6010/A Chance Encounter

A Chance Encounter
Date of Scene:	21 April 2021
Location:	Metropolitan Museum of Art
Synopsis:	Lydia meets a vampire at a gala at The Met and they hit it off. Blake and Lydia escape the boring event to have a conversation in her limo.
Cast of Characters:	Lydia Dietrich, Blake Riviere

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Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Wednesday evening is an odd day to have a gala at the Met but this seemed to be the only day that they were able to get as a fundraiser for the International Child Art Foundation. Plus this is a chance for the museum to show off their new exhibition of Goya. A number of wealthy patrons are present at the scene, all milling about with their champagne and idle gossip. Present are Noah and Rachel Dietrich, wealthy socialites themselves being a rather high profile attorney and surgeon respectively.

Here, too is Lydia Dietrich. Their daughter. Who isn't high profile anything. While she /is/ a published author, her genre of choice is supernatural romance and is hardly a NYT top 10 bestseller. (That hasn't stopped a couple of the attendees from stopping her and embarrassingly admitting that they've enjoyed her books, however)

Lydia is dressed in an elegant emerald evening gown. The off the shoulder sleeves shows off befreckled shoulders, and the tight waist and billowing train really call attention to her waist and hips. Other things of note are Lydia's almost permanent expression of embarrassment for wearing the thing and her everpresent bioluminescent green aura of ectoplasmic mists that constantly surrounds her.

Blake Riviere has posed:
A fundraiser, a chance to mingle and a chance for charity. It tended to help with a little guilt now and then for Blake's time as a 'Bride' if she could make the world a better place now and then. That and well...high society types tended to be a treat if she decided to seek a meal here.

Black hair down, black backless dress and a necklace of several red stones matched to her necklace kept the pale vampiress' usual color tones while she moved through the gallery. Her eyes move over the gathering as much as the artwork, effortlessly moving theough the space.

The Hellfire club was one of the better places where she could be amused to her time as a noble...even if it was centuries ago.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
One's supposed to mingle at these events, right? Lydia has never really gotten the hang of mingling in these things. She always felt so out of place, especially after her mutation manifested. Still, it's hard for her to turn her parents down when they insisted on her coming to the charity gala, even though she knew that the only reason she's here is for her mom to hook her up with yet another guy.

So here she is, mingling. Occasionally saying 'Hi' to somebody before awkwardly moving on. Then somebody catches her eye. It isn't that she's beautiful, dark, and mysterious. That certainly helps, too. But it's the red eyes that capture her attention. Not many people have red eyes and the list of people who do is fairly short. Mutants, aliens, and vampires.

Deciding to see if she could subtly suss out which one of the three she is (and secretly hoping it's 'vampire') she walks up to her. "Hello," she says, smiling to hide her nervousness. "How're you enjoying the gala?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Was Blake beautiful because she was a vampire, or did she end up a vampire because she was beautiful? The thought had been pondered by the woman over more than one evening, but neither aspect seemed to hamper the other.

Often she's hide those red eyes, a practiced guise that simply made them appear blue to most, but the sight of something supernatural tended to trigger that flicker of a reflex, and Lydia was certainly a little less subtle than her.

Painted lips quirk into a smile even if there's no trace of fang and Blake smiles, turning her gaze towards Lydia and tilting her head to the side. "Hello there," she greets back, her soft accent carrying traces of french that she tended to hold back on a day to day...but places like this had her feeling closer to her life before eternity. "I am. It has quite a few lovely things to appreciate."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods, now doubting that herself. Once she had gotten closer to Blake, those captivating eyes shifted into something more normal. "I've always thought that Goya dealt exclusively in the grisly, but there's quite a few beautiful paintings in this collection. I'm surprised. I'm Lydia, by the way," she says, holding out a hand. Does she say anything about the eyes? Or would that be a faux pas.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Blake Riviere," the dark-haired woman speaks, smiling as she takes the offered hand and lifts it to her lips. An odd enough action, although perhaps not in this setting if performed by a male. Still, it's an innocent enough brush easily waved away as foreign custom before she lowers the hand and releases it, shrugging her mostly bared shoulders. "I have found myself interested in their little collection of Themysciran pieces. While I have seen the 'Wonder Woman' it is nice to get a peek at places most will never witness. There is always a charm to the exotic."

Lydia's own glow? It seems strangely unmentioned, and yet everything about Blake's body language suggested she was completely unbothered by such a display of the abnormal.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Oh my. As the lips brush her knuckles, Lydia's face heats up. She chides herself inwardly for being so useless in the face of beauty. She is a little surprised at the lack of reaction to her ectoplasmic glow. Usually when somebody enters the mists there's a bit of hesitation upon feeling the tingliness of it.

"Yes," she says. "I haven't wandered over to that area yet, but I've heard that Themysciran art is rather quite beautiful myself."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little nod, the Vampiress turns lightly, hands folding at her waist but a turn of her head clearly showing her gaze was on Lydia rather than the piece she was facing. "Forgive me for asking," the woman offers lightly, a little quirk of her lips suggesting humor. But what she -might- be expected to question doesn't quite match the words the come out. Apprently the 'mist' wasn't even broached. "It almost seems to me like you were avoiding the crowd, those that you came in with."

Just how long had she noticed the other woman for?

"Is there particular reason for you not wanting to mingle? Not that I have complaint of the company."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia chuckles awkwardly as she's called out. "Yeah. These kinds of things I just..." she shakes her head with a shrug. "I just feel kind of out of place, you know?" She gestures vaguely to where her parents are at (being all charming), "They're the ones who comes to these kinds of things. I just never felt at home doing it." She waves a hand through her ectoplasm, sending eddies whirling in its wake. "Especially because of this."

She lets out a deep sigh, "But I suppose enough of these people have seen it that they've gotten used to it by now, so I'm supposed to mingle. I never know what to talk about when mingling. You've got fancy lawyers and doctors, like my parents, and other super rich people who just seem to grow money out of trees and I write smutty supernatural romance books. Not a lot of common ground there."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little nod, Blake's eyes move towards the socialites. Did she know them? Know of them? Perhaps, but they're regarded with little interest. She was familier with the types, she could move among them, but...well they were somewhat comparatively boring when encountering the 'other's around here, especially with the current glowing girl. Giving a little laugh, a soft chuckle the woman nods, turning to face the other woman. "A writer?" she repeats, that grin returning as the artwork is lost as the focus of her attention. "That is far more interest than simply knowing how to spend money someone else has earned."

Still, the lament behind the other woman's eyes with the glow brings a lift of Blake's hand, one arm still resting across her own waist while the other lifts to gently lean her cheek into. Those soft blue eyes? They shift, irises shifting to that deep red while her lips remain in that smirk.

"Never be afraid to be a little different Lydia...it's far less boring."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I /knew/ it." Lydia says. Out loud. Oops, that was supposed to be the inside voice. She shakes her head, "Sorry," she says, her voice softer to make sure that only Blake can hear "I just... thought I saw it... your eyes... from across the room. I had to find out." She doesn't elaborate on /what/ she is trying to find out.

She shakes her head. "I'm not afraid to be different. I can't be anything other than me, and what I am is a mutant who's mutation I can't hide." She shrugs, as if this is an old argument to her, "I figured, when this first happened and I discovered I couldn't shut it off, that I might as well be proud of what I am. It's just this," she says, giving a limp wave to the room, "gets tiresome."

Blake Riviere has posed:
The apology is waved away, whatever the revealation that had caused Lydia to exclaim could be contemplated but it just added to the mystery of her in the end.

"It can be tiresome," she nods, a little shrug of her shoulders and a lazy drumming of her fingertips to her own cheek as those red eyes peer into Lydia's own. "But I at least hope that this encounter will make it slightly more interesting, no?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods. It looks like she's bursting to ask a question, but then second guesses herself because that question is, "Are you a vampire?" and that's not a question you really just /ask/ somebody you just met. "Are-" she stops herself from asking. Then she reconsiders. She can't believe she's going to ask this.

"Are you a vampire?" she asks, quietly, blushing furiously. "I mean, red eyes. I can only think of three things that could be and that's mutant, alien, or vampire, and I've met the first two before so I'm kind of hoping for the third," she explains in a rush.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Direct, even Blake can't help the little raise of her brow at that question even if it is paired with yet more of that little grin that seems a deliberate mix of confident and flirtatious.

Her answer? The woman leans in a little closer, a parting of her lips like she were going to say something discreetly. Instead, a hint of fang is revealed as they extent, an answer that renders the soft simple confirmation of "Yes," murmered moot.

"Lucky you then, non?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
A little squeal of glee escapes her before Lydia can get her hands up to her mouth to stifle the rest of the noise. And like that, the woman is 14 again. She blushes when she realizes her giddiness is all but spilling out of her for everyone to hear, her eyes darting left and right to make sure that nobody has heard her.

Assured that they are largely being left alone. "I have /so many/ questions," she confesses. "I've wanted to write a vampire romance for so long but I've held off because I /knew/ there were vampires out there and I wanted to be faithful, but not too faithful so somebody could use it as a guide to, like, murder you all." Her eyes dart around the room again. "But I don't think this is the right place to be asking those kind of questions."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A little lean back, the fangs are gone and the eyes are blue once more. The overly curious would gain nothing for peeking, but Blake once more lowers her arms to fold lazily at her midriff and shrugs her bared shoulders. "Just so. This place is too full of ignorant, distracted, petty people or those who would use what they might learn to their advantage. But... I must admit I am a lover of a good story. Perhaps you would find a little inspiration, and I would enjoy the company to converse candidly with."

A little glance past the woman, towards the crowd, then to the door. "But, if you wish to ask your questions tonight. We can go elsewhere. Otherwise? Well, I'm sure we could meet again..."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia's eyes glitter in excitement. "Let's.." she pauses and looks back over the crowd to spy her parents. "Yes. Let's blow this joint, as they say." Her attention turns back to Black with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I came with my parents so I'm going to go tell them that I'm leaving with somebody. Not going to say who, though. Let my mom wonder who the lucky man is tonight."

She quickly hustles off to find her parents, who are busy schmoozing with one of the congressmen of New York. There's a quick conversation, and her mother looks around as if expecting to find the young man Lydia is talking about before turning her attention back to her daughter. Some more is said and presently Lydia breaks off and returns to Blake.

"Okay. That's taken care of. Let's get out of here."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Whatever amusement Blake might have at Lydia's antics is hidden, an aside as she watches the exchange with the knowledge of what joy the young socialite was getting out of the mind game they were playing with their parents. Still, soon enough they were reuinted and Blake gestures for Lydia to follow. At some point it seemed the vampiress had retrieved the a smartphone from the small purse she'd kept lazily resting in one of her gloved hands while they'd conversed and apparently had put it to use when the pair stepped out to find a limousine with noticably tinted windows awaiting. Flashier than most, but appropriate for the occasion, and the driver was someone whom she trusted to be discrete.

"Let us go for a little drive then, and you may ask your questions."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia really shouldn't be so impressed by a limo, but she can't believe how many vampire romances start this way and /now this is happening to her/. Not that she and Blake are madly in love, mind you (though the thought of having a vampire lover does make her swoon) just that... she gets to experience this first hand, which means that somewhere in the back of her mind, she's cataloguing everything.

She gets let into the limousine first, scooching back to give Blake plenty of room to get in. Once they're all settled in and the limo is on the way she leans forward eagerly. "So," she begins with probably the most obvious question, "How old are you?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Easily folding herself into the car, Blake takes her seat, folding her hands into her lap and smoothing her dress out neatly. Every motion, every bit of herself she presented practiced and perfect. That question about her age however? That makes the vampiress laugh softly and lean back just a little. "Ordinarily, that would be a rude question, no?" she teases lightly before lifting a hand, touching it to her lips in a moment of consideration.

"I was born in the sixteen-hundreds, in Europe. In an area that would now be considered 'France'."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods, her eyes taking in every aspect of the vampire before her. "That would explain the accent, though I'm pretty sure that France existed as a nation back then. Or are you talking about an area that wasn't part of France at the time but now is?" She leans back and blows a stray lock of curly brown hair that has managed to snake it's way out of the loose bun that Lydia had tied her hair into. "I wish I had my notebook with me," she mutters to herself, trying to quiet her fidgeting hands which wants to be writing this down so badly.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"There was war, struggles, kingdoms. The lands of France are not exactly the same. But then perhaps that is just nostalgia talking." A little shift, the mention of her accent earns a laugh and her tone switches, that French accent drifting to a 'Queen's english' that almost certainly suited the image of some wealthy socialite. "I have spent most of the last fifty years playing the part of another identity, it is only recently that I began to let my accent slip through, after reconnecting with someone dear to me."

Then again, how recent was 'recent' to her.

The lament of the notebook earns a shrug. "I imagine you cannot fit all your questions on your arm or a napkin. Would you prefer another time?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia laughs in embarrassment, "Yeah. That's probably for the best. That way I can be in something a little more comfortable and a bit more me." She chuckles, "Believe me, I'm not usually so elegant." She opens up the little emerald purse that she had and pulls out her phone. Waking it up, she opens up the contacts and scrolls to her own entry, and turns the phone around to show Blake. "Here's my contact information. I'm self employed so I'm pretty much free whenever."

Blake Riviere has posed:
The details are absently noted down, seemingly typed into Blake's own phone with ease and a smile. Of course she'd direct the driver to take Lydia home, she wasn't about to kidnap a socialite and she tended to prefer willing meals anyway, so the vampiress simply tucks the phone away with a smile. "Well then Lydia. I will look forward to our next little chat..."