Who: Severina and Biddie (+NPC: Archie!) What: Archie’s “god(less)aunt” visits; Archie’s godmother growls. When: August 17th, 1888 [backdated] Where: Biddie’s home Rating: PG Warning: The leading parental influences in Archie’s life don’t get along easily.
The hazard of being a capitalist was that you could never quite enjoy happiness without wondering at the cost.
So when Biddie returned home in the evening and smelled the promise of her housekeeper’s incomparable peach pie, she was happy--but suspicious. She could think of no fresh reason to deserve such indulgence from Mrs. Yakov; paying the woman’s wages for the past thirty odd years hadn’t conquered her in the slightest.
And yet, pie.
Biddie’s confusion deepened when she saw Archie emerge from the parlor. “What are you doing here, apelsinchik[1] ? We’re not due to have dinner together until tomorrow.” She smiled at the wine bottle in her godson’s hand. “A new discovery, I hope.”
"Promise you won't be mad," Archie began, but it was too late: Biddie now recognized the bottle in her arms. It was from her cellar. Her special cellar. She could think of one other person Archie would dare to steal such a vintage for.
Biddie closed her eyes.
She put her hands over her face.
She sighed.
She asked, "Is it where I think it is?"
"You're overreacting," Archie said which translated to: yes.
Biddie lowered her hands and opened her eyes. "I'm going to my study. Dinner will be served in twenty. Please tell Mrs. Yakov that I will require many servings of dessert this evening. Many large servings, is that clear?"
Archie nodded.
"Excellent. I'll come out when dinner is served." Biddie's face too disciplined to openly grimace, but there was a telltale tightness to the forehead that Archie recognized with aplomb. He wasn't surprised when she took the bottle from his grasp. "You may inform...That Woman that I will see her then. And to resist stealing upon her first hour in my house."
Archie nodded again. And then, because he was Biddie's godson nonetheless, he added, "She's been here for at least three."
"Many, many servings," Biddie said grimly, heading towards her study.
Archie watched her walk away and waited for the heady thud of the study door lock before he hightailed it the house's major washroom. He had to pass through his godmother's depressingly spartan bedroom to do so, but the thought of doing so hadn't intimidated since he was ten. For one thing, Biddie visited her bed about as often as Archie did a confessional.
He knocked on the bathroom's thick door. "Aunty? May I come in, are you decent?" He reconsidered the words. "Are you sufficiently submerged?"
If there was one thing Severina could be accused of by those who knew her, decent was an unlikely candidate. Not that she was a walking scandal in public. Heaven forfend, no... How would she continue to get invited to social functions if she were? No, that was a game best played behind closed doors.
And sometimes in bathtubs.
The vampire and the cannibal... How dreadfully sensational a combination. Though, really, Severina often wondered how the girl managed without her company. Why, if it weren't for her irregular visitations, dear Bedelia's existence would hardly be worth unliving, she was sure of it. The use of her bathing facilities would hardly go amiss if she wasn't there to use them, herself.
And Severina did like to submerge, it was true. The absence of any need to breathe, making for a curiously meditative state of mind beneath the warm water. Sometimes giving herself the fantasy of what it must feel like to be some breed of shark or vampiric sea monster.
"Fear not... You may enter as you wish," came her reply. Severina may have been in London society for a small number of years, but the rhythmic lilt of that Eastern European accent was as noticeable as ever. Natural motherhood might not be an option for the undead, but she could sing a lullaby about fire-breathing dragons and it would still sound oddly soothing.
By the time the youth clapped eyes upon her, the vampiress had adorned herself in a gown and was brushing back long red tresses of hair, as if she were more mermaid than of the undead.
That the gown was not her own, was almost besides the point.
"Darling boy," she smiled. "Will she never learn to address me by name?"
"You know what the dear crocodile is like," Archie said, coming in. "Her terms of endearment are wrapped in barbs and hemlock, they'd never make it out of her throat otherwise."
He kissed Severina on her cool, smooth cheek. "I, however, am willing to weep in dire affection for you. You look like Lorelei in that dress. Is someone going to be lured to doom after dinner? I can put the groom on standby."
There was an almighty, thick THUD from somewhere in the house. Archie didn't blink.
"She's thrilled to see you. Really." Another thud followed, accompanied by a tinkling crash. "Maybe don't mention Russian?" Eastern-European yelling dimly filtered through the floor. "And we may have to eat dessert first."
He grinned suddenly, reckless and ever so slightly mad. "Oh, I am glad to see you, Auntie."
"Weeping... Really, I shall have you do no such thing on my behalf! Besides, she would only complain I am making you sad, hmm?"
A hand took him by the chin and she half-pouted in an indulgent smile, as if talking to a favourite rehomed puppy. One might almost have assumed the vampiress was about to break out in baby-talk, such was her fondness. Then, in a spontaneous whirl, the vivacious redhead teased a certain blonde by raising her voice: "I really must obtain you a dinosaur skeleton! It would be the envy of London! You would only need to dedicate a hallway in which to mount it!"
Making a hushing signal to the boy with a finger, Severina descended into quiet giggles. Toying with her cannibalistic friend's expectations was virtually a sport, these days.
"I shall not breathe so much as a word of vodka," she reassured, resuming conventional volume. "And there shall be no luring, to doom or otherwise... This would make conversation would be most difficult and I am sure there shall be much to discuss."
Offering the familiar kiss to both cheeks, Severina smirked and retrieved a small gift box. "Your warmth does you credit... Now, go and allow me to prepare."
Within it would be found a set of fanged dentures fashioned in quartz. At night, they would glint in the moonlight to give a somewhat disturbing reminder of her own smile. Something many would be horrified by, but... This was hardly the first gift of a dubious nature she had bequeathed his way.
Some time later and, now, dressed back in the clothing she had arrived in, Severina appeared... Fashionably late. She preferred to think of it as promptly, for one could hardly expect her to appear as anything less than perfect.
"Darling...! I simply had to visit! And you were not here... So sad... I availed myself of hospitality in your absence, of course. The boy was most helpful!"
“Was he now?” Biddie said dryly. She glanced at Archie, and he did his best to look innocent. Well, his reasonable best at least.
Like Severina, Biddie had dressed for dinner. The fact that she done without risking a visit to her own closet said plenty. (Archie wisely declined to do so out loud; there was cutlery on the table, for God’s sake!) In contrast to the splendid picture of her gorgeous visitor, Biddie looked woefully respectable. Even her fair hair seemed dimmed. The only thing of note about her appearance was the appearance of her hands, whiteley naked and so rarely exposed to anyone not currently seated at the table.
“This is pleasant,“ Archie said cheerfully, “I can’t remember the last time we had family dinner like this.”
Archie’s hands were bare too; the right dully normal, the left composed of a thumb, forefingers, and little else worth mentioning. The scar tissue that covered his knuckles, where the other fingers used to be, was tight. He’d have to ask Biddie for more softening cream later this evening. Of course, that was provided she didn’t try hiding from Aunt Severina in the cellar like last time.
He was tolerably sure she’d stick around for dinner. Even Aunty wasn’t enough scare Biddie away from the sacred practice of dinner--even when the food served was more a matter of enjoyment than necessity. (As a child Archie repeatedly reassured his godmother than he didn’t mind if she ate her “people food” to their shared table; Biddie had looked stricken every time he’d offered. In comparison, Aunt Severina used to give him finger bones as tips for fetching her slippers.)
Tonight there was a clear, deeply aromatic soup. Boiled trout and plump prawns in aspic. Parmesan biscuits and lamb in champagne. A suspiciously large amount of too-early-in-the-meal puddings and tartlets. Mrs. Yakov was clearly campaigning. Archie spotted one of his own favorites: oysters Toulonnaise, fried golden-brown with breadcrumb and bacon drippings, and served on on hot buttered toast.
Dinner was safe, he decided. At least until the cheese and port.
“Have you spent any time in Russia recently?” Biddie asked.
Archie sighed internally. Clearly, his godmother was determined to sabotage her own mood.
Like some Victorian era Cruella, hot on the trail of puppy dalmatians Severina revelled in the chance to dress up and play her expected role. The one she had fashioned for herself and which, not unlike Bedelia, certain liberties would have to be taken to avoid age-related suspicions. Not quite yet, but there would have to come a time within the next decade or so, when she would have to go further afield to safeguard against those who might wonder why the passing of years did not seem to affect her as it did with mortals.
Here, such concerns were unnecessary. A part of why she enjoyed their company, no doubt. Young Archibald had grown, but like any gentleman, preened Severina's ego by moving to slide out a chair in her honour. Something she smiled graciously in response to and, taking his hand, succumbed to gravity and seated herself with a pleasant, "My thanks, kind Sir..."
The array of food on display, Severina did not doubt might be largely for Biddie's benefit. Blood, especially of one particular variety, was her own preferred source of sustenance. One which the girl happened to possess in her cellar... Though Severina had no objections to playing 'pretend' with mortal diets. Taste certainly did not elude her, even if nutritional value would.
In truth, however, she loved to watch her dear Bedelia set upon more... Unconventional meals. It was similar to the delight of a young child watching a big cat feed at a zoo. Severina would happily provide noble or peasant if it meant she could view the result.
A look was exchanged with the boy upon hearing Biddie's unexpected query. Severina, again, smiling, though this time more quizzically. She had thought the subject should not be touched upon. Of course, Lady Kalderash could hardly resist the opportunity to press a big red button, whether figurative or not.
"Now, why would talk of Russia tease you so...? I had reason to believe it was forbidden."
"And I had cause to think my house secure and my protégé respectful," Biddie said dryly, splitting a biscuit. "Thus we both enjoy the disillusionments of old age."
Good God and all the little fishes, she'd go on like this all night if someone let her. Fortunately Archie was most certainly not. "We think whomever trounced us in Russia did so through stolen designs. It takes a king's ransom to develop an engine capable of beating what's already in the air, and frankly it's damn unlikely for an unknown company like Bistro to suddenly succeed up like this."
"Bystro," Biddie corrected in her hard-won court accent. "And it's not unlikely, it's impossible. This business is a small world, we all know each other's progress. News gets around."
"The spying and bribery helps," Archie offered. That earned him another glare; he made a show of scooting his chair closer to Auntie.
"If you're not going to show concern for the welfare of the company and its people," Biddie began.
Archie pointed his fork at her. "You ate our foreman last month." He turned to Severina. “She did, you know. I think there’s still some of him pickling in the larder.”
Biddie's initial response had Severina cock head halfway between amusement and surprise. The blonde was feeling a little more snippy, today. Something was definitely eating at her and, as explanations revealed, the solution to that mystery seemed to be rooted in professional business.
Certainly not her own arrival. No, not that. Mostly definitely not that.
"Ahh, the loss of reputation... Suspicions of a betrayal. Yes, I understand now."
Severina rested her chin over one finger bent almost painfully back. She seemed to prize herself on flexibility in all regards. "I do not doubt it," the vampiress answered, taking a lady-like sip from what beverage laid before her. "It must have been his fault, of course. Sometimes cattle begs to be cut, no? We are all friends here, Bedelia... As much as I adore to see your appetite satisfied, I think you would benefit from... Moderation, yes? If I drained as I pleased, London would be half-dead, by now!"
Severina's usual 'silky cackle' erupted into a chorus of giggles she melted into Archie's direction. She might not be a literal relation, but had enjoyed helping to instil a similar oddly dark sense of humour into the lad. One of several reasons she had avoided taking advantage of his neck.
"But I am afraid I must disappoint... Of scandals, I know many, but nothing of your competitors from far away shores. Can you not just send the boy with a dagger and have done with them?"
Severina used the relevant item of cutlery to imitate a stabbing motion for that one.
"Just because I ate him, doesn't mean I killed him," Biddie said sharply. "My unconventional application of resources,"—Archie snorted so hard it echoed—"is hardly an excess. He was dead when I found him, why should that go to waste simply because nobody gave written permission?"
"Plus you thought he was selling design notes to the French," Archie added.
"That's not the point," Biddie frowned. She looked back at Severina. "The point is—okay, would you please put down the knife? You look like you're about to savage an oyster, it's disturbing. "
"Would you like a bigger fork, Auntie?" Archie offered. "One hit, four holes."
Biddie ignored him. "The point is that I don't murder out of convenience and I certainly won't do so out of ignorance either. Surgical precision doesn't necessarily require a scalpel. There are…mannerly ways to treating this situation. Once I find out exactly who's responsible for what."
"And those would be the ones she eats," Archie said. "More wine, Auntie?"
Biddie put her face in her hand.
Severina seemed ready to give her friend verbal support, but the mention of suspicions as to French espionage put a dampener on that idea. The interplay she observed was something vaguely like a kitten watching conversational tennis and, when the request came to place the knife down, Severina looked almost as quizzical as one. The only thing missing was a confused mew in response.
"Please," she acquiesced, holding out her glass for refilling. It gave the vampiress a brief moment to collect her thoughts on the matter.
"The moderation of one's appetites, be they for flesh, blood or otherwise, are dictated by one's choice of society. And ours is... Fickle." The term was added to with a flickering motion of fingers, not unlike one might afford for sprinkling of salt. "I do not judge my dear Bedelia's actions, but this is immaterial. You are, in a way, at war, no? Not between countries, perhaps, but... Competition. If you truly feel betrayed, why not silence them?"
It seemed Lady Kalderash was less concerned by the possibility of murder, than with simple efficiency. A sip being taken from the glass now full and swirling.
"You need not adopt murder... Sabotage and the soiling of reputations are not beyond you."
“Unfortunately, neither are their exclusive to my use,” Biddie said dryly, face still in her hand. “This matter, this conflict, it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t follow the usual path of such spats. There’s something at work here that I’m not seeing. I’m losing.”
Archie glanced at his godmother then at his aunt. His expression was troubled. Biddie was often frustrated, uptight, miffed, rude, bothered - but fallen? She’d cut both arms before admitting defeat.
Admittedly, she’d do the same if she wanted to avoid her tailor.
When Biddie looked up again, however, Archie had his expression back in order.
“Here’s how I see it,” Biddie said, setting down her fork and knife. “The second worst thing that can happen now is for Bystro to win the race. The worst thing is for them never to race at all. Either way we’re stuck juggling the public while dodging kicks.” She picked up her fork again; Archie relaxed. She set it down; he tensed. “We’re going to need allies. Blast it. Highborn ones, too. Blast it, blast it.”
There was something Severina found rather distasteful about this. It was not, however, the situation as described, so much as the blonde's unwillingness to simply employ destruction against her foes. Perhaps it should not vex her in the way it did, but the vampiress could not comprehend this... Pacifism when it was clearly driving her friend up the wall with bitter frustration. All in all, it was causing her to switch from her usual superficial enthusiasm to a darker mood.
"Such trouble over races in the sky..."
And, for once, Severina spoke the words with an actual dismissive sneer. She tended to belittle others' problems with humour, however misplaced. This time, she was narrowing eyes, like a school mistress berating a student for not applying themselves more thoroughly.
"You are trying to a solve a puzzle, when victory should should be your aim," the vampiress appraised, tutting. Yes, actually tutting. It was rather uncharacteristic when it came to conversations with Biddie.
Of course, Severina tended to forget others were not like her. Some could appreciate a larger picture in need of viewing. Diplomacy... Who needed it?
"Allies... If you must, but I would rather you set fire to their toys and take their heads. I would gladly assist with this. You have names? Or are you seeking only funds?"
“Enough.”
The word was carved ice. Archie’s good hand tightened on the fork and he fought the urge to reach for more wine.
“I will not kill the competition simply because they are competition,” Biddie said. “Nor will I burn their ships.” A moment of pain, brief and brutal as a stab, passed over the woman’s expression. “We will not operate with such means.”
Ten years, Archie thought. Ten years since the Centurion went down and chopped the DuBosque family tree into kindling. There had been only a little fire on the site that day, but in Biddie’s memory that little was more than enough.
“I’m having a brutal flashback to my fourteenth birthday dinner,” Archie said artlessly. “Except that nobody is yelling in German, Aunty is mostly unarmed, and there’s a distinct lack of dead swans. Whose idea were the swans? I can’t remember. Too traumatic.” He released the fork and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “But. I would like to remember tonight’s occasion as a happy one. Aunty, you haven’t been away far, far too long and, despite the growling on the other side of the table--” Biddie lifted her brows in warning, “--you were missed. So, please. Let's not war over the pudding just yet?”
There was a moment of sheer, rough, unreachable tension...and then a snort.
“He doesn’t get this peacekeeping from my side of the family,” Biddie said wryly, raising her glass in toast.