2012-03-06: Midnight Dinner



Special Guests

Dracula_icon.jpg Geoffrey_icon.jpg

Summary: Rashmi has her dinner date with Dracula and Son.

Date: March 6, 2012

Log Title: Midnight Dinner

Rating: PG-13

Romania - Tower - Eighth Floor

The walls, floor and ceiling are shades of black in this dark foyer. Along the walls are large portraits of various men and woman with sharp features, pale skin, dark hair and red eyes. Elegant tables rest against the walls with black candelabras which have matching black tapered candles along with vases of red and black roses. The carpet is soft with an intricate red design. In one corner of the foyer is a large complex looking sigil glowing bright blue. Several doors lead off the foyer, all closed except for the middle door which is wide open showing a large dining room.

A long black lacquered tabled stretches across the dining hall with enough chairs to seat twenty people. Matching black chairs line the table up and down. Silver dishes and goblets sit in front of each seat with enough silverware to have what seems like endless courses. Food from all different countries sits up and down the table, making it look overstuffed. Everything is extremely succulent and cooked beyond the most accomplished chefs standards. Windows line the walls on either side of the table, long windows with black pains decorating them, that let the moon shine into the room. A large black iron chandler with black tapered candles hangs in the middle of the room giving flickering light against all the black. On the far wall is a large portrait, a least ten feet tall, of what looks like Count Dracula, that sits above a black fire place.

Igor has come to summon Rashmi and has lead her to a spot in the corner of the main room upstairs and after several too long seconds the two have been teleported down to the floor below. With her arm in his he leads her to an empty dinning hall, well empty in the regards that they are the only two people. Three chairs sit at the end of the table, one at the head and two on either side, and the table is filled with more food than three people could wish to eat in one night, let alone a week. "The Masther will be in thortly." Igor says with a bow before he leaves her in the room alone.

"I… thank you, Igor," Rashmi says absently, staring up and down at the sheer mass of food on display. Shaking her head and blowing out a breath. Moving toward one of the empty chairs, she rests a hand on the high back, looking left, right, and idly wondering just who in the *world* the Mathter really is, that he eats this much food."

Minutes pass and what seems like uncomfortable long a tall, thin gentlemen with his dark hair slicked back to show of the widows peak walks in dressed in a black suit with a frilly white shirt. He looks every bit the sterotypical vampire one might expect. The other person with him looks quite a bit younger and definately isn't dressed in any traditional clothing, he looks every part the teenage emo punk kid. He has pale green eyes is dressed in pants with pently of buckles and straps and black jacket with a fur trimmed hood.
The two approch Rashmi and the older looking man of the two bows. "Good Evening Rashmi, I am sorry it took so long to introduce myself I am Dracula and this is my son Damien." There's a scoff from the son as soon as his name is introduced. "It's Geoffrey and yeah, yeah, yeah, nice to meet you." He says offering a hand in an almost bored manner.

Rashmi blinks once, then again, as Dracula introduces himself and his… son? "….Um…." Numbly, she sketches an unsteady curtsy to answer the bow, and takes Damien's hand with the dazed look of someone who has found that their expectations barely resemble reality in the slightest. "…Hello… Sorry, Dracula? …As in, Count? …Should I refer to you as Your Grace or something…?" Pausing, she gives her head a quick shake, a solicitous clearing of the throat, and then the charming, polite smile is back in place as she squeezes the hand. "…Sorry, this was… well not what I was expecting at all. Thank you for the dinner though, sir… And the rooms. It's *really* pretty, honestly."

"Yes as in Count. You may call me Count or Count Dracula." Dracula walks over and sits down at the table and looks at his son who, as if on cue walks over to pull out the chair for Rashmi and once she sits down goes over and plops in his own chair. "I was going to introduce myself and my son earlier but something about a party in Ibiza and get couldn't come home right away." There's an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. Geoffrey just stares at Rashmi for a bit as if analyzing her with indifference. "Now I'm sure you have many questions for me."

Rashmi takes the offered chair with another short bob of thanks, a puzzled frown still quite visible on her face. "…That… is a pretty fair assumption, um… Count. First off…" And she trails off, gaze moving to Geoffrey, head tilting to one side. "…I'm sorry is there something on my nose?"

"Why would their be." Damien aka Geoffrey replies to Rashmi almost indifferntly as he looks around. "So, is it okay to start eating Dad?" Dracula seems to be trying not to lose his cool around his son and nods to Rashmi. "Feel free to ask what you will, and act as you normally would." He says and there's a wave of his hand and the first course, a brothy chicken and lemon soup, appears in front of them steaming in crystal bowls. "I do hope that you have been comfortable in your stay here and I apologize if my wives were rough in retreving you."

"…Hhhhhuh. I did not know that they were your wives, Count… I, um… Sorry for trying to beat them unconscious with my mind?" The soup is tried, and the redhead nods her appreciation. "I *have* been as comfortable as I probably can, yes… but I'm not the one they really hurt, sir… My boyfriend got the worst of it, and I only *hope* he's all right now."

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend but I can assure you his is alright." How Dracula can, he doesn't say. "Any way…" But before he can say anything he's cut off. "See Dad she has a boyfriend, so on to the next right?" Dracula actually rubs his temples for a few seconds. "Dami-Geoffrey, you are seventy eight years old and sit have never been wed. It is tradition for us to take a wife, especially by this age." He says looking at Rashmi. "I'm sorry, my Son has no taste for tradition but I'm sure your parents made you do things for you own good as a child too."

"Yes, sir, but um… not when it came to marriage, sir? I mean," she says with a shrug, "I'm American. So…" Shaking her head, she looks to Geoffrey, head tilting. "That's what these kidnappings are about? To find you a wife?" Her voice is somewhat faint, as if she just can't grasp the reality of the situation; they're here, captives treated like princesses, because an eternally rebellious teenager needs married off.

"It doesn't matter what nationality you are." Dracula says simply. "You are here because out of all of the women in New York you seven proved to be the most suitable, and yes the fact that you have powers was a factor in that." At least he's not beating around the bush, also talking plays to his enjoyment of monolauging. "And not just a wife but a legacy, your first wife is one you always hold dearest." Geoffrey lets his father drone on before answering. "Yup, I'm supposed to get married and do the whole vampire thing." He says sounding quite bored. "Though I guess getting married to a vampire has it's benefits." He says shrugging in an attempt to play along.

Rashmi raises an eyebrow, between spoonfuls of soup. "…Suitable?"

Dracula nods and repeates Rashmi's question. "Yes, suitable." He says in a tone that it should be common sense combined with a compliment. "Young, have a strong personality, lively, I'm sorry but I do think that Damien would find a plain wife boring." He says looking at his son who shuts his mouth in an attempt to shut up Damien aka Geoffrey. "Not we're not looking for an answer right away, I want you to get my son and also, there will be certain…benefits to a marriage for both of you."

"Well," Rashmi says, as her mind races behind her eyes, "that's quite a compliment, sir… And of course I'd be glad to get to know your son, while I'm here…" Her soup finished, set sets the spoon down, folding her hands. "…But I feel I should tell you, Count… I really, um… don't actually plan on staying forever. If you've spent time watching me at all, you know that I've a lot of very good friends… And some of them don't react well to my vanishing. And that's without the international intelligence agency that I've attended as a student entering into the picture… *Or* the X-Men."

As soon as Rashmi finsihes her soup the bowl disappears and a tomato, basil and mozerella salad appears in front of the three though the father and son aren't really eating as much. "I am aware of you friends, you can send them a letter letting them know that you are not harmed and you are well. Honestly I do not fear your friends or the X-Men." He says quite frankly as he spears a cherry tomato on his knife. "Though I cannot promise you friends won't come to harm if they trespess on my forest."

"Will the letter be read before it goes out?" Rashmi counters, a natural assumption given the basics of their situation. "I'd *love* to tell them I'm okay, but I doubt it'll matter much, and I'm not saying you *should* fear them, sir. Given how powerful you were in the stories, and the kind of things you threw at us to *get* us here, I'd be shocked if you were afraid. But… with all due respect, that actually doesn't *matter.* They'll come for us. And they'll probably succeed." She lifts a shoulder, spearing tomato, then cheese. "I tried to tell the last person who took me the same thing. He didn't listen. But I don't see any reason why I can't at least be a decent guest while I'm here, sir."

"If you're trying to intimidate me or threaten me, I applaud your bold attempt." Dracula says all the while his son sits there looking bored. "I'm going to give you something to think about over dinner. I'm a very influencial and persuasive man Ms. Franklin and the stories do not do me justice." He says with a smile. "I'm not expecting a yes since Geoffrey (the word is said through clenched teeth) might not even find you to be to his liking." There's a snort from his son. "Not likely." He mutters but then he hasn't really given her a chance. "Marrying my Son will give you more power than you already have, it'll also allow you to live longer, now I know power and longevity are something that will sway you, but what about being given the power to make a change."
Rashmi's mouth turns up at the corners, now that the fruit is being dangled before her, and she covers her amusement with another bite of antipasto. "Sir… Again, I say this with the greatest respect, and with *immense* amounts of appreciation for your generosity… But, um… You can't *possibly* have expected be to say yes to that, have you? If I'm going to make a change, it'll be the same way that I've done everything else until now; by never *once* breaking my principles, no matter how hard it made things." With this, she looks to the sullen vampire, her smile widening. "And again, I'd still like to get to know you, Geoffrey… not on the off chance you'll want me for a *wife,* but hey. It's always nice to make friends."

"Score one point for the fiesty one." Geoffrey said much to his father's discomfort. "We'll have a second date." He says confidently as he finally starts to take more of an interest in eatting. Dracula grins at Rashmi, fangs fully apparent right now. "We all have our bargin points, if my Son chooses you, I'm sure we'll find something." He says with a wicked grin as he knows he'll dig more into her life.

"Sir," Rashmi says, finishing the salad and setting her fork aside, "I need you to understand. I'm not being threatening or defiant when I say this; our friends *will* find us, and they *will* rescue us. You can look for anything you think might help you convince me, but, honestly? The only way you'll get me to agree to this is if you force me. Which, if the tales aren't even accurate about, you could have easily done from the very beginning… But you don't want that. So, we're at an impasse. All I want is for us to go back to our lives, but you're not going to allow that. So…" She shrugs, pushing her plate an inch forward. "I think we'd all be happier if for now, I simply tried to be as pleasant and respectful a guest as I can, while I'm here."

There's a smile from Dracula and he snaps his fingers as the salad course vanishes to be replaced by an empty dinner plate. "All the food on the table is the main course, just say what you would like from the spread and it will be on your plate." Dracula says and it looks like his Son is already is already starting to eat. "It doesn't matter what you say to my Dad, he's stubborn, he won't listen. Trust me. Actually now would be a good time to ask for anything you need, he likes to be a good host." He says grinning knowing he's pissing off his father.

"Umm…" Rashmi chews on her lower lip, scanning over the immense spread of food. "…The duck… are those mashed turnips? Those please, and some of the black bread… Oh, and the vegetables." There's a distinctly pleased noise, as the food appears on her plate, and she sets about to reducing her duck to bite-sized pieces. "Actually, I *did* have a couple questions, but not for myself. That violin that Igor gave to Evelyn, the one she sent back? Was that *really* a Stradivarius, or a magical copy?"

"Oh yes it was real." Says Geoffrey. "Father likes to show off when he can that he can get things no one else can. Like women for me from New York!" There's definite sarcasm in his voice as he speaks and Dracula seems like he's about to throttle his son. "Like Dam- Geoffrey said, it is a real Stradivarius, Provigny is the instruments name. I don't make magical copies of art."

Rashmi tries, *very hard,* not to chuckle at Geoffrey's jibe, and to her credit mostly succeeds. "Well…. um… Actually if you'd be so kind, Jill would *love* to be able to play it, if only once. But un, I really *have to ask, Geoffrey… Why New York?"

"That is why it is up there, to play. I knew Evelyn asked for a violin but Jill was very specific in her instructions and her violin is still being made. As for her playing it, I would love to see her extract wonderful music from a fine instrument." One thing about Dracula is he loves culture, well not modern culture. "Well New York was the one city we agreed on." Geoffrey says. "Dad said Paris, I said San Franciso, then he suggested Madrid and I said Ibiza, it went back and fourth for some time before we both agreed on New York. I didn't want anywhere in Europe, well boring Eurpoe."

"I'll let her know, sir," Rashmi says to Dracula, bobbing her head and smiling, then looking to Geoffrey and furrowing her brow. "…So… you don't mind that you're just being handed gir— okay no probably not, but wouldn't you like to find a nice girl yourself? Meet, date, that kind of thing?"

"Boooring." Geoffrey says dramatically. "Do I mind, yeah but he's got this idea.." There's a hand that comes slamming down on the table causing everything on it to rattle, even the things far at the other end. "You're my son and I'm not going to have him ignore tradition, you're old enough that you need to settle down, even if just for a bit." He takes a breath and composes himself before looking to Rashmi. "If only he knew the art of seducing a woman but alas he wasn't luck to be born when I was."

Rashmi squeaks as the table jumps, scooting back into her chair a bit with wide eyes. "….I see," she says faintly, after a moment's pause. "…So um… what *do* you do, Geoffrey? I mean if you're not seducing girls and hunting villagers like, I guess, most vampires do…?" A quick, nervous glance to Dracula, both to get his confirmation, and just in case to silently apologize for her assumptions if she's wrong.

Geoffrey shrugs. "Stuff, party, clubs, not be boring. And that's old stuff, there's too much to do than have a run down village of food to look after." Obviously the classic vampire stuff isn't his thing. "Just as long as you don't think I'm some Twilight twit, though those kids are sooooo easy to mess with." There's a chuckle from the younger vampire before Dracula looks to Rashmi. "This is exactly why he needs to settle down for a bit, get married. Learn to appreciate the finer details of life."

Rashmi's mouth twitches, as though she's not entirely sure what expression she ought to be wearing for this conversation. "….I see," she settles on, after a moment's thought. "Well, um… I… don't really know what to say to that, in all honesty. Different priorities, y'know?"

"What is it you like to do since you keep asking about me." Geoffrey says looking over at his Dad like he's a third wheel. "Why do you think Dad picked you?"

"Read," Rashmi says with a chuckle, "argue. Help people whenever I can… Which is why the law school, really… All my favorite things to do, and it's a good living. Same for politics, which I can only really assume is what made me someone to pick. Probably boring, but, it's just how I was raised. Work hard, help people around you, and you'll change the world, little by little."

"Argue, isn't that something all women like to do?" Geoffrey jokes but he gets serious as his father give shim a look, as if he knows he's starting to go to far. Looking down to see that dinner is mostly finished, Dracula looks to Rashmi. "We can either start dessert or I can give your gift for being a wonderful dinner guest." If he really thinks she was wonderful or not, is left in the air.

Geoffrey's joke earns him the Look of Infinite Patience, but is distracted by Dracula's offer. "…Hm. Perhaps after dessert? If only because it would sort of feel a little rude to interrupt the meal just to ask you to give me something, y'know…? But still, thank you very, *very* much, sir."

With a snap of fingers the dishes vanish, all the food vanishes and in front of each person is what looks like a golden Faberge Easter egg, with a detailed rose on top. It's a chocolate cake with chocolate mousse and around the base are a few strawberries. A glass of champagne with berries in it sits next to the dish. "Enjoy, Rashmi, and I picked you because I wanted nothing shy of the best for my Son, and you, are one of the best." The best of what, he doesn't say.

Rashmi gasps in pleasure at the sheer spectacle of the dessert, eyes alight. "Why… THank you *very much,* Count!" Picking up the fork, she spends a few moments wittering over where to begin to eat, mildly upset that she has to destroy something so pretty in order to enjoy it, but soon enough the dessert is dug into. "Wonderful, sir," she says, swallowing a bite and touching a napkin to the corner of her mouth. The champagne, however, stays untouched.

A couple of bites are taken from the dessert and the champagne drained by Geoffrey before it's obvious he's done with the meal. He watches Rashmi eat for a bit before speaking. "Well, it's been a..something first date. I guess." As he earns another look from his father. "Thank you very much. I'm sorry for my Son's lack of manners. Now, did you want to write that letter?"

"I would, please, very much," Rashmi says, setting down the fork and looking up. "But I have to ask, sir… Can I trust that it'll get delivered, unaltered? It would sort of take away the point of writing it, after all…" Turning her eyes to Geoffrey, Rashmi smiles brightly. "And it's been *very* interesting getting to know you, Geoffrey. I can't wait to learn more about you."

There's silence from Dracula for a bit and by the time he speaks the desserts are gone and table is cleared. "Yes, you have my word." He says before standing up. "One letter delivered to one person of your choosing." Dracula stands up and offers Rashmi an arm to escort her to a mirror that wasn't there just minutes before. "Well I gotta run, nice meeting you Rashmi and I'm sure I'll see you again." He says before he's out of the room leaving the red-head with the most power Vampire in the world.

"I.. um… okay…. bye Geoffrey…" Feeling a bit uncertain, she takes Dracula's arm, peering at the mirror with equal parts curiosity, trepidation, and a whole lot of back-of-the-mind thinking. "I'm sorry if I'm being irritating, Count… just… well let's face it, I *am* a prisoner here. And if I have to test the lines, I'd *really* rather be polite about it, y'know?"

"I understand, but don't make me regret my decision." Dracula says firmly. As soon as the two are in front of the mirror, expectedly, Dracula's reflection is not there but unexpectedly Rashmi would feel a weight on her head as all her hair is suddenly back. No more short pixie cut but the long red hair she's had most of her life. A small hourglass on a chain necklace is handed to her. "Forty Eight hours and it's back to what it was, this is just a small taste of what could be." He says letting her interpret it how she wishes. "Igor will be here to escort you back. Good Evening." He says with a bow and leaves her alone in the room.

Where the dinner and the conversation were equally wondrous, pleasant, and amusing, the gift of her hair — the coppery red curtain that had been her sole vanity in life — mostly serves to fill her with real fear. Turning the pendant over in her hands, she looks down at the pendant for a long, long moment… and reaches back to clasp it around her neck. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she begins to separate it into hanks to braid, eyes beginning to tear up. From deep in the core of her soul, a tiny sliver of anger begins to build, adding its voice to the whirlwind of conflict that threatens to disturb the easy balance she'd kept thus far. "….Igor?" she calls, once the braiding is finished, and she feels the long-missed weight against her scalp as the thick plait hangs free. "…I'd like to go back to my room, now."

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