Rhiannon was startled to see two figures walking toward the old dilapidated house. Her surprise turned to sheer delight when she smelled the second shadowy figure. "Chance!" she squealed in delight, not entirely believing he was really there. Her trusted and beloved daywalker was fine and in semi good spirits.

"Prince,", Chance said with a flourish, deeply bowing, and then winking at her in his inimatible style. Rhiannon couldn't help but grin, even though a dark cloud seemed to pass through her eyes. "its' been too long and too many scars to call me that anymore Chance. But come, time is waning, I am starting to feel sluggish." She glanced quickly at the horizon, needing to state her needs before the impending dawn.

"I need you to tap into your network. You remember Lady Eveshka, no?"

Chance's eyes misted over with a combination of unrequited love, lust and futility. "Yes, I remember Lady Eveshka." He looked dreamy for a moment.

Rhiannon, seeing how Chance was slipping from her attention - God she forgot how in love he was with Eveshka - and summoned her Majesty. Her voice seemed to boom with a life of its own. "Chance!" Whatever the spell was had broken. "Uh..sorry Grace." He reddened slightly. The mortal blush softened Rhiannon.

"Listen carefully. I felt her, here in Europe. Now this is important, and don't screw this up......' Rhiannon took a breath, and regulated her vocal cords with an imperious air. "I need you to find her."

She turned on her heel, but not before catching the shocked look on Chance's face, and the broad stony grin of Connie.

As the dawn loomed in the horizon, and Rhiannon's body automatically turned to sluggishness, she settled down into her sleeping crypt, and shortly before darkness overtook her she remembered Chance's reaction upon hearing Eveshka's name. She also remembered a time when she too was held tightly in her lover's thrall. She hoped it was behind her.

That day she dreamed of satin, art, singing...and blood.

Its said lightning does not strike the same way twice, however the particular bolt out of the blue making her way rapidly towards the estates of Chateau d'Usse, home of the Comtesse de Touraine knew a great deal about making such events happen....

A sleek and futuristic looking motorcycle pulled up rapidly outside the gate of the estate. Its rider was attired in formfitting dark blue and black motorcycle leathers that barely reflected any of the moonlight. Her passenger, noticing that they had arrived and she was still in one peice carefully let go of her mistress, body language indicating she was convinced she would now fall to her doom.

[i:1e0c25785d]"Its ok Willow... Here let me help you off...."[/i:1e0c25785d]

Morathi having dismounted and removed her helm to allow her raven black hair to tumble free turned to assist her less than confident aide off the motorcycle and out of her helmet.

[i:1e0c25785d]"I did warn you it may be a bit drafty Willow.... Now cheer up here comes the locals... Hopefully they remember me..."[/i:1e0c25785d]

A pair of green eyes glinted the reflected moonlight like emeralds as she smiled playfully at the estate security that had stepped out to meet her...

[i:1e0c25785d]"Ah... Hello... Would you be so kind as to respectfully inform the Comtesse that Ms Lucilla Troy pays her respects and has accepted her invitation to come visit... This is Willow... She will probably want to visit the Darrant Industries research facility after you help her with moving her bags to our guest rooms...."[/i:1e0c25785d]

Morathi's soft purred request was laced with a gentle nudge of dominate that made the request more a directive, with the desired result of the security staff almost falling over backwards to assist Willow with the extremely heavy looking and secure luggage that Willow was detaching from the motorcycle's cargo hardpoints. The Ducheski revenant firmly back on terra firma was regaining a limited measure of her composure now her mistress was letting her get back into her preferred environments...

Morathi herself retrieved two package from her motorcycle's hard-luggage, one a finely made white dress that had been carefully packaged to protect it during transport on the motorcycle. The other item was a small box containing a certain slinky black satin gift, which Morathi fully intended to wear with Lucilla Troy's trademark white dress....

The thought reminded her of a conversation long ago in York where Eveshka had talked her into wearing such garments as a special secret, a mental prop to help catalyse her slowly developing understanding of presence when she was still very much the Tremere duckling Julius had told to go out and have some fun many years ago...

Well this would be her special secret of the evening, undoubtedly there would be those in Eveshka's current court that may sense and recognise the faint hint of Eve's fragrance on her and wonder at the nature of her relationship to the Comtesse. The thought caused the playful tone to creep back into her voice...

[i:1e0c25785d]"Sooo.... Will I have time to dress before the Comtesse returns?...."[/i:1e0c25785d]

When Connie opened his eyes the following evening he was greeted by Chance standing in front of him with crowbar in hand.

"I am so sorry Connie, our timing was a little off" He motioned to the crypt at the other end of the transport. "She hasn't awakened yet. We had a bit of trouble at De Gaulle with security. They wanted to search your crate and her crypt as soon as we landed at T9."

"I always wake first Chance. This packing is itchy . . . help me out." Connie interrupted, trying to brush the composite packing off of him. "We're still in the truck? How far from Saint Germain are we?"

Chance reached forward, grabbed Connie’s huge forearm and pulled with all his might. "You are just too heavy in form Connie, I can't get any leverage." He said with a laugh. "According to the driver Marc we are just about at our transition. After we switch over to the car, Rhi's crypt will be delivered to Residence Des Arts just after our arrival."

"Oh good." Connie commented as he switched to human form. "So other then the delay at the terminal we are okay."

"Yes, I was able to assure them that you weren't contraband of any kind and that the museum had set stern instructions that the contents not be disturbed in any way." Chance answered as he extracted Connie from the crate. "Could you do the honors of awakening the Prince?"

"Chance, she isn't a Prince anymore . . . she doesn't like that." With a stern look Connie attempted to get the point across. "Good job at the airport. Get me my clothes please and then break down the crate while I get the little one up."

"Yes sir." Chance answered swiftly turning on his heals and pulling Connie’s clothes from a small black bag behind him. With a small jolt that threw Chance off balance, the transport came to a stop. "We're here."

After dressing, Connie unlocked and opened the outer crypt to reveal Rhiannon's inner sleeping crypt. As he opened the inner crypt he was surprised to see Rhiannon looking back at him with a smile. "Hey little one! Your car awaits you!"

A young Toreador male dressed in an 18th Century French army frock, cocked hat, and white powdered whig knocked lightly on Morathi's door.
Willow answered it. The Vampire handed her a beautifully illuminated note.


[i:2b49f6e9ce] The Comtesse de Touraine sends her most affectionate compliments but regrets to inform Ms. Troy that she has arrived at the main palace at a time when the Comtesse is in residence at her Summer Estate at Chenonceau. Her Grace, the Comtesse would be over joyed to receive Ms. Troy there. A car will be sent round at 9pm to conduct her to the Comtesse if she so desires.

Marceau, Harpy of Touraine

[/i:2b49f6e9ce]

(OOC: Doh... knew I should have looked at a map first, thought it was part of the same estate she visited last time :oops: )
_________________________________________

Having dressed, Morathi gracefully moved to await the car carrying a small case contraining the few items she rarely travelled without, Willow had followed her and was recieving her instructions for while her mistress was away.

[i:73f3e6547f]"Now play nice with all the other boys and girls Willow.... Enjoy yourself at school... And dont overfeed the roses. I dont want to have to apoligise to Julius for a pupil going missing..."[/i:73f3e6547f]

The car arrived and the Tremere astor departed for Chenonceau....

Once safely installed in her suite in the Residence Des Art, Rhiannon looked around her hungrily. It wasn't vitae that she needed, it was the years of making up. Denying her eyes and her true Toreador soul to the beauty and magnificence of the civilized world. Thank God for Connie. He knew, just as he instinctively knew her moves before she made them, that this opulence was just what she needed to come back to herself. Aside from comfortable travelling clothes, she hadn't even peeked into the trunks that sat in her sitting room. She was as giddy as a schoolgirl.
Without heed of anything but finding the new clothes she had not had since Cascadia, she ran to the trunks to begin sifting through.

"Hold up little one," said a laughing voice behind her. She turned to see Connie in human form, looking breathtaking in a linen suit. "I can't wait to see my little one as she used to be, but could you at least take a shower and get rid of the 2 years of grime that has settled in every pore on your body? I mean, I spent alot of money on those clothes, and i don't relish the idea of having to find a dry cleaners at this time of night." He snickered.

Rhiannon straightened herself up, and turned to look in a vanity that was in the corner. JESUS! She looked like the worst ragamuffin she had ever seen during the black death years. Had she really lost herself THAT much?

"Oh goodness, I am a mess," she suppressed either a giggle or a sob, Connie couldn't tell which. Summoning as much pride as she could, which wasn't much considering her sorry state of disarray, she straightened her shoulders in that trademark Rhiannon style, and sauntered into the bathroom. But even the thick oak door separating the rooms could not drown out the sound of Connie's gravelly laughter.

She spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, cleaning and recleaning herself. She felt as though she would never get the layers and layers of grime out from under her skin, her hair.

It took awhile, but soon she was so pristine, she was almost shining. Wrapping herself in a luxurious white towel, she padded into the bedroom. Connie was nowhere to be seen, he had probably gone off to find out if Chance had located any of the information that Rhiannon sought.

She sat down at her vanity, and began brushing out her once again lustrous red hair. She applied light powder to her face and decolletage, and spied the bottle of perfume she had never seen before. 'Amarige' by Givenchy. She pulled the top off and sniffed delicately. The smell was intoxicating, she actually swooned for a moment. It had been so long since she had smelled perfume, and this one was amazing. It was contradictory, musky, yet feminine, delicate, yet strong. She smiled, as tears welled up into her eyes, misting her view to a pink haze. She knew Connie had picked it, and she smiled.

Once her toilet had been administered to, her hair shining as the crown it had once been, she went to the trunks. She pored through them, until finding the perfect gown. Having decided on that, she went through trunk after trunk, matching camisole to underskirt, pawing through all of the clothing, trying to find all that she needed. Shoes, skirts, scarves all went flying as she tried to put her ensemble together, cursing at the lack of a maid. She had to look special, because she knew under no certain terms that she would find Eveshka, and the lack of organization made her even more frenzied.

When she was finally dressed, the room was a wreck, two hours had passed, and she had the Kindred version of a headache. But she looked like a Queen. Her white gown was beaded all over in a honeycomb pattern of paillettes. It rose almost to her knees in the front and dipped to the back in a masterpiece of seaming to produce a trumpet flare from below the hip. Her shoulders and throat were powdered and buffed, her eyes lined with kohl, and her hair thick, luxurious and wavy. She bit her lips to give them additional color, and reached in the last trunk for a white fox wrap.

Shaking the tension from her shoulders, praying she wasn't making a mistake, she went in search of Connie. It was time.

Eveshka stood in the second floor gallery with a Stradivarius violin on her shoulder. She gently swayed awaiting her cue to join in the music that was being played over the sound system. Marceau stood patiently at the north end of the gallery waiting for an appropriate time to announce the arrival of Ms. Lucilla Troy. She whispered in his ear to leave them, that she needed no introduction. Marceau looked down to his Comtesse standing in the middle of the long, narrow gallery with her back to them and felt a bit troubled. Ms. Troy shrugged and simply Dominated him in order to get him to go away.

He went away.

She was not aware that Eveshka could even play the violin. But, as her former mentor seemed to be nie on unparalleled in her excellence at almost anything artistic, she wouldn't be surprised that she....

[i:1e457ba73a] ScReeeEEeeech [/i:1e457ba73a]

Mora cringed, the reason she was unaware of Eve's skill at the violin was because she didn't have any of which to be aware. Suddenly Morathi felt a bit self conscious and vulnerable, wishing that she HAD been formally announced. Eveshka was many things, but none of them included modesty. Her mood darkened even more when Eveshka swore and turned around abruptly to face her. A look of shock crossed her angelic features. She clearly did not enjoy being found to be artistically fallible.
Her right eyebrow went up slightly as she strode forwards with a very feminine, but moderately intimidating, stride. A grin formed on her face and Morathi's heart rose a bit.

"Welcome to Chenonceau, Lucilla," said Eve warmly, but slightly guarded nonetheless.

She kissed both of Morathi's cheeks in a bisous and then embraced her. Eve's lips found Mora's and she whispered, "Tell anyone and I'll kill you."

"My lips are sealed," whispered back Morathi with tone that sounded both like a purr and a moan. She sealed her own lips with Eve's mouth.


[i:1e457ba73a] a few hours later [/i:1e457ba73a]

Eveshka and Morathi walked out into the night for a moonlit stroll. Eveshka paused along the wall overlooking the Cher. Morathi could tell Eveshka was in one of her nostalgic moods. She also knew that her moods usually led trouble. It was just one of those universal constants. She was saved the agony of intraspection on just what this might mean for her by Eveshka turning around, taking her by the hand, and gently leading her farther into the woods.

The two chatted for several hours about various performances the two had shared, past events, sexual escapades, fashion, and all manners of things. Their meandering path took them through the maze, past the limestone Greek columns, and into the rose garden.

"I've missed out chats Morathi. You've stayed away for far too long," said Eve with a smile. Her eyes looked farther to the north where she saw a pair of headlights making their slow journey up the road to the chateau. Morathi looked to see what she was looking at. Eveshka closed her eyes. Morathi knew that she was reaching out and had most likely already ascertained the identity of the new arrival. She inwardly marveled at the power that this Toreador Methuselah held within herself, yet would not have traded places with her for anything. Too friggin moody. Eveshka's psychic projection reached out to the red haired beauty. Morathi saw Eve's face momentarily look distressed but then soften in appearance. In the car, a subtle whisper was heard by the occupants.

[i:1e457ba73a]"Welcome, my Dark Mistress."[/i:1e457ba73a]

A faint blush of life from the excitement of her reunion with Eveshka still warming her skin, Morathi pondered the new arrival, she also had her suspicions who was in the car having encountered her a few times as Julius' Whip in York and later on occasion when her astor duties had inadvertantly involved her in a power play between Tremere and Toreador elders.

Morathi had been embraced in victorian times and despite being just over a century past her apparent physical age she still felt like a clumsy and perhaps lovestruck youth when she was witness to Eveshka's meetings with kindred with hundreds more years of experience of the the russian firebird's nature. Eveshka was certainly a flame Morathi was prepared to risk being attracted to though. But the new arrival may be just like pouring fuel on the flames with equally unpredictable effects on anyone or anything near it....

Given recent past.... This would be an interesting meeting, to put it mildly....

She bent and selected a fine rose from the garden as a gift for the red haired lady that she and Eveshka awaited....

Connie strolled the property doing his usual security check when a hyper and over-excited Chance came running to him.

“I found her! I . . . . holy shit.” Chance could only stare past Connie.

Connie noticed the sudden glazed look and turned to see what had turned Chance into stone. “Holy shite it right.” What he saw was nothing but pure beauty to him. He felt as it must feel for a mortal on his daughters wedding night. It was Rhiannon. As he stared, unable to speak or move, he suddenly without control popped out of human form knocking Chance over and ripping apart his suit. Yet, with the vision in front of him, he did not notice.

“Jesus Connie . . . “ Chance sighed as he slowly pulled himself off the floor.

Rhiannon laughed and placed her hand in Connie’s. “You need to go change your clothes.”

Connie, popping out of his stupor, smiled. “You look amazing.”

“Yes Prince Rhiann. . . . I mean . . . Rhiannon . . . you look . . um . . .” Chance looked away and cursed himself. “I uh . . . “ Suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place, “Oh, I found her! I found Eve. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to track her down.” Still struck by Rhiannon he re-entered his glazed stare.

A few seconds past in silence when Connie finally placed his hand over Chances eyes. “Now try . . . where is she?”

“Oh, yes, god I am sorry . . . “ he blushed, “I may have this a bit wrong, but according to my sources Eveshka is Comtesse de Touraine – not that it would mean anything to you guys being that you have been out of the loop – kind of a big deal in certain circles these days . . . but anyway . . . “ He reached up and pushed Connie’s hand away and smiled, “I’m okay now, thanks.” Avoiding eye contact with Rhiannon he continued from his notes, “Suddenly Katerina Balonskaya showed up in Berlin and . . . “

Rhiannon put her hand over the paper, “She is many people in many places. Where is she now?”

Chance stuttered for a second, composed himself, and looked at Rhiannon. “She is in Loire Valley south of here at Chenonceau. I have a car waiting for us . . . as soon as Connie changes.”

“Say no more.” Connie said as he quickly reformed to human and headed to the room attempting to cover any bare spots.

Rhiannon smiled, “Good job Chance.” She turned and followed Connie back to the room.

Chance pumped his fist, “YES! I rock!” He turned and headed to the waiting car.

It was approximately a two-hour drive into Loire Valley from Saint Germain and now about 4am. As the Castle came into view Chance gasped and Rhiannon smiled. Connie was too busy adjusting himself. He had decided to wear his expandable suit in case another mishap occurred, and it was very uncomfortable. Suddenly Rhiannon gasped and reached out her arm and grabbed Connie’s shoulder.

“There she is.” Rhiannon said softly.

At that exact moment everyone in the car heard Eveshka’s sultry voice as if she was whispering right in each of their ears, “[i:43fd08e27e]Welcome, my Dark Mistress[/i:43fd08e27e].”

The car pulled to a stop as Eve and Mora walked out of the woods and sat on a semi-circular stone bench in the garden next to the roadway. A man stepped from the car and walked around to the back and opened a door. A tall, well built, and very attractive man stepped out of the car and turned to hold his hand for the next occupant. A pale skinned hand appeared, then a modern looking outfit, then flaming red hair. It was Rhiannon. Eveshka felt a strange pang inside of her. A longing. After all this time, she was still addicted to her. In truth, no body, not even Julius took her to the extreme highs that Rhiannon did. By the same token, because she went so high with her, nobody ever let her fall so far as Rhiannon did.

Morathi sat in stoic silence watching Eveshka's aura displayed nothing. Not a thing. But she knew that the simple fact that Eve's aura was absolutely blank made it clear that Eve was feeling all manners of things. Why else hide what she was feeling? She saw Eveshka's aura suddenly become vivid. She was happy. She stood up and walked elegantly over to Rhiannon who was standing there feeling slightly awkwards. Eveshka kissed both cheeks and then hugged her with genuine warmth.

"Welcome, sister," she said. "Welcome to my domain."

Rhiannon felt a wash of relief. She knew that their positions had been drastically changed. The former Harpy had, at least to all appearances, at last gotten her head screwed on straight and made a success of herself. [i:d117fd3f81]Well, [/i:d117fd3f81] thought Rhiannon, [i:d117fd3f81] Evey always did have a way of gaining influence. Now she finally seems to have worked for herself rather than someone else. [/i:d117fd3f81]

"You've done well for yourself, Evey," said Rhiannon.

Eveshka smiled. "Thank you, Love."

Rhiannon nearly lost it. [i:d117fd3f81] Love, that was how they had always addressed each other. Whether when making love, everyday courtly discourse, or simply two "sisters" chatting into the wee hours of the day. Perhaps this wasn't a mistake after all. [/i:d117fd3f81]

Eveshka saw the spike in Rhiannon's aura and the corner of her mouth curved upwards in a smile. In truth, Eveshka did not know what she was going to do with Rhiannon. Would she take her back to her palatial bed chambers with Morathi and feed on her till the sun came up, fucking her brains out? Would she toy with her to see what crawled out from under the rocks? Would she be open? Would she just drain her dry? What would she do?

She looked hard into Rhiannon's soul and saw only pain and the desire to be loved again. She saw a woman so full of remorse that it looked about ready to devour her from within. Eveshka dove into Rhiannon's soul with all of her will and saw nothing untoward. She saw a vastly younger vampiress who had achieved too much success too quickly and been mulled over by it. She saw a much younger vampiress who had been given a second chance. She saw blood tears in the younger vampiress' eyes. Eveshka smiled softly at her. This woman who was at one time both the bane of her existance and the sole reason for her existance.

Images flashed before Eveshka's eyes of times the two had shared. Good times, bad times. Then it stopped on the last time she had set eyes on her. Rhiannon had been named Justicar of the Toreador for a short time. It was in York, outside a discotheque. Eveshka was with Michelle St. Clair then, the Ventrue Prince of York. Yet, when Eve had seen Rhiannon, time stood still. She had acted quite cold towards Rhiannon at the time. She was aloof and stand offish. Yet........ yet.

One moment outside the place, in the alley. Eveshka had said something to her. She said the same words that she know spoke. As she spoke them, Morathi's eyes closed, partially in pain, partially in disappointment: a sort of "here we go again," resolution. But she stayed her tongue and let what would be, be.

Eveshka held Rhiannon tightly and whispered, "I still love you."

Eveshka pulled back and smiled warmly at Rhiannon and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. In a flash, Eveshka had disengaged from Rhiannon and her emotions had changed to something vibrant and warm, but unattached.

"Rhi, this is Lucilla Troy," she said motioning to Mora. "Lucilla, this is one of my oldest friends, Rhiannon Mitchell."

Both women exchanged pleasantries. "Lucilla and I have done some theater work together," said Eveshka with a smile, putting her arm around Morathi who had given Rhiannon the rose.

"Come, Rhiannon, if you are to stay at my chateau, we must eschew the modern attire and put you into something suitable," said Eveshka. Both Eve and Mora wore dresses that were the heighth of fashion in the 90's. The 1490's that is.

"Something in a deep satiny green, with gold trim I should think," said Morathi with a smile.

"My very thoughts Lucilla," said Eveshka. She went between the two women, grasped her arms under each of theirs and started walking towards the chateau. "Come ladies, we've a Goddess to recreate." She looked at Rhiannon, smiled, playfully bumped her perfectly rounded butt into Rhiannon's as they walked and the two Toreadors giggled. Mora laughed but not in as airheaded a manner as the two others.

Connie followed along behind looking satisfied with himself. Chance had parked the car and was walking across the grounds wishing he could be a fly on the wall in the room later that night. He had all manners of dirty visions running about in his head that he wished he could witness. He'd have been disappointed.