[Secyclion] She Will Present You with a Crown of Beauty

[Ministra]

For much of her life, Ministra didn’t take her magic seriously. She used it as a means to terrorize others sure, but she’d never been particularly crafty with it. Before becoming a vampire, she’d been more partial to her twin daggers. Those that she’d had crafted with the finest elvish steel and engraved with a curse and thirst for blood. Now that she actually craved blood, the thought of sharing it with her daggers wasn’t really appetizing. She much preferred the finesse and nuance of magic now. If this Ministra had applied to the necromantic academy in Vortex, she wouldn’t have been kicked out for inattentiveness. (Nevermind the fact that none of that would have happened if her writer hadn’t been such a jerk and disappearing all the time.)

But she couldn’t change the past yet, and had to turn the corner herself to achieve her goals. Which meant a trip to the volcanoes in Secyclion was in order. (Did you really think Ministra was going to traipse through the mountains? Please. Everyone knew Sexy Lion was the place to be.) The best part about being a hedgemage was that she needn’t meditate in a filthy, disgusting forest in hopes that some tree would give her wood. No. She got to work with metal, elegant craftsmanship and delicate jewels: all things she blatantly deserved.

Her heels clacked along the wooden dock as she disembarked from the rat-infested ship she’d traveled upon. Following directions from a helpful citizen, she found an armory. Ministra figured she’d try to convince one of the local blacksmiths to simply give her the obsidianite. A trip to the actual volcano sounded horrendous.

Adjusting her dress, she did her best not to let the hissing smoke bother her eyes, blinking rapidly with a tiny wrinkle to her delicate nose. She took a hanky from her handbag and held it over her face, looking around for the proprietor of the establishment. ”Vedui,” she called out, wiggling the fingers of her free hand in the hair with the greeting. ”You wouldn’t happen to have any obsidianite for sale, would you? About this much?” She pretended to hold her breath and made a large circle with her hands, holding it above her head like a crown.

 

[Nimh]

The blacksmith, a burly middle-aged man with quite a bit of hair on his exposed chest and not as much left on his exposed head, did not so much as pause what he was doing--striking the side of a broad bit of glowing metal--as Ministra interrupted his work. He did slant her a brief look however before returning his attention back to his work--the metal sizzled as he sunk it down into a bucket of water.

"Don't carry that here." Succinct, blunt. He shook his head and one could almost taste the eye roll that didn't actually manifest.

He turned back to the forge, sinking the metal back into hot coals and shifting it around to get that fiery orange glow to warm up the length of the metal again. She would likely feel a wall of dismissal--she wasn't worth his time.

 

[Ministra]

Harumph. This man was rude.

Ministra pouted a little behind her hanky, fought with her darker urges, the ones that told her to take that searing metal and skewer him with it, the promises that it would make her feel better once he was good and dead.

No. She couldn’t give in. Not in the second post at least. That was more a six or seven rounds into the thread sort of thing. She had to be nice.

So she did the nicest thing she could think of and planted a little suggestion in his brain that maybe he should speak kinder to the beautiful woman, perhaps even offer to help her out, since he wasn’t very busy at all. ”And you’re willing to take me to the obsidianite yourself? How gallant of you!”

 

[Nimh]

Suggestion planted! The smith did look up then and was setting the thing down. Helping? "I do have a shop to mind," he argued a little, though not briskly and almost more whiny, like he was fighting the need in his brain to help her out with the need in his brain to stick to his job--a very important job and one he was very minded to finish, thanks! But she was very pretty and she did think he was being very gallant so he sighed and put things down, wiping his hands on his apron. "I'll just need my shirt."

He puttered a little, heading back over to his workbench where he'd put everything aside.

That's when she slid forward, almost from the shadows, with a little chuckle on her lips as she watched the man's back. "It's clever...but are you really going to make the poor man trek all the way out there?" She tipped her cheek, watching the hefty man work the shirt over his muscles. Maybe he'd been handsome when he was younger but the years had eroded his looks and his muscular arms were off-set with a bit of a sagging mid-section. "When he has things to do." There was a bit of feral-ness about her as she grinned at Ministra, a flash of fangs behind pink lips.

The islander was of average height with dusky tanned skin and wavy black-brown hair that was worn in an elaborate style of headdress with braids looped and pinned into place, a golden-hued band pressing things into place.The chiton she wore flowed to her knees, looped at the waist with a braided belt that matched her headdress and and pinched at the shoulders with bronze fasteners. Those pretty pink lips were made so by a touch of make-up, her cheeks rosy and her dark brown eyes heightened by the touches of kohl at their corners. She was pretty in the conventional sort of way of the islanders, round at hip and chest, and the way that she held herself suggested confidence.

"I was wondering what you were up to here. Obsidianite? Hedgemage is it? Mysticism, at least. Must be nice." She watched as the man came towards them now, smoothing his shirt into place. The apron had been discarded. "So I guess you can go with Artyom here ooooor I have another idea you might like even better."

She turned on her heel and made to sashay away, leaving Ministra to decide between the burly smith Artyom, who was also about to head his way out of the shop, though he hesitated a little since the inclusion of the other woman was making him feel like 'okay, are we leaving now or not?'

 

[Ministra]

It was always nice when things went her way. The man began putting things down and shuffling about, she didn’t pay much heed to his quibbling protests. None of that mattered right now. He had a bigger purpose to fulfill and he’d be rewarded with his life at the end of it. The shop would be there waiting when she was done with him.

But then, when he went to find his shirt, something unexpected and altogether magical happened. A woman slinked out of the darkness (truly, there was no better way to make an entrance), complimenting Ministra and purring sweet nothings into the heavy air. What she didn’t appreciate was the questioning of her methods. Of course she was going to make that man do all the heavy lifting. It’s what he was built for. She opened her mouth to make a retort, but promptly shut her lips when she noticed the flash of fang.

Curiouser and curiouser

She made some correct assumptions about Mini, the direction of the conversation leading her to forget about the human altogether. Artyom who? It was a precious rare occasion that Ministra found herself in the presence of another vampire, even more rare when it was one that didn’t immediately annoy her.

The other woman made to leave and Ministra strode along beside her, through the door being held open by the blacksmith and into the fresh air where she didn’t have to hide her nose behind a handkerchief any longer. Not that she really did before, she’d just been using it as a means to be a little more dramatic. Hanky tucked away, she waved her hand towards Artyom and released him from her spell without another word or thought sent in his measly direction.

”Tell me more about this idea of yours, arwenamin.”

 

[Nimh]

"There's ideas and then there's ideas," the young woman went on with a wave of her hand, the words tossed back over her shoulder as she strode onward, her buskin boots tap-tapping on the cobbles as she walked. They laced prettily up her lower legs, the strings swaying with her movement. "There's a few ways you could go about it, right? You could go out there and look for it yourself. Terribly exhausting, if you ask me, and you'd certainly be right to bring poor Artyom along with you, although I'm sure there's better, more capable men around than that one." Another little toss away comment as she walked, leading her deeper into the city of Secyclion's winding streets. They were walking uphill, as much of Secyclion was uphill, overlooking that crater of an inlet of theirs.

"You could go wait for someone coming back with it...but, honestly, who knows how long that'd take? You'd be bored stiff within a week." Breezy, light-hearted as she walked, unaffected by the steep road they were climbing. Of course, she wouldn't be bothered--getting winded wasn't exactly a vampire problem, now was it?

"Of course, you could always talk to Pan. Pan trades in all things. Knowledge just happens to be one of those things. He always asks a price for it, though." But the cheeky little grin on her face, the little wink over her shoulder. Some acknowledgement, maybe, that Ministra might not even have to pay that price?

They turned down a street and this time they were heading down again, moving back towards the waterfront. "My name is Ophelia, by the way. Of House Malnaghi. Although maybe I should start calling it House Katapodis, such as it is. Doesn't quite have the right ring to it, I think. Malnaghi just sounds sharper." Maybe Ophelia just liked to talk and maybe she hadn't had another vampire to chat with in quite some time. It was hard to say. "Have you been to Secyclion before? The smell about you is...familiar...somehow. Almost like a Malnaghi but...removed."

And they walked onward. The streets were narrow and winding and steep and Ophelia seemed more than happy to spend the time it took to reach the place by filling the silence.

 

[Ministra]

The women fell into an easy companionship, the sort that would have set Ministra’s teeth on edge had it not been for the needling familiarity she somehow felt for the stranger. That should have rankled her; she didn’t like not knowing something. But instead of anger or annoyance (aka her default setting), she went along with it amiably. Actually listening to the other woman and not imagining what it might feel like to rip out her throat. What was this? Growth? She wasn’t certain she liked it.

”And where would I find this Pan?” she asked only for the other woman to turn and continue leading her wherever it was they were going now.

Right. Introductions and pleasantries. ”Ministra,” she offered with a shrug of her shoulders. No last name. No house. Only Ministra. Just like everything else about her: lonely. Mini agreed with Ophelia about the name of her own house, Malnaghi definitely had more of a bite to it than the other option, but she didn’t voice her opinion. It wasn’t really warranted, was it? Especially not with the pointed question at the end.

”I’ve been once before,” she offered but it was Ophelia’s discussion of her scent that had Mini scrutinizing that familiarity a little more, especially now that it was confirmed that she wasn’t just imagining things. Her one excursion to Secyclion had wound up with her eating some weird tzatziki sauce and getting thrust into the future, but she didn’t think that was very helpful to the conversation. How to explain flying phalluses and the Mad Empress? No thanks!

She sniffed again and vaguely rolled her eyes. She’d know his scent anywhere, different and diluted as it was surrounding Ophelia, but enough of him to be unmistakable. No wonder she didn’t want to melt Ophelia’s heart in her chest. Theo musk was her kryptonite. ”Perhaps you know my sire, Theodallion? Try as I might, I can’t get his stench off me.” A joke? Maybe, but with enough of a hiss to it that it probably rang at least a little true.

”Where are we going?” A sharp left turn in the conversation, but an important one. To Pan perhaps, or maybe and even better, a stockpile of convenient obsidianite for her to pilfer?

 

[Nimh]

"You have? Oh! It's a shame our paths haven't crossed until now. I saw you come in off the ship, caught that whiff and knew something interesting was afoot. It's been such a while since I've seen another of our kind, you know. Terribly dull. No one around who understands it." She huffed but it trailed into a chuckle. The problem was temporary, after all. And she was no longer alone! At least for now. "Which is actually half the fun, too, isn't it? Looking at them knowing they don't know, thinking they're better than you. It's a problem here, you know. They'll take the time to fuck each other in the ass but a woman who talks and knows her mind? 'How dull!' Meanwhile, they end up bald and fat in twenty years and then we can laugh while we drink."

Down the street, closer to the harbor now! For a short moment, Ophelia was silent, mulling over Ministra's query. "Theodallion? I can't say I know the name, no. But you must be related somehow. There was an elf here sometime ago. He went by Estée, you know. He was Lady Tepenny's lady's maid for a time. A man pretending to be a woman. What do they know, hm?" She giggled over the prospect. "His name was actually Etienne. I never did meet him, though. A time when I wasn't here. Just as well, since they killed our sire not long after. Poor Isidoro. Truly one of the greats." She paused to look at the sky, as if in benediction or prayer, mouthing a few words.

Whelp, shit happened and you kept going! So she did. "We're headed to the waterfront. That's where Pan is!" Answering her earlier question. "Pan has a club, a shady little thing but the sort of place people like to go to shed their worries. It's how he gets all his knowledge, you understand. Get them drunk, get them high, and out come all their secrets like little birds singing in the air."

She stopped abruptly. The stench of the harbor was thick in the air--ripe with salt and people. "You must be careful around Pan. He's not...people. He's...other. Old. You're used to simpletons. Don't treat him that way. It's the quickest way to get a boot to the fanny, sent on your way. As pretty as an ass as you have, I don't advise it. Then you'll be out in the wilds, scrounging around for obsidianite like every other mortal troglodyte out there. And that just won't do, will it?" She flashed Ministra an almost conspiratorial smile.

 

[Ministra]

Ophelia definitely liked to talk. At least her incessant prattle was interesting though. There was something to be said about being in the company of someone who understood her. Not that she believed Ophelia would understand everything about her, but the whole vampire thing covered a lot of ground. Walls that otherwise wouldn’t have been breached opened to reveal a side of Ministra that few ever had the pleasure of knowing.

It was especially nice when Ophelia gave her a little background information about Theodallion’s life before Ministra. ”That’s the one,” she managed to interject somewhere between Estée (heart pang, Mini missed her) and Etienne. She didn’t know how or when, but she tucked away this new revelation to surprise Theodallion with at a later date. And this tidbit hadn’t even been stolen, still tasty nonetheless.

A moment of silence for Ophelia and Theo’s dearly departed sire. She couldn’t imagine the loss. But her sire was still around and that was really all that mattered.

So they were related. In a confusing way. Her long lost Aunt Ophelia, apparently. Ministra wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.

Thank the Magical Mister that the conversation turned onto more pressing matters. To Pan! He sounded like an interesting character, one after Mini’s own heart considering he traded in one of her favorite things: secrets. ”Sounds like my kind of a man,” she said with a small chuckle. This was said before the warning, but after it, her smile took a devious little tilt and she murmured, ”Even better.”

But no. ”You needn’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.” What that actually looked like remained to be seen. Mini had a very different moral code and her best behavior might be someone else’s vile and rotten extreme. Time would tell! It helped that she emphatically did. not. want. to go digging around in the volcanoes for this stuff herself. Ophelia definitely had her pegged correctly in that manner.

In the meantime, she slipped her arm through Ophelia’s and held her wrist with her other hand while they walked. ”So this lady’s maid position. Did it come with a uniform?”

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia nestled against Ministra as they hooked arms, quite like they were old chums out for a stroll, not strangers meeting up for the first time. Perhaps that was simple Ophelia or perhaps that was the benefit of being kindred spirits of a sort, bred of the sample bloodline. Maybe. But probably not. "Oh, I heard he was beautiful. I sort of wish there'd been a uniform but alas. His only job was to be pretty and personable. I don't know much more about him. It would seem he hadn't stayed long. Probably for the best, given what happened."

Sigh!

"Here we are!"

The here looked like nothing more than a harbor-side warehouse. Certainly, the smell of fish was thick around the place. Ophelia didn't seem to mind but rather gestured a little towards the door shrouded in shadows. There was a man there, leaning against the side of the wall, smoking a pipe that glowed dimly. He was dark, hairy and burly like it seemed most of the men on Secyclion were. He was dressed not far off from how Ophelia was, although a little bit less pretty in context and a bit more worn and weathered. He was meant for work while Ophelia was meant for...well...whatever it was she did.

"Well, it's your show. You lead, I follow." A little sparkle in the other woman's eye. Like she wanted to see what Ministra could do, her being unknown kin and all. "That's the door man. Shouldn't be a problem. After all, he's here to let you in on a good time, right? And he wants the people inside to be in for a good time." But it was clear that she knew the man and more than likely she knew him. What were the odds per presence made a difference or not?

Ophelia gave her arm a little squeeze, so encouraging!

 

[Ministra]

Yes, her Theodallion was beautiful. Strikingly so and it annoyed her to no end. The lengths she had to go to in order to outshine him were… extravagant. And even then, people still overlooked Ministra in his presence. It was difficult, living in another one’s shadow. Especially when shadows were the one place she felt safest.

They arrived! And Ophelia had some more words of instruction and encouragement. It was then that Ministra began to grow suspicious. She understood familial sentimentality, but this felt a little beyond. Like she had been hunted and was now a little mouse following along towards a trap. If the similar manner of dress wasn’t enough to raise her hackles, then the nonchalant way in which Ophelia deferred to her was.

But did Mini protest and ask questions? Did she stop for a moment to think through the consequences of her actions? Maybe make a plan or ask for clarification before committing herself to something that she probably wouldn’t like?

Nooooope!

Come on now. Demon bar??! There was no way Mini’s writer was going to stall on this one. Ministra was confident she could take care of herself (because sure) and Amanda was on season four in her rewatch of Buffy so like, yes. We’re totally doing this right now. Trap away, Ophelia!

Mini squeezed Ophelia’s arm back and smiled. Hope to make you proud, auntie!

A smooth sashay to her hips as she stalked towards the doorman, wetting her lips and catching his gaze. ”So what are the chances of you letting me and my friend inside for a little fun?” A crooked grin drifted to her lips, the tip of her tongue toying with an elongated fang.

 

[Nimh]

If Ophelia felt at all that Ministra was doubting the sincerity of her friendship, the older vampire wasn't showing it! Indeed, she gave her what amounted to a 'thumbs up' gesture as Ministra opted to walk off and approach the doorman.

The doorman looked pretty straightforward and human--appearances could be deceiving though! He frowned at Ministra as she exposed a fang, then looked towards Ophelia with a bit of a sigh. "She almost killed one last week," he complained and rolled his eyes, broad shoulders shifting backwards as he prepared to maybe blockade the door!

"Fucking vampires. Listen, rules are: no killing the guests and no killing the staff. You don't abide by those rules, you die. You prepared for that, fangs?" His mouth shifted into a sneer. Apparently he was rather unimpressed by her, beauty and all. He folded his arms over his chest. "And, you, maybe you stay outside." This to Ophelia, who held her hands up in a passive sort of way but laughed all the same.

"Pan will see me, darling. Just try to deny me." She winked at Ministra but didn't fuss either way. She either went in or she didn't--she wasn't fussed.

So the doorman regarded Ministra, waiting to see what her thoughts on the rules were. Vampires were good liars though, weren't they? And how exactly was the club going to enact those rules, anyway? Maybe Ministra might have a chance to find out!

 

[Ministra]

There was a playfulness in the man’s tone when he uttered fucking vampires. Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but it was certainly different from the way Ministra was used to people saying the phrase. Usually there was more venom there, perhaps some fear and discomfort, certainly never dismissive, as if a vampire was a common thing, nothing remarkable or dangerous. It might have been off putting if it hadn’t been so refreshing. If she’d known she could have been spending her life with vampires and others, she wouldn’t have been so lonely trying to exist amongst the mortals.

Monsters were definitely more her thing.

Not to get too excited though. She still hadn’t stepped inside and figured out whether or not this was all some elaborate ruse to get her off her game.

She waved her hand dismissively at the rules. No killing, got it. Mini had been to several locations throughout her life where she hadn’t murdered someone. She… couldn’t really think of any off the top of her head just then, but she was certain of it. She wasn’t that bad, right? A conundrum to be pondered never.

”I’m sure we’ll both be on our best behavior,” she said to the bouncer with the ghost of a smile. She wasn’t about to leave Ophelia outside, especially not when it sounded like this Pan guy knew and liked her. Mini needed all the help she could get if she was going to convince him to give her some obsidianite.

 

[Nimh]

The bouncer slid Ministra a look that clearly screamed doubt. "Mmmhm." He rolled his eyes and yanked on the door, gesturing inward to both Ministra...and Ophelia. "Both of you then. And remember the rules."

Ophelia gave a little squeal of a noise, hopping forward to immediately slide her arm through Ministra's arm to jauntily make her way into the club side by side. "Best behavior. Promise!" She winked at the bouncer and in they went!

The music struck them as they came in--upbeat music meant to make the body move and move those bodies did! People were dancing in various states of dress in the large room. Curtained nooks lined the edges of the dance floor and there were cages here and there throughout the room, people dancing individually, in pairs, in trios, some more suggestively than others. Colored glass globes were aflame with light throughout the room, flickering an array of colors across people (all sorts of people--humans, elves, locals, mainlanders, halflings, even a few furry creatures here and there and some faeries dancing in the air), on walls and on the curtains. People were indulging in various corners (and some not even in corners), smoking, snorting, inhaling, all sorts of drugs loosening the mind and body. Others were drinking. Others could be occasionally spotted behind the curtains in intimate situations and one couple had to be chased off the floor as one man went down on his knees before his partner, pulling open pants and--well, no, that wasn't for the dance floor, sir!

Ophelia twirled off of Ministra's arm, spinning at the end of the other vampire's finger tips and dancing to the music as she moved forward. No, don't get distracted, she'd told Ministra! But she wasn't beyond having a little fun as she moved. "This place is always so alive, I love it. Everyone's so busy finding their guilty little pleasures they never seem to notice the one that just wants a little taste of them." She winked at Ministra, body twisting to the music before she spun again and beckoned the other woman to follow her through the people dancing.

Ahead of one moment, bumping back into her the next to utter, "He's over there. Pan. He likes to mingle. It's how he gets all his secrets." The man indicated looked like your average local islander, tall and broad-shouldered with dusky skin and dark, curling hair. He wore the local attire--a knee length chiton, this one a brilliant blue hue that off-set the surprising blue eyes at odds with his darker skin and hair. He was seated at a table with a pair of two fairly drunken men that were happily chatting away. "Just watch out for those." She indicated the obvious kill-joy bouncers around the room that were watching the space carefully.

 

[Ministra]

As they both entered the club, the pulsating music began to weave through her body, swaying her hips to the rhythm as Ophelia gave her the details. Ministra spent so much time alone and in silence, that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to ebb and flow with the music. She eyed the delectable little morsels in their cages, the way bodies pulsed together, the hearts all rapidly beating, it was like a playground catering to all of her worst desires. One man took it a little too far apparently and was subsequently chased off the dance floor. The bouncer hadn’t mentioned that rule, so Mini didn’t think it applied to her.

Ophelia twirled off her arm and Ministra was more than happy to extend her hand out after her, her fingertips trailing across the woman’s lower back as she spun. While Ophelia reveled in the debauchery, allowed herself to see the beauty of it all as well. Rather than take her normal pessimistic view, curling a disdainful lip at all of it, she was able to appreciate the ambiance.

They moved on through the crowd until the woman finally pointed out their target. Mini pouted at the mention of the bouncers again. Did no one trust her to behave herself? She’d been nothing but pleasant this whole time and, well, okay fine. She did have a bit of a reputation for ruining everything. All of this was fair. Didn’t mean she liked it.

Now she was presented with options. Just how should she introduce herself to Pan? The simple answer was, she shouldn’t. And she wouldn’t. Mini didn’t make it a habit of waltzing up to people and striking a conversation. No. He would have to come to her. Or rather to Ophelia since the two presumably knew each other.

”Shall we give him a show?” she asked without bothering to wait for an answer. She wrapped an arm around Ophelia’s waist, tugging her in tightly, the tips of her fingers trailing down the woman’s arm. They stepped towards Pan’s table, Mini resting her forehead on the other woman’s, vaguely upturned lips as their bodies ground into one another’s in time to the music.

Closer to his table then until they were among the dancers in Pan’s eyeline. Her gaze flicked from Ophelia to the man’s, the brilliance of his blues rivaling her own. She offered him a welcoming smile before returning her attention to Ophelia. Hopefully he’d take the bait and she wouldn’t have to resort to other ideas of how to catch his attention. This one was the best of the best behavior. It only got worse from here.

 

[Nimh]

Make them come to you! Got it!

Ophelia seemed more than happy to indulge that particular angle, particularly if it meant being able to indulge in what was going on around her. The music was enticing, to be sure, but her eyes were honestly more on the people around her than anything else. Still, she was more than happy to get into the groove of the music with Ministra, to approach her own hunt from a different angle than she usually did. So she stayed close to Ministra, apparently the sort that easily found and engaged in rhythm as she flowed with it like silk over a torso. Her own eyes drifted across the room, shifting through the lot of them to find the ones that were her focus (she was happy to assist Ministra in her goal, of course, but it was very easy to sidetracked when everything here screamed 'bite me').

Most of the people present were men. A lot of them seemed particularly interested in grinding up against one another--there was a rumor about the predilections of island men, especially where Secyclion was concerned!--than in engaging with the two women. There were always those that saw two beautiful women so close together than they just couldn't help themselves but be drawn in, however. Particularly when both women were especially oozing confidence! So as Ministra met the eyes of her quarry and Ophelia smirked and flirted with those that caught her eye, they began to gather a small cluster of men interested in looping themselves between both Ministra and Ophelia--to claim one of them, so to speak. Men being what they were.

But Ophelia hooked an arm around Ministra's waist and drew her in closer, locking eyes with one of their gentleman callers as she nibbled lightly at her niece's neck. Because who didn't enjoy a little familial loving between vampires?

Nearby, Pan was watching the spectacle, leaning back in his chair with a drink in his hand. He lifted it in acknowledge to her, grossing his ankle over his knee (a precarious position when one was wearing a knee-length chiton, for all he cared). Around them, if she bothered to notice, some of the men were starting to look a little....hazy, distracted. But it could have been the drugs or the alcohol or the mind-blowing beauty of the two women. Maybe all the things!

Ophelia frowned a little, kicked off her rhythm, but shook her head and went back to trying to focus on her end-game: snag a man! For chewing, of course.

 

[Ministra]

Ministra was completely ignorant of the fact that there were people who existed who might not find her sexually attractive. The thought never entered her mind. There was no denying her magnetism. At least not in her mind and anyone who thought otherwise was obviously very dull and undeserving of her attention anyway.

She seemed to have caught Pan’s eye anyway. Judging from the way he smugly sat back in his chair, almost giving her a show himself, she had him ensnared. But he wasn’t going to give in that easily. Where would be the fun in that? Come to her too fast and she might think he’s a chump. Alternatively, wait too long and Mini was liable to lose interest altogether. She was barely hanging on by a thread as it was and the way Ophelia kept ogling the rest of the guests was beginning to make her stomach growl.

What was she here for again? Blood.

No. Not that. She already ate today. But did she?

Yes, she’d eaten one of the sailors on the ship. Wasn’t even that long ago. Surely she could just keep grinding on her aunt and not lose complete control of herself. Just as Mini thought she was going to lose the plot, she noticed that a bunch of the people around her looked the same… hazy, distant. Her brow furrowed and she cast an accusatory at Pan. ”Was that him or you?” she asked Ophelia, whipping her around into a deep dip, her hand gliding up her thigh before helping her to stand up straight again.

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia's mood was definitely broken, even as she was dipped, the pair of them a beautiful spectacle before the men that were gathered. Except the men weren't even looking. They just looked like dopey drug addicts, staring stupidly at them--slack-jawed and incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Which was fine (who needed a man that talked, let alone strung a single thought together?) except that meant that they were no longer wrapped up in the beauty that was Ophelia and Ministra.

What a bummer.

"Him," she grumped, drawing herself close up against Ministra so that she could shimmy down the front of her, hands sliding along Ministra's sides. She gave a nice slap of Ministra's beautiful backside as she straightened because it just couldn't be helped. "That's his gift. He'll sweet talk you out of your secrets as he drains you of your emotions. That's why he built this place: get them riled up, get them lusty, get them high, then bleed them of their emotions as they grind on the dance floor." That's when her mouth curved into a self-satisfied little smirk. "It's partly why we drive him so crazy, you know? No emotions. It's a problem."

Someone that wasn't a zombie took advantage of their conversation and wormed his way in between them, grinding himself between their hips and thrusting like he was fucking don juan or something. Ophelia rolled her eyes and pivoted so that her could keep her back against Ministra but turn the man to her front. A toy to play with that she hoped would lead to dinner. "He's one of Meephos' lackeys. Emotions fill their bellies." This was said over her shoulder, one hand tangled in her own hair as she gyrated.

 

[Ministra]

Ophelia was a pleasant font of information, graciously explaining to Ministra what was happening around them. Why she seemed so deserving of these kindnesses, she didn’t know, but Mini wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever. She gave a little yelp when Ophelia smacked her ass.

Pan’s powers were interesting indeed and her gaze instantly flicked back to him, barely noticing the island fuckboi who wedged himself between Mini and Ophelia. It was the sort of display that warranted her attention, give up her need to be approached and show a little respect. ”I’m going to talk to him,” she purred into the woman’s ear, grazing the lobe with her tongue and pinching her rear as she slid from behind her towards Pan.

Smoothing a hand through her hair, she meandered over to the man’s table, the careen of her hips a little exaggerated as she teased a smile. ”Ministra,” she said, lightly pulling on the collar of one the drunken men at the table so he would give her his seat, only using as much force as absolutely necessary. Better to get the name business out of the way, those parts were always so awkward. ”That’s an impressive trick,” she offered with a shrug, sliding into the freshly empty chair. ”Would you like to see one of mine?” She caught his gaze with a mischievous tint and shook the thought away. ”No, my friend told me you were the man to talk to about obsidianite. Please don’t tell me she’s lying.”

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia squealed a little as Ministra pinched her in the backside but all it did was propel her into the arms of the man that had intercepted the two women. So that squeal? It quickly turned into a bit of a purr as Ophelia concerned herself with the potential feast in front of her rather than whatever it was Ministra was getting herself into trouble with. Sure, Ministra was going to approach Pan but for how concerned the other vampire seemed to have been prior--all that lead up!!--she was now very much engulfed with her potential meal instead.

Priorities!

Pan watched her approach with brows arched, fingers steepled. He seemed unconcerned and perhaps even disinterested as she deposited herself into a chair close beside him. "A trick of yours? What will it be? Biting some hapless man's neck? Tearing his throat open? Or perhaps you'll do as your friend can and be the flame to their moth?" He indicated Ophelia, who was wrapped around the man on the dance floor, his focus solely on her, oblivious to everything else. The world could have imploded and it was questionable that he would have even batted a lash at the prospect.

But his gaze tightened on her as she brought about the true purpose for her presence. "Ah, so you came to get a secret rather than give one." He unhooked his ankle from his knee and leaned forward, leaning an elbow into the table as fingers gestured for the two men at the table to disperse. They briefly protested but bodyguards bumped them aside. "Obsidianite. A mage, are you? I'm sure that's adorable. Not a secret of yours, I presume." He studied her features--it was unclear what he was trying to ruminate on. "I presume you hope to get the information free of charge, vampire such as you are."