3952/Coffins are too last century!

Coffins are too last century!
Date of Scene:	27 October 2020
Location:	Blake's Townhouse hideaway
Synopsis:	Slips breaks into Blake's home and discovers the vampiress is still there. Tension abounds and yet blood is unspilled and questions are shared. Things could certainly have gone worse!
Cast of Characters:	Blake Riviere, Slips

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Blake Riviere has posed:
Most people tended to enjoy the nightlife, but the reality of the world was that plenty of people were more likely to be out of their home during the day and the first hours of the evening. Often that meant the canny burgler would make their move during the day, early evening or perhaps simply chance moving about while people were asleep. Certainly the last could be done easily enough by the talented around most people. Of course, Blake Riviere wasn't like most people. She wasn't even like most -Vampires- after all.

Still, some habits died hard and even if the sun didn't burn her as it might some 'cousins' it could still be uncomfortable dealing with bright light to acute senses, so it was only as the sun was setting that the woman finally stirred.

Centuries had passed since the days of castles and towers, and for all their grandour the plae raven-haired woman was perfectly happy with the luxury of the modern townhouse. Stretching her arms over her head as she climbed from her large but otherwise perfectly normal bed, Blake made her way towards the windows of the second story room without bothering to turn the lights on.

Slips has posed:
After shedding her wealth for the umpteenth time, reseting the game board, it's time to go on the hunt; Slips needs to pay rent.  She's been here...she doesn't know how many times before, and unlike a lot of thieves, Slips doesn't have to be all that worried about witnesses if things go sour.

So it is that she's walking down the street, enjoying the golden rays as they shift toward their usual bouquet of colors.  She recites an old schoolyard tune from the 19th century, pointing to each residence in an eeny-meeny fashion as she strolls along.

"We have a winner."  Ducking out of sight, Slips sheds her Arya Joshi persona.  A white mask almost looks like it hinges down over her changing face as her body slims down to a more androgynous, almost masculine frame more resembling the body of a small parkour practitioner.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EVxK3bdXYAIr52s?format=jpg (without the beard)

Slips reaches upwards, a crowbar seeming to grow longer and longer from where she suddenly grips it to pull down the fire escape ladder.  The crowbar slides back into herself and she climbs, light footed and sure in a crouch, further minimizing her stealth footprint.  Ah, /the/ window.

POP!  Slips straightens up suddenly like a teen terrorizing his little brother, wholly unaware of Blake's presence.

Blake Riviere has posed:
That first immersion in the city's bombardment of stimuli was always quite the thing. Pulling back the heavy curtains was like emerging from underwater when those first sounds of cars, passers-by and revellers hit her inhuman senses. Once it had been overwhelming, now it was invigorating. Not to mention a little distracting, certainly enough so that the rhymes and murmers of the shapeshifter weren't going to register to her.

Letting out a little sigh, the vampiress inhaled deeply those first few breaths of the night air before she turned her way back to the walk-in robe. Even now, a lack of need had her skipping the normal step of turning lights on and offering that potential warning to Slips that the house wasn't quite so empty as it might appear. Unseen danger...that was currently busy changing out of its pyjamas!

Slips has posed:
If you shoot from the hip blind enough, you're going to hit something.  Lucky.  That's how Slips manages to avoid being seen, but luck only stretches so far.  That she knows intimately.  None the wiser of Blake's presence yet, the master thief jimmies a thin flexible bit of metal, shifting it between the zigzag shape as she moves it along the edges to catch the lock mechanism.  The metal hardens further into cold-pressed steel and she unlatches the window before slooowly opening the window and climbing in.  Trained in the arts of ancient infiltrators, she feels most at home bathed in shadow...always hidden when she shifts.

Looking around at her most immediate surroundings as they start to soak up the moon, she picks up on the decor.  A woman.  Perfect.  There's only one place she needs to go.  She checks the kitchen and living room for a purse.  Voila.  A grin as she shifts her weight to the side, and leisurely goes through the wallet.  Curiously, she grabs the id first and pockets it.  Then she materializes a mag reader to clone any cards.  Everything gets put back right where it was, save for the ID of course.

The last target Slips knows is the bedroom, where she finds herself slipping into as quietly as possible to see if the owner is taking a nap.

Blake Riviere has posed:
There were a few luxuries, appliances and the odd antique, but Blake's home wasn't littered with ancient museum pieces or vaults of old gold. Such things were so much harder to move, and immortality didn't mean that a bank account or a vault in Switzerland somewhere wasn't a perfectly servicable option. Besides, most people trying to lay low most of the time didn't really want to hang photographs or centuries old paintings of themselves in the living room.

The rifling through posessions might seem strange, if only for the things they lack. Certainly there was a bank card or two, even a 'rewards' card for a local food chain, but strangely enough no keys were in sight. Then again, not everyone in the city drove. Blake had Ariah for that, and she still found automobiles to be...uncomfortable if only for the fact she could handle them no better than any mortal.

The bedroom was dark, the lights of the night only offering a glimpse of the room to eyes with normal ranges of sense. Yet a stray beam angled as Slips moved deeper into the room in search of Jewelry and whatever other posessions offered a startling warning: the bed was unmade and empty.

Luck had carried Slips this far, but the shadows cast from the walk-in robe were suddenly broken by the form of the woman dressed for her evening, pale hands currently in the process of securing her locks back with the usual red ribbons. Eyes move, she turns and there's a tilt of her head. Oh yes, Blake -saw- slips in the dark. She knew they were there.

Slips has posed:
The empty bed and total lack of lights tells Slips one thing.  No one leaves their purse and wallet at home, even here.  The woman must know Slips is here.  This is when things usually get dicey for the homeowner given how quickly things escalate in preemptive self defense.  So naturally, Slips does things like opening any doors which could have a human behind them indirectly.

Slips isn't just here for the money.  She absorbs little details, any detritus of life and here, perhaps lack thereof like someone going shopping for a personality.  A moment of deja vu?  Slips head lifts from where she's crouched, hands-deep in a drawer.  She freezes and then slooowly turns to search out Blake's figure.  At which point she just lifts a hand and waves from the wrist.  Cheeky test.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Most people's response when realise their house was broken into would probably be panic. That or running for the nearest firearm, heavy object or otherwise. Blake? She does none of those things. Instead, that lifting hand and wave simply garner's a raise of her brow before the woman folds her arms and...laughs. A legitimate, genuine and almost certainly unnerving giggle comes from her painted lips as she's confronted with a home invader.

The last time this happened? There were pitchforks and torches involved after all.

"I do not think you will find much of value in my underthings," she speaks, voice carrying a noticable French note to it's accent. "Rather rude to venture in uninvited, even in this country."

Slips has posed:
A grin peels back her lips, but as the mutant registers that unnerving slant of Blake's expression, her own turns sardonic.  Nearly liquid black eyes gleam back.  This is /play/.  As if giving the other woman a handicap or just maintaining distance, the thief stays where she is.

"That's what you think."  Eww?  Did-possibly.  It is true that people commonly hide their things amongst objects they think thieves won't go through, and it's almost always the sock and/or underwear drawer.  But, Slips did smirk.

"You don't sound too upset."  Her own accent is American at the moment.

Blake Riviere has posed:
In the dark those eyes should be impossible to spot, unnerving but easily a trick of shadow. For Blake however? It was plain as day, and one heck of an indicator that her nocturnal visitor wasn't human. Good, then she didn't have to play quite so nice. There was certainly a note of humor to be found there, and one she was happy to bask in as the woman stepped forward, dressed in the leather pants and dark low-cut shirt that probably suggested she'd intended a night of clubbing or similar.

Her lips shift to a grin, but it's her eyes that would seem the most unnerving; drifting to an inhuman and luminous red as her fangs slowly extended.

"Oh, I'm upset enough that someone would steal for me...but I can't help but find it a little funny, someone sneaking into -my- bedroom in the middle of the night." She steps now, slow and purposeful but hardly superhuman. "I wonder if the valuables you've managed to pocket truely seem worth it?"

Slips has posed:
Thinking she is safe enough in the shadows from this seemingly shady mortal, Slips freely gives the woman an up-down-up when she steps closer.  At least until the other woman's eyes light up.  Slips has lived oh so long enough to know that people who have glow in the dark eyes, especially of a nefarious color...are going to be a lot more fun.  Her heart kicks up a notch, pulse nearly thrumming with anticipation and the delectable adrenaline that always comes with fear and danger.  These are things that are hard to come by for the long-lived thief.  A currency of feeling.

Registering what the other woman is, Slips instinctively rises and backs up, not willing to turn her back to the woman as she stares at those fangs.  "Oh...You're making it worth even more."  She laughs more.  Perhaps nerves?  Perhaps not.  It's a jolly thing though.

Soon enough, Slips backs into the wall, the sudden reveal possibly throwing her off her game a bit, but she doesn't present any signs of super speed or anything that might quickly turn the tables yet.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Sport it seemed was something the thief was seeking. A thief for thrills? She'd met such before, but those women had been talented humans and little more. This was...interesting. Another step forwards, she moves towards and thief with a tilt of her head.

"So tell me," Blake speaks, shrugging her shoulders. "You do not have my TV under your arms, nor are you rattling with silverware...so are you going to tell me what you've taken?"

Slips has posed:
"Hot TVs sell for hardly anything.  They're only good as gifts.  Wait, did you have silver?"  Slips stands her ground, her eyes never leaving those red ones.  There's a moment where she wonders if the old stories were real.  If these creatures of the night can mesmerize.

"You'll never find it, and you'll never guess."  Slips peels back a portion of a sudden flap in the fabric about her torso to reveal more fabric and a whole host of pockets.  Everything is white save for a red cape that reaches down to her waist.  Such colors, it's as if she's mocking her victims.  She has a penchant for the risky, that much is clear, but what isn't is her inability to resist the temptation of something that is difficult to steal, even the mundane.  But Slips has warrens of motivations.

"Do you have anything to lose?"  The thief smiles underneath the mask, the mirth shaping her eyes and leaving her with her hands down in a non threatening position to force Blake to initiate.

Blake Riviere has posed:
The stories area mixed bag, many of them are...outright wrong. Running water doesn't harm her, silver didn't burn her and Blake didn't need an invitation to enter a building. Some however, were a little closer to the mark. Those faintly glowing eyes do indeed take in the outfit change, the pockets, but they're swift to return to meeting the gaze of the thief unbroken while she exhales a breath.

"No..." her voice comes, practically a purr as it seemed to carry some strange and intoxicating weight behind it. "But you're going to return it..."

Slips has posed:
Slips always made a point to avoid any rumblings and superstitions of otherwordly creatures.  She's lived enough centuries to know there really are monsters that stalk at night.  Not just the kind she finds herself facing now.

The shapeshifter tilts her head in a delayed response to the command, breathing a little more heavily as her hand slowly moves toward her torso where a card seems to push its way out effortlessly like it was traveling through mercury.  She takes it and tries to move past Blake.

Blake Riviere has posed:
The good news is the constant push of the mental influence falls away. It might linger a little, but it didn't push further forwards or try to hold the mesmerization further.

The bad news? Blake was suddenly a hell of a lot closer, reaching to pluck the card back into her hand and turn it over. Her ID? That has her offering a little click of her tongue. "Identity theft? That truely is a new one..."

Slips has posed:
"I'm supposed to return it!" Slips insists with a sudden streak of earnestness revealed by the mesmerization before it fades.  She stops, not pushing through, those dark eyes blink behind the mask, closing dark, opening green.

"If I wanted just to steal your identity, I'd have just paid a hacker."  Of course Slips is referring to modern forms of the crime.  "I'm not one of those petty hacks."  She lifts her chin slightly.  Everything she steals has a purpose, a message, a way of learning people.  There's a fire in those eyes.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Money?" Blake questions, tucking the card down her shirt for lack of pockets with her current attire. She wasn't wearing a jacket after all! "Or is it trophies? Momentos for the 'fun' of it?"

The question was asked, but it wasn't compelled by the influence of her gaze this time. "What brought about this little visit?"

Slips has posed:
Slips' eyes follow where the card is stowed.  Her head canted to the side, she considers Blake for a palpable moment. "Once upon a time, but that doesn't mean much to me.  I've had fortunes.  I've left fortunes behind," for others, but this isn't revealed.  Slips continues her obtuseness.  "Some trophies."

"Some memories," Slips says softly.  It's an odd thing living in the skin of others.  Maybe the rigors of it have driven her here, to talk to a stranger about such secrets she's kept hidden for so long.  An embrace of the fatalistic, she thinks.  I must be mad.  The few that think they know Slips would agree.  "And I suppose you drink blood?"  A cavalier attempt at shifting focus like intelligent prey in the final throes of survival before their death dance commences.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Talk of time and lost fortunes is actually one easily appreciated, but not one commented on. It wasn't really worth interupting after all, but the question asked of her? The vampiress offers a soft little chuckle and raises a hand to her own cheek, resting it against her palm while she sweeps her finger across her lips.

"Of course I do," she offers with a shrug of her bare shoulders with casual fact. "As surely as most eat food, I feed on blood."

Slips has posed:
Although Slips' mouth isn't easily visible, her swallowing before Blake speaks.  For someone who was trying to keep her cards held close, she isn't doing a very good job around this vampire even without any powers at work, and she knows it.  "Live prey or blood banking it?"  Despite her heart rate, she somehow isn't shaking or having troubles speaking like nothing is going on.

"Can you detect my heartbeat?"  Slips finally asks.  She has training to calm her body and a neat little trick to make her prodigious at the thieve's guild which she demonstrates as her heartbeat instantaneously drops down to a normal resting heart rate.  Blake hasn't hurt her and with the time, the danger has dulled some, so the heart rate remains steady.

Blake Riviere has posed:
It was likely to be a memorable evening regardless of the outcome, a randomly chosen house resulting in question time with a vampire. Still, it was an interesting enough exchange for blake as she leaned her hip against the doorframe, keeping those ominous eyes on Slips.

"Live prey generally," she answers, lips quirking to a smirk at the obvious danger in such conotations. "Generally from the willing. Almost never to the last drop." Of course, generally and 'almost never' weren't absolutes either.

The heartbeat? She simply nods, leaving it uncertain if it were truth or merely bluff.

Slips has posed:
Slips realizes she steamrolled her own experiment she intended to devise the truth of the heart beat quandary and rolls her eyes, feeling all sorts of uneven keel.  Instead of struggling with it, she just lets it go, rides the wave of the moment, her grin probably visible now from the angle change.

"Wait a second.  Someone's like, 'Want to go grab a burger?' and you're all, 'I'd rather suck your blood please?'"  It throws her for a loop, trying to think of how this exchange might go down, especially with someone who isn't aware that vampires exist or has been raised on a solid diet of vampire flicks.  "Tell me you have better game than me.  I'd make a terrible vampire," she says with a slight open-mouthed grin, amusement and curiosity sparking up in her eyes again as she leans back against the wall casually.  It's the dangerous questions that stir her.  Though she's not sure why she hasn't just dove through the window at this point.  Just that provides even more motivation to investigate.  It's a wonder she hasn't met some untimely end in this life yet.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Generally no," Blake moves now, shifting back now and moving to sit down on the edge of her bed while she continues to speak. No more inhuman speed, no blurring movement or anything superhuman save the eyes, but her gaze remains on the would-be thief as if she expects the other woman to take the chance and bolt for it, the door or indeed the window she'd opened. Perhaps she was deliberately moving herself out of the path, to see if Slip's nerve would break and she'd flee.

"Although thanks to the fictions of today, that may well work in some circles. Funny how the world moves, no?" The accented woman chuckles, a shrug of her shoulders once more. "Generally, it is under the guise of a more...romantic encounter. It is easy to cloud the mind and memory, and the experience is...pleasent, be it by some magic or biology." She smirks, tilting her head the other way. "Truth told, could you be certain that any hazy memory of a one-night stand or stranger in a club wasn't simply fiction of a mind filling the blanks?"

Slips has posed:
Slips belies how aware she is as her head doesn't move but her eyes track the vampire.  She doesn't once look to the window or the door.  She knows where they are, and she doesn't want to telegraph any sudden movements.  Is she just this confident?  Or is she resigned?

"Indeed. I'm definitely going to try that pickup line," the thief snickers at the look on the imaginary mark's face.  "Doesn't that get confusing?  Or do you just not do attachments."  It's not every day Slips gets to ask a vampire questions, and she doesn't seem to care that Blake has probably been asked all of these things truly countless times.  "The mind clouding or the other part is pleasant?  For who?"  Slips knows exactly what Blake was communicating.

"Well if you're doing it right, it is," a fiction. "If you remembered something it would be remembered through the lenses of beer-tinted goggles," or other ones.  "That's what makes it so fun."  There's a continuing theme, a flirtation with death.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Confusing?" Blake repeats, a raise of her eyebrow given with a little smile. That second half of the question however has her laughing softly and shaking her head. "No, not at all. If all I am looking for is a meal, then it is no more confusing than finding a dining partner, or perhaps a dance partner for an evening. If I were wanting more? A true romance with sharing of blood included? It's...likely to be more deliberate than confusing I would hope."

More questions asked, more questions answered. Perhaps the exchange amused Blake, or perhaps she simply had no intention of letting Slips leave after the information was shared. Both could be true, truely it was a 'flirtation with death'.

"Both," she offers simply. "Mind clouding could have someone relaxed. But the bite itself? Well...there's a reason people surrender rather than struggle."

The hand at her cheek? It lowers to her lap to fold lightly. "As for me? Well, most creatures enjoy attending to their biological needs, no?"

Slips has posed:
"Hmm."  Each question reveals more of the threat to her person, but each question also a clever procrastination.  Slips shifts her weight to the leg closest to the window, which would be her quickest escape at this time.  "I guess it's not so magical," she says with a jovial laugh.

"You make it sound peaceful."  Without any firsthand knowledge, it's hard for her to see it for what it might actually be.  "For your food at least.  I don't know that I would call eating delectable foods and bathroom breaks attending to my biological needs...or always enjoyable."  She leans forward slightly, her hands back behind her against the wall as her legs are kicked out slightly like some weird version of a restless kid tipping their chair.      Kinesthetic habit.  Her eyes are nearly black again.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"There are other biological needs most are more fixated on these centuries," Blake points out, but she lets the words fade and instead makes to lean forwards, raising her eyebrow. "So tell me, my little creeping shadow. You came for my belongings, now you've gained knowledge...perhaps you'll share a little of your own?"

A tilt of her head, she smirks lightly. "Your name perhaps? Or just what it is that you are? You certainly don't look like any succubi, flesh-eater or vampire I've met after all."

Slips has posed:
"True," Slips says with another grin.  "True."  She chuckles lightly at the thought that she didn't even put that need in the list.  A no brainer.

A sly grin plays at the thief's lips at Blake turning the questioning around, or perhaps because of her gained knowledge, or maybe she's just insane and enjoying a vampire's company before she gets gobbled up.  Might as well live for the now.

"Slips.  I am a shapeshifter.  I do not know what I am by today's standards.  I guess one of these mutants everyone is obsessing over."  It's not her only power, but it's the easiest one for Slips to explain, aside from being a Quick Study which she fails to mention.

"How unpleasant was the small talk with a flesh-eater?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Shapeshifting was something Blake could understand rather well, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead the explaination is taken with a nod and little more. The name however, that brings a little chuckle if only for it's uniqueness. But the vampiress instead lifts the hand from her lap with a dismissive wave at the question of the 'flesh-eater'.

"It was decidedly brief, I assure you."

Making to stand, the ID she'd stashed had offered a name, but it was yet another falsehood, one of the many she'd been offered for concealing her longevity as part of a particular exchange. "Well, despite what you had read, you may call me 'Blake'. The name 'Mia Karstein' is a useful, if somewhat humorous one that makes it easier to avoid certain questions."

Slips has posed:
Slips straightens up at being rewarded for her honesty when Blake reveals her alias and still tells the thief, presumably, a real name.  There is no honor among thieves, but Slips does believe in an honest trade, if deserved.  An alias for an alias, something she's never done before.  "You can find me by another name.  Arya Joshi.  She's useful."  To Slips, Arya is a person of sorts.  She has her own tastes, goals, pet peeves, and Slips brings them to life.

"Blake.  I like it...Anything else you want to ask me?  Since I asked plenty more than you," Slips offers.  Slips has above average human intelligence, but it takes her this long to put two and two together to come to a more educated conclusion.  Blake is dressed to go out, but she hasn't left, and Slips is like a bird that ran into a door for the cat.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A nod, the name was easily enough commited to memory and Blake makes to move...only it's her that's headed for the window rather than the door. "Not tonight," she offers, giving a little chuckle. "As useful as it might be, I was not looking to 'eat at home' tonight."

There's a pause, lasting only as long as it takes her to finally tie her hair back in place properly after she'd been interupted by the incursion, then she's left to smile at Slips. "Instead, I'll ask you to leave...and ensure you consider taking from someone else tonight. After all, now that we've had such a pleasent chat? I might take being robbed more personally..."

Slips has posed:
"Okay."  Tentative.  Slips stays where she is, seeing what Blake is up to with her unexpected trajectory.  "I appreciate it."  As intrigued as the shapeshifter is, and even though her power affords her more survivability than the average human, she's pretty sure a vampire could suck her dry.  Plus, she just met Blake.

Slips rocks back and forth between her two feet like a kid in a church choir.  She settles.  "Okay, but, can I ask you?  Can I have something instead?"  Like an itch needing to be scratched.  "It doesn't need to be anything important to you."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Can she keep something? That actually brought a pause, a moment of consideration and perhaps confusion. Of course, Blake was technically 'of' Magic, but she was no witch or sorceress. She knew belongings could be used for dangerous things, the more important they were? The stronger the 'link' to be used. Ariah had explained that much to her in the past, let along her encounter with the 'Doctor'. Even so, there comes a quirk of her lips and she turns, stepping sidelong into the bathroom for a moment only to return a moment later and toss something towards Slips.

Lipstick, the tube yet to be opened and the red clearly matched for her own pale complexion. Easily replaceable, lacking the risks of magical harm...yet still something removed that was 'her' none the less.

"There you go. Perhaps I'll consider asking for a favor returned, should we meet again."

It was only now that she returned to her nightstand, reaching and retrieving her phone of all things. Centuries old Vampire, but still one couldn't beat some of the utilities of modern living. "My ride will be here shortly. Seems it is time for you to go."

Slips has posed:
Slips catches the tube and holds it up to look at as she steps to the window to get a better look.  It is very insignificant, but it will start her new collection nicely, and what significance it has, Slip's assumes Blake chose it and there a sliver of a reflection of her.

The thief closes her fingers around the tube of lipstick.  "Thanks..."  She assesses Blake at her comment of the favor.  "Fair enough."  She takes the remaining steps to the window and looks back, "Have a good evening," before unlatching the lock and disappearing through.  She leaves it open, expecting Blake to have to come and close it, which allows her to wave before climbing down the stairs on one side quickly instead of taking them all the way down the lame way.  She's the loudest when she hits the pavement, dropping into a roll as she shifts into something else entirely.  Street clothes, Indian descent.  She Willy Wonka's out of the roll and strolls on out to the open street as if nothing ever happened.