tapped the end of her pen against the sketchpad and raised one hand to make a little motion before she realized that Elizaveta was not one of her models and therefore she did not know how to respond to that. “Could you turn just a little to the left, please? And lift your chin. I want to see the curves right there.”
Elizaveta only just stopped herself from replying with a vaguely relieved ‘likewise’. Everywhere she had been sent by the Cyri had been most hospitable; size did not effect that. And really, Scarlet Oak was only smaller in terms of the amount of land it covered. It had a fairly large population. There were still towns in Russia that, physically, were far larger than this town but did not have the people to fill them. For some reason, it felt inappropriate to judge the acceptability of any place by its size. Even though such thoughts were contained within her own head and had not been shared by anyone who could judge her for them. “Oh, yes, I know of her, though I have not yet found the time to call upon her.” But she was avoiding the Cyri at the moment anyway. She did not need another reminder that, really, she should have been at home watching Eric rather than letting her blood dolls do it. Well, they were far more sympathetic than she was. If anything, they only highlighted that. She turned as she was told, inwardly raising an eyebrow at the pen. She understood the need for movement, for a different angle, but she was not an orchestra to be conducted. “Are you acquainted with many other vampires here?” She was not sent here just to placate humans.
“She is very much a Cyri.” Annoying little fly that needs to remember her place. Whisper did not stand for new designers acting as though they were worth the space they took up in a shop. Just because they had been models and knew how to dress did not mean that they knew how to go about dressing others or making their clothes. Silly little girls the lot of them who tried. “Not many others, no, just the ones who have come to call on me or I have come across by this or that accident. My sire, Karine, is here as well so I have constant contact with her and she knows of several others in this or that business.” The one woman, Nikita, who had come to sell them guns for example and made Whisper actually shoot one. Ugh, her fingers still twitched at the memory of that. “Humans are more of my forte than vampires, however, their tastes change much quicker.” Hmm... what era? Karine? But no, nothing, her sire’s thoughts were just vague flickers about the stockmarket. Holding up the sketch she asked, “Perhaps you would like this?”
In that she bore the physical traits of their house or... Well, Elizaveta did not quite think that Whisper would be as familiar with some of the more almost stereotypical Vyri traits, but they were attributes that either attracted or repelled in her experience. Generally, they repelled those working in the same field, as Vyri were turned for their excellence in their defining roles and were often found stepping on the toes of others. Which was the point, really. One could not sit upon the throne while someone else was on it. Karine. The name was filed away for future reference. “You are very much involved in your work, then?” Which was her way of asking whether she ever got out at all, since the town was positively heaving with vampires. The use of the phrase ‘this or that’ lead Elizaveta to wonder just how often the other vampire acknowledged that the rest of the world existed. There was something not quite right with her, though it wasn’t something she could put her finger on. She wasn’t a Harbinger; she was far too sane for that particular bloodline. With the mention of constant contact with her Sire, she would have taken a stab at Binding Ivy, but it was a tenuous link at best. “Yes, their tastes do change rather fast.” Once upon a time, the seasons had been a perfectly adequate marker for the changing fashions. These days, she blinked and missed several years. It hardly helped that her own tastes barely changed at all. They simply evolved to include everything that had passed. Looking up, Elizaveta blinked in mild surprise. She did not usually take to ideas instantly. They had to be tried on and walked around in with as many second, third and fourth, etc. opinions as possible, but however rough a sketch it may have been, she had to admit she liked it. “I must confess, darling, I don’t think I have ever been quite so impressed with the first idea shown to me.” She flashed an earnest smile, “I like it very well indeed.”
Had Whisper known that Elizaveta was guessing at her bloodline then she would have wanted to hear the guesses. Hardly anyone ever got it because a lot of people forgot that they existed. None of them were noteworthy for anything. They were not as crazy as the Harbringers or as bound to each other as the Ivy; their rules were not as strict as the Azrael and they did not go around sowing chaos like the Horsemen. No, the Kilcrowen were often forgotten and it bothered her sometimes. Whisper did not like knowing that anything about her could be forgotten like that even if Karine claimed that it was for the better. She was not forgotten and was certain that she could make sure their bloodline was not either. “One has to be very involved to keep up with the fashion industry.” An absent remark, Whisper was more concerned with whether or not the design was to her standards. They were to hers and if Elizaveta did not like it then she would find someone who did. Plain and simple. But the Russian seemed to like it and Whisper gave her a dazzling smile in return. Positive attention, wonderful. “In that case, I’ll have to get your exact measurements so that it fits right.”
That was a ‘no’, then. Whisper did not acknowledge the rest of the town, let alone the rest of the world. No doubt she knew next to nothing about how their race currently stood in regards to human relations. Behind her public face, Elizaveta was still filing through what she knew of the other vampiric bloodlines. When it came to prominent vampires there was usually some kind of dossier for her to consult, or have read to and hammered into her by either Emilie or Galileo -- if it weren’t for the fact her memory was far superior to theirs, she would have said they knew just as much about the families as she did. They certainly knew more than was good for them by most vampires’ standards. But regarding Whisper, there was nothing. Merely the woman herself, and it truth be told she was finding it quite frustrating. Had she managed to keep this enterprise a secret from the entire vampire community as well? A feat in and of itself, in her opinion. But nevertheless an annoyance for someone who was in the business of making sure she knew anyone who was anyone, at least by face and name if not personally. “I can only imagine.” Well, no, she couldn’t actually, but her response was as absent as the original statement. She was still irritated that she did not know who this Whisper Charlton was before this evening. “Now those I know by heart,” she confessed, after having spent over three hundred years being dressed by other people, she knew every inch. And it wasn’t as though she had changed at all since dying. She wore corsets religiously, but they could not train her waist as they did a human’s. Hers was already trained. Reeling off the series of figures that amounted to Elizaveta Barishnikova-Galtzina, she dropped the imitation of life again. It was expending energy that she needed and she was growing hungry again already. “Darling, you have a beautiful smile, you should use it more often.” She was stating nothing if not the truth, though it may well have been a truth that would benefit her at some point.
Of course if someone was looking at N&C or Whisper herself for anything relating to vampires then they would come up with nothing. On Karine’s insistence she had always been very, very careful about that sort of thing. Indeed, this current round of Whisper Charlton was only just in her mid-thirties after having taken over from whatever her previous identity had been. Karine would remember, Whisper herself had no idea, it was so hard to keep track. A brief tremor in the air made her wonder if maybe that bothered Elizaveta for some reason. “It bothers you that you didn’t know there was a vampire in charge of the fashion industry,” Whisper remarked as she took down the measurements that Elizaveta gave. Not bad. “It bothers me as well, but my sire is very firm on how bad it could be for the company if their founder revealed herself to be alive. Though really, it wouldn’t be that hard for people to figure it out if they just looked a little.” Rolling her eyes, as though humans would ever take the effort, Whisper rose. “Mmmm, thank you, but when one is hiding one’s fangs they have to learn how to keep their smile a little hidden. I’m sure that you know that.”
Elizaveta registered that comment and fought against her automatic need to blink at the assessment. As a public face it was not for her to be read. She presented the image the Cyri wished to project and it did not waver. Except apparently it had in this instance. Now that bothered her. Nevertheless, it was a minor detail and one that she could explain away without much effort. “I have always been of the inclination to at least know of everyone who mattered,” she replied, trying to avoid either truly confirming or denying the original statement. “At least now I may honestly say I have met you in person.” It simply wouldn’t do if the lady possessed empathic abilities or something akin to that. She was not about to try and make a liar out of someone who may well know better. “Truly? I would have thought that with the recent... obsessions surrounding the allegedly romantic undead it might actually increase your sales. And then there are always those of us who would rather be dressed by someone who has, shall we say, had the benefit of time to hone their craft.” She paused, genuinely taking the pros and cons into account. As she saw it, it was not just important that the Cyri gained control -- though that was the very point of her continuing existence -- but that vampires maintained the upper hand. These things needed to be taken into account. “Even if there was some loss of business from the bigoted and the unappreciative, certainly more doors would be opened for you.” There had to be businesses that would be willing to sell a vampire’s merchandise above whatever the humans had to offer. Nodding, Elizaveta offered an understanding but rather closed smile, “A little too well.” But now she was expected to leave her fangs unveiled. If Whisper was planning on coming out, as it were, she would need to practice a far less cautious smile.
“Yes,” Whisper agreed with what Elizaveta had said. “That’s what I thought but my sire is convinced otherwise and sometimes it’s not worth it to upset her.” Sometimes it was, but, well, that was very different. Going against Karine when she might very well be right was not something that Whisper had ever been all that inclined to do and she did not think that she should start now with this. Though the fact that another vampire, one who was publicly out, no less, agreed with Whisper’s stance on the matter was not going to be overlooked and would definitely be brought up the next time they discussed this. Which was going to be very soon because of what Whisper fully intended to do. There was no reason she should design outfits for other vampires and show them off in a line without including herself, now was there? No, it was the perfect way. ‘Anyone you know could be one.’ It was brilliance and nothing Karine said would convince her otherwise. Even if her sire was convinced that it would. “I’m not actually the sort to enjoy keeping secrets that could earn some sort of acclaim or notice so no matter what, it won’t be too long before I get to show off my smile, fangs and all. When would you like your dress by, Elizaveta?”
Interesting. Elizaveta held an odd fascination with vampires who did not want to have their race publicised. Having had little to no choice over her own stance, she liked to hear the views of those who had both the luxury of and the inclination to remain in the shadows, as it were. “It is understandable that she be cautious.” She had felt rather exposed herself when she first revealed her fangs to the public. It was not an entirely pleasant experience. “Though I am of the opinion that it is impossible for us to remain hidden forever. No matter how many of us may have turned it into an art. The Light of May simply sped up the process.” A little too much, in her mind, but what was done was done and the results could only be contained. The world’s population had been given what she could only call something of a cultural whiplash. They needed time to recover on both sides. “Of course you’re not,” she flashed a smile that didn’t particularly mean anything but seemed appropriate nevertheless, “And you have a right to be the public figurehead of your own company regardless of your bite. I do hope to see you receiving proper credit some time in the near future.” It may even help with the supernatural rights movement. As for the when, Elizaveta paused. She hadn’t actually thought about that. As far as she was concerned, she was just indulging. It just so happened that the shopping was rather more personalised. “As soon as you can, darling, but please don’t feel obliged to hurry at all.” She didn’t really think Whisper would, but it didn’t hurt to say it. “I would not wish to steal your attention from elsewhere.”
Cautious was not the word that Whisper would have used but she supposed it worked from other people’s point of view. Even if she did not agree then what did it matter? Karine would put up with what she was going to do and hopefully not pitch a fit. Whisper dealt so poorly with those since it meant giving attention without getting any. Definitely not a fair trade. “Thank you, I will be.” Of that she had not a single doubt in the world. Confidence was key and, for whatever reason, Whisper had never lacked it even when she was a slave. “Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be done in a timely manner. Perhaps a week with what I must do for the shoot. That way I’ll be able to devote the proper time. Wouldn’t want to have a single piece out of place.” Commissioned pieces were always perfect. Whisper would not stand for less for no reason other than she could not bear someone saying that her work was anything but perfect. Oh no, this would be up to the same standard as what her own dresses were. Setting the sketch aside Whisper nodded her head. “I’ll contact you when it’s done to let you know so that you can arrange for having it picked up if that’s something you do not wish to do yourself.” Assuming that that was how she worked. No matter to her, so long as she was paid it was fine. For now she needed to make sure Tilly was collecting all of the emails.