"
Helena, honey, why don't you come have a cup of tea with your mom before you head out. It's not like I'm around often." There it was, obligatory 'I travel for a work a lot so do what I want' guilt card. Helena sighed as she dropped her eyeliner pencil into her makeup bag that was sitting in the sink before shuffling towards the kitchen where her mother's plea came from. Her mother who was much older than she looked was warming her hands with her favorite tea cup before she motioned to the chair across from her, which screeched across the tile floor as if it'd been pulled out by an unseen hand. Begrudgingly, Helena trudged her platform boots over to the chair and sat down as she crossed her arms. Her black liner covered amethyst eyes looked down at the cup of tea her mother poured for her before looking up at the older woman, "Chamomile. No sugar or cream, just how you like it," her mother smiled, her watery blue eyes focused on her spawn. Helena just shrugged, "What is it, mom? I’ll be late." It was always something with her mother and there was no such thing as a friendly chat, her tone mirrored just how uninterested she was.
"Late for meeting with your friends," the older woman clicked her tongue, "I'll never understand why you don’t spend more time perfecting your craft. You have a home and a well-paying job, all provided by me. The least you could do is try to improve your skills." Helena’s mother had never accepted that the magic gene skipped her daughter who was simply a Wiccan. And that well-paying job she was referring to was nothing more than a shop keep of a magic shop that did dangerously accurate tarot readings. The shop, which they lived above, actually belongs to her mother but she was a part of a Special Task Force which meant she was home maybe once or twice a year. Though you’d have a hard time convincing her daughter that some of those business trips were all business. The young woman rolled her eyes as she continued to ignore the cup of tea, she wasn't going to argue with her mother as it was like talking to a brick wall, so she remained silent while she waited for her mother to get to the point. But her mother wasn't giving up, "Really, I think you should take up a semester at the Witches Institute. Take a few classes about being a Guardian, at the very least."
"Absolutely not," Helena said simply. She was a bit old for teenage rebellion, but she’d accepted that she didn’t have any real powers and she just wanted her mom to accept it too.
The older woman pushed a manila folder towards her pouting daughter, "You've been assigned, Helena," she revealed with an exasperated sigh.
The chair screeched across the floor again but this time it was because Helena stood suddenly as she slammed her hands on the table which shook causing droplets of tea to spill on the tabletop. Every year for three years since her eighteenth birthday she wasn't assigned and she was more than happy about it. It allowed her to do just what she wanted to do; hang out with friends, party, draw. But her mother never liked that as she was always bugging her about attending the Institute, even if she was in another country she would send her daughter e-mails about courses that were starting soon. She was certain the woman had something to do with the sudden assignment but she didn’t say any of the awful things she was thinking. Instead, Helena reached out to take the folder, open it and read it before looking back down at her mother, “A Vampire? How cliche.”
It was weeks before Helena was actually meant to meet her new charge as there was a lot of red tape and precautions to take before the government could be certain that the subject was ready for rehabilitation. And she’d spent those weeks partying as if another day wasn’t promised. The alarm clock buzzed loud in her ear and it had been buzzing for five minutes every ten minutes since two hours ago. Blinking awake she rubbed her eyes to read the red digital numbers, “Shit,” she hissed before jumping out of bed. She didn’t even bother to take a shower before she rushed out of the apartment, pulling on her clothes as she went. Speeding to the Final Hope Center, she jogged into the building before coming to a halt in the waiting room, every pair of eyes that could see stared at her. Admittedly, she wasn’t exactly professionally dressed like most Wiccans. She smoothed down her tight, black leather mini-skirt that didn’t need smoothing before nervously shifting in her lose fitting sheer red button down shirt, a black leather bikini top visible underneath it. “Okay,” she mumbled as she looked away from everyone and started to move towards an open seat, her platform Mary Janes clunking against the tile floor. Before she even got to the chair, “Helena Blake,” someone called her attention.
She stood up straight and smiled at the official looking woman, "That's me. I'm here to see,"
"Markus, Jackson," she completed Helena's sentence, "This way."
The purple-haired Wiccan followed obediently as the woman chastised her for being late; it seemed she was always prompting someone to give her lecture. She wished there were a polite way to express how much she didn’t care even though in this case she did feel bad for being so late thanks to her little bender. The secretary brought Helena into a small conference room where her charge had already been waiting before the secretary left the two alone.
Helena stood a moment as she looked the Vampire over. He was a younger Vampire so he didn't look as scary and decrepit as the older ones, but he was still very intimidating. Which she wanted very much not to reveal to him, "Jackson, I presume," she said as she offered her hand for a handshake