Encounterlogs
Jordans Odd Encounter Sr Korina 240731
In the pre-dawn hours at Black Rose Cafe, a place normally vibrant with patrons and the aroma of coffee, a quiet drama unfolded involving Jordan, Tom, a despondent thrall named Kittie, and the eerie, dim ambiance provided by the stained glass of the café. The thrall, a young woman discarded by her vampire mistress for infidelity, stumbled into the café, reeking of blood and desperation. Jordan and Tom initially engaged with her out of concern, listening to her plea for help to return to her mistress in New York, despite the murky details of her loyalty and the consequences of her actions. The woman's devotion was palpable, her pleas heartbreaking, yet the undercurrent of her situation hinted at manipulation and control beyond her understanding.
As the story progressed, with the addition of Kittie to their small group, the depth of the thrall's condition became clearer. Her love for her mistress was rooted in blood-bound servitude and hypnotic manipulation, revealing a tragic tale of longing and loss. Jordan, Tom, and Kittie grappled with the ethical implications of aiding her. Jordan offered a solution steeped in magical ritual, demanding a high price but promising purification and possibly a path back to her mistress. This resolution was met with mixed emotions, highlighting the complexities of consent, ownership, and the value of autonomy versus belonging. As they concluded the ritual with hope and resignation, the future of the thrall remained uncertain, leaving a bittersweet feeling among them. The story ended with the delivery of steaks as promised, a small, tangible reminder of a night filled with ethereal dilemmas and the power dynamics of the supernatural world they navigated.
(Jordan's odd encounter(SRKorina):SRKorina)
[Tue Jul 30 2024]
In Black Rose Cafe
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is night, about 89F(31C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target and their allies encounter the former thrall of a vampire who has been discarded by their previous owner, likely mind controlled into complete devotion the thrall wants nothing more than to return. It is up to the characters to either help them return, or stop them from doing so.
)
OOC: Hello! Feel free to continue as you were, and give me a few minutes to set up.
Jordan waves as they nibble on their muffin, gesturing to the world at large. They speak quietly, but enthusiastically. "Everything is just... alive with smells. I imagine your synesthetic experience in comparison. Scents are like colors... it's crazy, and a bit heady."
Jordan adds, "And I get... tastes of magic. I can't...quite grasp it, but I'll have lessons for it soon."
"I have a sensitive nose too, but it just sounds like you're experiencing things very intensely right now." Tom keeps his gaze on Jordan, lifting his tea until the vapors are curling up and wafting under his chin. "Like a literal taste?"
Jordan shakes their head, eyes drifting half-closed around the room. "No, more like sight, but so... so faint. Like an afterimage, almost."
It's the wan hours of the morning, and the cafe is quiet instead of its usual bustle, the night owls having gone to bed and the early risers not quite risen yet. The stained glass roof, devoid of daylight, casts subtle shadows of rosy reds, greens, and dark grays that softly blanket the quiet space, and the hardwood floors shine dimly after the employee behind the counter has gone through and mopped everything up, polished to a sheen.
The lingering scent of coffee and baked goods is ever-present in the space, even when there's nothing being baked yet - they're still prepping in the kitchen, the occasional noise heard from in there, but the employees themselves are still waking up too; who wants to be up and at work at four in the morning, really?
The door opens and closes with a creeeeeak as someone steps in, leaning heavily against the doorframe before they stumble in - a woman, looking like she's certainly seen better days. Her pale hair is tangled in places where it falls to her shoulders, and her makeup is smudged, dark circles beneath her eyes that seem almost painted into place with how dark they are. She stumbles in, rubbing at her head as though trying to stave off a fierce headache - hungover, maybe? - and she attempts to shuffle over to the counter with short footsteps... right before she bumps into Tom and Jordan's table heavily, almost falling over it. If they've got their coffee already, it might be in peril now.
She pauses, blinks at them both with bleary, tired eyes, as though trying to figure out how they got in her way to the counter, and mumbles out a quiet, "Sorry."
Jordan lunges for their tea, to save it before hot liquid splashes over anyone.
"So am I magically enchanted?" Tom asks Jordan lifts the corner of his mouth into a wry grin, lifting his cup of tea to sip from it. As he's sipping, his gaze is drawn towards the main door. He slowly lowers his cup, his features already shaping in sympathy and concern for the poor woman. As she bumps the table, he voices kindly. "Woah, sorry." He's so British, he would probably apologize to a lamp post if he walked into it. "Are you alright?"
Jordan manages to save their tea, just barely; there's an awful clatter of utensils, but nothing falls off the table or gets spilled after all, thanks to their fast reflexes.
The woman blinks at Tom slowly at the question, as though trying to figure out what to make of it. Is she okay? She glances down at herself, then over at Tom and Jordan again - and then abruptly starts tearing up, big fat tears rising to her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She sniffles, once, and now that they can see her face from up close, it's easy to tell she's pretty young, likely just twenty years of age or so, though nobody Jordan would have seen around college.
To those with sensitive noses, especially this close, it would be quite easy to figure out she smells sharply of blood.
"No," she whispers quietly to Tom's answer, sniffling once before her eyes catch on Jordan's fist-symboled earring and linger there for a long, long moment. "A-are you- You're..." she mumbles, as seems to be her default volume, and moves closer to Jordan, uncomfortably so to peer at their jewelry. "You're... /aware/?" She doesn't wait for an answer to that. "Please help me. I-I made a mistake, and I'm lost, and-..." Another sniffle, before she breaks down into tears, wet and snotty.
Jordan leans back, bringing their tea to their lips as they consider her. Their eyes flash to glance at Tom before deciding to speak up. There's a tone of annoyance in their voice - likely because the popular labor fist symbol is just too easily interpreted as something else in Haven. Though, it would be easy to misinterpret their reaction. "Well, hey, y'all need to calm down, first. Take a seat, we'll getcha some tea, then you can tell us what happened, and how we can help."
Tom may be dressed in the attire for a midnight run or some late night comfort eating on a couch, but he can't shake off his inner gentleman even without the right attire. He's pushing back his chair, standing up. Looking unsure, yet with his nostrils flared his concern deepens. Though as she becomes animated and focused on Jordan, his attention shifts for a moment to the symbol that excited her before looking back to the woman and asking. "Just take a deep breath, tell us about your mistake, let's see if we can help."
She takes a deep, deep breath which seems to help, just a little bit, and the woman takes a seat at the third chair at their table, still letting out the occasional sniffle, and wiping away the moisture from her reddened eyes with a napkin. She's got delicate hands, the sort that don't seem accustomed to any sort of hard work, and a slight frame that indicates much the same, and she comes to clasp her hands together in her lap after unbuttoning the top button of her jacket to get in some fresh air.
The expanse of her neck, when it's bared, reveals a number of scars, new and old, scattered around her neck and decolletage; twin, equidistant pinpricks, easy to recognize for those who have familiarity with it - a vampire's bite. She's been fed on many, many times if she's got these many scars, that's for sure.
"I- well- I'm looking for someone," she tells Jordan first of all, seeming to pay more attention to them than to Tom - maybe it's the symbol, maybe it's because they look outwardly more annoyed, and perhaps the key to getting help is to make them less so. "She... she is associated with your group. Not as a part. Just... Distantly," she continues on with assumptions, eying their earring still. "From /New York/." She says the words like they're meant to be somehow more significant than they outright seem, and there's a pause after that, staring heavily at Jordan to see if there's any bit of recognition upon their features. "I... I belong to her, but she told me to leave, a-and I can't find the way back, it's like it's been-"
Oh, she's going to cry again.
The woman scrunches up her face, trying her best to stem the tears before more of them start flowing, and ends up exhaling a shaky breath and turning wet, shiny eyes to both Tom and Jordan. "I love her. I want to go home. I- please help me." There's a lot of holes missing in that story, but it's a start... right?
Kittie enters into the book store. She rubs her face, having woken shortly before and looks pale. Noticing Tom and Jordan she waves over to them.
Where Jordan and Tom sit at one of the tables, a young, disheveled woman with pale hair sits with them, smelling of blood and tears, looking like she's barely holding herself back from crying some more while she tells them some story with much whimpering and simpering involved. Up close, she's got scars of a vampire's bite dotting her neck, and she looks as though she's asking them for help regarding /something/.
Jordan waves to Kittie, then switches their hand in another wave - a beckon, waving her over.
Kittie collects a drink and some scones- usual breakfast, pays and moves on over, being sure to collect her change. She nears the tables, taking in the state of the woman, perceptively looking her over and very clearly spotting something she doesn't like, for she frowns. Taking a seat, she closes her eyes, allowing that aspect of her that heals to blossom out, seeking to soothe.
Jordan nods, understandingly. "Oh, you poor thing... and she's sent you all the way here? Oh, there, there." They don't pat her on the back, instead just nodding. "When was that? Just recently?"
Tom seems to follow suit as the distressed woman takes her seat, he lowers himself back into his own seat. His features still looking concerned, yet there is a passivity within his observations of her as she speaks to Jordan. Always the avid listener and observer, his eyes drift over the woman's neck and in a moment of self conscious recognition he moves a hand errantly up to rub at his own neck. His fingers touching at a single mark which resembles the many which decorate the other woman's. He grows quiet, flicking his gaze over at Kittie as she arrives and offering her a polite smile. Though his attention is mostly drawn back to that of the distressed woman, his concern seeming to deepen with everything he hears. His own voice croaks a little before he clears his throat and asks her, "What does she look like, the one you're missing?"
Clasping her hands around her drink, Kittie listens quietly. She sends a smile to Tom, before returning to the woman and her story. She raises her brows- a silent question for Jordan to explain now or later- likely later, as this seems more important than her curiosity.
Jordan shares a look back with Kittie - they'll explain later. But, they don't speak up, waiting for the lass to answer a few more questions.
She doesn't cry again, though the woman does look a little unsure when there's another person joining the table; Kittie gets a weak, weak smile, but something about the blonde makes her relax soon enough, and she goes back to the conversation. "It was..." she starts to answer Jordan as though in a daze, voice trailing off. "... recent." She doesn't sound sure. "I... I don't know how I got here. I wasn't here. We lived-..." Another pause. "Where did we live...?" she mumbles to herself, reaching up to rub at her temples again as what seems like another fierce headache throbs in her head, tears springing to her eyes again - of pain from a headache this time, instead of distress like earlier.
Instead of answering Jordan's question, she moves on to Tom's - that one seems easier to answer. "She is the most beautiful woman in the world," she says with the utmost certainty of a woman smitten. "She's got lovely red hair, just like blood, and these freckles. I have wanted to touch them many times..." A soft sigh. "Blue eyes, too, like the ocean. We went to the ocean once. That was-" Oh, here come the waterworks again. "B-before I /fucked up/, and now she doesn't want me anymore. I- I can't go back to her, I- I don't know what to do."
Jordan makes gentle shushing sounds, saying, "It's all right, honey, it's alright. We can help. You just need to tell me what you did wrong, so we know why this happened."
There's a flush of color that rises to the woman's pale cheeks now at Jordan's question, and she mumbles something under her breath that goes almost inaudible - mumblemumblemumble.
Jordan narrows their eyes at the woman, then commands, in a terse voice, "Speak up."
She stiffens, wide eyes turning up to Jordan now with alarm at the tone of their voice, and she speaks up as though on autopilot, though the words are still stuttered, nervous and embarrassed to explain her fuck-up: "... there-... there was a woman. /Another/... woman. I, um, I... I took her to bed." Presumably, that doesn't require further explanation. "She- my owner, she could tell. She said I'm... I'm /ruined/ and I don't taste up to her standards anymore, and she doesn't want-" Another deep breath before she can start hyperventilating. "I just- If I go back and apologize to her, I can make it up to her, I can-... I can't go back, she hates me, she..." There's another headache now, and she reaches up to pull at her hair from the roots, tangling up the messy strands even more as she curls up on herself.
Kittie winces; Something about this story rings far too close to home for her. There's a gentle smile for this woman and that look isn't sympathetic or pitteous- That isn't what's needed in this situation. Empathetic then, and with a tightening around the eyes that seems to convey anger, yes, but an emphatic desire to help. She does remain quiet though- New to the conversation, she lacks full context, though she suspects, letting Jordan and Tom take the lead here. At the command, the blond shakes her head subtly, gesturing to give her some space. After all, some things can be solved with abrupt, in-your-face shock, others can demand a willing ear and time.
A visible tension which Tom was carrying in his shoulders seems to leseen as the woman gives the description, he scraps his chair closing the gap between himself the table and her. He glances over at Jordan pulling a face of uncertainty, before offering in some effort to sooth the woman a light pat upon her shoulder and her back. His large hand trying to provide some comfort, though it is brief before he shuffles his chair back and shares with her a reassuring smile. His eyes seem sad, the longing which the woman describes of the one she seeks, seeming to stir in him some empathetic sadness as if he were vicariously feeling something of her loss. He seems satisfied with Jordan's inquiry, giving room for her to answer without pressuring her with more of his own input. Much like Kittie, he seems affected by the emotions at the table even the other angel's.
Jordan grimaces at the revelation, though ignoring Kittie's gestured advice, for now. They sit back, and drink their tea, considering, before getting up. They make a calm, wait gesture at the lady, holding a finger up, before moving to the counter. After a moment, they come back, taking a seat, handing the lady a warm cup of green tea. "Blow on it, drink carefully, don't burn your tongue," they order, albeit gently.
Jordan considers, taking it all in. They seem to be considering a lot more than how to make up to a girlfriend that's been cheated on, and their eyes are focused on the poor woman.
Kittie leans in. She doesn't touch the woman- she doesn't reach out, but she puts a hand on the table, palm up. "You don't need this." she says in soft tones. "If you cant be appreciated, you can be. Just not there." She's moved by her own words, her breath catching and there's a look that could kill if Jordan or Tom comment on it. "There's always a way, honey. And people who oppress you, discard you over things out of your control are not worth you."
Jordan sucks on their teeth, eyeing Kittie. Their expression practically *declares* that Kittie doesn't understand what she's talking about. But, there's not anger, just annoyance... no, more frustration, where Kittie is concerned.
Jordan says, after a sudden epiphany, "I can help you. I know how." They grin, then, wide. "I can give you exactly what you need."
Jordan taps their jaw at that, tilting their head. "But, *damn* is it *expensive.*"
She accepts the cup with trembling fingers when Jordan offers it to her, the utensil shaking terribly before she gets her nerves under control and nods her head at Jordan. "Thank you," she whispers, and blows on the cup carefully before braving a few sips. She fixes them with a stare now, as though Jordan carries all the answers to her problems.
Kittie's words make the woman turn her way next with a quick shake of the head, determined. "I- she didn't /oppress/ me," she says, blind devotion in her eyes - it's unlikely she'd put up with hearing anything bad said about their owner at all. "She was happy with me. I was her favorite- she said I tasted the best, the /purest/ and I-" Thankfully, Jordan speaks up again before she can continue on with that train of thought and start crying again, and her head swivels fast enough to give her whiplash. "You can?!" she gasps, voice a little louder than her usual whisper now, before she startles at her own voice and hunches back in on herself and takes another sip. "Please. Please help me." She looks ready to do whatever Jordan asks of her, if it means she gets /exactly what she needs/.
Tom looks rather torn in his ambivalence as he takes a deep sip from his own green tea, his eyes searchingly scanning Kittie's face as she interacts with the woman. By contast to Jordan's expression, the large man's eyes have a sense of admiration for Kittie and a small sad smile is at the edge of his mouth. He seems to look like he's about to agree or say something to contribute, however Jordan's epiphany leaves him hanging.
Jordan holds up a finger, emphasizing, "I don't think you understand just *how* expensive this is. What do you have to offer me? It could even kill me, if I'm not careful."
Tom levels his gaze at Jordan, his lips twitch with some internal musing as he stares in scrutiny of the tact and emotional load of his opening negotiation with the dishevelled woman. He adjusts his weight in his chair, seemingly just a fraction more uncomfortable than he was a moment ago. Does it look like he wants to object? There is certainly some expression of uncertainty where this is going, mistrust even, though for now he holds his tongue, curious to see where this will lead.
"You're not going back." Kittie asks this, but it's not a question. There's not retoric in it, it's a statement. Her tone is still calm- soothing, but there's steel buried deep. "You did make a mistake. We all do." There is a lok of sympathy then. It's fleeting and it's gone as she schools her expression back to open and empathic. "So you have to take matters into your own hand. It's hard, but you have to make a statement. But the question's not if you can or how you can live without her, but if you should. That's a yes or no answer, but only you have that. It's dangerous for you, for anyone who helps you. It's not easy and it's never going to be."
Jordan sighs, then beckons Kittie over, apparently having had enough. They lean forward, so they can whisper in her ear. Again, not annoyance, but frustration at the way Kittie is treating what they are sure is a different situation than she is trying to respond to.
The woman puts her cup aside after one last sip, straightening up in her seat and seeming the most alert she's looked throughout this entire encounter. "/Anything/," she promises, before deflating immediately, "I- I don't have money, I can... I can give you my blood. It's worthless now, but-" She doesn't even cry this time regarding the worth of her blood, so sullied for a vampire's tastes, that's how hopeful it is. "Or- or I can... I can put in a good word for you, with my owner, when I go back. She is very powerful, she can-" She's scrambling for ideas - it's likely she hasn't really put in the effort to learn a trade, if she's spent her life as a Vampire's thrall, sheltered away from the world.
Kittie's words make her pause again. "I am going back." she says, standing from her seat and shifting over to Jordan's side, stubborn. "I don't have anything else. I /need/ this. It's... you are my last choice." That's you, Jordan, whose name she still hasn't asked for, actually.
Kittie leans into Jordan, whispering.
Jordan sighs, then beckons Kittie over, apparently having had enough. They lean forward, whispering something into her ear. Again, not annoyance, but frustration at the way Kittie is treating what they are sure is a different situation than she is trying to respond to.
The woman looks back and forth between Jordan and Kittie now, her face twisting into a worried expression again - is her wanna-be savior going to be lured away from saving her, just when there seemed to be a silver lining?
She obviously meant would-be* instead of wanna-be.
Jordan whispers to Kittie furiously for maybe a full minute, the queer bean physically incapable of being concise, ever. Then, it's Tom's turn, though clearly just for his benefit.
Kittie smiles over at the woman. The smile is genuine though it doesn't meet her eyes. It's not emotionless or harsh, just filled with a deep sorrow. Wordlessly, she gestures for the woman to sit. It's a calm gesture. Not forceful, but inviting. "We're going to help you, honey. But we need to know how."
Jordan sighs to Kittie, whispering again.
Kittie likewise furiously whispers, expression shifting- though slightly. Her fingers curle into a white-knuckled fist, but when she sits back up, she's all smiles again.
The woman's eyes move back and forth. Jordan. Kittie. Jordan. Kittie. Jordan. She doesn't sit - instead, she just keeps staring between them as they whisper - and then at Tom too, for a second, when Jordan addresses him. She seems all tense, strung up like a coiled wire, as though she's trying to figure out whether she should just bolt now while she can. The only thing keeping her standing there still is Jordan's earlier promise.
Jordan says to the woman again, "*Sit*. It's alright, they're just... semi-aware. I'm explaining. Nothing has changed - what *you* need to figure out is what you can do for me, to make it worth the sacrifice." Turn out your pockets is *not* what they say, but it's implied.
At this last whisper, Kittie sighs, breath escaping in a huff. For a final time, lips curling, she hisses to Jordan.
Tom glances over to where the woman is standing, his awareness of the disease that their whispering is causing her seeming to cut through everything for him. Full of sympathy he asks her directly in an effort to distract her from the distress, "Can you tell me about her? Your Mistress? What you love about her? If you want to share."
Jordan considers Kittie, leaning away a bit, hands on the table so that they can look her in the face. Their mind is clearly wirring, fighting over something.
Jordan frowns, then shakes their head, whispering urgently to Kittie.
Kittie smiles at the woman, but chamelionic, she mirrors Jordan. Her gaze is hard, there's a determination there, a want and though she'll likely support Jordan's choice- she's no leader, she feels like her opinion has been stated clearly enough. She then is the first to break that gaze with a subtle nod. "Please. Yes, tell us about your mistress. What does she like? What did she enjoy doing with you? What did you do that made her pleased with you?"
The woman sits, reaching up again to rub at her temples as she goes. There's a rummaging around in her pockets to emerge with... mostly just lint, really. She's got little in there. A coin or two, a single black hairpin, a cheap-looking ring with a fake stone, nothing in the way of money or identification or anything valuable at all. She lays it all across the table for Jordan's appraisal anyway, then juts her chin up stubbornly to tell them, "I have a high pain tolerance and I can hold still when I am bled," as though it's a trait to be very proud of, and one that makes her, somehow, valuable for them.
After that, she addresses Tom, a faint smile finding its way to her lips with the thought, "I love everything about her," she tells him, in case it wasn't obvious already. "She is kind and loving," - fat chance, considering her condition - "and she takes care of us. She doesn't spend a lot of time with us, but she feeds from us every night, and sometimes she lends me out to her friends too, because she's proud of how good I taste... tasted." The 'us' implies there's likely other thralls too, but she doesn't elaborate, only offering up, "She lets us rest too, when we've been drank from too much. I have seen owners who don't do that for their pets." A little 'tsk' and a shake of her head, as though the bare minimum is just to keep your human pet from collapsing from blood loss. There's little else in the way of 'treasured memories' - it's likely her love and devotion likely just stems from a fair bit of hypnotism, too deep-rooted for her to recognize it may not be entirely natural.
Jordan frowns at the woman, letting it fade into a full on glower. "You're offering me your blood?" They hiss quietly, not wanting others to hear, though the shop is near empty. "You'll make the same mistakes, if you keep this up. You belong to her, so your blood is hers, your body is hers, you only share on *her* command. If you can't manage that, fixing you *won't* help you. She'll decide that you're not worth it."
Kittie grimaces- but conveniently, that's when Jordan whispers to her again. Never the less, she listens to what the woman has to say, nodding where appropriate. There's something in her eyes- a panic thatfails to take root, staved off behind a mask of calculation and pursed, thoughtful lips.
She had seemed very proud of herself - it evaporates in the face of Jordan's displeasure, the woman's shoulders hunching up defensively. "I-I'm sorry," she whispers now, going back to her earlier, timid look. "I'll... I'll work to pay you off. I have... I can wash dishes. Or cook - whatever you want." She grimaces to herself, obviously understanding that she's not offering much here, and clarifies, "I... I meant life force, more than blood itself. It is helpful, yes? I have seen my mistress cast rituals. She makes us help too. She even said I was one of the best helpers she has gotten for it in many years! I can help!"
And there it goes; the vestigial lingering sense of morality that remained. It's tempered behind a simmering- though this too is restrained behind a mask. It's not perfect, but it's there. Kittie nods to Jordan then, solid, sharp, like the blade of a guillotine, but it's there.
"Aw that's really good." Tom offers to the woman whilst patting the back of her hand, with his gaze on her own offering a reassuring smile with kind eyes. He seems solely intent right now, on being something of a buffer to her immediate distress. So as the tone of antagonism flares from Jordan, he gives them a look. His patience briefly slipping as he raises his voice a little, "She's /already/ decided that she's not worth it. Can you fix her or not?" He looks frustrated more than anything, glancing at Kittie in search of her feelings by reading her face. There is something apologetic in his own face, as if not proud of his slippage in manners.
OOC: Since it's close to two hours now since the encounter started, I'll let you all come to a conclusion in character in the next few emotes about what to do with her, and then fade to back for the rest so you can go about your day! (Unless you really want to play out the conclusion on screen, which you're free to 'stalk (message)' up if so.) Thank you all for your time and I hope it's been fun!
Kittie smiles, first at the woman, then to Tom. "I think we can help, yes. I mean... Jordan can. I'm lost." The look she gives Tom is confident though, conveying wordlessly that she's perfectly fine, even though her knuckles betray her. She appears to realise this though, her tention leaving in a medatative breath and she nods once more.
Jordan nods, deciding. "Alright... you will cook me steaks every day - you don't even have to cook them much, blue. Or, if you return to New York, you will arrange to have it done, delivered to the address I will give you. You will also help share your life force - we will need it." With that, they seem satisfied, and will lead her to their dorm room's basement, welcoming Kittie and Tom to join them as they perform the ritual - a modification on the purification ritual that, drawing on more life force from the participants in exchange for the power purifies both body and soul of sexual relations. Afterwards, they either have the woman contact her mistress, or use their connections to let the vampire know that they've fixed her broken toy, if she wants it back.
Tom seems tight in the jaw, untrusting of Jordan and out of his depth. Whilst they all remain around the table, the shift in Kittie's mannerisms cause more concern than comfort. Though there is a few moments, where it seems like he is starting to regulate and give the appearance of calm once again. As and when the opportunity arrises, he probably would decline the invitation to go along to the dorm, instead he would likely brood for a while or seek out some way of discharging his pent up emotions.
Kittie glances over at Tom with a soft smile. Still strained, she looks him over carefully. There are no words, but she offers a hand should he need the touchstone.
Tom would have given Kittie's hand a brief squeeze, a shared moment of solidarity and comfort. Though he wouldn't keep his hand there long, his muscles tight with an underlying stress.
She doesn't need any convincing - the woman nods her head at Jordan in agreement. "Yes. I will cook all the steaks." she says, firm and resolute in her conviction, and seeming hopeful of whatever is to come. Maybe it's the certainty with which Jordan's declared their ability to fix all their problems. She goes along easily with them, a willing participant in the ritual, and they see the light of hope return to her features despite the occasional headache that only worsens while she goes through the entire ordeal.
The woman's owner is revealed to be a moderately-ranking Vampire from the New York Court, found easily through Hand connections, who seems pleasantly surprised to have her toy returned to her despite having thrown her away, back to an unsullied state now. Whatever she does with the woman after that... it's unclear. All they know is they don't hear from her again.
The steaks do get delivered every day though.
OOC: And that's a wrap! Thank you all very much! You can go down to leave, or I can send you back to the cafe, or somewhere else if you'd rather prefer. Just let me know with an 'stalk' up!
As the story progressed, with the addition of Kittie to their small group, the depth of the thrall's condition became clearer. Her love for her mistress was rooted in blood-bound servitude and hypnotic manipulation, revealing a tragic tale of longing and loss. Jordan, Tom, and Kittie grappled with the ethical implications of aiding her. Jordan offered a solution steeped in magical ritual, demanding a high price but promising purification and possibly a path back to her mistress. This resolution was met with mixed emotions, highlighting the complexities of consent, ownership, and the value of autonomy versus belonging. As they concluded the ritual with hope and resignation, the future of the thrall remained uncertain, leaving a bittersweet feeling among them. The story ended with the delivery of steaks as promised, a small, tangible reminder of a night filled with ethereal dilemmas and the power dynamics of the supernatural world they navigated.
(Jordan's odd encounter(SRKorina):SRKorina)
[Tue Jul 30 2024]
In Black Rose Cafe
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is night, about 89F(31C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target and their allies encounter the former thrall of a vampire who has been discarded by their previous owner, likely mind controlled into complete devotion the thrall wants nothing more than to return. It is up to the characters to either help them return, or stop them from doing so.
)
OOC: Hello! Feel free to continue as you were, and give me a few minutes to set up.
Jordan waves as they nibble on their muffin, gesturing to the world at large. They speak quietly, but enthusiastically. "Everything is just... alive with smells. I imagine your synesthetic experience in comparison. Scents are like colors... it's crazy, and a bit heady."
Jordan adds, "And I get... tastes of magic. I can't...quite grasp it, but I'll have lessons for it soon."
"I have a sensitive nose too, but it just sounds like you're experiencing things very intensely right now." Tom keeps his gaze on Jordan, lifting his tea until the vapors are curling up and wafting under his chin. "Like a literal taste?"
Jordan shakes their head, eyes drifting half-closed around the room. "No, more like sight, but so... so faint. Like an afterimage, almost."
It's the wan hours of the morning, and the cafe is quiet instead of its usual bustle, the night owls having gone to bed and the early risers not quite risen yet. The stained glass roof, devoid of daylight, casts subtle shadows of rosy reds, greens, and dark grays that softly blanket the quiet space, and the hardwood floors shine dimly after the employee behind the counter has gone through and mopped everything up, polished to a sheen.
The lingering scent of coffee and baked goods is ever-present in the space, even when there's nothing being baked yet - they're still prepping in the kitchen, the occasional noise heard from in there, but the employees themselves are still waking up too; who wants to be up and at work at four in the morning, really?
The door opens and closes with a creeeeeak as someone steps in, leaning heavily against the doorframe before they stumble in - a woman, looking like she's certainly seen better days. Her pale hair is tangled in places where it falls to her shoulders, and her makeup is smudged, dark circles beneath her eyes that seem almost painted into place with how dark they are. She stumbles in, rubbing at her head as though trying to stave off a fierce headache - hungover, maybe? - and she attempts to shuffle over to the counter with short footsteps... right before she bumps into Tom and Jordan's table heavily, almost falling over it. If they've got their coffee already, it might be in peril now.
She pauses, blinks at them both with bleary, tired eyes, as though trying to figure out how they got in her way to the counter, and mumbles out a quiet, "Sorry."
Jordan lunges for their tea, to save it before hot liquid splashes over anyone.
"So am I magically enchanted?" Tom asks Jordan lifts the corner of his mouth into a wry grin, lifting his cup of tea to sip from it. As he's sipping, his gaze is drawn towards the main door. He slowly lowers his cup, his features already shaping in sympathy and concern for the poor woman. As she bumps the table, he voices kindly. "Woah, sorry." He's so British, he would probably apologize to a lamp post if he walked into it. "Are you alright?"
Jordan manages to save their tea, just barely; there's an awful clatter of utensils, but nothing falls off the table or gets spilled after all, thanks to their fast reflexes.
The woman blinks at Tom slowly at the question, as though trying to figure out what to make of it. Is she okay? She glances down at herself, then over at Tom and Jordan again - and then abruptly starts tearing up, big fat tears rising to her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She sniffles, once, and now that they can see her face from up close, it's easy to tell she's pretty young, likely just twenty years of age or so, though nobody Jordan would have seen around college.
To those with sensitive noses, especially this close, it would be quite easy to figure out she smells sharply of blood.
"No," she whispers quietly to Tom's answer, sniffling once before her eyes catch on Jordan's fist-symboled earring and linger there for a long, long moment. "A-are you- You're..." she mumbles, as seems to be her default volume, and moves closer to Jordan, uncomfortably so to peer at their jewelry. "You're... /aware/?" She doesn't wait for an answer to that. "Please help me. I-I made a mistake, and I'm lost, and-..." Another sniffle, before she breaks down into tears, wet and snotty.
Jordan leans back, bringing their tea to their lips as they consider her. Their eyes flash to glance at Tom before deciding to speak up. There's a tone of annoyance in their voice - likely because the popular labor fist symbol is just too easily interpreted as something else in Haven. Though, it would be easy to misinterpret their reaction. "Well, hey, y'all need to calm down, first. Take a seat, we'll getcha some tea, then you can tell us what happened, and how we can help."
Tom may be dressed in the attire for a midnight run or some late night comfort eating on a couch, but he can't shake off his inner gentleman even without the right attire. He's pushing back his chair, standing up. Looking unsure, yet with his nostrils flared his concern deepens. Though as she becomes animated and focused on Jordan, his attention shifts for a moment to the symbol that excited her before looking back to the woman and asking. "Just take a deep breath, tell us about your mistake, let's see if we can help."
She takes a deep, deep breath which seems to help, just a little bit, and the woman takes a seat at the third chair at their table, still letting out the occasional sniffle, and wiping away the moisture from her reddened eyes with a napkin. She's got delicate hands, the sort that don't seem accustomed to any sort of hard work, and a slight frame that indicates much the same, and she comes to clasp her hands together in her lap after unbuttoning the top button of her jacket to get in some fresh air.
The expanse of her neck, when it's bared, reveals a number of scars, new and old, scattered around her neck and decolletage; twin, equidistant pinpricks, easy to recognize for those who have familiarity with it - a vampire's bite. She's been fed on many, many times if she's got these many scars, that's for sure.
"I- well- I'm looking for someone," she tells Jordan first of all, seeming to pay more attention to them than to Tom - maybe it's the symbol, maybe it's because they look outwardly more annoyed, and perhaps the key to getting help is to make them less so. "She... she is associated with your group. Not as a part. Just... Distantly," she continues on with assumptions, eying their earring still. "From /New York/." She says the words like they're meant to be somehow more significant than they outright seem, and there's a pause after that, staring heavily at Jordan to see if there's any bit of recognition upon their features. "I... I belong to her, but she told me to leave, a-and I can't find the way back, it's like it's been-"
Oh, she's going to cry again.
The woman scrunches up her face, trying her best to stem the tears before more of them start flowing, and ends up exhaling a shaky breath and turning wet, shiny eyes to both Tom and Jordan. "I love her. I want to go home. I- please help me." There's a lot of holes missing in that story, but it's a start... right?
Kittie enters into the book store. She rubs her face, having woken shortly before and looks pale. Noticing Tom and Jordan she waves over to them.
Where Jordan and Tom sit at one of the tables, a young, disheveled woman with pale hair sits with them, smelling of blood and tears, looking like she's barely holding herself back from crying some more while she tells them some story with much whimpering and simpering involved. Up close, she's got scars of a vampire's bite dotting her neck, and she looks as though she's asking them for help regarding /something/.
Jordan waves to Kittie, then switches their hand in another wave - a beckon, waving her over.
Kittie collects a drink and some scones- usual breakfast, pays and moves on over, being sure to collect her change. She nears the tables, taking in the state of the woman, perceptively looking her over and very clearly spotting something she doesn't like, for she frowns. Taking a seat, she closes her eyes, allowing that aspect of her that heals to blossom out, seeking to soothe.
Jordan nods, understandingly. "Oh, you poor thing... and she's sent you all the way here? Oh, there, there." They don't pat her on the back, instead just nodding. "When was that? Just recently?"
Tom seems to follow suit as the distressed woman takes her seat, he lowers himself back into his own seat. His features still looking concerned, yet there is a passivity within his observations of her as she speaks to Jordan. Always the avid listener and observer, his eyes drift over the woman's neck and in a moment of self conscious recognition he moves a hand errantly up to rub at his own neck. His fingers touching at a single mark which resembles the many which decorate the other woman's. He grows quiet, flicking his gaze over at Kittie as she arrives and offering her a polite smile. Though his attention is mostly drawn back to that of the distressed woman, his concern seeming to deepen with everything he hears. His own voice croaks a little before he clears his throat and asks her, "What does she look like, the one you're missing?"
Clasping her hands around her drink, Kittie listens quietly. She sends a smile to Tom, before returning to the woman and her story. She raises her brows- a silent question for Jordan to explain now or later- likely later, as this seems more important than her curiosity.
Jordan shares a look back with Kittie - they'll explain later. But, they don't speak up, waiting for the lass to answer a few more questions.
She doesn't cry again, though the woman does look a little unsure when there's another person joining the table; Kittie gets a weak, weak smile, but something about the blonde makes her relax soon enough, and she goes back to the conversation. "It was..." she starts to answer Jordan as though in a daze, voice trailing off. "... recent." She doesn't sound sure. "I... I don't know how I got here. I wasn't here. We lived-..." Another pause. "Where did we live...?" she mumbles to herself, reaching up to rub at her temples again as what seems like another fierce headache throbs in her head, tears springing to her eyes again - of pain from a headache this time, instead of distress like earlier.
Instead of answering Jordan's question, she moves on to Tom's - that one seems easier to answer. "She is the most beautiful woman in the world," she says with the utmost certainty of a woman smitten. "She's got lovely red hair, just like blood, and these freckles. I have wanted to touch them many times..." A soft sigh. "Blue eyes, too, like the ocean. We went to the ocean once. That was-" Oh, here come the waterworks again. "B-before I /fucked up/, and now she doesn't want me anymore. I- I can't go back to her, I- I don't know what to do."
Jordan makes gentle shushing sounds, saying, "It's all right, honey, it's alright. We can help. You just need to tell me what you did wrong, so we know why this happened."
There's a flush of color that rises to the woman's pale cheeks now at Jordan's question, and she mumbles something under her breath that goes almost inaudible - mumblemumblemumble.
Jordan narrows their eyes at the woman, then commands, in a terse voice, "Speak up."
She stiffens, wide eyes turning up to Jordan now with alarm at the tone of their voice, and she speaks up as though on autopilot, though the words are still stuttered, nervous and embarrassed to explain her fuck-up: "... there-... there was a woman. /Another/... woman. I, um, I... I took her to bed." Presumably, that doesn't require further explanation. "She- my owner, she could tell. She said I'm... I'm /ruined/ and I don't taste up to her standards anymore, and she doesn't want-" Another deep breath before she can start hyperventilating. "I just- If I go back and apologize to her, I can make it up to her, I can-... I can't go back, she hates me, she..." There's another headache now, and she reaches up to pull at her hair from the roots, tangling up the messy strands even more as she curls up on herself.
Kittie winces; Something about this story rings far too close to home for her. There's a gentle smile for this woman and that look isn't sympathetic or pitteous- That isn't what's needed in this situation. Empathetic then, and with a tightening around the eyes that seems to convey anger, yes, but an emphatic desire to help. She does remain quiet though- New to the conversation, she lacks full context, though she suspects, letting Jordan and Tom take the lead here. At the command, the blond shakes her head subtly, gesturing to give her some space. After all, some things can be solved with abrupt, in-your-face shock, others can demand a willing ear and time.
A visible tension which Tom was carrying in his shoulders seems to leseen as the woman gives the description, he scraps his chair closing the gap between himself the table and her. He glances over at Jordan pulling a face of uncertainty, before offering in some effort to sooth the woman a light pat upon her shoulder and her back. His large hand trying to provide some comfort, though it is brief before he shuffles his chair back and shares with her a reassuring smile. His eyes seem sad, the longing which the woman describes of the one she seeks, seeming to stir in him some empathetic sadness as if he were vicariously feeling something of her loss. He seems satisfied with Jordan's inquiry, giving room for her to answer without pressuring her with more of his own input. Much like Kittie, he seems affected by the emotions at the table even the other angel's.
Jordan grimaces at the revelation, though ignoring Kittie's gestured advice, for now. They sit back, and drink their tea, considering, before getting up. They make a calm, wait gesture at the lady, holding a finger up, before moving to the counter. After a moment, they come back, taking a seat, handing the lady a warm cup of green tea. "Blow on it, drink carefully, don't burn your tongue," they order, albeit gently.
Jordan considers, taking it all in. They seem to be considering a lot more than how to make up to a girlfriend that's been cheated on, and their eyes are focused on the poor woman.
Kittie leans in. She doesn't touch the woman- she doesn't reach out, but she puts a hand on the table, palm up. "You don't need this." she says in soft tones. "If you cant be appreciated, you can be. Just not there." She's moved by her own words, her breath catching and there's a look that could kill if Jordan or Tom comment on it. "There's always a way, honey. And people who oppress you, discard you over things out of your control are not worth you."
Jordan sucks on their teeth, eyeing Kittie. Their expression practically *declares* that Kittie doesn't understand what she's talking about. But, there's not anger, just annoyance... no, more frustration, where Kittie is concerned.
Jordan says, after a sudden epiphany, "I can help you. I know how." They grin, then, wide. "I can give you exactly what you need."
Jordan taps their jaw at that, tilting their head. "But, *damn* is it *expensive.*"
She accepts the cup with trembling fingers when Jordan offers it to her, the utensil shaking terribly before she gets her nerves under control and nods her head at Jordan. "Thank you," she whispers, and blows on the cup carefully before braving a few sips. She fixes them with a stare now, as though Jordan carries all the answers to her problems.
Kittie's words make the woman turn her way next with a quick shake of the head, determined. "I- she didn't /oppress/ me," she says, blind devotion in her eyes - it's unlikely she'd put up with hearing anything bad said about their owner at all. "She was happy with me. I was her favorite- she said I tasted the best, the /purest/ and I-" Thankfully, Jordan speaks up again before she can continue on with that train of thought and start crying again, and her head swivels fast enough to give her whiplash. "You can?!" she gasps, voice a little louder than her usual whisper now, before she startles at her own voice and hunches back in on herself and takes another sip. "Please. Please help me." She looks ready to do whatever Jordan asks of her, if it means she gets /exactly what she needs/.
Tom looks rather torn in his ambivalence as he takes a deep sip from his own green tea, his eyes searchingly scanning Kittie's face as she interacts with the woman. By contast to Jordan's expression, the large man's eyes have a sense of admiration for Kittie and a small sad smile is at the edge of his mouth. He seems to look like he's about to agree or say something to contribute, however Jordan's epiphany leaves him hanging.
Jordan holds up a finger, emphasizing, "I don't think you understand just *how* expensive this is. What do you have to offer me? It could even kill me, if I'm not careful."
Tom levels his gaze at Jordan, his lips twitch with some internal musing as he stares in scrutiny of the tact and emotional load of his opening negotiation with the dishevelled woman. He adjusts his weight in his chair, seemingly just a fraction more uncomfortable than he was a moment ago. Does it look like he wants to object? There is certainly some expression of uncertainty where this is going, mistrust even, though for now he holds his tongue, curious to see where this will lead.
"You're not going back." Kittie asks this, but it's not a question. There's not retoric in it, it's a statement. Her tone is still calm- soothing, but there's steel buried deep. "You did make a mistake. We all do." There is a lok of sympathy then. It's fleeting and it's gone as she schools her expression back to open and empathic. "So you have to take matters into your own hand. It's hard, but you have to make a statement. But the question's not if you can or how you can live without her, but if you should. That's a yes or no answer, but only you have that. It's dangerous for you, for anyone who helps you. It's not easy and it's never going to be."
Jordan sighs, then beckons Kittie over, apparently having had enough. They lean forward, so they can whisper in her ear. Again, not annoyance, but frustration at the way Kittie is treating what they are sure is a different situation than she is trying to respond to.
The woman puts her cup aside after one last sip, straightening up in her seat and seeming the most alert she's looked throughout this entire encounter. "/Anything/," she promises, before deflating immediately, "I- I don't have money, I can... I can give you my blood. It's worthless now, but-" She doesn't even cry this time regarding the worth of her blood, so sullied for a vampire's tastes, that's how hopeful it is. "Or- or I can... I can put in a good word for you, with my owner, when I go back. She is very powerful, she can-" She's scrambling for ideas - it's likely she hasn't really put in the effort to learn a trade, if she's spent her life as a Vampire's thrall, sheltered away from the world.
Kittie's words make her pause again. "I am going back." she says, standing from her seat and shifting over to Jordan's side, stubborn. "I don't have anything else. I /need/ this. It's... you are my last choice." That's you, Jordan, whose name she still hasn't asked for, actually.
Kittie leans into Jordan, whispering.
Jordan sighs, then beckons Kittie over, apparently having had enough. They lean forward, whispering something into her ear. Again, not annoyance, but frustration at the way Kittie is treating what they are sure is a different situation than she is trying to respond to.
The woman looks back and forth between Jordan and Kittie now, her face twisting into a worried expression again - is her wanna-be savior going to be lured away from saving her, just when there seemed to be a silver lining?
She obviously meant would-be* instead of wanna-be.
Jordan whispers to Kittie furiously for maybe a full minute, the queer bean physically incapable of being concise, ever. Then, it's Tom's turn, though clearly just for his benefit.
Kittie smiles over at the woman. The smile is genuine though it doesn't meet her eyes. It's not emotionless or harsh, just filled with a deep sorrow. Wordlessly, she gestures for the woman to sit. It's a calm gesture. Not forceful, but inviting. "We're going to help you, honey. But we need to know how."
Jordan sighs to Kittie, whispering again.
Kittie likewise furiously whispers, expression shifting- though slightly. Her fingers curle into a white-knuckled fist, but when she sits back up, she's all smiles again.
The woman's eyes move back and forth. Jordan. Kittie. Jordan. Kittie. Jordan. She doesn't sit - instead, she just keeps staring between them as they whisper - and then at Tom too, for a second, when Jordan addresses him. She seems all tense, strung up like a coiled wire, as though she's trying to figure out whether she should just bolt now while she can. The only thing keeping her standing there still is Jordan's earlier promise.
Jordan says to the woman again, "*Sit*. It's alright, they're just... semi-aware. I'm explaining. Nothing has changed - what *you* need to figure out is what you can do for me, to make it worth the sacrifice." Turn out your pockets is *not* what they say, but it's implied.
At this last whisper, Kittie sighs, breath escaping in a huff. For a final time, lips curling, she hisses to Jordan.
Tom glances over to where the woman is standing, his awareness of the disease that their whispering is causing her seeming to cut through everything for him. Full of sympathy he asks her directly in an effort to distract her from the distress, "Can you tell me about her? Your Mistress? What you love about her? If you want to share."
Jordan considers Kittie, leaning away a bit, hands on the table so that they can look her in the face. Their mind is clearly wirring, fighting over something.
Jordan frowns, then shakes their head, whispering urgently to Kittie.
Kittie smiles at the woman, but chamelionic, she mirrors Jordan. Her gaze is hard, there's a determination there, a want and though she'll likely support Jordan's choice- she's no leader, she feels like her opinion has been stated clearly enough. She then is the first to break that gaze with a subtle nod. "Please. Yes, tell us about your mistress. What does she like? What did she enjoy doing with you? What did you do that made her pleased with you?"
The woman sits, reaching up again to rub at her temples as she goes. There's a rummaging around in her pockets to emerge with... mostly just lint, really. She's got little in there. A coin or two, a single black hairpin, a cheap-looking ring with a fake stone, nothing in the way of money or identification or anything valuable at all. She lays it all across the table for Jordan's appraisal anyway, then juts her chin up stubbornly to tell them, "I have a high pain tolerance and I can hold still when I am bled," as though it's a trait to be very proud of, and one that makes her, somehow, valuable for them.
After that, she addresses Tom, a faint smile finding its way to her lips with the thought, "I love everything about her," she tells him, in case it wasn't obvious already. "She is kind and loving," - fat chance, considering her condition - "and she takes care of us. She doesn't spend a lot of time with us, but she feeds from us every night, and sometimes she lends me out to her friends too, because she's proud of how good I taste... tasted." The 'us' implies there's likely other thralls too, but she doesn't elaborate, only offering up, "She lets us rest too, when we've been drank from too much. I have seen owners who don't do that for their pets." A little 'tsk' and a shake of her head, as though the bare minimum is just to keep your human pet from collapsing from blood loss. There's little else in the way of 'treasured memories' - it's likely her love and devotion likely just stems from a fair bit of hypnotism, too deep-rooted for her to recognize it may not be entirely natural.
Jordan frowns at the woman, letting it fade into a full on glower. "You're offering me your blood?" They hiss quietly, not wanting others to hear, though the shop is near empty. "You'll make the same mistakes, if you keep this up. You belong to her, so your blood is hers, your body is hers, you only share on *her* command. If you can't manage that, fixing you *won't* help you. She'll decide that you're not worth it."
Kittie grimaces- but conveniently, that's when Jordan whispers to her again. Never the less, she listens to what the woman has to say, nodding where appropriate. There's something in her eyes- a panic thatfails to take root, staved off behind a mask of calculation and pursed, thoughtful lips.
She had seemed very proud of herself - it evaporates in the face of Jordan's displeasure, the woman's shoulders hunching up defensively. "I-I'm sorry," she whispers now, going back to her earlier, timid look. "I'll... I'll work to pay you off. I have... I can wash dishes. Or cook - whatever you want." She grimaces to herself, obviously understanding that she's not offering much here, and clarifies, "I... I meant life force, more than blood itself. It is helpful, yes? I have seen my mistress cast rituals. She makes us help too. She even said I was one of the best helpers she has gotten for it in many years! I can help!"
And there it goes; the vestigial lingering sense of morality that remained. It's tempered behind a simmering- though this too is restrained behind a mask. It's not perfect, but it's there. Kittie nods to Jordan then, solid, sharp, like the blade of a guillotine, but it's there.
"Aw that's really good." Tom offers to the woman whilst patting the back of her hand, with his gaze on her own offering a reassuring smile with kind eyes. He seems solely intent right now, on being something of a buffer to her immediate distress. So as the tone of antagonism flares from Jordan, he gives them a look. His patience briefly slipping as he raises his voice a little, "She's /already/ decided that she's not worth it. Can you fix her or not?" He looks frustrated more than anything, glancing at Kittie in search of her feelings by reading her face. There is something apologetic in his own face, as if not proud of his slippage in manners.
OOC: Since it's close to two hours now since the encounter started, I'll let you all come to a conclusion in character in the next few emotes about what to do with her, and then fade to back for the rest so you can go about your day! (Unless you really want to play out the conclusion on screen, which you're free to 'stalk (message)' up if so.) Thank you all for your time and I hope it's been fun!
Kittie smiles, first at the woman, then to Tom. "I think we can help, yes. I mean... Jordan can. I'm lost." The look she gives Tom is confident though, conveying wordlessly that she's perfectly fine, even though her knuckles betray her. She appears to realise this though, her tention leaving in a medatative breath and she nods once more.
Jordan nods, deciding. "Alright... you will cook me steaks every day - you don't even have to cook them much, blue. Or, if you return to New York, you will arrange to have it done, delivered to the address I will give you. You will also help share your life force - we will need it." With that, they seem satisfied, and will lead her to their dorm room's basement, welcoming Kittie and Tom to join them as they perform the ritual - a modification on the purification ritual that, drawing on more life force from the participants in exchange for the power purifies both body and soul of sexual relations. Afterwards, they either have the woman contact her mistress, or use their connections to let the vampire know that they've fixed her broken toy, if she wants it back.
Tom seems tight in the jaw, untrusting of Jordan and out of his depth. Whilst they all remain around the table, the shift in Kittie's mannerisms cause more concern than comfort. Though there is a few moments, where it seems like he is starting to regulate and give the appearance of calm once again. As and when the opportunity arrises, he probably would decline the invitation to go along to the dorm, instead he would likely brood for a while or seek out some way of discharging his pent up emotions.
Kittie glances over at Tom with a soft smile. Still strained, she looks him over carefully. There are no words, but she offers a hand should he need the touchstone.
Tom would have given Kittie's hand a brief squeeze, a shared moment of solidarity and comfort. Though he wouldn't keep his hand there long, his muscles tight with an underlying stress.
She doesn't need any convincing - the woman nods her head at Jordan in agreement. "Yes. I will cook all the steaks." she says, firm and resolute in her conviction, and seeming hopeful of whatever is to come. Maybe it's the certainty with which Jordan's declared their ability to fix all their problems. She goes along easily with them, a willing participant in the ritual, and they see the light of hope return to her features despite the occasional headache that only worsens while she goes through the entire ordeal.
The woman's owner is revealed to be a moderately-ranking Vampire from the New York Court, found easily through Hand connections, who seems pleasantly surprised to have her toy returned to her despite having thrown her away, back to an unsullied state now. Whatever she does with the woman after that... it's unclear. All they know is they don't hear from her again.
The steaks do get delivered every day though.
OOC: And that's a wrap! Thank you all very much! You can go down to leave, or I can send you back to the cafe, or somewhere else if you'd rather prefer. Just let me know with an 'stalk' up!