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The Midnight Masquerade (Atroxa & GrinningGentleman)

Atroxa

Star
Joined
Mar 16, 2013
Location
USA
Lydia was sure her life could not become more desperate and horrible than it already was. How could it? She had lost everything, her job, her future, her home, even her own family refused to speak to her or acknowledge she existed. And she had done nothing to deserve it. She had only been preyed upon, and taken advantage of, and then she had been the one to be punished, not the man who had done this to her. He still had everything, and she had nothing.

Only a year ago, everything had been going right for Lydia. She had had a job as a seamstress, nothing glamorous but it had paid well enough for her to take care of herself and her ailing mother, with the help of her other sister and her husband. It had been the hope that she would work for a few years, find a good man, and then get married. Lydia would be expected to quit her job of course, but that was fine with her, it hadn’t been like being a seamstress had been her dream. It had seemed like a good life though, and a good future.

Until Lydia had fallen victim to a society set up against women, rigged to make it nearly impossible for them to succeed. Especially if, like her, they didn’t have the protection of a man, not a father or even a brother. Her own father had left when she had been young, and her mother had nearly worked herself to death ensuring that Lydia and her younger sister, Sophia, had had clothes and food and a little education. Sophia had gotten married a few years ago, and then just after their mother had fallen ill, and Lydia had started taking care of her, being the oldest and not having a husband who demanded her time and attention.

With no one to protect her and so much of her life depending on her job as a seamstress, it had been easy for her boss, Jacob, to take advantage of her, as he had one day last year. He had presented Lydia with a choice, sleep with him or lose her job. She had had no choice but to accept, but much to her dismay it had not been a one time thing. Jacob had used her like a whore for two months before his wife finally found out, and then it had not been Jacob who had been punished, but Lydia. He had fired her anyway, and he and his wife and smeared her name and reputation. Used goods and branded a whore, Lydia had been unable to get another job.

With no job, she had lost the apartment she had been renting, and her mother had gone to live with Sophia, whose husband had made it clear that Lydia was not welcome in his home. So she had been forced out onto the streets. And like so many other women in her situation, she had had to take one of the few options available and became an actual whore. She hated it. She hated herself. She hated Jacob. She hated her pimp. She hated the men that she was forced to sleep with to survive. Lydia found that the only way she didn’t feel overwhelmed by her bitterness and hatred was to simply become numb.

On the rare occasion that she was allowed a day to herself, she stole away, trying to get well away from the dilapidated building that she and the other women that worked for the same men lived in, usually several of them to a room. Today was one of those days, and as usual she grabbed what little food she could afford from a corner stand, and headed for the nearest park.

As she left the most destitute area she did her best to ignore the stares she received, her thin frame dressed in a brightly colored, revealing dress that marked her as a prostitute. Lydia kept her head down, and tried to pull the scarf she was wearing down a bit to cover her cleavage. Her long red hair was pinned up in a bun to keep it out of her face, and she kept her dark blue eyes on the paved cobble stones she was walking on. She was still a beautiful woman but it was easy to look at her and see that she had once been more beautiful. The last year had taken its toll, her hair was duller than it had been, her cheeks more hollow, and her shoulders sagged where they’d once been straight and proud. Under her dress her ribs showed and her hip bones poked out, evidence of not getting enough food. None of it made her too unattractive for men not to pay for some time with her though.

When she had reached the park finally, Lydia had been about to head for her spot, well away from curious, judging eyes, but she was distracted by some rustling in a nearby bush. Going to investigate, she’d found a young, pale girl, with scraps for clothing, and looking like a half starved little scarecrow. She made Lydia look fat and sleek. The girl had looked terrified, clearly thinking the woman some guard or policeman here to drag her out and kick her out of the park, but Lydia had only given a heavy sigh, and after convincing her she wasn’t going to hurt her, had persuaded the girl to come out. She’d wrapped her scarf around the girl’s neck and given her her own meager lunch, and told her to find somewhere away from the entrances to hide. The little urchin scurried off, and Lydia’s stomach growled in protest but she ignored it and went further into the park, thinking perhaps things could get a little worse for her after all, not that she wanted them to.
 
Eternity is a curse. A line spoken by many a man like Vladimir before him. Even by his own father, who so hated his inability to end it all. In an eternity, you see everything around you wither away. Die. Age. And you stay the same. Being a Pure Blood, you grew to your twenties, and then remained this. You lived a life of eternal youth. Were is the curse in that? A lack of creativity, according to Vladimir. Nothing ever gets boring, if you keep things moving. Live a life in uncontrollable chaos, and things never stay the same. Especially in this Era. Especially in this City. London was a world of opportunities. Activities, for minds of any kind. Debauchery. Beauty. Entertainment, through countless mediums. How could an existence like that, ever be a curse?

Gazing over the City from it's highest point, was always a good way to relax, for a spontaneous man like Vladimir. This day had been uneventful, and slow, so he'd given himself to a little game, he enjoyed so thoroughly. Laying down against one of the Gargoyle statues of the tall tower he lay open, his right hand juggled a fresh, green apple, almost gleaming with tastiness. Another thing Eternal's like himself complained about. Taste's vanishing. There were no taste in this apple for Vladimir. Like gnawing on water. But that did not make food worthless to him. It made it even more valuable, knowing how much others valued it. But he would want for nothing, and he looked the part. Vladimir wore a black suit, with a crimson red tie, white shirt, and a black tall hat. Over his shoulders he wore a black cloak, large enough to cover his body when he stood, and thick enough to warm him, if he needed that.

"Uncle! Uncle! I found one, I found one!" A tiny, hoarse voice gleamed from the balcony bellow him. Vladimir's orange-red eyes gazed down, as he sat himself up, catching the apple one more time.
"Did you, my little Princess? Tell me, the tale." He asked, a wide smile on his face, as he saw the energetic little girl, tip toeing a little dance were she stood, clutching the piece of bread she had just received. Her eyes were no longer as weak and feeble as the ones a charitable soul had seen. Instead, they were a twirl of emotion and warmth, anyone would smile to gaze upon.
"Yes! She's the prettiest young Ladie, with beautiful hair! I wish I had hair like that.. A dim, beaten crimson! So sad.. It would be enthralling, could it breathe.. She's thin.. As thin as me! She wears one of those Ladie dress', that looks like she tries too hard.. In the Park!" She explained eagerly. Vladimir raised a brow, shaking his head a few times, crouching up. A Whore. It was rare for them, to find any overly generous Whore's. If they were in a good position, at a good brothel, they often found a generous few among them, but this didn't sound like one of those. Not if her hair wasn't cared for. Vladimir nodded a single time, reaching into another pocket, bringing out a paper bag, containing a piece of meat, holding it out in front of himself, waying it against the apple, like a scale. The girl looked back and forth, before tilting her head and raising both hands, pointing as much as she could with the bread still in hand.
"Both!" She called out happily, with a little jump. Vladimir smiled broadly, as he stood up, planting both items in his pockets, walking to the edge. With a jump, and a spin, Vladimir vanished into a puff of smoke, from which a large black bat emerged, dive bombing towards the ground, with the sound of the little girl's cheers.


It had not taken him long, to spot the scent of a lone woman, walking the park. Especially not, when it was as vibrant as Lydia's. Vladimir found himself twirling with delight at the scent, wondering if he should stop the game, to treat himself instead. But with one look of Lydia, those thoughts were quickly halted, as he landed on a thick branch, in a large tree. His bright red bat eyes gazed with petty upon the young mortal. How could so many of his kind, consider their existence a curse, when there we're mortals, with struggles such as this lone woman's. Jumping off the branch, he twirled half way around the tree, before emerging from the other side in his tall, human frame. He stood for a moment, observing Lydia were she was, before finally stepping out of the shadows. From his cloak, emerged a walking stick, which he used as if he needed it for balance.
"One would think, such a beautiful creature, had more suiting things to do, on a lovely night like this, than wasting away her beauty alone?" Was his introduction, as he walked into vision. He did, however, not walk too close, treating her as careful as she herself had the Urchin to who she showed such Charity. Lydia would only just be able to see half of Vladimir's face in the dark, his hat hiding away his eyes from the moon's light.
 
Lydia ended up sitting alone in her usual spot in the park, off on her own away from the path. She would have like to sit on one of the benches but people looked at her when she did, so she tried to get away from where judgmental eyes couldn’t see her. As she sat in the grass, her stomach continued to growl, and she was already starting to regret her moment of charity. What had that done for her really? A moment of feeling like she was human again for what? An empty stomach. And Lydia knew that she likely wouldn’t be able to find more food until tomorrow. So she would go hungry for tonight. It wasn’t like this would be the first time of course, she had gone hungry more times than she dared to count the last year, but that made it no less unenjoyable when it happened. It made it hard for her to relax and enjoy the park and the brief respite from her life.

What made it even harder was having someone approach her, speaking from the shadows and drawing her attention. Lydia stood quickly, ready to run. There was a danger in coming to the park alone at night. Jack the Ripper had only stopped his gruesome killing spree a few years ago, and he had favored ripping prostitutes. If Vlad had come any closer he would have seen her take a small step back to keep some distance between them, but he stopped far enough away that the woman didn’t feel the need to retreat. She stayed where she was, watching this very strange stranger with his odd eyes and a dark feeling rolling off of him, and yet there was strange pull to him as well, tugging at her.

Lydia wasn’t sure how to react, and so simply stared at him for a long, quiet moment. She really just wanted to be left alone on her day off, she had to force herself every day to be nice to people she hated, and not just be nice but flatter them, please them. For once, she just wanted to be left alone, or even be rude for the sake of being able to be rude and it not cost her money. She didn’t dare actually do that, men were cruel creatures, she had found, and smarting off to one when you were a lowly prostitute usually got you a slap across the fact, if not worse. He did look like he had money… the thought of working right now wasn’t appealing, but her gnawing hunger made her a little more amenable to the idea. And what was she doing here but wasting her time anyway? Lydia was beginning to understand why so many of the other women never took days off, what did you have to do but sit and think about how miserable you were?

The woman decided to just play it safe for now, she wouldn’t show any strong reaction either way and see how this man reacted to her. Her expression was clearly wary though. “Sometimes it’s nice to just be alone, being constantly admired for your beauty can be tiring after a while,” Lydia tried to smile and seem friendly, even flirtatious, but not too inviting. If he would rather just move on and leave her alone she would certainly not complain but she doubted it. He had come off the path and approached her, people didn’t just do that by accident, so now she just had to figure out what he wanted from her.
 
Times were a worrying sort, so Vladimir had expected the young prostitutes carefulness. People were still scared after the most recent array of murders. A kind of scared, that made the life of those who preyed on Humans, so complicated. When an Eternal drank, it was quite frowned upon to kill the victim, or let others see the deed. They all carried a toxin, they could use to make the victim forget the encounter. Still let those who enjoyed the hunt, and the fear in their victims eyes, have their moments. While leaving a fresh blood bag for the next Eternal.
For this reason, Vladimir, and a variety of other prominent Eternals, had sent out contacts in search of the murderer. None had turned up with anything. Made Vladimir suspect the culprit was more than just a man. But the murders had dimmed down, and copycats were being easily handled by his contacts, so things should return to normal soon. But the resourcefulness, and wit, of the original murderer, gave Vladimir an itch.

Vladimir observed both Lydia's body language, as well as the pumping of her heart. When he suspected retreat was imminent, he made his stop, as an unspoken sign of good will. His eyes observed, as Lydia's eyes told a thousand tales, even while her mind was still considering a reaction. Her story, was like an open, battered book. He saw it, as he'd done before. But there were more. She was not completely broken. She was not the empty shell, whom he usually saw on street corners. Given in, and completely dropped their dignity, and life, in the hands of the men they serviced. She was different. Every part of her, was different. Something, he could not yet lay a finger on.

Her response earned her a smile across the man's lips, as he stretched his neck slightly, pulling an arm out from his cloak, to reach up and remove his hat, releasing his wild raven hair, with a shake of his head.
"That is because, people get so unoriginal these days.. One dark period of dread, and everybody forgot what Era they are in.." He spoke, as he looked back to Lydia, revealing his pale face. A strong jaw, but soft skin, gave Vladimir a masculine face, with a certain boyish charm, normally not expected to hide bellow a tall hat. His orange-red eyes gazed for Lydia's, as his lips revealed the edge of his pearly white teeth, in a warm smile.
"An Era of Romance.." He finished his sentence, as he began travelling to the side, with calm steps. He made sure not to step closer to Lydia in the act, but instead carefully circle around her, heading towards a tree, not far from him. As he walked, he moved his walking stick up with his left hand, hanging his hat on top, as his other hand reached for a pocket, and he continued to speak.
"They see you, for the beauty, that you so excellently put on display. The beauty, that'll fill a resourceful woman, or man's pockets. Or more predominantly, put a bit of food on the table." At the mention of food, his right hand came back with what it had sought for. The green apple would almost seem to glitter in the moonlight, to people of Low Class. Apples were a Luxury. One hardly afforded by many. Vladimir's eyes gazed down to the apple, as he tossed it into the air a single time, catching it again in his stride.
"They don't see the big things.. To them, these things are insignificant. How wrong they are, it is almost pathetic." He almost spoke with disdain in his voice, tossing the apple one more time, before leading it to his lips. As his teeth barred down on the outer shell, it could only give in, releasing a satisfying crunch, as it's rich juices spilled, spreading it's taste over every inch of Vladimir's lips. In the act, unknown to Lydia, Vladimir made sure to leave a little of himself on the Apple. A little Saliva.

As Vladimir's teeth chewed, his eyes turned back towards Lydia, as his head tilted. He leaned his side against the tree he had now reached, pointing with one of the fingers, holding the apple.
"What do you think?" He said, his soft, gentle voice like silk through the air. As he spoke, he tilted his Apple a bit, letting Lydia's eyes see the fresh juices of the fruit, almost sissling on the open wound, left behind by his teeth.
 
Lydia wasn’t completely broken down yet, she still had some spirit left in her, but it wasn’t much. Another year and she might be like so many of the other women she saw every day, more shells of a person than an actual one. That didn’t mean that she was a ray of sunshine, or that she was a particularly optimistic person. The last year had changed her, hardened her, anyone who had known her before her fall from grace would probably barely recognize her. And not just because of physical changes, but of mental ones as well. Lydia had always been witty and even funny, people had always been laughing around her, her wit meaning she was always able to make a joke about any given situation. Now though, she was too bitter to joke unless she was doing it in a mean spirited way.

So when the stranger spoke of this being an ‘era of romance’, it took everything in Lydia not to snort at how ridiculous that was. An era of romance? She had been used and discarded like a cheap piece of trash, and now she had to endure that same treatment every day from strange men. Romance was dead. Lydia didn’t tell him any of this though, he didn’t want to hear it, and she doubted he’d have a very great reaction to it if she did. Men didn’t tend to like a woman to disagree with them, it was seen as arguing. And getting slapped more than once had taught Lydia to just keep her mouth shut.

She watched the stranger start to circle around her, not liking that at all and turning with him to keep her eyes on him at all times. Lydia really just wanted him to go away at this point, she was going to have stop coming to the park it seemed. She didn’t want to come here if it meant being bothered by strange men on the rare down time she did have. She had to deal with that during most of her waking time as it was. Lydia frowned when he started talking about her beauty and resourcefulness, not sure what he was going on about, he didn’t even know her, and it only served to increase her feeling of unease. But her attention was caught by the green apple he produced, her stomach giving a soft growl. She hadn’t had fruit of any sort in a year, and her mouth started watering immediately at the thought of actually getting to eat an apple, but he didn’t offer it, instead the stranger toyed with the piece of fruit and then took a bite out of it.

Lydia couldn’t help but glare at him, watching as he leaned against a tree and pointed at her with the apple in hand, and asked her what she thought. “I don’t think you want to know what I think, but I will say I think it’s time for me to go,” she told him, trying not to sound too hostile, but this man made her both uneasy and enraged. Why was he bothering her? What in the world had she done to make him come over here and harass her? And he kept talking a bunch of nonsense about beauty and romance. She was a whore, if he wanted to fuck her all he had to do was offer her some money, hell she’d even settle for that apple right now. But she wasn’t going to beg for it if that was what he wanted. Lydia wasn’t that desperate. She turned a bit to head for the main trail, but refused to turn her back on the stranger, not trusting him in the least.
 
Vladimir did not even have to look to Lydia, to feel her anger and frustration. It was far from the first time, someone had been annoyed with him. He actually quite relished being a nuisance, from time to time. But right now, it had not even been his intention. He hadn't meant to frustrate her so desperately. He'd been desperate for hunger before. Starved for several years, locked in a chest. And even then, he arose from it with his pride, and his wit intact. But he could never imagine being in her shoes. The things she must've gone through, to end in the shoes she now wore. No. He realized this, so he did not judge her for her frustration. It did, however, frustrate him. He could feel the coils inside him bubbling. The same flames, that would usually have him cut into a fit. But something in her eyes, as she defensively glared at him. He wanted to see more. Not of her body, but of the woman behind the fear. The one who she hid behind thick walls, so she wouldn't get hurt by the things she had to do. He wasn't done with her.

At her remark, Vladimir frowned slightly, watching her as she began walking. Vladimir moved away from the tree, but did not step closer to her in the act. Shrugging his shoulders, relocated his cloak a bit, to hang more comfortably over his shoulders.
"Oh, but I do.. There is a lot of things I want to know about you. Things, however, I do not expect you to share freely. I realize your defensiveness will twist your thoughts, and think I merely want.. A 'Client's' treatment. But I just want to talk." Vladimir continued, remaining somewhat vague, still not ready to lay down his way of speaking, to be more direct with her. He wasn't about to change who he was, for her to better see that he bore no ill will.
Reaching his arm out from the cloak, he presented the apple, bite first, towards Lydia. He held the apple at the tips of his long fingers, letting her see that his nails were slightly longer, and thicker, than a well dressed gentleman like him, would usually keep them. His orange-red eyes remained focused on her's, if she'd let him, as he spoke again.
"When is the last time, you took a chance? One, that you were not forced to. Leave, and I'll remain here.. I will not force you to stay. But you will go hungry tonight." His start, probably made it quite clear, that he wasn't too happy about her rude, dismissive choice of retreat. But he continued.
"Food, for your time.. That's all I ask. I do not expect you to trust me, and you can make what ever distance to me you chose, once you've picked up the apple. I do not blame you for a lack of trust. But I hope you will show the same curtsy to me, when I say I don't trust you to catch." His voice made it clear, that he did not exactly mean to insult her, and being accompanied by a smile furthered that fact. Juices from the apple seeped down the bottom edge of the bite impression he'd made, caressing the edge of his finger's, ultimately going to waste as it dropped to the ground. Like an hourglass. Every second she considered the offering, the less the apple would be worth.
 
Lydia hadn’t really meant to offend him, but she didn’t really care if that was what happened. She wanted him to leave her alone after all, if offending him was how it got done then so be it. As long as he didn’t attack her for it she didn’t really care. Why should she go out of her way not to offend a man who went out of his way to bother her? Life had hardened her. And he was no cute, starving little girl that needed her compassion.

When he stepped away from the tree she stopped and turned to face him a little better, though her body language and stance made it clear she was ready to run. Her brow furrowed when he insisted that he did want to know what she thought, and wasn’t looking to be a client of hers, but instead merely wanted to talk. Lydia didn’t believe that for a moment. What man wanted to just talk to a whore? But the apple made her pause. She looked from the apple to his strangely handsome face its odd, intense red-orange eyes, when he spoke again, asking her when she’d last willing taken a risk. He offered her the apple in exchange for her time. That made Lydia frown, thinking it sounded far too good to be true. And usually if something sounded too good, it was.

But she didn’t keep walking, just looking at him for a moment then looking at the apple, then back to him. “Alright, the apple for my time,” she agreed finally. Lydia walked over to him, doing her best to seem confident in herself. Acting afraid was a sign of weakness, and men that might otherwise be warded off by a woman who seemed capable of taking care of herself would pounce to take advantage of that weakness. She only came close enough to take the apple from his outstretched hand though, and no closer. Lydia tried not to snatch it from him, but she did take it quickly, and then retreated a few steps. And then she couldn’t help but take a bite out of that apple, right next to where the stranger had already bitten into it.

Juice and flavor burst into her mouth, and she couldn’t hold back a small, appreciative noise, a bit of juice dripping from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before the opened again as she chewed to look at the stranger and then swallowed her pride a bit along with the apple so she could speak. “Thanks. So what is it exactly that you want to know?” Lydia asked him.
 
Her furrowed brow, and frown, made it seem like she doubted his word. Again, something he wasn't too fond of, but that was a minor offence, considering she had no idea who he was, so he did not judge her on that. Vladimir prided himself on his trustworthy nature, and never made a promise, that he wasn't going to keep, not even for appearance's sake. This had made him rather popular on the streets, and among the common folk, but rather unpopular among the Higher Class people. The Class that only tolerated him, because he was the largest suplier of Opium, fruits and Vodka in London, and because he was so close to the Mayor, and his Wife, that some made uncanny stories about the relationship. But if he did not wish to do something, he said so. Even if it would be considered rude, saying no to an invitation from a prominent family. Something the Mayor happened to respect him for. There were also other arrangements with the Mayor, were Vladimir provided a service, the Mayor fancied. Something Vladimir certainly did not mind. But no one could know. And no one every would.

Hearing her accept, broadened a smile on Vladimir's face. It was a pleasant, inviting one, as he stretched his arm out a bit more, letting the precious offering a little closer. His brows raised a bit, a light hint of surprise in his face, seeing her so confidently aim for the apple. But the surprise was replaced by the same inviting expression as before, clearly fond of her confidence. No matter how acted it was, it was a good sign in his eyes.
Once the apple was removed from his hand, his fingers curled together, and his arm pulled back to be hidden behind his large cloak once more. He did not pull back, however, letting her create her own distance, as he observed her closely. His intense eyes watched her teeth bite down on the surface of the apple, breaking herself a part of it's glory. His eyes then moved from her lips, gently chewing, and to her eyes, fluttering shut. They also glanced to the drip of juice, as it retreated it's way down to her chin, a small smile curling on his lips.
Had she taken a bite, so that it overlapsed were he'd bitten earlier, she would be in for a surprise with her next bite. The Saliva Vladimir had left behind, would still be just as effective as had he kissed her, but there would not be a lot. This meant, it would not immediately take effect. But the bite after the first that made contact with his saliva, would taste even more glorious that the first. Every inch of the human body, that would react to a pleasant taste, would be stimulated. The first time someone tried the rush of an Eternal's saliva, it almost always sent a chill down the spine.

When asked a question, Vladimir's eyes danced with joy, as he started walking to his side. This was not closer to her, but somewhat away from her, towards a better view of the river nearby, keeping the park from the busy town. Holding out his arms, as he started talking, he made it clear he was referring to the city.
"This City.. Has it lost it's chance at romance? Do you not believe, Romance still lives? Do you think every single man in there, has been corrupted by the darker side of their carnal urges?" He started out, turning back around to face Lydia, still holding his fancy walking stick with one hand, now pointing the hat on top of it towards her.
"Have you given up the chance, of being swept away, into a better life? Have you begun to believe the filthy men, who come to buy your time, and give shallow compliments, of the beauty on your surface? Do you believe, that it is all you have to offer the world? That it is all, you have to offer a man? A body? And, please. You will not have to explain a no, so don't give me the sad story, I am not interested in that one. I am interested in what kind of story, would unfold from this moment. Never the past. Only the present.. And the future.. Mater to me. I don't want to feel sorry for you, and I don't really think you want that either, hm? Soft, sorry eyes, pitying you for your plight? No.. No one want's that.. Instead, tell me.. Is -Romance- dead?" As he talked, Vladimir continued to wander, and charismaticly used his body language to put emphasis on his words. While in some ways his words could seem harsh, if no emotions were present, but the tone of his voice, and the gentle waves of his hands, made it clear that he did care about her. But he had no interest in her plight. He wanted to know if she still believed, that there was a better life for her. Did she still wake in the morning, hoping something would change that day. Wake up, wanting to try and do something, to make things better.
 
Lydia knew nothing about this man, of course she didn’t trust him. Trust was too dangerous a thing to have when you lived her life, it could get you killed. She had had to learn the hard way that out here, everyone was out for themselves and would screw you over in a heartbeat if it meant something good for themselves. He kept his distance from her though, so she stayed where she was, though she kept an eye on the stranger as he started to walk again, turning to keep him from getting behind her. This all seemed so strange and surreal, she kept waiting for it to turn bad at any moment. In the back of her mind she wondered if the apple was poison… but he had had taken a bit from it himself. Still didn’t mean he hadn’t done something to it. She was of course unaware that she was right about him doing something to the apple, but it wasn’t poison. Quite the opposite in fact, as Lydia would find as she took another bite from the apple while she listened to the stranger pose his question.

Her pupils actually dilated a little when she took the second bite, the flavor exploding into her mouth like she’d never experienced before. She actually had to force herself to pay attention to what the stranger was say so she would hear him. She shivered a little, and managed to hold back a bit of a moan, taking another hungry bite, starting to practically devour the apple. By the time he had finished his question, she’d eaten about half of it, and had to make herself pause, her face a little flushed. Lydia blinked and shook her head a bit to clear her mind, wondering what had gotten into her. She was hungry, yes, but not that hungry… this apple just seemed to be the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten.

Lydia paused as she considered his question for a moment, chewing slowly and still a little amazed at the intense taste of the apple on her lips and tongue. “If I were to consider only my personal experiences then yes, I would say romance is dead…” she told him, thinking about all the men in her life that had wronged her in so many ways. Her boss, her brother in law, her pimp, and every man who degraded and dehumanized her for their own pleasure. “But…” she sighed, “I would like to think that isn’t true, and that I’ve just been unlucky. I’m sure there’s men and women both out there who who live with romance every day, at least I hope there are. It’d be a very cold and dark world if there wasn’t, not that it already isn’t. I’m not one of those people though apparently.” She sighed and took another bite of the apple, eyeing him a bit as she chewed. “Why do you want to know this?” she asked him with a touch of suspicion, “And who are you?”
 
The second Vladimir heard her second bite, his attention was turned back towards her, in a casual manor, having been looking away. His eyes observed her expression, as his hearing tightened, and smell focused. He took in every inch of her enjoyment, a small, hidden smile creeping up on his lips. This, was what the game was all about. Seeing someone revel in something they've never had. A taste so great, they would never taste an apple the same again. Looking at her lips as he spoke, he watched them claps over the apple again, and again, hungrily devouring the apple. It was sad that she were still so cautious with him, and clearly had a short patience for teasing at this point, or Vladimir would've made her cherish it more. Perhaps there would be time for that, another day.

As she began her answer, the first part caused a small frown. Not an unexpected one, or one that seemed surprised. He'd expected she didn't quite feel it. But as she continued, the small frown softened, with surprise. He had expected something was different. She was not broken. Not yet, at least. She still had her dreams, although she might not have admitted it right there. The surprise turned to a warm smile, as she chewed down on another bite of the apple, eyeing him. Her question caused him to snicker lightly, as he removed the hat from his walking stick, holding each item out to each side, bowing slightly.
"A curious citizen." Vladimir gave a small smirk, as he turned towards the river again, looking over it with a wide smile. "People say, that it is only the few, who get's a taste of the romance, we all deserve. A horrible thing.. This Era, is so filled with ways to enjoy life. Entertainment, in thousands of shapes. Technology.. Science.. But still, we have not found a way, to appreciate each other, the right way. Hu.. We.. Confuse me sometimes." He stopped himself from referring to himself, and Humans, being two separate things, as he turned back around to face Lydia again. Gazing into her eyes again, with the orange hues of his own, he smiled as he continued.

"And I wanted to hear, what I already expected. That you still believe it. That even someone who's seen heartache and pain like you, still believe it is out there.." He smiled, as his eyes drifted down Lydia's body, but only for a few seconds. In the time, he did not gaze upon her with eyes of hunger, like most of her clientele might. There was care in his eyes. Admiration. The gaze of a lover, who wasn't just after a naked body. And once he gazed for her eyes again, a smile broke upon his lips, as he reached up to undo the chains, keeping his cloak tied around him.
"I needed to hear it. And you gave me what I wanted, and I always repay in kind. Stay who you are, and good things shall come to ma'm. They always do, to those who deserve it. And few would go hungry, so that a street child wouldn't." Vladimir made his reason for being there clear, as he loosened the cloak completely, swaying it around himself as it was removed, holding it out towards Lydia.
"You made two friends today.. Friends, who never forgets a deed." He added, still smiling with the same care as before, as he remained were he was, with the cloak reached out, as if he wanted to put it over her shoulders. This time, he did not ask for her to trust him. Didn't ask her to take a chance. He let her take her own steps.
 
Lydia frowned softly when he didn’t actually answer her own question, making it clear that he was the one to ask questions here, not her. She thought it rather rude that he wouldn’t at least tell her his name, but she wasn’t going to complain aloud. If he didn’t want to tell her then so be it, perhaps it was best she not know much about him. She still didn’t understand why he was asking her all this, why it mattered to him, what he was looking for. He said that needed to hear it, and seemed pleased with her answer, but she didn’t know why it pleased him, or why he needed to hear it. What did he care what she thought or felt? Lydia certainly didn’t care what he thought, she just wanted to know why any of this involved her. She thought she had a right to know that. She didn’t ask though, he didn’t seem very forthcoming with direct information so she doubted he’d tell her.

The way he looked at her only made her frown more, though more in confusion than disapproval. She didn’t understand his interest in her, or why he was looking at her like that, or any of this. It was more than a little frustrating. But Lydia looked startled when he mentioned the little girl, wondering how he knew about that, watching him with obvious suspicion as he took off his cloak and offered it to her. She frowned when he mentioned her making two friends today, which didn’t help her confusion at all. None of this made any sense! Lydia wished he’d just tell her what he wanted from her, why he was here, but instead he only offered the cloak and the hint of a promise of good things to come.

She felt like she had a choice to make, to accept the cloak and the possibility of this stranger having more to offer her, or to refuse the cloak and whatever else he might have for her. Lydia seemed to consider for a moment before she cautiously approach him and then turned, letting him put the cloak on her shoulders if that was what he wanted, the half eaten apple still in her hand.
 
Her confusion was clear, and obviously present. Her frowns didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't voice an opinion with it. Vladimir took that as a good sign. Although she might not realize it, even past the confusion, he was certain she found the mystery intriguing. Vladimir always had a flare for the unneccesarily dramatic, but there were also a reason behind this. His name was very well known, especially among the less fortunate of London. He didn't want his name, to make her feel too safe. While he did not wish to scare her, nor did he want her to change who she was, because of his own reputation. Reputations lied. He knew many a charitable, wealthy men, and woman, who'd sooner swat the poor, than feed them, if it didn't gain them notoriety among the High Class.

Vladimir let her take what ever time she needed, to consider the offer he proposed, without showing any signs of impatience. This was a much bigger step, than the apple before it had been. This time, she would not be able to quickly step away from him, but would have to actually step into arm's reach. He'd noticed the startled expression when mentioning the Urchin from earlier, causing a charming smile to spread over Vladimir's lips, just as inviting as the last had been.

As she stepped closer, Vladimir only gave her a reassuring nod, lifting the cloak just a little more, so it could comfortably land on her shoulders. His fingers gently stroked her shoulders, softening out the cloak against her skin, before he slowly stepped closer. As his body gently touched against her's, his arms quickly, but elegantly, reached around her, to attach the chains of the collar, so that the cloak would remain hanging on her. He was swift to remove his hands again, but as he did, the side of his thumb brushed against Lydia's jawbone. A small, intimate gesture, which might have been rather insignificant, had she not still been affected by his drug. The intimate encounter of skin against skin, was amplified, leaving a mark behind, letting the feeling of the encounter linger.
Vladimir took a few steps back, holding out his hands, as he let the feeling sink in, as well as making a favorable distance between them again. Letting his hands meet in front of himself, he stroked their palm's together, before giving a gracious bow, picking up his cane and hat in the process. As he placed his hat on his head, he gestured towards Lydia with the golden orb, at the tip of his cane.

"You might want to be careful, who sees you in that. And I'll not judge you for selling it.. Carrying something like that, in any part of town, can be dangerous. But before you do any such thing, there is a little extra side dish, to that apple. You can't go well fed, on an apple. Eat slowly, and let it settle." His words now, were clearly meant as last words, as he started walking past her, not being as thoughtful with the distance between them, as he'd been so far. And if she braved it, without moving, he'd send her a charming smile, a nod and a mischievous stare of his red-orange eyes, as he passed her.
In the pocket of the cloak, was a small cloth package. Inside it was a rather large piece of meat, with a healthy line of fat, as well as a loaf of bread. Both were obviously cold, but would still taste magnificently. The cloak would also carry a scent, that would be amplified by the drug, slowly losing it's effect in her body. The cloak carried a scent reminiscent of a mixture of caramel, an extremely rare scent, as well as a sweet tobacco, that didn't cut the nose.

If she didn't stop him, he'd take a few steps away from her, before stopping in his tracks, and looking over his shoulder.
"And you can remember me, by Vlad. If we meet again, perhaps you'll get the rest.. And, perhaps, I'll be blessed with yours?" He suggested, tipping his tall hat slightly, before turning away from her again, heading into the darkness, before turning around a tree. Should she walk in his direction later, she'd not see a single sign of him. He was gone, as swiftly as he'd arrived.
 
Lydia glanced over her shoulder as the stranger stepped up closer behind her, keeping an eye on him, but he only placed the cloak over her shoulders and smoothed it out a bit. The fabric felt heavy, but not in an oppressive way, it was almost comforting. She felt his arms coming around her and watched his hands nervously as he did up the chains at the collar to secure his cloak in place, and then they retreated. But along the way his thumb brushed along her jawline, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver as the light contact shot through her skin hotly. Her eyes closed for a moment, feeling the spot where he’d touched her tingling warmly, but they opened again quickly and she turned, stepping back again, though not very far.

He was right that she would have to be careful about who saw her in this cloak, it clearly wasn’t made for her, it was a little too long, and it was very well made, more expensive than she could have afforded even in her old life. Lydia would have to sell it, and soon, especially before her pimp could see it and just take it from her. She gave him a curious look when he told her that there was something else in the cloak for her, a little more food. Lydia dug into the pocket and felt the cloth but didn’t take it out right then, instead she watched the stranger start to leave. He finally gave a name, Vlad, not his full name obviously, that he hinted at perhaps telling her if they met again. And she didn’t know why, but she was sure that this wasn’t the last time she’d be seeing him.

“Perhaps,” Lydia answered him with a hint of a smile, finally starting to accept that he wasn’t out to hurt her, since he hadn’t tried anything and now was leaving. She watched him leave before she sighed and went back to where she had been, sitting down with Vlad’s cloak wrapped around her. It was thick and warm, and smelled of caramel and tobacco, a surprisingly pleasing combination, and she finally took the cloth bundle out of the pocket, finding it to be some meat and bread. Lydia sat and ate slowly, thinking about everything that had just happened, and what Vlad had been asking her about. She still didn’t understand why he had wanted to know her opinion on romance, but it didn’t matter now she supposed.

After some time she got up and left the park, heading back to the slum where she lived, taking off the cloak well before she got there, folding it up and hiding it under her dress. She hid it when she got to her room and fell asleep quickly in a room with three other women on her small, uncomfortable bed. Lydia missed her old home, her old bed, she missed her mother and her sister, she wanted to believe Vlad, that there was hope, but it was hard to really believe that laying there in this place.
 
The perhaps he was given, was more than enough. He knew, that it wouldn't be the last time they met. He was going to make sure of that now. It had earner her a soft smirk across Vladimir's lips, before he vanished to her eyes. But it would only be to her eyes, after a short time. His red eyes kept a close watch on her, after he'd been home for a short message for his employees. They were to prepare the guest room, to the best of their abilities, and it was to be kept pristinely clean, from this point onward. It was going to have a visitor, soon, if Vladimir had a say in it.
Vladimir followed Lydia 'home', and observed the surroundings, without ever being seen by anyone. His scent, and hearing, helped him keep track of every single person in the Brothel. This allowed him to walk unnoticed, even past the late employees, still having clients at this time, right up to Lydia's doorstep. As silent as a still wind, he entered the room, once the three people slept, and gazed down upon Lydia. It was no surprise she was losing faith in romance, the place she had been put. A disgrace. But he was going to watch her closely, from this point onward. Crouching down, he let their lips meet, making sure just enough of his saliva would touch her's. With that, he left the room, letting his drug take it's effect. It would enhance any sensation, even sleep. She would sleep tightly, and comfortably, even if she'd only slept on the floor. Nothing, would cause her distress this night.


"Oy, Cathrine. Show this fellow a good time, he's paid well this night.." James's rough voice broke the murmur of the Brothels bar, from behind the counter were he worked. The half drunk man at the counter turned to look to the girl in question, who walked over with a hanging head. Her eyes never met with James's, as she invited the man upstairs, to one of the empty rooms. James grinned wickedly, as he continued to dry the glass he was holding, moving the thick cigar between his teeth, to the other curve of his mouth. James' Brothel was, without a doubt, a sleazy one. The man was a snake, and knew how to play around the law. He was tied in with several illegal activities, but he had a few of the right costumers, and was never touched. The Brothel wasn't in bad shape, or anything, but the prices were cheap, because everyone was horribly paid. No one told on him, since everyone remember what happened to the last one who did, now rotting away in a shallow grave, in the Forrest nearby. A crude businessman, he knew how to keep his establishment safe.

James' dark eyes gazed shortly to the corner of the Brothel, narrowed suspiciously. There had been a gentleman in the Brothel, for several hours now, and he had just been sitting there.. He'd paid twice the price for a bottle of expensive Whiskey, in order to sit in the corner, undisturbed. James wasn't one to bite the hand that fed him, so he'd agreed, and he knew the value of privacy. But why at a noisy Brothel? The man wore a hooded cloak, and sat in the darkest corner of the bar, were the sunlight never touched. He'd even requested it, and James had to remove other costumers to get him the spot. There was something off about this character.

James was shoved out of the thought, when his skillfull eyes caught glimpse of something that just entered the door. He was always fast to spot fashion, because he knew fashion carried money around like a drunk carried a cheap Whisky. James waved the man over, and shoo'ed away one of the locals, so that the man could have a seat. The fancy suited man didn't take the seat though, but stared down James with eyes that screamed authority.
"James?" The man asked darkly, provoking several pathetic nods from James.
"Yeah, yeah that's me. What can I do for this gentlemen? I've got anything a man like you could possibly want! Cheap, moderate and expensive, and I am not just talking about the alcohol." James did his thing, but was intterupted by a dismissive wave, as the authoritative person gazed around.
"I am not interested in anything you have to sell, sir.. I am here on behalf of my Master. He is going to arrive here soon, for a short visit. He'd like to see your best specimen, at their best condition." The man explained, as he placed a small bag of coins on the table. "There is plenty more were that came from. He won't be using the product just now, just picking it out for tonight. He want's quality.. Understand?" The man demanded, causing a small grin on James' lips, as he picked up the bag.
"I'll get right to it, and get my girls ready two hours..."
"One.. One hour." The man quickly interrupted, causing James to sneer a little inside, but giving no hint of it to the costumer. Instead he nodded in agreement, as the man walked out the Brothel. James now sneered loudly, removing his cigar to spit on the floor by his side.
"Fucking stick-less butlers... I'm sick, and tired of this fucking trend.. Sending your men to the brothel first, to get things 'prepared' for them.. The hell do they think this is? A buffet?" James thought about that for a moment, before laughing horrifically. "Hah.. Guess it is, really.. Marge! Empty out the make-up room, The 13th are going to need it.." He called out, before walking out from the bar.

The 13th, were the three girls in room 13. Lydia's room. They were called this, because they were the best James had to offer. They were cleaner, and far outdid the others in beauty. He demanded the most for those girls, and therefore they got that nickname. Not just one he used, but everyone there did. Some of the other girls weren't too fond of the 13th girls, because of their 'superiority'. But most of the girls all stocked together. Had each others back, but there were always time for a little friendly banter.
James almost blasted through the door to the 13th room, as he slapped his massive hands together, making even more noise. It was still very early in the morning, with the sun hardly even out yet, so he didn't expect any of them to be awake.
"Girls! Time to get up, and make your keep!" He shouted out, kicking each of their mattress. No one lived in luxury at James' Brothel, but the 13th had it best. Some of the rooms, did not even have mattress.
"You three've got the Make-up room, and I want to see all three of you, downstairs, in an hour. And you better look your damn best! I want every single costumer down there to gasp, and wish they had enough money to pay for your firm little arsses!" James grunted with a laugh, as he walked back towards the door, turning around to check on the girls, to make sure they were all getting up. "Got that!?"
 
Lydia was of course oblivious to the visit she’s received from her mysterious new benefactor, she was oblivious to most everything as she slept. It was perhaps the best night’s sleep she’d had in a very long time. She could have slept much longer too if it weren’t for James barging in and kicking her mattress and those of the other two women as well, waking them rudely. Lydia was last but she’d already started to stir from the commotion as he worked his way down to her, barking orders. She just glared at him as he told them to get up and get ready so they could get to work.

“Alright, alright! We heard you,” Bethany told him in exasperation when he demanded confirmation that he’d been heard. She was in the bed closest to the door and had been here the longest of the three of them. Bethany was a hard woman, she could be bossy and no one really liked her, but she also looked out for everyone in fairly maternal way. She just believed hard love was the best policy. She wanted all the girls in the brothel to make it, but they had to be tough to do that, so she’d make them tough whether they liked it or not. She’d been especially hard on Lydia, but she’d started to let up in the last few months. She was on the short side with a curving figure and long, black hair and large, dark eyes, a slightly exotic look among the more fair-haired women of England. She’d been born to a prostitute and this was the only life she’d ever known.

The second woman was Lora, who was tall and willowy and the youngest of the three of them. She’d only been here a few months longer that Lydia, and had long pale blonde hair and green eyes, a beauty by anyone’s measure really. She was quiet and a little on the shy side, which a lot of the men liked. Between her youthful and pale appearance and shy, quiet manner, Lora had an almost innocent quality to her, one that many men found very attractive, especially in a place like this where most of the women tended to be lewd and obviously experienced. No one knew Lora’s story, she’d never told anyone, but there were a lot of rumors. Some said she was the disgraced daughter of a nobleman, disowned for some scandalous affair, fallen from grace. But there was no telling really, she could have just been someone like Lydia, a normal person who fell in bad luck and hard times.

Lydia sighed and got out of bed, changing into one of her dresses, low cut like the rest and tightly fitting in the body.

“Enjoy your day off?” she heard Bethany ask in a slightly condescending tone. She didn’t understand why Lydia went off to the park like she did, wasting time on something that didn’t benefit her.

Lydia paused for a moment and thought about telling them about the man at the park, Vlad, but decided against it. They probably wouldn’t believe her, and she was starting to wonder if it had all just been a dream herself. “Yeah, it was fine,” was all she said as the other two women got finished getting dressed and left, Lydia lingering for a moment to check the cloak that Vlad had given her. It was there, so surely it had all been real. She picked it up and pressed her nose against it, breathing in the scent of tobacco and caramel, before hiding it again and going down to the make up room with Lora and Bethany.
 
When all three of them got into the make up room, the plump, slightly overweight woman by the name, Marge, was there waiting for them, smiling as they entered. Marge was a sweet woman, kind and pleasant to anyone she met. She mostly worked the bar, taking orders, and moving drinks and snacks to the tables. She didn't get paid for that often, so James had her do the jobs she could, and she mostly did them with a smile.
"Mornin' girls. You all look beautiful this day, you'll woo the fancy lad with no troubles. It's one of the big spenders, so you know James will be picky. Make yourselves even more irresistible, than you already are." She said with a warm smile, placing a hand on Lydia's shoulder as she passed her, heading towards the door. The 13th were to have the room alone, and she always followed orders, so she head towards the door. She gave them all one more smile of comforting, before heading out the door and closing it behind herself, leaving the 13th to finish off.


Later, when the three had made it downstairs, James were quick to position each of them against the counter, turned towards the room, as they waited for the client to arrive. With them in the room, the place got a little louder, and lewder, forcing James to make a choice. He decided to clear out the room, wanting things to be perfect for the client. Everyone was given a choice, weather to either take one of the Ladies upstairs, to bed, or to leave the room. One by one the people of the pub was cleared out, but when James reached the dark stranger in a corner, he stopped. The two stared at each other for a while, an ominous air about them. After a few silent words, that no one else in the room would hear, James walked away, and the hooded man remained in the corner. James' expression was one of unease, shivering lightly as he walked towards the counter.
"Freaky fucker, that one... No one is to disturb that fellow today. Also pretty sure he'd snap your neck if you did, so it's your own choice, really. Marge, bring the man another bottle of Whiskey." James sneered, chuckling lightly as he shook his head, walking over to the 13th girls. Marge were a little hesitant, as she picked up a bottle, placing it and a glass on a tray, before heading into the dark corner.

James looked to the 13th girls, looking exceptionally thorough this time. He started by looking over Lora, and Lydia, even testing how they smelled, with a nasty look in his eyes. Pouting his lips a bit, he nodded a few times, before looking to Bethany.
"Good job, Bethy.. We're sure to make a man happy today. Which means, we are sure to make out pockets the same." James chuckled crudely as he clapped, and squeezed his hands together. He didn't check Bethany, because he knew she'd do a good job on herself. He had known the woman from birth, and she was his little flame. The only girl he'd paid for himself, being so enthralled with her. He didn't treat her much better than the others, though, but she got a longer leash, when it came to attitude. She could be a little more cocky and talk back to James, without getting punished.
As Marge returned from the corner, having taken a little longer than just placing the bottle. She didn't look freaked out, like James had, but rather had a slight flush over her cheeks, as she looked to James and the 13th girls.
"Don't see were your worries come from, James. I think he's quite charming.. A little mysterious, and scary, but quite well mannered. Pretty too.. And, he smells nice.." She complimented the man in the corner, giggling lightly as she walked behind the counter, and James sneered with a glare towards the corner.
"Sure.. Maybe he just likes girls better then. I sure as hell ain't going back into that corner again, before I have to.. Freaks me out. He just sits there, and drinks.. Spiking his drink with that weird, red liquid.. As if I didn't spike my alcohol with enough water already, am I right?" James laughed cockily, as he walked over to one of the bar stools, looking over the girls again.
"Lora.. Sit up.. You look so elegant when you sit. Lydia, stay on your feet, and lean back against the bar. You're more of a.. Challenging beauty.. And Bethy... You just do you.. No one can say, mah brothel ain't got variety.." James grinned, as he leaned back against the counter, tilting his chair a bit as he waited.
 
The three women all got ready and went downstairs, Bethany wearing a brightly colored outfit with many bangles and necklaces, a bit of a gypsy look to her to play up her dark, exotic appearance. Lora was the most modestly and simply dressed, catering to the tastes of those men who liked her for her deceptively innocent appearance. Then there was Lydia, who fell somewhere in between. Her outfit was not so showy as Bethany’s but it was certainly low cut and tight, dark green to contrast against her pale skin and red hair. All three of them ignored the cat calls and offers they received from the men in the common room, they knew they were waiting on a particular man, and it was doubtful very many of these men could afford them anyway. Lydia for one was glad when James made them all leave though, she didn’t enjoy being jeered at.

Her gaze drifted to the hooded stranger in the corner curiously when James decided to leave the man there, and was clearly disturbed by him. When Marge had a completely different reaction to him, Lydia looked even more curious, especially when she mentioned that he smelled good. She frowned softly, starting to wonder… but surely not. How would the man from the park, Vlad, know where to find her? And so quickly. And why would he even be here? But she wondered anyway.

“Leave it, Lydia,” Bethany said from next to her, making the redhead look at her, “James said to leave him alone, and we’re supposed to be waiting.” She was definitely James’s girl, she stayed on his good side and kept everyone else in line in a way that he couldn’t manage. Lora wouldn’t even look towards the stranger, sitting at the bar and looking down at the floor.

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes a little, still watching the stranger out of the corner of her eye as they waited, leaning back against the counter like James told her. She mostly let her mind wander, finding herself thinking about last night more than she thought she would. It wasn’t like anything particularly interesting had happened but it had all just seemed so surreal and strange.
 
The hooded figure in the corner, seemed to stare back towards Lydia, or at least towards the trio of girls. However, he remained quite, and in the dark, sipping on glass' of Whiskey, after indeed spiking it with something, like James had said.
The wealthy client came, and indeed inspected the girls. He had wandering, dark eyes, and they canvassed the girls, like you'd stare down a potential good piece of meat at the slaughterhouse. There were no emotions in his face, and he clearly only had one interest in them, being their looks. If any of them were educated in the High-class citizens of London, they'd recognize him as the owner of a large company on the west side, selling spices and fruits. He was also in the Council, who made a lot of decisions in town as well, together with the Mayor having the last word. The man looked the part of a wealthy businessman. Slightly overweight, wearing a black suit to hide that fact. His eyes were cold, when they analyzed Lydia for the last time, and he nodded a single time, looking towards James.
"I'll take her.. Make sure she's clean, and well dressed like this again tonight." The man said coldly towards James, who cowered with a few nods, not pressing the matter, that Lydia was already clean, and that he didn't run a business of 'Filthy Whores'. Instead he just let the wealthy man, and his butler, leave the bar again, saving his resentment until the man was far out of earshot.
"What.. A.. Dick.. Thinking he's so god damn precious, just because he runs a fucking spice shop! Ergh.." He sneered, pretending to spit, as he walked around the bar. Marge nodded in agreement with him.
"Pretty notorious ass whole too. Tina, my friend from the brothel on the docks, remember? She told me about him.. Harold.. Harold Mar. I remember him from the little scar on his neck." She mentioned, placing a hand on Lydia's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Be careful with him, alright? Definitely doesn't have a reputation for treating his girls right.." She warned, clearly a bit of remorse, and friendly fright for Lydia's safety. She smiled carringly, as she let go, and James' took over.
"Sure, horrible man.. But he pays really damn well.. If you play your cards right, bird, you might just make enough tonight, to afford good meals for several days." James smirked, clearly mainly money on his mind, as he wrapped an arm around Lydia, leading her away from the counter. "Alright, you heard him. You just rest up, and make sure you clean up nice and well for tonight. You'll be making the big money then." James grinned, showing off the single golden layered tooth on the upper row of his teeth.

Money, would have certainly been good, had it not been supposed to be attained so wrongfully. Lydia, would not have been able to truly enjoy her payment, for she would have been passed away, had she not defended herself. Harold would stumble out of the room, with a bloody scratch on his cheek, as well as a blue eye, and a shallow breath from a kick to the stomach. Lydia, was definitely not prepared to die. James had seen the hooded figure, almost instantaneously dart out of his bar, just seconds before he heard the screaming and shouting upstairs.
James ran up, grunting as he passed a lot of the other girls, standing in the hallway because of the commotion. He pushed on of them back into her room, as he shouted at the rest.
"Get into your rooms, there's nothing to see here! And don't peek out! 13th! Share room with some of the others!" He shouted at everyone, who'd immediately obey that order, hearing the anger in his voice. James became nasty, when he was this angry. He'd sooner punch someone, than he'd say hello. The 13th girls couldn't get into their room, since that is the one Lydia was using, and the one the shouting came from. Bethany would be quick to follow his order, and get al the other girls to do the same. No one had felt James' anger, quite as many times as Bethany had. That is probably how she knew the limits. And why she knew, that someone was going to get hurt, if they didn't follow this order.

James and the wealthy businessman, had a loud conversation in the hallway, just outside the 13th room. Everyone would hear it. Harold was furious, and James was grovelling.
"What kind of establishment, has an animal like that under it's roof! She is bad for your business!" Harold shouted.
"I promise you, sir, that she's never acted up like this before, and she certainly will never do so again." James groaned.
"No, you are right, she will not, for I will not return here, and you'll get none of my money, as long as that Bitch is here!" Harold shouted, knocking against the 13th door, if Lydia had not come out of it. And if Lydia came to look out, Harold would step to the other side of James, to keep his distance. Three of James' henchmen had come to check on the commotion as well, moving over to Lydia's door, so if she'd try to make a run for it, they'd be in the way.
"We can't have that, sir.. How about this.. I will handle the situation with her, and I'll prepare you one of my girls for you, for another night, hm?" James suggested. Harold just grunted through his nose, before turning to leave, without another word. Once Harold was out, James' calm composure slowly started boiling, as he turned to look towards Lydia, who his henchmen would now walk over to, to try and grab her arms.
"What.. The fuck! Happened!? This was such a tremendious chance, to earn some real money, and you.. Botch it up!? God damn it, what were you thinking? Explain yourself!" James' voice, was almost a roar, as he demanded explanation, as the three thugs tried to grab Lydia, and drag her a little closer to James. James had many mischievous and dangerous talents, but his talent for rage, far out shined any other. His face was red, resembling an overheating cooking pot. If he didn't induce fear in people, he'd surely be laughed at for that matter.
 
Lydia and the other two girls were ready and waiting when their potential client arrived, and put on their best show, even Lydia. She hated this more than she could ever possibly explain, it made bile rise up her throat to do this, but she had to if she wanted to survive. And if James was going through this sort of trouble to accommodate this man then she could potentially make a lot of money. So when he picked her, Lydia managed to flash him a sultry smile and then looked at James when they left and he went on one of his little tirades. She glanced at the stranger in the corner, still sitting there silently, but had her attention pulled to Bethany touched her shoulder and spoke with a bit of a warning about her client. Lydia frowned softly and nodded, before she was lead away and taken back upstairs.

That night, she was ready and mostly willing when Harold returned, doing her best to please and impress him. But when things turned violent, she couldn’t help but defend herself. She had been roughed up by clients before, that was nothing new, but this was different, as was made evident when she came out of the 13th room, adjusting her clothing as she’d gotten dressed again, by the dark red quality of her neck. Her skin was red and angry, starting to bruise, the shape of fingers starting to stand out. Her red hair was a mess and her make up was running as she'd clearly been crying.

Lydia looked startled when James’ goons grabbed her and he yelled at her, demanding an explanation. “He tried to kill me!” Lydia shouted right back, which was a mistake, James didn’t like being yelled at, especially not by one of ‘his’ girls. “Look at my neck! He was strangling me! What should I have done? Just let him kill me? It doesn’t matter to me how much money I could have made if I’m going to be dead!” She couldn't spend money or eat better food if she was dead. She might not have much of a life but she wasn't ready to die.
 
Seeing the bruises on Lydia's neck, caused James to narrow his eyes, moving his tongue around in his mouth, thinking deeply as he spoke. But when Lydia replied by shouting, his face turned a little red, as his expression turned dark and furious. For all his anger, he let Lydia explain herself fully, before stepping closer to her, the men holding her making sure she wouldn't falter away, as his face got closer to her's.
"Don't.. Shout at me, girl.." He didn't shout back, but the slur and hiss in his voice made it clear, that this was far worse than any normal shouting. James had always dreamed of catering to a better crowd. To a richer crowd. But he'd never been able to lure any real costumers in. Not even when he got the young Lora, who he was hoping would bring in a better clientele, as he advertised her properly. Aparantly, he'd done something right, luring in the client, who Lydia had just 'scared' off. But this, now, was giving him a better idea, as his face was inches away from Lydia's.
"I, will not lose this chance. Not for any one girl. Not even, for anyone's life... This is my chance, for a better existence." He explained, in an almost whisper, as his murderous eyes stared into Lydia's. His eyes moved down to Lydia's throat, looking close on the bruises, as he sneered, turning around to paced back and for for a little while, thinking. Some of the other girls had dared opening their doors just slightly, in order to peek out at the commotion. James noticed, and gave a deep growl, all the way from his gut, as he shouted them back inside.
"Get the fuck back inside!!" His shout was filled with an anger, that a lot of the girls had yet to experience. Bethany knew it, however. Last time he had been this furious, the Brothel had lost a girl, in the most literal sense.

James tilted his head slightly, as a thought came to mind. He would've grinned, was he not still so burningly furious, as he turned around to look back at Lydia.
"Harold.. Is going to get what he fucking want's, and that's the end of it... Tie her hands, and shove something into that mouth to shut her up.. Then stuff her into the wagon.. I'll be out in a moment.. Gotta send a message ahead. Harold's getting a surprise gift." James sneered grimly, staring into Lydia's eyes, and then to his goons before he turned away, to walk down towards his office. His goons did as ordered, emotionless forcing her arms behind her back, tying her wrists together roughly with a rope. The third one, not holding on to her arms, pulled a leather glove out of his jacket pocket, quickly shoving it into Lydia's mouth, grabbing her hair to keep her still if she struggled. The man looked to her eyes, narrowing his own a bit, before pulling out a black cloth sack, shoving it over Lydia's head. Any struggle, or verbal protest was in vain, as one of the men by her side, placed a hand over the glove in her mouth, shoving it in palce, making sure she couldn't push it out, as he lifted her slightly. One of the others proceeded to grab her legs, forcing them together as best he could, as the trio carried her down the stairs.

The man in front opened each door in the way, letting the two carriers get through. They proceeded to dump her into a wooden wagon, were one was about to climb up next to her, when everything was interrupted by a soft, but threatening voice. It had a hiss to it, that sent a shiver down the three goon's spine.
"I think.. That'll be enough.. I.. Will take it from here.." The voice proclaimed, as the three men saw a figure approaching from an alley next to the Brothel. Lydia wouldn't recognize the voice, nor would she be able to see it lying down. But if she sat up, and strained her eyes, she would be able to foggily see the outline of figure's through the cloth sack over her head. She would see the figure approaching, wearing a cloak over his shoulders, hiding most of his body, except for one arm that stuck out to the side, holding a walking stick. On top of his head, was a tall hat, but no other details on the stranger would be clear through the sack. She would, however, be able to see two of the goons approaching the man in a hat, as the third jumped back out of the wagon to join his friends.
When the first goon was a mere step away from the cloaked Gentleman, he reached out an arm, seemingly to push the interrupting man, as he was about to form a sentence. But, before he could do so, the Gentleman's hidden arm came out from his cloak, grabbing the goon's wrist, forcing it to the side. As it did, his other hand tossed his walking stick a bit into the air, only to grab it down the handle, and swing the hard knob at the top against the goon's face. Blood flew from the thug's jaw, as a cracking sound went through the silent street. The Gentleman let go of the goon's wrist, letting him fall limp to the floor. The other goon who was approaching, took a few quick steps towards the Gentleman, shouting out in anger, but the shout was soon silenced. In a blink of an eye, the Gentleman stood next to the second goon, with a hand on the mans cheek, as a loud crack had broken through the silence once again. If Lydia was indeed still watching, she would just barely be able to see, that the goon's head was no longer in a realistic position, but now faced unrealistically backwards. This man, soon dropped dead to the floor as well, as the last goon bumped back against the wagon in fear, blocking Lydia's view. The man pleaded for his life, pathetically whimpering, before the Gentleman was suddenly close up against him, and Lydia could see the stranger's head next to the goon's, as the victim gurgled and coughed in pain. A sprinkle of something warm, and wet, landed in Lydia's shoulder, as a ripping sound sent the Gentleman's head away from the goon's shoulder, and the large man, formerly working as James' muscle, dropped to the ground.
Now, the Gentleman just stood there, staring at Lydia, staying silent for a moment.
"I, am not going to hurt you, my'lady. But you have to go to sleep now. Rest." The man suggested, with the same hissing voice like before, but not nearly as threatening this time. The man proceeded to climb the Wagon, moving over Lydia. If she was afraid, and tried to struggle, the man hushed her silently, as he placed a calm, gentle hand on her forehead. It was still too dark, to see the man's face through the sack.
"Sleep." He stretched the whispered word out, as Lydia would feel a presence in her mind, seconds before she'd feel a deep sleep coming over her, forcing her into a comma like state for a few seconds, before she drifted into natural sleep. The last thing she'd remember that night, was the scent of sweet Tobacco, and Caramel


The next morning, the effect was no longer forcing a sleep on Lydia's mind, and she'd be able to wake at any time. She would have slept wonderfully, just like the last night, and she'd feel well rested, and in no pain, once she woke up. She'd still have her bruises, however. The one on her neck, now joined by new ones on her wrist, from the tight bind, against her, due to her slight malnourishment, fragile skin. There was, however, no spell blocking her from remember the trauma from the last night, unless her own mind had blocked it out in defense.
She would not wake in the Wagon she might remember falling asleep in, however. Instead, she woke in a warm, comfortable Queen sized bed, with a soft blanket on top of her. The bed had poles at each corner, holding up a finely decorated planks, that had curtains hanging from them, to block out insects, for the luxury crowd. The curtains were a fine, thin, see through silk.
The room she was in was large, with a massive door in one end, and two massive windows in the other, giving her a view over most of the city. If she were good at coordinating her position from the church's bell tower, and the docks she'd be able to see in the distance, she'd know that she was somewhere around the center of town.
The room also contained a large desk, with a comfortable chair to it, with a variety of feathers, inks and papers. If she investigated, there would not be anything written on any of the paper. In the other end of the room, was a large fireplace, adorned with the same Gothic carvings as the furniture, but in fine white marble. In front of the fireplace, was two couches, one for three people, and one for two, as well as a chair for one person. The wood of the furniture, all had the same beautiful carving style, and soft white cushions, with red sown pictures, resembling flowers and leaves. The floor was a beautiful dark oak, the walls painted a extremely light red, bordering on white, and the ceiling was the same dark oak as the floors.

Lydia would find herself alone in the room, except for a tiny bit of company, in the shape of a black cat, sitting on the mahogany desk. The cat's yellow eyes stared down to Lydia, meowing gently as she first opened her eyes, and began looking around. The cat wasn't afraid, but closed it's eyes comfortably, purring silently, as if to greet her a good morning. The cat licked it's nose, as it let her take in the room, remaining were it was. And should Lydia check the door, she'd find it locked, as was the windows.
 
Lydia’s eyes went wide when James leaned in close to her, and she realized that he wasn’t going to be sympathetic to her at all. He was angry, and he didn’t care that she would have died if she hadn’t fought back, all he cared about was the money he’d lost and the wasted opportunity. She jumped when he screamed at the other girls and then looked back to her, giving him a shocked look when he made it clear that he was sending her to Harold as a treat. “No! James please don’t!” she begged, before one of the goons shoved his leather glove into her mouth to shut her up. She struggled against them as they bound her and picked her up but it didn’t do her much good.

They carried her downstairs and outside to the wagon, but that was as far as they got before they were interrupted by the arrival of a stranger. Lydia tried to look up but couldn’t see anything that was going on, laying like she was and with this sack over her head. She heard a bit of a commotion, but wasn’t able to see much but that a struggle was going on. Then she heard one of the men begging for his life and then the sound of coughing and gurgling after a warm spray on her shoulder. Lydia let out a muffled scream as she realized that whoever this stranger was had just killed all three men, and though that she was surely next. She struggled, trying to get free, and then his hissing voice filled her ears and she shrank away from him. When the wagon started moving she tried to sit up and get away from him but his hand found her forehead and he told her to sleep, and she did, falling asleep with the scent of tobacco and caramel in her nose.

In the morning she found herself free and the sack was gone, but her neck was still very sore and now her wrists and ankles were as well. If it weren’t for that, Lydia would think that she was still sleeping, dreaming about waking up in a very surreal but beautiful room. Even before her fall from grace she had never seen luxury like this before, not personally. She sat up slowly, feeling groggy and disoriented as she looked around the room, trying to figure out where she was. The last thing she remembered was being in the wagon, a sack over her head… that stranger had killed James’s thugs and left with her and then she’d passed out she supposed. Lydia only remembered the smell of tobacco and caramel, but the only other time she had smelled that had been in the park with…

She looked up at the soft meow from a black cat sitting on the nearby desk, looking at her. Lydia could hear it purring from where she was sitting, but she didn’t go to it, instead she went to the window, looking out and not recognizing the street, and then trying the door, finding it locked. The woman sighed and went to the desk, reaching to pet the cat cautiously. “Hey there…” Lydia told it in a friendly voice.
 
The cat watched curiously, as Lydia walked through the room to check the windows, as well as the door. All the while, the cat continued to purr silently, cleaning it's paw as it watched. Finally, as Lydia approached it, it gave a happy little squirm, standing up to be petted. It bumped it's little head against the hand that approached, purring loudly as it stroked it's entire body against the cautious, gentle touch of the woman. It's tail flicked slightly, as it looked up to Lydia, blinking again with another little meow, before it jumped off the desk. Ignorantly about the danger of doing so, it walked between Lydia's legs, stroking it's body against her ankles, before happily jogging half way through the room, towards the door. There, it stopped to look over it's shoulder at the human again, meowing invitingly. It took a few more little steps, before looking back again, proceeding to walk in circles, if Lydia didn't follow it, but with every step Lydia took closer to it, the cat moved closer to the door. It seemed the cat wanted her to follow it, as it ran the rest of the way towards the door, stopping again to look back towards Lydia. If Lydia continued towards it, it would stroke the top of it's head against the door with a purr, followed by a loud clunk from the outside of the door. The clunk seemed to've been the lock, since the cat proceeded to nudge the door slightly open, until it could make it's way outside, meowing as it did. It even turned around, sticking it's head back in to look up to Lydia, meowing one more time, before going all the way outside.

Should Lydia continue to follow the cat, and open the door, she'd soon find herself in a large hallway, leading off in two directions. To her left, it lead to split, were it continued off into two different directions. To her right, it continued even further, reaching all the way down to what seemed to be a stairway. The hallways had the same Gothic ring to it, that her own room had, and the furniture placed in various places down the hall, was also made out of the same materials, and with the same designs. There were several doors, leading towards other rooms, down the hallway to her right, were she'd now see the cat running down. It still stopped occasionally, to make sure Lydia was still following it. And should Lydia head off in the other direction, the cat would turn to a complaining meowing instead, as if it still called for her attention.

Should she follow it, the black cat would lead her towards a large set of doors, that the cat opened enough to slip through again, leaving Lydia to do the rest herself. Once open, the scent from the room she had introduced herself to, spilled into the hallway like an avalanche. She might recognize the smell, as the sweet tobacco she'd smelled a few times before, the past few days. But the scent wasn't invasive, or distracting to the nose, but rather soothing.
The room was massive, clearly a hall meant for the likes of Ball's you wouldn't find anywhere else, than Royalty. Each side of the hall, carried massive windows, that was all covered in hard boards, meant to be swung open if the inhabitants wanted the sun to shine through. But being shut, it demolished any chance for the sun to invade the premises. From the ceiling hang massive chandeliers, carrying a massive amount of living lights. A lot of these had run their course, however, and the ones still lit were dancing on their last notes, clearly having been lit for a while.
Around the floor, was at least seven large couches, meant to be used both for sitting, and laying. And on these couches, lay writhing bodies of people. A lot of said people had fallen asleep, while some were still moving around with slow motions, some kissing and feeling each other's. It was a sea of groping, exploring hands and darting tongues. Few people wore clothes, and those who did only had a few bits to their name. One still wore his socks, while the rest of his body lay naked. Another still wore her bra, but had been relieved of any other clothing bit.
On each side of these couches, with moaning and writhing people in them, were large water pipes, some still smoking from whatever had been lit in them. These pipes were attached to the floor, so that they would not be tilted easily.
Through the noises of people in pleasure, was the weak, happy call, of a lonesome violin. This music came from the other end of the room, from where Lydia had entered. There, sat an arch of Musicians. All but one, had fallen asleep in their chairs, instruments laying on top of them, or close by their sides, snoring pleasantly. And even though the lonesome violinist was still playing a tune, it was clear on his tired expression, that he was basically just waiting to collapse and fall into the pleasant embrace of sleep.

The cat Lydia may have followed, ran off towards the middle of the room, not too far away from where they'd entered, where it jumped up on a couch. On this couch, half lay the man in the room, who still seemed to have the most clothes on. He wore a pair of black leather pants, and an open shirt down his sides. He was laying with his legs over the edge of the couch, bare feet planted on the floor. Bellow his back lay a woman, with her legs spread to each of his sides, and the back of his head nestled within her respectable bosom. She, was completely asleep, from what it seemed, laying on top of her own, layered, humanoid bed. The people were stacked like a sandwich, but no one seemed in distress. On the man in leather pants' stomach, was another man, who was completely naked's head. The sleeping man on top, had his left hand tugged into the other's pants, right at his crotched, but neither seemed to mind that fact, not even the man still wearing some clothes, how did not seem to be sleeping. The man still awake, raised on of the his couche's pipes to his lips, inhaling deeply before it was exhaled towards the ceiling, which he was also facing. The black cat proceeded to jump up on the man's chest, meowing loudly.

"Whaat, Ruby? Not right now, I'm... Aargh!" A voice complained, as the cat dug it's claws into the man's chest, causing him to push it down by his side again with a grunt of pain. The voice might seem familiar to her, as would the face that rose up from it's pillow, to look angrily down at the cat.
"What was that for, you little shit.. And aren't you supposed to be in Lydia's room?" He proceeded to complaint, still not noticing Lydia, if she was even still around, and hadn't been scared away by the view.
 
She smiled as the cat met her hand happily, Lydia stood there for a moment, petting it, before she sighed softly. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am?” she asked it, knowing it couldn’t answer of course but it couldn’t hurt. When it jumped down she watched it, looking a little confused as it almost seemed to want her to follow it. “What is it?” she asked, following the cat to the door and sighing again, “The door’s locked-” Lydia blinked and stared a little when it rubbed its head against the door and it opened like it’d been slightly ajar the whole time. “But…” she frowned, then shook her head, deciding she must have turned the knob wrong or maybe it had just been stuck or something. Lydia followed it out of the room, finding it very odd that this cat was so determined for her to do so, but what choice did she have?

She quickly realized that the house she was in was huge, and she was almost grateful for the cat to lead her through it as otherwise she’d surely get lost. Down two hallways and to a large set of dark wooden doors that she had to put a little effort into opening enough for her to go through. Lydia paused just inside, more than a little shocked by what she found. It was a very odd, surreal scene, obviously the leftovers a very wild party she supposed. If she had found this a year ago she probably would have fled, but having been a whore now for some time, she just stood there, though she had to admit that even a year as a whore hadn’t shown her anything quite like this.

She looked at the cat as it ran to one of the couches and jumped up onto a man’s chest before it was quickly pushed away. The man’s comment that it should be in her room made her blink a bit, then frown. “She was,” Lydia said, still standing near the door, not really daring to go too far in, “Where am I? And who are you?"
 
The effect that Vladimir's father had discovered of the drug in the pipes, on his people, was the most intriguing part of it to Vladimir. His kind was practically avoid of most Human emotions. As humans were individuals, so were they, and they each had a few emotions between them. One of the human emotions Vladimir did not posses, were fear. Anxiety. An emotion he was mostly quite fine with missing. But Vladimir was a spontaneous man, and always loved to try new things. Especially emotions. Opium allowed him this, letting him feel more human emotions than he normally would, as well as enhancing his sensitivity. That was why he'd actually felt the cat's claws as quite a sting. And also why he jumped slightly, when Lydia defended the cat, in saying it had indeed been in her room. Vladimir looked towards the door, his eyes seemingly more red than they had been the first time Lydia saw them. With a few blinks, however, they would seem normal again, as he raised on an elbow, his charismatic smile growing across his lips.
"Ah.. You're awake.. Good." He said, before looking down to the cat again, which was sitting at the edge of the couch, looking mighty proud of itself, swaying it's tail calmly. "Don't look so proud of yourself, you little furball... You were supposed to come -get me-, when she woke up... Not bloody bring her here.. We're lucky you haven't scared away our guest." He grumbled, nudging the Ruby's head. Ruby gave a complaining hiss at the nudge, giving a defensive pose, but with a playful expression. Vladimir gave a humanoid interpretation of a hiss back, barring his finger's like claws, before snickering silently as he looked back towards Lydia.
"Just a moment." He asked, as he started looking around the couch, mumbling to himself. "Where.. Is my..." Whilst he'd struggled, and talked with Lydia, the woman bellow him, as well as a lot of other people in the room, had started stirring a bit more. The woman bellow her reached behind the other people, getting out a tall hat, that she neatly placed on Vladimir's head, causing him to jump a bit again. Looking up, he saw the woman smiling down to him, and he returned the smile. "Thank you, M'Lady." He thanked, before he started to try and sit up. In that motion, his expression turned into pain, as he groaned softly and sat back down. The man on top of him had stirred a bit, in the act. Vladimir grabbed his hat, and started slapping it against the man on his stomach's side.
"Let, go, Karl! And get yourself dressed, man, and go home to your wife." Vladimir demanded, causing the man on top of him to groan a complaint, as he removed his hand from Vladimir's pants, were one could only assume that he'd been holding on to Vladimir. The man sat up slightly, looking around foggily.
"What time is it?" The man asked, as he yawned slightly.
"Far past the time, that your Wife is missing you... Remember, you have an 18th birthday of your daughter to prepare for.. You've got to stop coming here to try and forget that your daughter will be looking for a man soon.. Grow up, man.. You, and your wife, drowning yourselves in the pleasure of others, won't stop her from doing it as well." Vladimir protested, as he pushed the man away, so that he could get to his feet. The man groaned softly, as he sat himself up on the couch, starting to grab his clothes. Vladimir grinned down on the man, as he shook his legs a little. "And give Linda my regards, and tell her I look forward to both of your's next visit." He smirked with a wink.

Finally, Vladimir looked over to his guest with his warm, charming smile. Taking the first step towards Lydia, it was clear that something was indeed clouding his mind, since he tumbled slightly to the side, only just managing to keep his balance. He shook his head a little, and got himself back on track, walking towards his guest.
"You, are in my home, M'am.." He started, still just smiling comfortingly, as he continued to walk towards Lydia. He was not nearly as careful as he'd been the last time they met, this time walking towards her without letting her take time to get used to him being closer.
"And before you start getting paranoid as to why you are here, I'd remind you what your alternative was. I had you brought here, because I wasn't too fond of the alternative. You ending in the grasp of a small, pathetic man. You becoming the disgusting satisfaction, of a deviant mongrel, only to sate his dark, selfish desires.." Vladimir shook his head a few times, as he pushed his hands into his pockets, continuing his walk towards her. He was testing the ground. Testing her reaction. Seeing how close he could get this time, before she asked him to stop. If she did not stop him, he'd walk into arm's reach of Lydia, before finally stopping. But if she actually asked him to stop, with those exact words, he would also respect that demand. There, his lips curled into a slight smirk, as he leaned his head back just slightly, so that his eyes were in full view for Lydia, as they stared into her's.
"Now.. As to who I am. I think I about owe you that this time, having invited you into my home, without your actual, verbal consent." He started, before pulling one hand from his pocket, reaching up to grab his hat, pulling it off his head as he bowed graciously. "My name, is Vladimir. Vladimir Salasar Rasputin. I am the sole proprietor of the Salasar Theater, The Sailor's Rest Inn and bar, the Salasar Estate as well as Salasar Industries." Vladimir gave her the full smear. Every single one of the things he proclaimed ownership of, were the best of each their aspect. The Salasar Theater was considered the top Theater in London, bringing only top shows. The Sailor's Rest were one of the most expensive, and thriving Inn's in the City, the City Council even holding it's meetings there. The Salasar Estate was a large ground near the center of London, containing a large public park, as well as the massive Salasar Manor. Lastly, Salasar Industries were the largest sailing company at the docs, bringing in a massive variety of goods, from many different countries. It was nearly impossible for any one person, not to know about at least one of these business.
"And you are in my home. Salasar Manor. And you are not a prisoner, but are free to leave at any time you wish. Unless.." He paused for a moment, his warm smile turning into his charismatic smirk, as he put his hat back on his head, and daringly took a step closer. "You care to take an offer. I do not wish to make it this painfully clear, but.. Your life is in a bit of a.. Bind.. A bind, my offer might be able to unbind." He suggested. If Lydia had not faltered from the daring step, Vladimir stood over her now, the head he was taller than her being quite apparent when this close, looking down upon her with warm, orange, inviting eyes. Standing this close, the smell of caramel would be apparent, once again mingling with the sweet tobacco. His open shirt, revealed his somewhat average, to athletic build, with the occasional outline of muscles. On his chest were a single scare, situated above his heart, vertically.
 
Lydia frowned softly as she watched the man get up, and she realized around the time that he got that tall hat back on his head that this was Vlad. The same strange man from the park only a little over a day ago. Was he the one who had saved her last night? Had that been him in the brothel? Why had he gone through so much trouble to keep an eye on her and then save her? And if he was the one who had saved her last night, then he was also the one who had killed those men… she didn’t feel bad about that, they had been about to send her to her own death, but the fact that Vlad was capable of such things was something that she would keep in mind. He was clearly not so harmless as he had tried to make her think he was. Vlad might not be capable of fear, but she was, and she was more than a little afraid of him right now, especially considering he had apparently been stalking her and now had kind of kidnapped her.

She watched warily as he untangled himself from the naked bodies under and on top of him and finally got up. Vlad was certainly not himself, or not how she remembered, he was having trouble keeping his balance, and walked right up to her. She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders a bit, lowering her head a little to watch him from beneath her brows. Everything about her posture and expression was making it clear she was uncomfortable and he wasn’t exactly welcome. He stopped before Lydia felt the need to tell him off though, but she did take a small step back, getting herself back out of arm’s reach. She didn’t understand Vlad at all, she didn’t get why he was so interested in her or concerned for her. There had to be a reason, she was especially sure of this now that she’d seen what he apparently did in his free time, orgies and drugs. She was beginning to suspect why he might be so interested in her, a whore.

Lydia’s eyes went a little wide though when he explained exactly who he was, recognizing all of the businesses he mentioned. This man owned all three? It was no wonder his home was so huge and opulent. Then it was back to the subject at hand, her being here and what he wanted from her. When Vlad stepped closer, she stepped away, wincing a little as she had a small flashback of the night before, Harold on top of her, his hands around her throat, trying to squeeze the life out of her. Lydia didn’t like Vlad being so in her space right now, especially not knowing what exactly he wanted from her. But… he was right, she was in a bind. She could leave, but where would she go? Back to the brothel? James would kill her. He’d kill her if he found out she was working anywhere else too. So she watched Vlad, pursing her lips. “What is you want then?” She asked him, her own green eyes looking into his orange ones. Lydia knew that whatever it was, she probably couldn't afford to say no, and she hated that.
 
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