The Universe's Mixer

The news of Fred's demise had struck Christian hard. He hadn't expected to deal with loss so soon after Satine, and certainly not the loss of a woman who had shown him nothing but kindness. Thanks to Fred, he'd begun to feel a little more human, a little less like a walking sore. His writing had even improved, and Caritas' customers were enjoying the little karaoke plays he'd been piecing together.

But when he heard that his friend had died in a fire, a fire of all things, he excused himself from his duties at Caritas. Sleep was a distant memory. He wrote in spatters, but usually crumpled the paper and threw it toward the overfilled trash bin against his wall. For days he stayed in the tiny flat he'd taken in the City, reacquainting himself with the inside of a bottle, emerging only long enough to purchase more before returning again to his home.

It was on one of these excursions that he found himself literally too weary to walk the rest of the way to his flat. The park yawned greenly before him. It felt like it should be night; he was certain he'd left his apartment in the evening. But the midday sun shone merrily down on him. He groaned and collapsed on a park bench, dropping the cardboard box of cheap wine carelessly on the bench beside him.

The stone blocks that made the walls of Maxie's Bistro and Wine Bar were large and ancient, showing signs of centuries of use. The wooden beams interspersed throughout were just as scarred. But the decoration - rich golden-framed art, warm red velvet upholstery, fantastic stained glass - kept the place from seeing like a cold, converted castle. It was comfortable here, soothing even -- a place his father would have enjoyed.

Christian followed the serving girl as she wended her way through various rooms until they arrived in a somewhat private nook. A small round table nestled inside a 3/4 square alcove lined with red velvet benches and padded with throw pillows. The wine list was waiting, and with a cursory glance, Christian ordered a bottle something that seemed reasonable - a chardonnay touted to carry apricot, oak, and hints of floral. Those bread knots he'd mentioned before to Fred appeared shortly before the wine carafe.

Some of the cares etched across his face seemed to ease in the muted, golden light. He glanced across the restaurant, then back to Fred. It was empty tonight, save for an elderly couple across the room. A crooning male voice sang in Italian in the background over hidden speakers in the wall. "Well," he said. "What do you think?"

He had been so very deliberate, so very careful. It was quite a feat to travel half across the City with such fragile cargo as his own, but he arrived at Fred's with the absinthe set perfectly intact. At her door, arms full, he kicked as politely as he could in hopes of simulating a proper knocking. And then he waited.

It was Saturday night, and he suspected that Fred had settled in for the evening a few hours ago. He'd been a wretched friend, locking himself up for a week.... It'd been hard. It'd been hard to feel betrayal again, this time true betrayal. At least Satine hadn't meant her own. At least, when it counted, Satine had called him back to her.

"It's Christian," he called through the door, hoping it would help.

After weeks of practice and fine-tuning, the newest performance opened at the City Opera House. Unlike before, the star diva was Enigma, in the title role. Another bright point of the evening came from the inventive interpretation of the classical score from Dr. Hannibal Lecter, on piano.

Again, Opening Night came with its victory gala at the end of the performance. Again, the featured stars invited special guests, and again, the City Opera provided complimentary tickets to one Ms. Lois Lane and the City Mayor (plus 1, naturally). But the performance and gala were also open to all. And as the performance came to a close, the gala sprung to life downstairs in the Grand Foyer.

(A day after this)

WARNING: mentions of blood, death and drug use.

Enigma leaned on her cane, smiling as she kicked the woman at her feet, leaning over the edge of the roof, watching her tumble head over bound feet to her death, grinning wider as the woman’s head hit the concrete, blood spraying across her face and curly brown hair.

She leaned back, using the cane to support her weight, still annoyed that she was so weak before nodding to the men she had hired for the night, two of them dragging over another bound and gagged woman.

Enigma studied her for a long moment, before shaking her head, dismissing the woman. “Not her,” she said, ignoring the sound of a gunshot as the men shot the woman and tossed her on the ‘discard’ pile.

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Eric was pleased.

Not just because there was going to be a party, to which they'd invited every single person in the City, but because it was for him and Baba. But to top that off? It was in their new home, Castle Dracula.

He would retain his sleeping place, and she would - of course - retain her cabin. Both would be used for various things, but their main residence was going to be the castle. Eric was in love with the building. The rich history, the fact that it belonged to living relic, every aspect of the castle was glorious to him. Baba had warmed to the place.

It was decorated with the red and black that they had decided on for colors. Tastefully done, but very gothic. The front door was wide open, welcoming all visitors. From the front gates to that open door was a pathway of red roses, to guide people inside.

The castle held many rooms, but only the ones on the ground floor were open to wandering. The stairs leading to the levels below and above were cut off by large men and velvet ropes. Strict instructions were given that only himself or his wife were allowed to pass. Even with these restrictions, there was more than enough room to fit every citizen, should they choose to show. Plenty of room to poke around.

In the great dining hall stood large tables laden with many kinds of food and smaller tables with chairs for people to sit at. Tables had been placed in other rooms, too, for people to take their food, drink, or company. Catering staff roamed with hors d'oeuvres and took drink orders. There was a large room filled with art and two fondue stations - chocolate and cheese. A room with a nice, even floor and a grand ceiling which also held the orchestral quintet he had found. Once the sun set, the grounds around the castle would be lit up with tiny fairy lights.

There was to be only one truly scheduled event, and that was when he and Baba would make their appearance and introduce themselves to the rest of the City as Eric and Red Northman. This would happen closer to sunset so that the other vampires could attend. The rest of the time, the people would be allowed to do as they wished when they wished to do it. Eric had spared no expense to get this rolling along. He wanted his new wife to have a party that nobody would soon forget.

The night had not gone at all like she planned. Then again, Fred knew better than to expect everything or anything to go as planned. She couldn't exactly complain; it'd been education, entertaining, enlightening, and - though the word didn't begin with an 'e' - interesting. Very interesting.

She'd put her dress in the closet that night, and just as she expected, it was gone when she opened the closet the next day. She just shrugged off the dress disappearance, pulling on a t-shirt, light hoodie, and a pair of jeans. Tennies finished everything off.

While she'd been up for a few hours, she hadn't had coffee yet, and she did like to have her coffee. Fred knew she could make do with the stuff she brewed, but there were a few City shops that she favored more. So, out she headed to find one of those shops and get a regular cup of joe. Even if she did have to order it in such strange size names.

It didn't take her long to find one of her favorites, and she headed inside, humming something from the night before. The drinking song to be exact. The tune had gotten stuck in her head; imagine her surprise when she realized she was at least somewhat familiar with the music.

With opening night looming, Christine was beginning to feel the pressure. She knew her lines and most definitely felt confident in her part but she just felt worried about letting Erik down. They had been working constantly on every aspect of the Opera, and her character, so she hoped that would mean she would be okay. He would have said so far if he was disappointed in her growth and ability. So she tried to keep herself calm and not worry too much about it. If she had something to be scared of or anything to work on he would not have let her go this afternoon.

As it was, they had the tradition of opening night drinks that would be held straight after the first performance. She had to be properly dressed and nothing she had bought with the help of Arthur would be suitable. None of her dresses were fancy enough really though they were all pretty. So she was sent out once again with some money to pick up what she needed. Mike was not available however and the driver chose to stay inside the car so she was left to her own devices. As she turned a corner to check a few shops she knew were along he adjacent street she walked straight into someone.

"Forgive me, Monsieur."

The device that Veronica called a phone started buzzing again, and again Christian looked down and found the same map, the same red blinking dot, and the same desire to go through the streets to find that dot.

Minutes later, he found himself in front of Angel Investigations, a company that apparently helped the helpless. There was a dentist's office beside it. Christian rubbed the back of his neck, then headed across the street. He didn't know what he would find behind the door, but he did know one thing: that phone wasn't going to stop buzzing and calling him out until he went.

Pausing at the door, he wondered if he should knock or simply walk in. He opted with the walking-in.

The device in his pocket was complicated and strange, but it had been flashing with a 'message' -- and the 'message' gave an address. And when he touched the address, it brought up a map with a red dot that moved when he did. If Zoe was at all right, perhaps this was the next step.

Agreeable Apartments. He stopped across the street from the sign and tried to fathom what the buildings would look like inside. Everything seemed strange and different - even the buildings. He wondered just what he was supposed to do, here. Was this where he was supposed to live?

There was only one thing to for it -- find out. Christian straightened his jacket, tugged his hat a little more firmly over his crown, and started to cross the street.

The hammering of his blood inside his veins woke him. With one hand, he shielded his eyes from the streaming light on his face; with the other, he reached for the bottle that was always present at his side. After a few painshot moments of aimlessly floundering for said bottle, he cracked an eye open.

Then he dropped his hand.

The next move was a mistake, though; standing up so quickly with a raging hangover he'd been building for months meant that he immediately sat back down again. Where was he? Too much absinthe? But he'd never actually hallucinated on the stuff before...

It was morning. He was in a city. But it wasn't Montmartre, and it wasn't even Paris. The buildings were wrong -- the streets were wrong. He sat up straighter on what appeared to be a bench plastered with advertisements that didn't need glue....

Back in 1894, there had been a race with the newest, most modern invention; the streetcar. He'd even seen one before. But the streetcars here were wrong. Christian, bleary-eyed and suffering, straightened his rumpled suit jacket and ran a shaking hand through unkempt hair. How long had it been since he'd shaved? He stood - far more carefully now - and tried to decide what to do.