2012-03-10: Unbearable Dinner Date



Special Guests

Dracula_icon.jpg Geoffrey_icon.jpg

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

Date: March 10, 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 escorted Dashenka to another area of the tower, through some sort of magical teleportation, to an exquisite, if dark, dining hall. The table is covered with lit candlabras except for the three placings at the end of the table. The flickering light brings a shadowy light to the room. "The Mathsterth thall be here thortly." With a bow Igor leaves her there and closes the doors as he leaves.

Dashenka looks nervous and hesitant, staring at the table, not really sure if she should sit or stand, waiting for her host. She's dressed as elegantly as she can get with a blue and white gown of a fashion that's two centuries out of date, something that bares far more skin than what she would normally wear. She decides, ultimately, that she should remain standing, and turns to study the portraits while she watis.

The Russian teen is left waiting for at least five minutes before her host walks in. Dressed in a out of date suit with a matching black cape with red trim is the widow peaked Dracula. Behind him walks a teenage looking male dressed in a kilt, combat boots and a white t-shirt with a 70's style yellow smiley face on it. "Thank you for joining us Dashkena, I am Dracula and this is my son Damien." He says with a bow. Damien looks Dashkena up and down and gives her a nod in greeting. "Please have a seat." Dracula says as he sits down at the head of the table and Damien holds out the seat for her. "It's not Damien, it's Geoffrey." The younger vampire corrects his father.

The poor Russian girl is obviously scared out of her mind. She tries to hide it, though, by smiling at her hosts. "Spasibo," Dashenka says, taking her seat. "It is, uh, pleasure to meet you both." Dracula is pretty much what she expected to see. Damien, not so much, and she can't help but stare at how the younger vampire is dressed.

Once they're all sitting down, Dracula claps his hands and the first course of creamy wild mushroom bisque, with the white cream in swirls on top, appears before each of them. "I hope you enjoy the dinner tonight Dashkena. It is also a pleasure to finally meet your aquantance. I hope that you are satisfied with your lodgings while you stay here." Dracula says. He takes a sip or two of his soup and Geoffrey just watches Dashenka with his bright blue eyes, not saying anything.

Dashenka, at first shrinks under Geoffrey's gaze, tentatively looking up at him occasionally when she samples the soup. "It is good to be meeting you, too," she says. "The room is very… what is word…. lavish? I am not used to such things."

"Just because you are not used to them, doesn't mean you are not deserving of them." Dracula says with a grin on his face. "I imagine you have a million questions and possible requests for me. Feel free to ask and me and my son will answer them for you." There's a scowl along with an eye roll from Geofrrey. "Yay, sounds like a great night Dad. You know what I'm missing to be here right now? But of course you treat me like some grounded teenager, I'm in my seventies Dad!" It sounds like the younger of the two isn't happy.

Dashenka looks a little lost. "Many questions, Da," admits the Russian teen, who is stirring her soup absently. "I am not knowing were to begin." Her brow furrows at Geoffrey's behavior. She had been warned by the other girls about what to expect but she still wasn't quite prepared. Still there is one burning question that had been plaguing her ever since she was kidnapped. With a steading intake of breath to steel her nerves, she asks it: "Why me?"

"Because Dad thought kidnapping a Russian Chick instead of ordering one online would be cheaper." Geoffrey says to Dashenka with a nod, but Dracula just gives his son a murderous glare. "That is not the answer at all Dashenka, and I believe my son owes you an apology for his behavior." He looks over at Geoffrey again with a look that says 'you better'. "Sorry." Mutters Geoffrey as he decides the soup is more interesting then the conversation. "Any way." Dracula continues. "You were choosen because you were one of the better candidates I found in the New York Area. Think of at winning a beauty and personality contest among all of the young women in New Yokr."

Dashenka doesn't look all that convinced… by either answer, really. "I…" she begins hesitantly. "I do not mean disrespect but I do not see how I am of most beautiful or most… personality of New York." Her gaze flicks over once again to Dracula's son before muttering, "On by luchshe s russkoi prostitutkoi."

There's a raised brow from Dracula as Dashenka speak and he replies to her right back in Russian. "<Are you saying that my son should wed some lowly harlet?>" There is a flare of anger in his eyes that quickly die. Geoffrey on the other hand looks between the two and scowls. "If you're going to speak in another language, do I even have to be here? I can leave and let you two Russian it up."

Dashenka bites her lower lip, and shakes her head quickly, recoiling from Dracula's anger. "Nyet. I am saying…. " she looks between father and son a couple of times before she shakes her head. "Nevermind. I am apologizing for I have not spoken correctly."

MarySue nods and waves a hand. "Next time you might want to choose your words more carefully." The tone is a bit condescending. "To get right to the point, I'm looking for a wife for my son. as he said he's in his seventies and he hasn't taken a formal bride yet. As per tradition he should have his first bride by now, since he has failed to make any progress in the task, I have given him a few options." Dracula explains and from the look on Geoffrey's face he's not happy about it.

Dashenka nods slowly as Dracula speaks. "Of which I am one," she concludes. She takes a tentative sip of the soup before asking, "I am hoping that I am not being too, uh, bold? with next question, but why do vampires need brides?"

Dracula looks at Dashenka like she has two heads. "Why do vampires need brides? Not just any vampire but vampire royalty. Any male vampire of our status needs to take at least one bride every hundred years or so, it's tradition." Which to Dracula is the more reasonable explanation. "But out of the six of you that I choose, I'm asking him to pick one of you. I promise you though, if he chooses you, you will be well taken care of."

Dashenka nods her head slowly as Dracula explains. "Tradition," she mouths without actually saying it. This is something she understands, actually, coming from a country and a culture that steeped with it's own traditions. "What happens to other five girls?" she asks.

There is a casual shrug from Dracula. "Who knows. Depends on the mood I'm in and who Geoffrey chooses." He says as he claps his hands and the soup vanishes only to be replaced by a salad with apple, pomegranate seeds, pecans and goat cheese with greens tossed with an apple cider honey vinaigrette. "I might choose one of you to be my next wife, I might let you go or I might decide your to be payment for the minons I sent to collect Sophie."

Dashenka is eating the salad more out of politeness than hunger at this point in time, having lost her appetite a long time ago. "I am hoping that you will be in good mood when time comes, then." She considers Geoffrey for a bit before asking the younger vampire something directly. "If you were seeking bride, what would you be looking for?"

"Are you sure Dashenka? You never know a good mood to me might be to feast on the decadent blood that runs through your veins." He smiles as he leans back so that Geoffrey can answer the question. "I don't know, someone who won't tie me down or be a bitch. I don't really care to even be married so I guess…token wife would be idea. One who doesn't mind or…" He stops short at a glare from Dracula. "One who doesn't mind or is open minded to trying a new lifestyle."

Dashenka gulps audibly at the thought of being drained dry like a prune. "A new lifestyle," echoes the girl. "Like being vampire?"

Geoffrey shrugs at Dashenka's question non-chalontly. "Yeah, something like that. Knowing you'll never see the sun, or a sunrise or sunset again. Knowing that you need to drink blood for the rest of your life. That you'll have to sleep in a box during the day, all that great stuff. Oh yeah! And you won't ever have use of a mirror, not that I know what that's like." Dracula just frowns and looks at Dashenka. "You know, it's not all that bad. You'll be faster and stronger, your vision better, be more apt with magic and the longevitiy is lovely. And you'll age slowly, very slowly, so you'll be young and beautiful for a long, long, time. Also imagine the freedoms you'll have with becoming a vampire."

Dashenka scowls at her salad, unconvinced. "It is not sounding so free to me," she admits. "With no sun, and sleeping in boxes, and having to drink human blood." She considers Geoffrey for a second before asking, "I am being curious: Were you always vampire?"

MarySue nods to Dashenka. "Yup, so there's nothing for me to miss. Born and raised one." He shrugs like it's no big deal. Dracula then looks at Dashkena and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Are you free right now, in your life away from here? Forced to live underground, away from your home and follow the rules set for you by everyone else?"

The corners of Dashenka's mouth pulls down into a frown at the question. "Free? Nyet," she admits. It's clear by the annoyed tone in her voice that Dracula has hit a nerve with her. "It is true, I am on leash. They are pretending it is not there, and I am pretending that I do not notice it."

"If Geoffrey chooses you.." Dracula begins as he claps his hands for the third course to begin. "You might not lose your leash but you'd be given a much…/much/ longer one." He grins as the main course of crispy roasted duck breast with a fig sauce appears. Tiny carrots in a butter glaze and pommes parisienne are on the side of the dish. "What I mean is that yes, Vampirisim can be a leash but only during the day, at night, the world is yours."

Dashenka nods a this as she stares down at the duck. "Da. There is that." This course actually wets the girls appetite so she begins to carve off slices of flesh to eat. She thinks for a moment before looking up to ask another question of the master Vampire. "Were you human, once? I am meaning, I have only read stories of you. And…" she shrugs. "They are stories."

"I might have been." Dracula says with a sly grin that says he isn't going to answer. "I like the stories, it causes people to never know what is real is and what isn't. Is garlic really bad for me? I'll never tell." He loves the rumours. Geoffrey shrugs. "Yeah, some of that crap is totally true and some of it I think Dad made up and over time it's just been a game for him. Every few hundred years he makes up a vampire myth."

"I see," says the Russian girl. "I am thinking it is safe bet that you are okay with garlic," Dashenka says, trying to crack a grin. She's never sure how what she says is going to be taken by these two, but she can at least try with a little bit of humor. She tears of a bit more duck. "This is very good," she says softly, as if tentative to show that she's actually appreciating something her captors have done for her. Between bites, however, her lips purse in introspection. "I have one other question for you, Geoffrey," she says. "It… may seem a silly question, but is important question to me." She takes a breath and then asks, "What is your favorite car?"

Geoffrey doesn't react to the garlic crack and Dracula just offers a shrug of his shoulder. "I am glad you are enjoying the duck." He says before looking at Geoffrey as the question is answer. "I don't know." The young vampire answers. "I don't drive, I fly. Why do you need a car when you can fly. Besides, it's just so…human."

If anything, Dashenka looks disappointed. "Then you have not driven before." She leans forward and attempts to explain. "Driving is about power, control, and dicipline. Things vampires are familiar with, da? The power is three hundred horse-power pushing two tons of steel down highway at One hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, and the control is used to push this machine to limit where it would disintegrate if you were to crash." Clearly this is something that Dashenka is passionate about. "It is discipline in tuning car so it responds to your very whim. I am surprised that these things are of no interest to vampires."

Geoffrey just gives Dashenka a look like she has two heads. "Fly. It's better than driving. I don't have to worry about stop signs, moutains, trees, speed limits…and it's obvious you've never flown before because it's about all those same things." He says shaking his head as he stabs at his duck. "Also you use your mortality as entertainment it seems, you forget that's something I don't have."

Dashenka looks unconvinced, but also doesn't look like she's going to push it. She thinks about Geoffrey's last statement for a bit before shrugging. "Da, perhaps." She stabs at her duck as well, picking off a piece of skin to chew on thoughtfully. "Can we talk to Geoffrey alone?" she asks of her host. "Not right now, I am meaning, but maybe day after. I am thinking that he might have better time deciding in not so formal occasion."

There's a casual shrug of his shoulder. "That's up to Geoffrey, since he has a certain amount of time to choose and if he doesn't…" There's a grin on his lips that is all to unsettling. "I'll make that choice for him. Maybe it'll be the girl downstairs." Geoffrey just frowns and sits back in his chair like a sulky child while Dracula continues. "Why is it you wish to speak to him alone Dashenka? Do you wish to try to seduce him and convince him you are the one?" There's an unpleasant chuckle as he says that.

Dashenka blushes furiously at Dracula's question. "Uh, nyet, it is not that," she protests weakly. "It is that you have… uh… an affect? Is that right phrase? On him. On us." She shrugs. "I am just thinking that if he were to choose, he should visit when we are not so.." scared? Frightened? About to wet yourself? "… Polite."

Dracula looks at Dashenka for quite a few moments. "So are you telling me, you would not be poliet with my son if you were with him alone?" He asks looking at Dashenka. "It didn't stop one of my other guests from speaking her mind, me being here that is." There's a bit of a smile and he looks over at his son. "What is your opinon Damien?" "Geoffrey." Is grumbled in return as a correct to his name. "If you want to talk alone I'm sure we could sometime, I'm stuck in here for a while anyway."

Dashenka shakes her head quickly. "Nyet, no, not what I meant. Uh.." She reverts back to Russian for a second. <I just meant that, well, we're not really ourselves when we're around you. Your son included sir. I mean no offense, but you're a rather frightening individual.> She coughs to clear her throat and turns to Damien. "I am thinking that would be good idea, da?"

"Well if Geoffrey wishes it then so be it but I will not force him to do so if he doesn't want to." Geoffrey then chimes in. "Well that didn't stop you from forcing me to these dinners or to having to find a bride." The annoyance is clear. "Damien, I do not wish for us to fight in front of our guest. I have forced you to take the first steps and I am hoping that you will take the next ones on your own, do I make myself clear?" And it seems that it's the words that cause Geoffrey to hang his head. "Yes father." He mutters. "Now that that is settled.." Dracula says. "If you're finished eating how about we move onto dessert?"

Dashenka watches the interplay between Dracula and his son silently, not daring to interrupt them. She nods to her host and says, "Da. Yes, please." It seems that, for now, she's run out of questions to ask them.

With a clap of his hands the main course vanishes and is replaced with large glass goblets with a layered peppermint and chocolate trifle with a decanter of vodka with small glasses for the table. The chocolate in the dessert is among some of the most expensive in the world and it appears as if there's a dusting of edible gold flecks on the top. "Enjoy." Dracula says. "If you have any more questions for either myself or Geoffrey tonight, please feel free to ask now before Igor has to escort you back upstairs."

Dashenka's eyes go big at the sight of the desert. <Oh, my God,> she says in wonder at the sight of it, slipping back into Russian. "Where do these come from?" She finds herself asking as she holds her dessert fork over the trifle, almost afraid to actually dig into it. "I am meaning, I know it is magic. But is it baked first and then magicked here?"

"It is baked first then magicked here, as you put it." Dracula wouldn't use the term 'magicked' himself. "I have an enchanted kitchen where everything is prepared. I am able to get some of the best ingredients this world has to offer and I have enchanted my kitchen to make sure that it prepares the best food possible. Most of this was done for your sake and the sake of your friends who are also here under my hospitality."

"I…" Dashenka says, sounding a bit overwhelmed by the explanation. "Thank you, then," she concludes. She, then, proceeds to eat the desert, tentatively at first, and then with much gusto after discovering how good it is. "This is very very good. Eto vkusno."

There's a bow of Dracula's head in reponse to the comment about the dessert. "Now before you're escorted back upstairs I would like you to think about what your life could be like if you were to accept Geoffrey's offer, if he were to choose you." There is a pause as he glances towards his son who scowls. "You would be able to go where you please, do what you please, live how you like. You wouldn't be under the military rule of that school you attend and the US Government. Also, you would no longer be hated or hunted because you are a mutant."

Dashenka forgets herself for a moment when she mutters into her desert, "Only hated and hunted because I would be vampire." Her eyes go wide when she realizes she said that out loud and stammers, "I apologize. I do not.. I am meaning….." She sighs, and deflates a little giving up. what's done is done. "Da. It would be good to go back to Russia again."

Dracula stands up and becons for Geoffrey to join him. "Yes, that is true but you'd be so much more powerful to stop them and to stand up for yourself. Like the power and control you have when driving, you'd have that with your being." And with that Dracula bows and starts to head out of the room. "Later Dashenka." Geoffrey says with a wave as he follows his father out of the room.

Dashenka gets out of her chair and offers Dracula and son a curtsey. "It was good having dinner with you," she says trying to be as polite as she can.

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