Old Money

Belle Vista 
#1
Olivia had spent the past three hours in a classy, upscale bar, wining and dining a soon-to-be donor—although she was of the firm opinion that donors should wine and dine her, but alas, they didn't live in a perfect world. Just a couple glasses of red wine and a vodka and Sprite, nothing that would go to her head over the course of the night, although she rode an easy, feline kind of high as she made her way through the parking garage, supercharged from a resounding success.

It was late, especially for Belle Vista, and the parking garage stood mostly deserted, her gray sedan the only car within several hundred feet and her footsteps the only ones echoing through the space. That didn't disconcert her. She took her time, resting her purse on the hood of her car as she fished the keys out of it.

@Livana Gerrick
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#2
This week had been a shit show and she was glad that it was almost over. Not that next week held any promise, but at least she was still alive to see it and struggle through it. Part of her was slightly disappointed at that fact, but she'd managed to stamp it down and lock it away somewhere to avoid it. Instead, she'd headed over to Belle Vista in order to see if she could rouse up a meal for the night. All steps were taken with caution, nose alert for any smell that wasn't human and especially any smell that carried hints of animal. She didn't want to encroach upon anyone's territory, but the fact was that she just didn't have a map lain out in her head of what belonged to who.

Strangling feelings of loneliness and slight desperation, she finally caught scent of someone that was neither beast nor human, something that seemed to be something altogether different for reasons she hadn't quite discovered. So far she believed the blood was simply sweeter, calling out to her in a way a nice meal would have back in the day. Scratch that. A good meal paired with the perfect drink as the effects always left her with a little buzz afterward.

Bingo.

Pointedly ignoring the weeping woman that had been following her for the last block and a half, strongly trying to block out the plea of getting a message to her son, she spotted the woman such a lovely smell belonged to. Luckily for Livana, she was making her way to a parking garage, seemingly after a dinner event. She was older than Livana would have expected, but that might work for the younger girls advantage and she couldn't help the hint of a smile as she began to follow.

Making sure to pull down the hood of her jacket, brushing the hair from her face, she assumed an open, friendly smile with a hint of mild frustration and loss. "Scuse me ma'am?" She spoke up, her voice filled with a sweet and innocent lilt that was usually missing. "Have you by chance seen a dark blue VW bug around? I can't seem to remember where I parked." She didn't actually have a car, but this woman didn't need to know that as Livana just needed on look, one catch of her eye.
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#3
A young lady stopped Olivia just as she fished her keys out of her handbag. She maintained a warm, sympathetic smile even as she swept a critical eye over her. Twenties, maybe. Not dressed well enough to be a Belle Vista local, although the youth did have strange fashion sense. But she spoke politely, which was more than Olivia usually heard from twenty-somethings.

"Sorry, dear, I haven't," she answered, meeting the young woman's eyes. "Perhaps the next floor up?"
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#4
Suggestion: Failed! Roll


Ah! There it was! That slight moment when she turned from her car and looked to meet her gaze. Well. It took a little longer given the fact that she got a quick size up, one that she could almost feel and had expected given where she was at. But it was there! The contact she needed was almost too easy, but once she had it she made sure to maintain it. "maybe you're right." she began as her smile began to fade into a look of defeat.

"Stay still and don't make a sound." Her voice now held an echo to it, a power that even she didn't understand, as her eyes began to melt into a dark green, a brilliant contrast to the icy blue they normally were. All innocence and confusion were gone, the well mannered young woman morphing into something more sinister and threatening.
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#5
The tone of the conversation veered sharply and suddenly, and Olivia paid full witness to the slow melt of the young woman's irises from blue to green. A fellow psychic then, how serendipitous.

Olivia had spent a lot of time—maybe too much, but it paid to be prepared—considering what she would do if she found herself accosted, but none of her idle planning ever featured an apparently unarmed rail of a girl. She couldn't tell what the girl's powers were meant to do, but they resulted in approximately nothing.

"I think you'd best leave now, dear," she informed the girl evenly, smile still warm but her eyes flinty.
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#6
I botched the system, so that first fail counts for two commands and this is her final one for the thread! Roll:Success!


Her command hadn't worked, much to her dismay, and instead she was met with that same smile and a request to leave. Fuck. What was going on? This week had so far been one issue after the next and she just wanted one thing to go right. Another thing that seemed surprising was that the woman didn't regard her with fear so clearly didn't seem to see her as a threat. That just drove home the fact that she still didn't quite feel this whole thing was for her.

"I don't think you understand," she began while taking a step forward, intent on using strength and speed if her commands continued to fail. "I said stand still," she attempted again, power and authority in her voice. This time felt different, and she felt more confident that her wishes would be headed.
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#7
No, dear. Olivia understood perfectly well, she just wasn't impressed or intimidated. She'd dealt with worse than this rail of a girl.

She moved to reach for her purse on the hood of the car without turning—except very suddenly, she could not. A deliberate twitch of her hand yielded nothing, like her body and mind had divorced, the former subjugated by whatever this ruffian's powers were.

Well forgive her for underestimating.

Fear welled up in her chest, but more than that, anger and indignance.

The color of her eyes pitched lighter as she almost unthinkingly reached for that well of power inside her, drawing it out into a whisper exhaled against the girl's ear. "You'd best leave now, dear." A close approximation of her own voice, repeating her previous suggestion; and then the feel of long fingers circling slowly around the bitch's throat.
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#8
Though the woman didn't move, much to Livana's delight, her eyes spoke volumes as they held first maybe a hint of surprise and then burned with determination. In the anticipation of a feed, Livana embraced the growth of her fangs, her jaw parting slightly to prevent the elongated teeth from piercing her own bottom lip. It probably looked more menacing than she meant it with a slight confident smile taking over her. She normally didn't take too much pleasure in her meals, but something about this woman bugged her. Maybe it was the way she had called her dear or looked at her like she was nothing.

She was just stepping forward, hand raising to keep her from screaming for help, when she heard the repeated warning, this time whispered. What could this old woman do? She was stuck there like a statue and Livana had no intention of following these words. It wasn't until she felt a hard grip on her throat that she paused. Confusion twisted her face as she quickly scanned the woman. Both of her hands were where they had been, her command held, and there lacked the heat and smell of anyone behind her. "What. The. Hell?" She managed around the grip, reaching up to claw at the mystery touch.
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#9
Olivia took pleasure in the confusion evident on the girl's face, how she clawed at the illusion of fingers around her throat.

She took less pleasure in the sharpening of her teeth. So not a psychic but a vampire—the first that Olivia had personally met, and she had to say, the encounter left a rather sour taste in her mouth. It only validated her already negative perception of the brutes; wealth and elegance and a veneer of romance couldn't mask their intrinsic depravity.

Olivia very briefly considered screaming, but that was so horribly undignified, particularly when she had the situation well enough under control. What did all those old stories say? Fire, crosses, and decapitation? Well, she could provide two of those.

She stirred up the scent of smoke, weaker than she would've liked but olfactory illusions weren't her strong suit; then set her cross necklace aglow, vividly white and fringed with faint, orange light like molten metal. Put the fear of God into the little bitch.

Her head began to pound, but the migraine would be worth it. And if this didn't discourage the vampire, Olivia could always conjure up the sound of sirens to scare her off for good, although less satisfyingly.
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#10
The grip of a hand over her throat lessened after a few seconds and Livana was certain she was letting her go, though it wasn't long after she'd started to take deeper breaths that the heady scent of smoke began to overwhelm her senses. She wasn't on fire right? She was trying her best to kick the smoking habit, not that the nicotine did anything for her these days, but her lighter was still in her pocket. This witch hadn't managed to start her on fire right?

The thoughts came panicked and unbidden as she looked down at her person, resisting the urge to pat herself down. Not that that would make much of a difference. She would go up like a dried twig left for kindling if she was truly on fire and she didn't think there was really anything that could be done about it. There was no time for comfort at not seeing the smoke, just catching whiffs of it on the breeze, as she looked up to see the glowing cross around the woman's neck. "Stop!" She managed to growl out, taking a step back.
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#11
Olivia couldn't deny her enjoyment of a sense of drama, especially when she was the one manufacturing it—entirely disregarding that her control of the situation teetered on a precipice and that she was literally unable to lift a finger to protect herself.

She wondered if she could convince the monster it was on fire. Olivia had managed a stubbed toe or a headache before—those were simple, just concentrating on a point of focus, no grace or subtlety required—but she was fortunate enough to not know what burning alive felt like. Perhaps next time, when she had her husband on standby.

(Later, as she lay in bed and waited for sleep, she would reflect on that "next time" and the cold pit of anticipation she felt at the thought.)

Spellwrought thunder boomed in the background. A nice touch, in her opinion; an allusion to an Old Testament God and entire cities smote with lightning and fire. "Might we chalk this one up to a misunderstanding?" Olivia suggested, her smile abandoned but her voice still even and composed.
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