Nighttime parties at the Denver Botanical Gardens are (almost) always good for a decent meal, Verna has found. Once, a meal even bought her a little white orchid at the gift shop, which would have been such a lovely gesture, if she were a normal human woman, inclined to stick around. The orchid now struggles to survive atop the front desk of David's music store, because she couldn't think of anyone better to give a gift to, and she insisted it would just starve for light in her little basement room anyway.
Tonight finds her loitering about Marnie's Pavilion with its large rock decorated with tropical plants, tiny rivers and lights set on each interesting fern. It's warm and humid in the room, for the sake of the plants, bothering those who dressed for the weather outside. Verna isn't bothered -- it's hard to be without that spark of life -- but she did not bundle up in layers. She's hunting. That requires a bit of... unnecessary skin.
Her outfit is classy, even if the hemline hits above the knee and her heels are a bit high. She wears a blouse of pearly pink with sheer navy polka dots overlaid on top, with that sheer fabric continuing down the short sleeves, paired with a flared navy pencil skirt.
She stands with a drink in her hand, longing for another kind of drink, casing the crowd for those whose dates have left them stewing in artificial tropic swelter, or seem to be at least open for conversation. The weak. She's looking for the weakness in this herd of people. Maybe she'll even drum up the courage to eventually act on her spotted marks.
Sophie
The difficulty in being new, being a childe reliant on one's sire for what to do and who not to do it to, is that it can be impossible to know when one is trespassing on another vampire's domain - poaching the king's deer, unaware that the border has changed. And it is not easy to pick a vampire out of a line-up, not without throwing some (sun)light onto the matter. They look human unless they're so lost to their humanity that people look twice. They're usually pale, yes. But there are a number of pale people at any 'do, especially the ones which draw a higher class crowd.
There is a young (oh, young) woman who has just entered the pavilion but a minute or two ago, hidden from Verna's roving sight until this moment. This moment is the moment that her handsome and solid escort leaves her, a man with broad and solid features, hewn from rock and somehow solid: but handsome, with just the right touch of shadow at his jaw, and having left her she is alone. Somebody's darling, this pale young woman who looks all rose-bloom and sweet as cream, with a pretty mouth and a pretty chin and a pretty determined arch of perfect eyebrows and a prettily perfect wave to her currently brownish blonde hair, and of course she is dressed elegantly.
She looks after her companion for a long moment; she has no drink in her hand. Then she pivots, her posture straight-backed and good, on the balls of her feminine heels to survey the crowd, and her eyes meet Verna's, and do not slide immediately away.
Verna
So two of them are perusing the people on display tonight, and Verna finds those eyes on that marvelously perfect specimen -- gives her a shy smile and tries to find someone else to look towards.
Internally, of course, the emotion at first is jealousy. That one wouldn't have any problems being a predator, she thinks -- just look at those brows.
The internal comparisons make her a bit self-conscious, and she takes a moment to sigh at a bromeliad and straighten her skirt.
Sophie
A shy smile and a retiring gaze, and these are not in themselves sufficient to hook a fish. Has Verna tried to hunt in a club or a bar yet? There, the young gentlemen who fancy themselves predators might well look on Verna as the perfect bite. An easy snack. Not attractive enough to be missed, but appealing. Appealing, no?
Where is there weakness in the crowd?
The blonde's heels click clack staccato precision against the floor. They aren't very high heels, only an inch, perhaps two, and they do not elevate her to great height. Uh oh, she's coming close. Verna's last chance to make a move, or hide.
Verna
Oh, dear. That one is coming over to say hello. Or something. The why is still a hazy question rumbling around in the back of Verna's mind, but in the forefront...
Oh, no. An introduction. And she hasn't even had time to comport herself in a manner that doesn't scream socially awkward.
There's a pronounced 'deer in headlights' look to Verna for a second, before she realizes she shouldn't be projecting that emotion on the outside. She thinks about how to present herself, about how large a smile is acceptable, about whether she should be offering a hand (no, not yet). She doesn't even yet know who this woman is, but still...
It's obvious that she is somebody.
"G... Good evening," she'll say, when the other woman arrives within the appropriate, thoroughly calculated distance.
Sophie
"Hello. I don't believe we've met, but you appear at these little 'dos quite often don't you?"
The brunette (blonde? with those highlights, difficult to tell; everything falls like expensive silk, though; everything is cut perfectly, everything reaches and maintains excellence) smiles. Heart-shaped face and dimples and measured confidence.
But what actually gets people is Sophie's voice. Sophie's got a voice fashioned to compel, some Classical allusion to a Siren would be appropriate, or a Nightengale. Too bad Orpheus was a man, and doomed.
Then again, this pale brunette has decided to talk to a vampire.
Verna Gardner
Okay, Verna. Time to pour on the charm. You can do it, can't you?
"Oh, well, yes? I mean, I love the flowers. So pretty," she says, and tries to mean more than that. The flowers, the people, and you, Sophie. You are so pretty.
She smiles back, shy as anything, but she tries. At least this time, there were no stutters. But there's a question, something that took Verna a little off guard. Why does this woman know her habits? Has she been watching her?
Sophie
Were Verna's sire to be present, his heart would remember how to beat just so it could have a heart attack. Verna's sire is not present.
"Indeed?" The creature seems both vibrant and present. "And what is your favourite flower?"
Verna Gardner
Flower. Favorite one. Think of something, Verna! She used to like violets, didn't she? The now of her life is a Venus' fly trap closing about her, though. For a second, she hasn't a clue what to say, until the memory of that one 'date' of hers who bought her a tiny orchid. He tasted like the bit of wine on his breath and in his veins, and that was a good night.
"I'm fond of orchids," she says. "Fussy things, hard to grow, but then... so rewarding when they bloom."
There, that should be fine.
"What about you? Do you have a favorite?"
Sophie
The creature cants her head, and has she blinked? Yes; just enough times to be natural, to be human. The creature is not human and it does get more difficult to pretend as the years go by; what is the point? There is only so many hours in the night.
But she is pretending, isn't she, her mask neatly in place as she neatly questions Verna and neatly regards her protégé's childe; she'd fix her, neat as a needle through skin, if fixing seemed warranted.
Everything one says is judged; Ventrue judge their own more harshly than they judge others, for the others have already failed to live up to expectations.
"Difficult to choose. I like dahlias, blowzy as half-dressed Renoir girls, or lilies of the valley, sweet little things. I should say the rose is my favourite flower, for it is the most useful."
Verna Gardner
The most... useful? David has told her of the nicknames of the various clans, some more genteel than others. He likes using slang and pejoratives. But the Roses, the Toreador, they are considered useful, aren't they? And this woman seems to know who she is, has the bearing of someone more-than-human. It's enough to put tightness into her stomach, to go along with the hunger there.
"Hmm. Yes. Roses are very nice. I... I seem to have forgotten to give you my name," she says, smiles off the stutter. "I'm Verna. Verna Gardner."
And you are Someone. Hoo boy. Hopefully not a Sabbat someone, but then all of Verna's experience says that's highly unlikely. After all, this woman isn't dressed in fishnets and black leather...
Sophie"Ah." A soft syllable. The creature cants her head and parts her lips and regards Verna in this little up-and-down way. "You are David's young protégé."
There is a pause. Then the young (eternally [forever]) woman offers Verna her hand. There is a little charm bracelet at her wrist with its useless veins its marbled perfection delicate girlish thing the little charm bracelet is gold and the little charm is a telescope or a night stick or a sceptre and it is bright when it catches the light and throws it back.
"I know David quite well; my name is Sophie. Sophie Caldwell."
Verna GardnerOh. Sophie. Verna has heard the name, spouted by her very tense sire. Verna was right, she is Somebody, and important and imperious and Ventrue. If she could sweat, the lump of nerves rising up in Verna's throat would be all the more apparent.
She's offering to shake hands. Oh no. Verna reaches out, and is her hand shaking? Perhaps a little. She laughs to cover it up, unsuccessfully -- an excited little twitter.
"Oh, he's spoken of you," she says, tries to smile. "It's an honor to meet you."
Sophie"Is it? Why?"
Verna GardnerA question? Why? Why wouldn't...
"David speaks highly of you. And... I am... To show you respect."
Because you are Sophie. Honestly.
"I am supposed to show everyone respect, really. It is one of the things David has taught me."
SophieSophie has a firm handshake. This is not firm in the way of someone who has been taught that a firm handshake is important. This is firm in the way of someone who has always been assured of their place; who has always taken their place, against great opposition. Her fingers are warm and she does not deign to acknowledge any tremble in Verna's, but after a moment she releases Verna's hand to do what it may.
"Oh, I thought you might have an interesting answer. Has he taught you to respect everyone; even the janitor? What does it mean to be honored or to have honor, Verna?"
Verna GardnerOh no. She has just put Sophie on the same level as a janitor? There's a look of worry for you -- like sire like childe, no? She exhales a held breath. This is like an exam, and she's failing. New experiences abound when you're dead.
"He says I should be respectful of my elders, which is... almost everyone," she says, hopefully clarifying. "But, I should be especially respectful to those such as yourself."
What does it mean to have honor?
"It means, honor means that you are a credit to those you associate with. They are made better by your presence, and would be lessened by your absence. And they know it."
Sophie"Do you feel as though, in the course of this, albeit brief and stunted conversation, my night has become better for your presence; that it would be lessened, were you to be gone? Do you feel the opposite; that your presence has been made better by the addition of mine? That you would be lessened by my absence?"
Verna Gardner"Of course my presence has been made better by the addition of yours," she says, repeating the phrasing. "That's why it is my honor increasing, simply from having met you." But then, it seems Sophie is pointing out something else rather forcefully. Verna is a nothing. Worse than a nothing. A shameful thing.
Oh, keep it together, Verna. Don't let her break you, that's truly failing the test, isn't it?
"Is it a zero-sum game though? My gain is automatically your loss? I know I am no credit to anyone yet, but I could be."
Sophie"Could you really? How; how do you apply this wishful thinking to real life?"
Lovely voice, angelic face: total bitch. There seems to be no particular malice behind her words; no extra lash, no personal sting; this might just be Sophie's particular brand of directness. Hammer in a glass room.
"I do not mean to be cruel to you; but do your hands always, then, shake? Do you always betray an air of nervousness? It is good for some prey, true. But if that is who you become when you are around people of note, it is too too bad."
Verna GardnerRespect is, as Verna said, an earned thing. Sophie's words sting, but then, they're Verna's own, repeated internally until believed. She already knows how small she is. Then why, Sophie? Why browbeat the already beaten? What respect do you have to gain out of picking on the littlest one in the room?
It's not much, but something to remember, certainly. Something to take some pride in. Verna would never be like that. She would be better than that. She lies to herself, but it's one that feels so good.
"Yes. It is," she says, no reason to argue there. Her mouth goes to a flat line, before remembering to try to appear placid and nice. "Certainly something I need to improve upon."
Another smile, to hide the wounds. "Do you think I should leave then? Stop offending everyone with my presence?"
Sophie"Hmm." Sophie frowns, and perhaps her troubled air is a perfect facsimile of what it is to be troubled. "Is that what you believe I am suggesting you do? I am truly curious; how is it you apply yourself to becoming a credit other than wishing to be so?"
Verna GardnerIt is difficult for Verna to imagine a future. It feels like building an elaborate and loved sandcastle as the tide rolls in. Useless, really. She wants to be a credit, not to herself, but to David in the hopes of saving him, but there is hardly any room to think about herself. Well, other than how much better everything would be had he left her dead.
Hers is not the best of foundations upon which to build.
But she has planned out what to say in this event. She has a list written down somewhere in her basement, because of course. Of course! It was for David's sake, so it was done.
"It is difficult for me to do anything worth doing without access to a laboratory," Verna says, quick-fire. "So of course, my first step would be to... get permission to acquire one. After that, well. I suppose that would depend on how dangerous my associates would like me to be. I worked at a plasma physics lab when I studied in Chicago. I've worked with lasers powerful enough to ignite air. I know how to create an artificial sun. There's a lot one can do with a research license."
Sophie"Oh good. You are intelligent as I have heard. I was beginning to wonder."
Sophie's sweet little head is still canted, just so. Now when she smiles it brings out her sweet little dimples; truly, she looked angelic when she was alive. Whatever God crafted her did so with an eye to fairness, though it is not fair anyone should be so lovely in death.
It isn't fair anyone should die and still need to go on, night after night, always hungry; the Hunger they feel is not fair.
"And it is an infinite relief. Have you asked David for a laboratory; has he had trouble scrounging together funding? Have you yourself experienced Rötchrek yet? The Red Fear?"
Verna GardnerFinally, it seems Verna has said the right thing. Or at least, close. And it was the one thing that felt the most false. But there, a notch, a little degree of something not... Well, Sophie still managed to insult her while complimenting her, but it's something? That's good, right?
"Well, I..." David said he'd get her a chemistry set, some small amount of equipment. It had just made her more upset. "The scope of what I'd need is... I'd never ask him for so much. Ideally, I'd need an assistant too, someone with credentials, you know." And the ability to pretend to do legitimate work. The ability to walk around in the day. Someone with a doctorate, like the one that got ripped away from her...
"I'd also need to know how to do all that without stepping on anybody's toes while I'm at it, because..." Because she could be killed by anyone with no repercussions. She could get David killed, and that's even worse. "I know I can't afford any mistakes."
"I haven't yet experienced that particular Fear, no. David has taught me about it, though. And I am adept at designing experimental protocols with safety in mind. Plasma is pretty deadly to anyone. Although there would be some necessary modifications."
Sophie"Come. Walk with me," Sophie says. The request is no request at all of course and the warm (currently [her skin just glows with health, pale as it is]) blue blood slips her arm through Verna's, looking at the woman sidelong as if to check whether or not this is okay. Once situated, she will walk Verna away from the crowd, so their tete-a-tete can be more truly private. This is just such a stroll as Verna has done before: with her own prey.
"I am curious about what David has taught you as regards being 'dangerous.' What benefit, danger?"
Verna GardnerIt's not a request. Of course it is okay, of course Verna allows Sophie to drag her off. Even if she horribly misjudged everything and she's about to be destroyed for impertinence or... just the shame of her existence, at least David isn't here.
Once thus whisked away, though, Sophie asks her about the danger. Why be dangerous?
"He's told me there is a war," she says, softly. "I thought, either weapons or defenses would be the best use of my talents, in that case. If I could... be a credit, it would be toward that end, am I wrong?"
Sophie"No. Being useful against the Sword is quite a feather to have in one's cap, however riskily got," Sophie says. "But why do you want to be a credit in that way; is it just for David's sake, or is it for your own?"
Verna GardnerEverything is for David's sake. She can't easily even consider courses of action that might besmirch his reputation further. But right now, to lie a little, to make herself seem a little less like his personal doormat might be the best thing. For him. He wants her to survive, she knows that. So that is where her instinct to survive stems from, despite the harsh twists of her mood. The blood is cruel like that.
"Can't it be both? If I can be of assistance, it would... not hurt either of us. I want to help him, absolutely I do. I also... don't want to die."
Neither are lies, exactly, but there is a hollowness about her response. It's not the plead of someone whose lust for life is just too great to be snuffed out, that.
SophieVerna Gardner. There are many signs that not all is well; that she would, perhaps, have been better left dead; better left mortal. That this life is not a good life for her. But sometimes it takes time, and that is one thing vampires - while greedy of, covetous of - do not necessarily lack. They have forever if the cards are in their favor. Sophie, blunt Sophie, Sophie who is noblesse oblige through and through, who even at her most condescending (and one never wishes to see her at her MOST condescending, because dear god how condescending is that?) manages to care about the people she is condescending to, in a fashion, Sophie eyes Verna with a cold concern. Humanity has been sacrificed in service of humanity. That's just how things go. She remembers what she valued, still values. Her heart does not beat but she remembers fervor.
Siren-voiced creature sounds truly concerned:
"What would you do if he were taken by the war?"
Verna GardnerDavid killed her. Brutally. And then held her captive while forcing her into his service. But her reaction upon hearing Sophie's question isn't that of someone whose loyalty stems primarily from fear. It's not the reaction of someone who would be glad to see her master dead. She winces, as if the thought causes her some pain, but it is the pain she lives with nightly.
He could always be taken. By the war. Because of her. It's perhaps even a bit easier to deal with, if it were the war -- something random. Something not her fault in any way.
"I don't know," she says, raises a hand to her mouth. "Perhaps I'd talk with Cipriano, see if he would take me on, until I could be allowed to be on my own? It's not a very happy thought."
Her opinion might change, the moment it happens, the moment that bond snaps. But she doesn't know that, and wouldn't think it possible.
Sophie"Who would you try to be a credit to should the war take David?"
Verna GardnerShe thinks she knows what Sophie is getting at. Have some pride, perhaps? Root for yourself any? Pride she has, but it all gets subsumed in her law-breaking origins. After having been reminded over and over again how very low she is indeed, how very shameful and worthless, she's not in any sort of mood for that. Couldn't lie convincingly enough.
Maybe the next time she feeds, she will treat her prey as Sophie has treated her. Maybe she'll lose a contact in her address book over it, but it would feel like she could be the imperious one.
"I would try to be a credit to the Camarilla," she says. At least that is something she can mean. They're not the Sabbat. They're not the ones who laughed at her while she died. Sophie's not doing them any favors in her book tonight, but the good thoroughly outweighs the bad, still, in Verna's reckoning.
Sophie"And you should do so by raining down violence, scientifically-manufactured violence, upon the Sabbat?"
There is no contempt or disgust at the 'scientifically.' Sophie is a woman of Industry, the daughter (or childe) of Wealth carved out of iron: the Railroad. Back in the day, it was king. And it still pays in dividends, at least in the game of immortality. Maybe.
Maybe Sophie is a woman of Industry in that fashion: she looks like she could've been some gilded age darling; perhaps she was plucked from Victorian England (though her lovely voice has no accent).
"You should experience the Red Fear for yourself; under controlled circumstances, and strengthen your resolve so. Has David explained the position of our clan in this city? Has he mentioned the Prince?"
Verna Gardner"Violence, perhaps. Or perhaps," she says, shakes her head in questioning herself, as if coming up with fresh ideas even now. "Perhaps protection against violence. Armor better suited to our weaknesses? Did you know, there are ceramics that can be glowing hot on the inside, and cold enough to touch on the outside? You could make a gauntlet out of such stuff and never feel the heat of even thousands of degrees."
When she talks on subjects like these, a bit of the shy, sad girl leaves to go be elsewhere while the cognition and love of what shedoes used to do comes to the fore.
"He has taught me about all of the Primogen, and about the Prince. At... at least, I know their names."
And then, the shyness returns. She's not comfortable discussing the politics that threaten her sire. Not quite as at home, or able to ditch herself in reverie.
Sophie"I did not know that, but I find it fascinating. You should come to my haven for supper some night. A mid-night fast-break."
"But I will leave you now. You might seek out the one whose Domain you have been hunting on and pay them your respects; it is a Rose." Sophie doesn't sound too pleased about that. Brusque: "You are 'cleared,' as it were, by David; he did that, at least. And yet still, it would be good manners of you."
With that, Sophie means to leave. Leave Verna to her hunting, knowing well that there are Others around.
There is a pause. Then the young (eternally [forever]) woman offers Verna her hand. There is a little charm bracelet at her wrist with its useless veins its marbled perfection delicate girlish thing the little charm bracelet is gold and the little charm is a telescope or a night stick or a sceptre and it is bright when it catches the light and throws it back.
"I know David quite well; my name is Sophie. Sophie Caldwell."
Verna GardnerOh. Sophie. Verna has heard the name, spouted by her very tense sire. Verna was right, she is Somebody, and important and imperious and Ventrue. If she could sweat, the lump of nerves rising up in Verna's throat would be all the more apparent.
She's offering to shake hands. Oh no. Verna reaches out, and is her hand shaking? Perhaps a little. She laughs to cover it up, unsuccessfully -- an excited little twitter.
"Oh, he's spoken of you," she says, tries to smile. "It's an honor to meet you."
Sophie"Is it? Why?"
Verna GardnerA question? Why? Why wouldn't...
"David speaks highly of you. And... I am... To show you respect."
Because you are Sophie. Honestly.
"I am supposed to show everyone respect, really. It is one of the things David has taught me."
SophieSophie has a firm handshake. This is not firm in the way of someone who has been taught that a firm handshake is important. This is firm in the way of someone who has always been assured of their place; who has always taken their place, against great opposition. Her fingers are warm and she does not deign to acknowledge any tremble in Verna's, but after a moment she releases Verna's hand to do what it may.
"Oh, I thought you might have an interesting answer. Has he taught you to respect everyone; even the janitor? What does it mean to be honored or to have honor, Verna?"
Verna GardnerOh no. She has just put Sophie on the same level as a janitor? There's a look of worry for you -- like sire like childe, no? She exhales a held breath. This is like an exam, and she's failing. New experiences abound when you're dead.
"He says I should be respectful of my elders, which is... almost everyone," she says, hopefully clarifying. "But, I should be especially respectful to those such as yourself."
What does it mean to have honor?
"It means, honor means that you are a credit to those you associate with. They are made better by your presence, and would be lessened by your absence. And they know it."
Sophie"Do you feel as though, in the course of this, albeit brief and stunted conversation, my night has become better for your presence; that it would be lessened, were you to be gone? Do you feel the opposite; that your presence has been made better by the addition of mine? That you would be lessened by my absence?"
Verna Gardner"Of course my presence has been made better by the addition of yours," she says, repeating the phrasing. "That's why it is my honor increasing, simply from having met you." But then, it seems Sophie is pointing out something else rather forcefully. Verna is a nothing. Worse than a nothing. A shameful thing.
Oh, keep it together, Verna. Don't let her break you, that's truly failing the test, isn't it?
"Is it a zero-sum game though? My gain is automatically your loss? I know I am no credit to anyone yet, but I could be."
Sophie"Could you really? How; how do you apply this wishful thinking to real life?"
Lovely voice, angelic face: total bitch. There seems to be no particular malice behind her words; no extra lash, no personal sting; this might just be Sophie's particular brand of directness. Hammer in a glass room.
"I do not mean to be cruel to you; but do your hands always, then, shake? Do you always betray an air of nervousness? It is good for some prey, true. But if that is who you become when you are around people of note, it is too too bad."
Verna GardnerRespect is, as Verna said, an earned thing. Sophie's words sting, but then, they're Verna's own, repeated internally until believed. She already knows how small she is. Then why, Sophie? Why browbeat the already beaten? What respect do you have to gain out of picking on the littlest one in the room?
It's not much, but something to remember, certainly. Something to take some pride in. Verna would never be like that. She would be better than that. She lies to herself, but it's one that feels so good.
"Yes. It is," she says, no reason to argue there. Her mouth goes to a flat line, before remembering to try to appear placid and nice. "Certainly something I need to improve upon."
Another smile, to hide the wounds. "Do you think I should leave then? Stop offending everyone with my presence?"
Sophie"Hmm." Sophie frowns, and perhaps her troubled air is a perfect facsimile of what it is to be troubled. "Is that what you believe I am suggesting you do? I am truly curious; how is it you apply yourself to becoming a credit other than wishing to be so?"
Verna GardnerIt is difficult for Verna to imagine a future. It feels like building an elaborate and loved sandcastle as the tide rolls in. Useless, really. She wants to be a credit, not to herself, but to David in the hopes of saving him, but there is hardly any room to think about herself. Well, other than how much better everything would be had he left her dead.
Hers is not the best of foundations upon which to build.
But she has planned out what to say in this event. She has a list written down somewhere in her basement, because of course. Of course! It was for David's sake, so it was done.
"It is difficult for me to do anything worth doing without access to a laboratory," Verna says, quick-fire. "So of course, my first step would be to... get permission to acquire one. After that, well. I suppose that would depend on how dangerous my associates would like me to be. I worked at a plasma physics lab when I studied in Chicago. I've worked with lasers powerful enough to ignite air. I know how to create an artificial sun. There's a lot one can do with a research license."
Sophie"Oh good. You are intelligent as I have heard. I was beginning to wonder."
Sophie's sweet little head is still canted, just so. Now when she smiles it brings out her sweet little dimples; truly, she looked angelic when she was alive. Whatever God crafted her did so with an eye to fairness, though it is not fair anyone should be so lovely in death.
It isn't fair anyone should die and still need to go on, night after night, always hungry; the Hunger they feel is not fair.
"And it is an infinite relief. Have you asked David for a laboratory; has he had trouble scrounging together funding? Have you yourself experienced Rötchrek yet? The Red Fear?"
Verna GardnerFinally, it seems Verna has said the right thing. Or at least, close. And it was the one thing that felt the most false. But there, a notch, a little degree of something not... Well, Sophie still managed to insult her while complimenting her, but it's something? That's good, right?
"Well, I..." David said he'd get her a chemistry set, some small amount of equipment. It had just made her more upset. "The scope of what I'd need is... I'd never ask him for so much. Ideally, I'd need an assistant too, someone with credentials, you know." And the ability to pretend to do legitimate work. The ability to walk around in the day. Someone with a doctorate, like the one that got ripped away from her...
"I'd also need to know how to do all that without stepping on anybody's toes while I'm at it, because..." Because she could be killed by anyone with no repercussions. She could get David killed, and that's even worse. "I know I can't afford any mistakes."
"I haven't yet experienced that particular Fear, no. David has taught me about it, though. And I am adept at designing experimental protocols with safety in mind. Plasma is pretty deadly to anyone. Although there would be some necessary modifications."
Sophie"Come. Walk with me," Sophie says. The request is no request at all of course and the warm (currently [her skin just glows with health, pale as it is]) blue blood slips her arm through Verna's, looking at the woman sidelong as if to check whether or not this is okay. Once situated, she will walk Verna away from the crowd, so their tete-a-tete can be more truly private. This is just such a stroll as Verna has done before: with her own prey.
"I am curious about what David has taught you as regards being 'dangerous.' What benefit, danger?"
Verna GardnerIt's not a request. Of course it is okay, of course Verna allows Sophie to drag her off. Even if she horribly misjudged everything and she's about to be destroyed for impertinence or... just the shame of her existence, at least David isn't here.
Once thus whisked away, though, Sophie asks her about the danger. Why be dangerous?
"He's told me there is a war," she says, softly. "I thought, either weapons or defenses would be the best use of my talents, in that case. If I could... be a credit, it would be toward that end, am I wrong?"
Sophie"No. Being useful against the Sword is quite a feather to have in one's cap, however riskily got," Sophie says. "But why do you want to be a credit in that way; is it just for David's sake, or is it for your own?"
Verna GardnerEverything is for David's sake. She can't easily even consider courses of action that might besmirch his reputation further. But right now, to lie a little, to make herself seem a little less like his personal doormat might be the best thing. For him. He wants her to survive, she knows that. So that is where her instinct to survive stems from, despite the harsh twists of her mood. The blood is cruel like that.
"Can't it be both? If I can be of assistance, it would... not hurt either of us. I want to help him, absolutely I do. I also... don't want to die."
Neither are lies, exactly, but there is a hollowness about her response. It's not the plead of someone whose lust for life is just too great to be snuffed out, that.
SophieVerna Gardner. There are many signs that not all is well; that she would, perhaps, have been better left dead; better left mortal. That this life is not a good life for her. But sometimes it takes time, and that is one thing vampires - while greedy of, covetous of - do not necessarily lack. They have forever if the cards are in their favor. Sophie, blunt Sophie, Sophie who is noblesse oblige through and through, who even at her most condescending (and one never wishes to see her at her MOST condescending, because dear god how condescending is that?) manages to care about the people she is condescending to, in a fashion, Sophie eyes Verna with a cold concern. Humanity has been sacrificed in service of humanity. That's just how things go. She remembers what she valued, still values. Her heart does not beat but she remembers fervor.
Siren-voiced creature sounds truly concerned:
"What would you do if he were taken by the war?"
Verna GardnerDavid killed her. Brutally. And then held her captive while forcing her into his service. But her reaction upon hearing Sophie's question isn't that of someone whose loyalty stems primarily from fear. It's not the reaction of someone who would be glad to see her master dead. She winces, as if the thought causes her some pain, but it is the pain she lives with nightly.
He could always be taken. By the war. Because of her. It's perhaps even a bit easier to deal with, if it were the war -- something random. Something not her fault in any way.
"I don't know," she says, raises a hand to her mouth. "Perhaps I'd talk with Cipriano, see if he would take me on, until I could be allowed to be on my own? It's not a very happy thought."
Her opinion might change, the moment it happens, the moment that bond snaps. But she doesn't know that, and wouldn't think it possible.
Sophie"Who would you try to be a credit to should the war take David?"
Verna GardnerShe thinks she knows what Sophie is getting at. Have some pride, perhaps? Root for yourself any? Pride she has, but it all gets subsumed in her law-breaking origins. After having been reminded over and over again how very low she is indeed, how very shameful and worthless, she's not in any sort of mood for that. Couldn't lie convincingly enough.
Maybe the next time she feeds, she will treat her prey as Sophie has treated her. Maybe she'll lose a contact in her address book over it, but it would feel like she could be the imperious one.
"I would try to be a credit to the Camarilla," she says. At least that is something she can mean. They're not the Sabbat. They're not the ones who laughed at her while she died. Sophie's not doing them any favors in her book tonight, but the good thoroughly outweighs the bad, still, in Verna's reckoning.
Sophie"And you should do so by raining down violence, scientifically-manufactured violence, upon the Sabbat?"
There is no contempt or disgust at the 'scientifically.' Sophie is a woman of Industry, the daughter (or childe) of Wealth carved out of iron: the Railroad. Back in the day, it was king. And it still pays in dividends, at least in the game of immortality. Maybe.
Maybe Sophie is a woman of Industry in that fashion: she looks like she could've been some gilded age darling; perhaps she was plucked from Victorian England (though her lovely voice has no accent).
"You should experience the Red Fear for yourself; under controlled circumstances, and strengthen your resolve so. Has David explained the position of our clan in this city? Has he mentioned the Prince?"
Verna Gardner"Violence, perhaps. Or perhaps," she says, shakes her head in questioning herself, as if coming up with fresh ideas even now. "Perhaps protection against violence. Armor better suited to our weaknesses? Did you know, there are ceramics that can be glowing hot on the inside, and cold enough to touch on the outside? You could make a gauntlet out of such stuff and never feel the heat of even thousands of degrees."
When she talks on subjects like these, a bit of the shy, sad girl leaves to go be elsewhere while the cognition and love of what she
"He has taught me about all of the Primogen, and about the Prince. At... at least, I know their names."
And then, the shyness returns. She's not comfortable discussing the politics that threaten her sire. Not quite as at home, or able to ditch herself in reverie.
Sophie"I did not know that, but I find it fascinating. You should come to my haven for supper some night. A mid-night fast-break."
"But I will leave you now. You might seek out the one whose Domain you have been hunting on and pay them your respects; it is a Rose." Sophie doesn't sound too pleased about that. Brusque: "You are 'cleared,' as it were, by David; he did that, at least. And yet still, it would be good manners of you."
With that, Sophie means to leave. Leave Verna to her hunting, knowing well that there are Others around.
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