Players:
Summary: Just because two people share an experience does not instantly make them relatable. There may be more going on than is immediately obvious.
Date: May 15, 2012
Log Title: Undercurrent
Rating: G
Romania - Tower - Top Floor
Grandeur is one word that can be used to describe the rectangular room. A large crystal and gold chandelier hangs from the middle of the high ceiling with long white tapered candles that always stay lit without ever needing to be replaced. Four smaller chandeliers hang from each corner to provide more light and accent the larger one. The high ceiling is nothing shy of magnificent, with gilded molding to accent to the white designs and intricate patterns that almost give it layers.
The walls are all white with golden trip and design which accents the ceiling. A large mirror with a grandiose gilded frame sits above a magnificent marble fireplace that is always lit with a comforting fire, which provides the perfect amount of warmth. Two large couches sit around a marble topped tabled and a few chairs sit on the sides of the couches to be pulled up around the table. On the mantle of the fireplace is a clock that doesn't seem to work, a few small statues and candelabras.
Across from the large fireplace are two large glass doors that lead out to a balcony which hangs over a large water fall. Looking down it's easy to tell the tower is high up in the air and there is at least five hundred feet between the balcony and bottom of the waterfall. The red moon can be seen in the night sky shining down on the tower as it seems to be perpetually night.
Along one side wall two mirrors hang with gilded frames and in front of each is table a with lit candelabra in the center to help provide the brightness in the room. In between the mirrors is large painting of an old fashioned, pale looking male with dark hair and a pale face that hangs over an elegant lit fireplace. On the opposite wall it is covered will books from floor to ceiling along with a small rolling ladder attached to the shelves to reach the harder to find books. It seems like almost any book you wish to read is there.
Two large doors sit on each side of the large fireplace with mirrors set into their doors. One door leads to the hallway where the bed chambers are and the other to the bathroom. The bathroom has a large circular tub built into the floor with many taps around it that provide bubbles, scents and water in the perfect temperature. Golden lamps hang from the walls and there are fluffy towels off to the sides.
It's night. Early or late, what day or what month, who can say? It doesn't really matter. It's night, as it has been and as it will be.
The doors to the balcony have been thrown open, a chill gentle breeze stirring the curtains lazily. It's quiet, like it almost always is, only the soft susurrus of logs in a fire than never consumes them. A blonde girl stands on the balcony outside, one elbow on the railing and supporting her chin in her palm, unnaturally red eyes staring down at the expanse of eerily silent forest several hundred feet below that stretches to the horizon. Jill has a brushed stainless steel thermos dangling from a nylon strap around her wrist, the kind people use to take hot coffee or tea with them. This one contains neither.
Dashenka pads quietly into the common room, dressed in the ironic white and blue polar bear pajamas. She's barefoot and holds a rolled up copy of the latest Tuning Avtomobiley, a Russian car magazine. Ever since Jill came to the girls to reveal that she's a vampire, Dashenka has been more withdrawn than before. She stares at her fellow captive for a few moments before turning to sit at the fireplace to read her magazine.
The blonde girl's nostrils flare and she blinks, drawn from her reverie to turn slowly around and glance into the parlor. With the choice presented to her, she has yet to return to the fine gowns and silks of bygone centuries. A black t-shirt and capri jeans, sneakers and ankle socks. She pauses on the threshold, thumbs hooked into the pockets of her jeans and looking awkward for a moment. "Can't sleep?" Jill asks at last, more for something to say than to try to be helpful.
Dashenka glances up briefly and shrugs without any commitment to it. "Or sleep too much," she says. "With it always night, there is no difference." She opens up the magazine to peruse through the table of contents to find an article to read. "You do not sleep, now, da?" she asks with polite disinterest.
"I dunno. Just seemed like we all went to sleep about the same time anyway. Without ever really deciding on it or anything. It just sorta happened that way." Jill shifts slightly to fold her arms across her stomach, the stainless steel thermos bouncing lightly against her thigh. It must be empty. "Actually, I do. I mean, I can. It doesn't feel much different." The vampire doesn't come any closer, and her eyes flick around the room awkwardly without settling on the big Russian.
Finding what she was looking for, Dashenka flips over to the appropriate page. "Ah," is all she says. If she's making the vampire uncomfortable, she isn't showing any sign that she's noticed.
Jill fidgets. "Listen, I'm sorry," she begins automatically to apologize, lifting a hand helplessly, the one with the thermos still attached by its strap. "I thought, like… I thought it'd all be over by now, y'know? That you'd all be home already." She exhales helplessly and takes a step closer. "I can't even get Evelyn out of wherever they're holding her. I didn't think it'd take this long."
Dashenka's eyebrows furrow with a bitter expression at the mention of home. "Da. Well, you didn't…" she catches herself before she can complete the thought, though. Still not taking her gaze off the magazine. "It is okay. If Dracula had meant to kill us after decision was made, I am thinking he would have done so by now."
The awkward little vampire rubs the elbow of her other arm. "I don't… actually know if he knows yet. It wasn't… I mean, it's not really my plan. Not anymore." She's close enough now that she's inside the warm yellow circle of light from the fireplace between the two mirrored doors. Her eyes wander to the mirrors, but there is something missing from them and she quickly looks away. "What… what're you reading? Did Igor get it for you?"
Dashenka holds up the magazine so that Jill can see its cover. On it is a vehicle that looks it can break the speed limit in second gear, and costs more than GNP of most small countries. The text is all in Russian, however, so the name of the car would be hard to divine unless one could read it. "Is car magazine," she says coolly. "Is few months old, but is something to read."
"It's, umm… it's pretty," says Jill dumbly but with forced enthusiasm of the vehicle on the cover. Sitting gingerly on the arm of another chair by the fire, the blonde girl toys with the metal thermos dangling from her wrist. "You like cars, then?" she guesses in a paltry attempt at conversation. The two of them haven't had much interaction beyond the superficial or the necessary, and it's telling just how little Jill knows about Dashenka.
Dashenka's eyes shift focus briefly to the thermos then back to the magazine. "Is okay," she admits, voice still filled with disinterest. "If you like that kind of thing." She picks up where she left off and all but bristles at the last question. "Da. I like cars. Is one thing I am good at."
Still trying to remain positive, Jill nods animatedly. "I don't know much about them. I mean, I just got my driver's license, like, last year and I've barely used it, y'know? You put your foot on this pedal to make it go, on the other one to make it stop." She chuckles a tad self-consciously and risks a disarming grin, inviting Dashenka to laugh at her. The fangs are not disarming.
Dashenka just grunts at Jill, and doesn't even bother to look up. "I do not drive automatic," she says, the disdain she holds for it clear in her voice. "With stick you have full control over car."
Jill's grin wilts slowly, like a creamsicle in a hot car. "Oh. Umm, I don't know how to drive stick…" she responds, volume dropping with every word until she ends in a mumble. Fingers lacing, she squeezes her hands between her knees and doesn't appear to know what else to say.
Dashenka heaves a heavy sigh, and looks up at the little vampire over her magazine. When she sees that Jill looks like Dash just kicked her favorite puppy she rolls her eyes heavenward. "Bozhe, pomogi mne," she mumbles. "Is okay. Not end of world."
Jill hasn't quite reached kicked-puppy levels of distress, but she definitely looks vexed. Giving it one last, valiant effort, "So… umm, what kind of car do you have back home? D'you, like, fix 'em or just drive 'em or…?"
Dashenka heaves another sigh, this time it's one of depressed resignation. "Back in New York," Dashenka corrects, "I had '73 GTO." She growls a little bit in the back of her throat, "Had. Is now melted slag thanks to Dragon."
With a fundamental lack of knowledge about cars, Jill can only frown in commiseration. "Oh. … Sorry to hear that." Touching her fingertips together lightly, she tries to sympathize. "I lost my phone. And the t-shirt I got at the first concert I went to." Almost immediately she grimaces, realizing how petty she sounds. "And my left hand…"
"Is not sam…" Dashenka begins before getting interrupted by Jill's mention of her dismemberment. She looks over her magazine again to look at said hand. "It…. does not look lost."
"I got better." The blonde vampire raises her left hand and twiddles its fingers, the stainless steel thermos swinging from its nylon strap. "When whatever happened to take away our powers. I mean, I actually would've gotten better anyway 'cause I didn't really have a normal anatomy or anything. It's, umm…" Jill chews on her bottom lip "It's hard to explain. I didn't, like, have a body with bones and stuff. I was a liquid. But I'm not anymore."
Dashenka looks more confused than anything else, and just shakes her head. "Right," she says giving up on comprehending it. "You got better. Are you thinking that liquid body will cancel being vampire when we get powers back?"
Jill's mouth opens to reply, but her brain has yet to catch up to it and nothing happens. "I don't know," she admits with a shake of her head after a moment more. "Maybe. Hopefully, I guess. I didn't… I didn't really think about it," she lies, and for once lies well.
"Nyet, konechno, nyet," Dashenka mutters under her breath. "We will be finding out I am guessing." And with that, she's back to her magazine.
Perched on the arm of the chair, Jill lowers her eyes and looks away. "I guess we will."
