| An Interview With a Vampire Slayer |
[08 Nov 2007|10:44pm] |
Vampire and Slayer... One rarely ever openly invited the other into their domain.
A book interview was hardly the modern-day equivalent of an epic ceremonial ritual, but it was helping to dig Victoria out of her emotional mire. Or at least, that was the plan. The feelings of having been so easily replaced in the eyes of her maker? Those were still very much there. Nevertheless, this was a significant opportunity and would sharpen her mind.
"Hi," she greeted the other brunette. "Come on in..."
There was probably an irony in the fact that they had only just got around to this. After all, the idea had been agreed at the opening of Fang Noir and although still standing, it had been out of business for quite some time.
Life and death.
Slayer and undead.
Meeting at her hotel room, in the Bellagio, was a partial guarantee against Rhiannon simply taking the opportunity to stake her. Vicky was not defenseless and would aim to make an awful lot of noise to attract others' attention, if nothing else.
Plus, she had a gun hidden away. Always a better option to put some distance between yourself and a natural killer of your own kind. Slayers probably couldn't dodge bullets, right?
Even so, they were just precautions. Victoria was not Katherine. She was not the type to go making elaborate plans to kill Slayers. Regardless of self-preservation, she had a partner to think of.
"My book notes are actually one of the few things I was able to salvage from the Fang Noir thing."
Rhiannon stood with hands behind her back, though not in hiding a weapon. Her thumbs had simply hooked into her back pockets upon entering the hotel room. She had been in the private domains of vampires before, 99% of the time intending to stake them. So this was, in a word, awkward.
Even having agreed that there would be no violence tonight, Rhiannon was not stupid. She found herself glancing into the open lavatory, half-expecting a trap, such as a second vampire lunging through the shower curtain. None did.
She came a bit farther inside. The carpet was thick and spongy under foot. There was a sensation of her boots sinking down a bit with each step. Rhiannon wondered if they would leave footprints.
“Believe it or not, we didn’t mean to knock the place down,” the Slayer said. The door slipped shut behind her, a metallic click on quiet air. “I’m glad you got your notes out. I used to make art. If I lost my work back then, I’d have gone nuts.” Instead many canvases and sketchpads had disappeared years later, simply because Rhiannon had been unable to take them with her from couch to couch. Once she had a place of her own, art materials were expenses subtracted from rent money, and painting or drawing constituted time subtracted from her duty.
Besides, rarely was there energy for more than one real passion.
( Q & A )
( Dear Maria )
( Don't Turn Your Back )
|
|