9400/World of Insufficient Light meets Daughter of Fire

World of Insufficient Light meets Daughter of Fire
Date of Scene:	01 January 2022
Location:	Fangtasia
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Satana Hellstrom, Blake Riviere

---

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh how darling!"

Barely clad in revealing leather, though covered by a long leather duster, Satana slips the sunglasses down from her eyes as she passes by the club while out for her evening stroll through the sin pot that is Hell's Kitchen.

"A place for all the wannabe vampires to come and prance around pretending to be soulless monsters."

The sunglasses get shoved back up onto her face as she regards the club. Glancing down at herself she frowns briefly. "More Matrix than vampire, but I'll make this work." And make it work she does ... by growing herself some fangs in the time that it takes to cross the street, and turning her eyes scarlet to match her hair.

The twin 'horn' cowlicks stubbornly remain in place, to her intense ... amused irritation.

Stepping inside she pauses to take in the ambience ... while waiting for service.

"I wonder how many of the real kind are in this place, or if they run away screaming from it all...?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
An answer surely to come shortly after she'd recieved her invitation. Intermingling with the 'false' crowd had always been amusing for Blake, if not an amazingly simple way to get herself a meal if she was feeling peckish, but well...did this cross the line?

The vampiress, wrapped in her little black dress of choice for tonight with its red trim and that ribbon choker even had one side of her hair pinned back with a small red 'bat' hairpin, a little joke with herself or perhaps a genuine appreciation for the article? Hard to know exactly.

Attempts at making the club look like a castle from a time she'd literally lived in was...a mixed bag. Luxury, gothic but...Blake couldn't help but chuckle softly. Brighter colors had always been a mark of nobility, there had been a lot more blue than black when she had been a bride.

Catching the statement from the woman who decidedly didn't smell like a vampire -and- was a face she knew, the woman tilts her head. "If those books didn't scare them off, I imagine they will survive."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The shades point Blake's way as she speaks and Satana's face registers pleased, surprised recognition. "Why you're ... Thomas' friend ... Blake, right?" she asks, purrs practically, as she walks straight past the server without so much as giving him (or her ... it's hard to tell behind all the frills and makeup) recognition as existing.

Want to replicate old noble times? Get used to being ignored if you're the help...

"Well, fancy meeting you in a place like this!" she continues, sitting down at Blake's side without bothering with small things like permission or such. "What do you, an expert, think of the place? Is it as authentic as it screams itself to be?"

The sputtering server, trying to keep up with the long strides of the demoness finally gets to the table. Then Satana notices her (or him--hard to say, as mentioned earlier). "Oh, yes. Uh ... in keeping with the theme of the place, I'll have a pint of blood. Does that come in a bag for intravenous or is it served au naturel in a goblet?"

"We ... don't serve blood ...?"

"Oh, how disappointing. Well, then, bring me something delightfully, positively SINful that could pass as blood then."

"Well we've got the Orloff Cockt..."

"Yes, whatever. Bring it."

Satana looks away from the server back at Blake, making it clear that she (or he) has been dismissed to do her bidding. "So, tell me, how have things been? We've lost touch since Thomas went to Africa."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Friend was likely a simplification or an overestimation, but Blake's shoulders shrug and she raises an eyebrow. Her drink was in progress, but the scent of it was entirely not actually blood. If they really -did- serve it here? She probably wouldn't have gone for it anyway. Drinking stored blood from a cup felt...depleted. A cheapened experience perhaps?

"It's an attempt," Blake muses, "And these days it's probably more accurate than people would like to admit. Culture evolves, image adapts. They didn't exactly have miniskirts and chokers like this in the 13th century, but well...who doesn't hold onto things they like?"

The question of 'Things' earns a soft chuckle, the vampiress watching the server scurry away with a musing of if her own drink was to be forgotten before she answers the other woman. "Well enough. I live, find what fun and interest I can out in the world day or night. It's what one makes of it."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"And that is the attitude that makes the world a wonderful place!" Satana says, nodding approvingly as she lounges back and looks around the decor. "You know, I've been thinking of turning the hotel into a Hell-themed place with flaming torture pits, etc. I wonder how that would work as an attraction. I mean the flaming torture pits would really be just a sauna ... unless a particular guest really pissed me off. The lakes of boiling blood would be some kind of red-tinged gloopy stuff that the silly creatures just love to bathe in while the boiling is simulated by pressured air. Again not including the ones that piss me off."

There's a hint in her mannerisms that she's pretty easy to piss off, mind...

"And the lust havens. That would be the moneymaker. I can get some helpers from home and we'd positively clean up in that line of work. What do you think? Could the Griffin do with a Hellish makeover?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
"I mean, I think most attempts at simulating such things are usually devolved into leather, bondage and red bodypaint..." Blake muses aloud, a little lift of her hand as the server arrives, her drink claimed without so much as looking to the poor human who was almost certainly wanting to escape the pair (or perhaps just Satana) as quickly as possible.

"I have never been to the Griffin myself, but I'm sure your own 'expert opinion' would help you in your creative decisions." A beat, her lips quirk to a smirk. "I have a preference for this a little...finer."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Well that's the genius of my plan," Satana says, and her face is poker serious. Impossible to tell if she's joking. "I have access to the real deal, so no need to emulate. I'll use real imps as service staff. Real succubi as ... entertainment. Real fiends as enforcers. Nobody will come out thinking it's just a cheaply done facsimile."

Satana takes a sip from her Orlov Cocktail, frowning and peering at it. "I don't understand why people use so much grenadine in their drinks. Less is more." She shakes her head and puts the drink down on the table.

"So, aside from hanging out in here where ..." Her eyes stray across the room to someone who stands out in her sight as not belonging. "... humans play at being you, and some of you ..." She licks her lips briefly as she stares at the tall, muscular man whose pale skin doesn't appear to involve makeup. Dressed in Regency finery no less. "... play at being them, have you been involving yourself in the little war with the doggies at all?"

Her eyes turn back to regard Blake.

"I've become allied, peculiarly, with a 'coven' of 'death dealers' who have been giving me waves of climaxes in their eagerness to use a weapon I enchanted for them. It's been quite a lucrative little arrangement."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Real Succubi? Doesn't sound like the best way to get repeat customers..." she muses aloud, obviously left entertained by the thought of just how often Satana might have to dispose of a husk or two, but the next question brings a pause, a soft little chuckle from Blake.

"War with the wolves, war with each other..." her hand lifts her glass to her lips before she gestures to her chest with the other. "I tend to keep out of things like that when I can, and deal with them ruthlessly when I cannot. Most of the clans, covens and families tend to leave me alone. It was the very reason the one that attacked your Thomas was so...concerned when she realised who I was."

Talk of the weapon however has Blake chuckling, leaning forward and resting her hand on the table. "I wouldn't have thought you so easy to please, but perhaps that was foolish of me."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The grin that Satana offers is a little bit sheepish. And a little bit wicked. As is her nature. The latter part, that is.

"Well, you see, the gun has been enchanted such that those who are hit by its bullets have their souls siphoned to me," she explains, tinkering with her too-sweet drink without actually imbibing. "And ... let's just say that as a succubus, there's a certain ... link. Physiological. Between my libido and my feeding."

She chuckles then, self-deprecatingly.

"I wasn't expecting the gun to be used with such ... fervour. The first time she used it, I was watching an opera. My poor date must have thought I was a true lover of opera the way I was squirming and ... leaking."

A wink then leaves Blake to think through the implications.

"One fight ... and I was satiated for two months. It was quite a mind-blowing experience."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"It is not so strange, feeding and...sensation. For both those that are fed upon and those that would do the feeding. Biological urges sated and..." she smirks, a little quirk of those painted lips but not a hint of fang. "You could likely never imagine what it felt like to feel feeding untempered. I pace myself, just enough to get what I need without breaking the 'source'. I suppose you'd be quite familier with the idea."

Still her drink is set aside now, either less appealing in taste or simply not as interesting as company.

"But still, why bring it up. Hoping I'll take a weapon of my own to 'thrill' you Satana? I'm afraid I'm one who prefers to work with her own hands."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Well, yes, the thought had crossed my mind. I mean the particular vampire in question is a gun slinger, but I can do similar things on knives. Thomas has one of those, in fact. Or swords or ... well, anything that causes exsanguination, really."

Satana hazards another sip of her drink.

"But also there's another purpose to mentioning it. I haven't paid much attention to your sanguinary types. You don't really cross paths with me and vice versa, so it's never been a priority. The closest I've had to conflict with you as a group was a short negotiation with a half-breed of your kind, rather like I'm a half-breed of mine, where we agreed to hunt in a given area in alternating weeks so we didn't cull our herd too much."

Satana makes a face, then, staring at her drink. "Why?" she wonders aloud before waving the server over. "Toss this and bring me something that isn't designed to appeal to the tastes of toddlers. Something with some complexity to the flavour, and not so much sugar that it drowns out all other flavours."

Imperious command given, she looks back at Blake.

"So you understand, now that I've come in as a supporter of one faction, I'm wondering what troubles I've invited in upon myself. The doggies ... they're not an issue. If they piss me off, I unleash the Hounds of Hell on them and they're dogmeat." She smiles, seemingly pleased at her description, crass as it was. "But you. You're ... possible threats. Not individually, but in groups. You're smart. You're old and experienced. And in my experience with you thus far you're in superb control of yourselves most times, not prone to ... excitability outside of direct combat. So ... what kind of a Pandora's Box have I opened by assisting these Corvinus types?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Perhaps, but doesn't someone else feeding you at a distance take some of the 'fun' out of it?" Blake questions, the vampiress idly tapping a fingertip across her own lip and lifting a brow as the poor server finds themself challenged to bring Satana something suitably more 'adult' in the club that was clearly made for 'make believe' for most.

"Oh the worst kind," Blake offers, leaning back and lazily adjusting her hairclip, a little wink offered to a patron who passed by. Mortal, but she could 'smell' the 'blue blood' in him. Clean living, good breeding. It was like having a very sheepish steak walked right by her. Alas, her gaze moves back to the just-as-pleasing but not quite so recreational Satana. "Politics. Humans are political animals at the best of time, now given them an 'eternal' life and the senses of a vampire? It's schemes and bargins and all of that nonsense."

Not a fan, but then Blake had been -raised- for courts in centuries past and it had lead to her becoming what she was. Probably not the biggest fan...

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Well, we're not strangers to politics in Hell," Satana muses. "It's just ... I'm so young."

A wicked, mischievous expression crosses her face as she looks Blake over.

"So tell me, grandma, have I stirred up a hornet's nest or are these Corivinus types too disconnected from the rest of you for anybody to care?"

And the succubus giggles, watching Blake carefully for a swatting or worse in response.

"But seriously, it is a bit unnerving. Individually ... most of you are manageable. But your little dances with the stilettos concealed about your person. That unnerves me just a bit. You can't kill me but you can most certainly inconvenience me. I hate being forced back to Hell and then having to find a new way to get back here. I wind up owing markers and generally getting tied up in unpleasant activities all just so I can come back and feed off of fresh, living souls."