1759/Princes of the Night

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Princes of the Night
Date of Scene: 20 May 2020
Location: The Wick
Synopsis: Two vampires cross paths at a vampire club. Go figure.
Cast of Characters: Michael Morbius, Ella Normandy




Michael Morbius has posed:
11 PM. The Wick, NY.

How does one get into these situations? A month ago, he was known for his work in virulent diseases. Now...

Now, he skulks around in the darkness, spending his days in the light-shielded lab working on his...condition.

He has to have some form of interaction. Isolation can do strange things to the mind. But the way he looks, he does not have many options. The last serum batch brought his humanity back for 17 minutes before he changed back...painfully. He was beginning to relate to Dr. Henry Jeckyll.

So, he was here again, at the Wick, a 'real' vampire hiding in the midst of pretenders.
Except he was greeted by name when he entered, and escorted by two pale young men to the same seat Matthew had used as...

...NO. No, not this. He had played along, he had defended himself, but...

"Your throne, my Prince," one of the young men said.

Dr. Michael Morbius mentally groaned. Trapped in a role he had made real. Was this his own private Hell?

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Despite the name, Vampirella isn't a vampire, sort of like how not everyone named Frank is French. Close enough for most people, though. The discovery of a vampire club in New York filled her with an odd mixture of cynical amusement and groaning rue: sure, a vampire club for humans, why not? Perhaps they'd also like to go declare the shark tank a club and go swimming in it. Lord, what fools these mortals be.

    That should have been the end of it. It really should have. Stupid people getting what they ask for isn't her business or problem.

    But the idea persisted. She'd find herself thinking of it at odd moments, wondering if the club has gay nights, checking the website to see if her normal clothes are allowed under the dress code.

    Sometimes, an idea won't leave you alone. It grows, like an itch, and the only cure is to scratch it.

    So, a few weeks later, Vampirella shows up at the club in a short, sleeveless, red dress with black opera gloves, her normal boots, and panty hose (she can't remember if any human woman wears pantyhose these days, but she found an old egg in a dresser drawer and figured her legs would look better in that skirt if they were charcoal-colored). She made sure to deck herself in a lot of gold jewelry just to make the point, and walked into a sea of human scents prowled by several inhuman ones.

    She tries to ignore them. They're not her problem tonight.

    But she won't forget faces.

Michael Morbius has posed:
When it comes to creatures of the night, it is...something of a letdown. There is a very unique aesthetic here. Leather and lace, goth and steampunk, prim and proper to highly daring - there are a few women here wearing lace outfits that make Ella practically Victorian in comparison.

There are other signs. Fangs, red eyes, blood in chalices...only the reality is somewhat disappointing. Fangs made of dental acrylic. Colored contacts. "Blood" turning out to be regular drinks with red food coloring.

Even the conversations are...florid to the point of melodrama. Speaking of centuries of boredom, of visiting the Crucifixion (honestly, as many professing to be there, it would have looked like Woodstock), of a vague distaste of the here and now. All so very dramatic, but coming from people with no sign of being anything more than baseline human. An elaborate act, but for the most part, an act.

But there are a few murmurings of the new "Prince of New York," a title supposedly given to the 'vampire ruler' of the city. How the old Prince had been dethroned. Some whisper of him abdicating, some of him actually being given "the real death."

More melodrama...until the eyes fall upon this supposed "Prince."

He is not like the others. He wears more modern formal wear - crisp ironed suit, no tie for the button-down shirt, black slacks, formal shoes with rubber soles.
He is also not human. The pallor is not makeup, the eyes are not colored contacts. The fangs are real.
He is also not precisely a traditional vampire, not like the ones the Vatican hunt for. If anything, he is some sort of half-life...not truly dead, but almost hyper-alive.

And his look is of someone who seems to have no interest in the drama. He sits, ill at ease in the corner booth, looking on at those looking at him with respect with an almost incredulous bemusement.

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella glances at the crowd with a feeling too fatalistic to really count as disappointment. There's no one here she wants, but that's true of most places, so she lets that go and scans around for someone who at least looks interesting enough to go home with. Nothing catches her eye, though her gaze does land on the trio of vampires sitting in the corner booth...

    ...And their gazes land on her. Damn.

    One of the men detaches from the trio and starts approaching Vampirella purposefully. Vampirella has a choice to retreat or stand her ground, and while she's never minded retreating to a more private location to kill someone, this moron doubtlessly isn't going to try anything violent, which means it might be interesting to find out what he wants. She waits, blank-faced, for him to come to her and inform her, "The Prince is this way, youngling. You shall come and make your knee to him."

    Vampirella feels the old rage roll over in its sleep--she should kill him just for making vampires look bad by talking like that--but it goes quiet again and Vampirella, sourly amused, follows the man to the corner booth to meet the Prince of New York.

    She doesn't kneel.

Michael Morbius has posed:
The attendant moves to speak to the Prince. "Sire, she..."
The 'Prince' holds up a hand. "We have talked about this. We are dispensing with the previous policies of making complete strangers kowtow to me. If they wish to speak to me, that is their own damn business."
The attendant blinks. "But...the previous Prince..."
"Ran home to Indiana with his tail between his legs. So stop confusing me with the Pope and go harass your shadow or something."

The attendant blinks, but leaves quickly. The 'Prince' smiles apologetically. "I apologize for the...toxic mentality. The last Prince felt he needed to prop up his overinflated ego, and I only 'succeeded' him last night. Trying to change hearts and minds here."

He sits forward, then says, "My name is Morbius. And if you do not wish to sit and talk, you have no obligation to do so. But I would prefer some company, company I have no wish to compel."

Ella Normandy has posed:
    The smells of human sweat and people smoking clove cigarettes almost drowns it out from a distance, but this close, Vampirella can smell the wrongness in Morbius. She has no idea what it means, but makes a note not to drink his blood if she has to kill him; if a vampire has a curse, it will always be blood-transmitted. She smiles warmly at him to cover these thoughts as she drops to the far side of the booth and greets, "Hi, Morbius. Call me Draculina."

    Why did she say her sister's name? Never mind, focus.

    "What changes do you think hearts and minds need around here?"

Michael Morbius has posed:
Draculina? Oh, well, not the most out-there name he's heard. He's seen more Alucards, Carmillas/Mircallas/etc, Minas, ad infinitum, ad nauseum...

"First off, that a title without any power to it should barely be acknowledged. The last person to sit in this chair used it to make himself more important than he was. I sit here only because the stability is better to deal with than some level of anarchy. Things would get too troublesome. People would push, others would push back, and it would no longer be an acceptable haven to come to. So maybe there is some ulterior motive, but I have no interest in becoming some kind of ruling body. I'm a scientist, not a politician."

Ella Normandy has posed:
    A vampire concerned with population control. Interesting enough. It means he's not ruled by his hunger. "Hard to do with us," she observes mildly. "Especially with as many bodies as we leave behind."

Michael Morbius has posed:
Morbius gives Ella a sad smile. "Even if we don't consider the human cost in lives...in the days of smartphones, CCTV, and greater oversight, any self-respecting vampire wishing to leave the dead around because they can't control themselves deserves the painful wake-up call they deserve. I may have to subsist on human blood, but if one exercises control and foregoes the desire of the experience over sustenance, there are methods that don't involve risking innocent lives."

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella wants to shrug at the idea of innocence, so she nods instead and crosses her wrists on the table. "Sounds very enlightened," she offers.

Michael Morbius has posed:
Morbius takes a deep breath. He still has to do that, at least. "I like tto think of myself as a kind pragmatist. One mustr survive by their intellect, but their impulses. Training supercedes instinct, that is why it exists." He looks to Draculina, then says, "I try not to talk about myself too much. I'm not as interesting as people think. Why don't you tell me about yourself? Are you native to New York, or did you travel here from elsewhere?"

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella's a little surprised the accent didn't give her away, but then, maybe in a place like this he's used to people faking accents. She tries not to inwardly cringe at the thought. "I'm Polish," she lies without blinking or hesitation. "I came to this country to look for new opportunities. America has so many cities with so much wide space between them, a wise woman can find all the riches she needs." Yes, Morbius was talking about vampirism openly, but Vampirella's almost enjoying slipping into character now. "Have you spoken to many of us who are more than that?"

Michael Morbius has posed:
Morbius looks thoughtful. "One. But out of respect for them, I should probably not divulge any personal information about them without their permission." He smiles sympathetically. "I am sure you would not want me speaking out-of-turn to others about you without your consent. Common courtesy should be more common. I feel more comfortable sharing about myself than others, but I am not the sad poet most others here claim to be..."

Morbius glanced over and saw Victoria, a tall pale blonde wo was gazing longingly at him. He looked back to Draculina, a flash of pink disturbing the pallor. "Pardon me. I seem to be generating a following even as early in my 'reign' as it is..."

Ella Normandy has posed:
    "Of course," Vampirella says smoothly as she rises from her seat. "The two of you have some fun."