Turton - Play the Old Money Blues (Cecile's IC)

[Worlok]

The servant was nervous, if likely more out of instinct and stress than out of experience - His face was unfamiliar to Cecile, at any rate, and the fact that he did not have that look of haunted and long-lasting terror his older colleagues would fail to hide seemed to indicate that he had only recently been hired, or weathered acting training worth every cent sunken into it. In any case, his mission was ultimately of some import, and his voice had the relevant urgency in its tone: "So, as I was saying, Miss Cecile, Master Hurst requested that you join him in his office. He made it abundantly clear that that is to happen now, and that you are to come with me, if you would." he repeated, having previously been distracted by the rapidly darkening bump on his forehead, no doubt caused by a letterweight flung for emphasis.

Standing in the doorway, he indicated the hall with one arm and stepped aside, so as to allow the young Miss Hurst to pass him, and in the process revealing a portrait of Gerald Hurst himself, mounted opposite from the door and showing the older vampire in the blue uniform of a soldier of the Union, archaic rifle by his side and moustache freshly waxed. What was immediately apparent was that it was an old painting. What was less obvious was that it was, in fact, a contemporary of the depicted uniform, and where most people would have been quick to dismiss Mr Hurst's mannerisms and attitudes as being merely old-fashioned, the ones that worked on his private grounds generally suspected there being something more to them, but kept their mouths shut and stayed out of sight as much as they possibly could.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile looked up at the newcomer as he held the door, letting out a wry smile as she skipped along into Gerald's office

Who's the new suit papa? Oh, and what matters need my attending? It's been a bit boring around the grounds lately and I think a bit of fresh meat would be just the ticket.

[Worlok]

In as far as ever one of the undead had been able to, Gerald Hurst looked tired. The areas around his eyes seemed to have darkened notably, and his moustache seemed to have blurred somehow, gotten out of shape, doubtless from frustrated yanking on its tails - a gesture the man was prone to when somehow stressed. As he sat there in his luxurious armchair, wearing little more than a plain white shirt and a perfectly unnecessary set of glasses, he also seemed smaller than usual, the pallor on his features all the more apparent for the natural one which most Kindred had, but especially when compared to the Gerald Hurst on the paintings and ancient photographs lining the walls.

"Suit? Oh, oh child, his name's Preston. I think." A quizzical look at the servant earned a confirmative nod, and a throwaway gesture made Preston politely bow, leave the room, and close the door behind him, leaving the Hurst family alone. "But that's not what I called you here for. Rather..." He seemed to lose track, taking a moment to compose himself and briefly fuss about with a small brass figurine on his heavy mahogani desk. "The thing is, we're expecting visitors. And it's not so much that there is something that I would have you attend..." Here, his more complicated everyday mannerisms shone through, and reassuringly so, as the more casual his vocabulary became, the more immediately impending was one of his infamous breakdowns. "...as I would ask of you to not be in attendance. This is important, very important indeed."

It seemed to somehow put a strain on him to utter these last few words, and he even forewent the usual wellspring of terms of endearment his daughter would typically have had to 'enjoy'. A crazed glint and belabored expression seemed to try and sneak itself into his eyes, yet he frantically blinked it away, reaching into a drawer and producing a pencil from there, the small wooden stump in his hand apparently reassuring him. Something seemed worrisomely off, even to someone as challenged in terms of compassion as Cecile was. This was a far cry from the almost terrifying respectability and resolve with which the old man would typically carry himself. It was quite obvious that Gerald Hurst was terrified, beyond the sane, and beyond the Malkavian average, something was troubling his mind, and immensely so. "Sit down." he muttered, using his pencil to indicate a small chair that stood to the side, then starting to try and balance it on a fingertip as he looked at her.

[Dramiscius]

Looking at Gerald with one eyebrow raised with a quizzical expression

Guests you say? I can't remember last when even the most prestigious of visitors seemed to put you in such a state. Father do pray tell, what's going on, it's not good to keep secrets from your daughter, business relies on trust after all.

Perhaps I should stick around to observe these future "guests" that seem to be causing you no small amount of... anxiety.

[Worlok]

"NO!" her sire and father blurted out, a sudden anger taking hold of him and bristling both his moustache and his eternally-locked-in-a-thinning-state hair, only to leave again, and leave him a little calmer, a little less driven as far as appearance was concerned: "No, child, please, this is of no concern to you." Having pushed himself up before, he now lowered himself back into his chair. Applying his right hand's thumb and index finger to the base of his nose and massaging it out of habit, he eventually resolved to ask a question: "Have I ever spoken the name of one Eduard Leibovitz in front of you?" In asking this, he almost unconsciously pointed at a massive golden frame mounted above the entrance door - an unusual piece of craftsmanship, in that it was essentially but an expensively-framed window over a plain red surface, and hardly a picture or work of art at all. Its exact relevance or origins, he had never once revealed, and yet, in quiet moments, he could often be observed observing it, absentmindedly stroking his facial hair to perfection and rambling determinedly to himself.

[Dramiscius]

Following Geralds gaze Cecile finds the seemingly blank frame a bit odd, as she looks to it, then back to Gerald.

While im sure I've probably heard you mention it before father, I can't recall what it was concerning. And judging by the picture... or lack thereof, might I wager a guess he's an individual of great import? Is he threatening you father? Perhaps.... I can find a better solution to the situation, after all going out for a midnight stroll just seems so droll.

[Worlok]

Having apparently gauged that the picture was where his daughter's gaze was drawn by his gesturing, Gerald nodded, before saying: "Yes. You could say that. That he's... That he's of great import, I mean. Not the other thing." He shuddered, something about the suggestion having apparently frightened him. "He's... That frame. You are looking at something he made. He's... He's an artist, of sorts. An important one. And I owe him. He isn't threatening me." The man seemed to be struggling for words, lost for them even: "But... You understand, he is a threat." Something conspiratory snuck into his tone as he leaned over, transfixing his daughter with an icy, haunted stare: "One of great import, even. Nothing there that you could do, or I. I am only telling you this because I don't mind you finding out about him." A glance to the side, then the other, and then, in what amounted to a whisper and but little more: "The truth of the matter is, I don't want him to find out about you."

At this, a sort of gleaming seemed to spark up behind Cecile, dousing her sire's face into reddish light for the fraction of a second as his eyes went wide: "Before it is time for that, anyway." he added, stutteringly, and the gleaming, fast as it had arisen, died again, no trace of what caused it left to be found.

[Dramiscius]

Glancing around suspiciously Cecile nods to Gerald before turning to leave, the frill at the bottom of her light blue dress brushing the door as she makes haste to exit the premises, turning slightly as if to say something to Gerald before leaving.

Do you need me to pickup or attend to anything while I'm out?

[Worlok]

"Well... When you ask like that..." Suddenly, Gerald seemed to be much calmer already, and had he still been able to sweat, he would now have stopped, something vaguely resembling a smile gracing his features: "Not as such. You're free to do as you please. Make sure you're home before sunrise, and use the rear entrance if possible." Yes, much calmer, yet no less besides himself. "Or even if not. Try to not be seen. I understand there have been some troubles in town. Violence. Some of us drained dry, some of the kine. Take care." And, taking on airs of his usual, respect-demanding self, he assumed the kind of posture which he would assume when he considered a conversation to be over. The strange red glow moved across his face again as Cecile turned back, however, and died as suddenly as before, prompting him to add: "... more care than usual." There seemed to be something more he wanted to say, something about his voice betraying unpronounced sentiments, yet apparently nothing he could bring himself to say right now.

[Dramiscius]

Cecile nods back in acknowledgement

I'll have one of the cars drive me into town.

she says, as she turns back and continues briskly towards the houses rear exit

[Worlok]

"You do that. The Cadillac's being repaired right now, but the Mercedes should be alright." As Cecile continued down the lavishly-carpeted hallways, the notable absence of anyone became apparent: While Preston had likely retired to somewhere he could be called upon just in case, neither the maids, nor the other staff - both of which had been remarkably busy all over the place until just yesterday morning - seemed to be around, and she didn't run into anyone until approaching the rear entrance. Outside, there was not a sound to be heard, and the way to the garage was only a short one from here. The locked door still barred her way outside, and just within arm's reach over her head, conveniently located to the left of it, was the key.

[Dramiscius]

Looking around puzzled, Cecile takes the key examining the surroundings for signs of activity, thinking to herself...

"Wheres the driver? I don't know how to drive, and even if I could a child driving around might raise a few eyebrows.. and the last thing I need is the police hassling me."

Hello driver? Anyone?

[Worlok]

As she called out and put the key into the lock, she found herself being answered from beyond the door by a voice she had certainly never heard before, a slick, yet somehow sweet one, having a ring and a rhythm to it that most would fail to find in their own - had it not been a male one, it might have rivaled hers: "Sadly, no. Mr Osbourne tragically had to excuse himself, an emergency, or so I understand." The name 'Osbourne' did ring a bell, their replacement driver for when the normal one wasn't available. However, she had not been informed of either one's absence so far. "He thus left but mere minutes ago, and he's terribly sorry about it all, seeing how he had to trouble me to relay the news for you. But if you could kindly let me in, I would certainly appreciate it, young Miss, for I have been invited here for tonight." Being too small for peephole-usage and having no chair or crate nearby sure was a wonderful combination at times.

[Dramiscius]

Something about this didn't feel right to Cecile, if this was the stranger Geralds was so anxious about then she'd better keep from being seen, and probably try to mislead the gentlemen before going back inside.

Well then who're you mister? I was told not to let strangers inside. My parents were inside talkin about boring stuff with Mr. Hurst, and he told me to go "scamper off while the grownups talked", but this place is sooooooo boring!

[Worlok]

A short silence followed, for whatever reason - Surprise? Confusion? - but the (for now effectively) faceless speaker regained his bearings soon enough, and following a low murmur that one might have taken for a remark the stranger gave under his breath, he answered thus: "Why, yes, of course, young lady, and I should like to ask you to forgive my manners, if you would. The very name, as a matter of fact, is Leibowitz. Eduard Leibowitz. Esquire. And despite me most certainly not being what would amount to a stranger upon these grounds, it would appear you have me at a disadvantage, there." For all his elaborate mannerisms, the man spoke remarkably slowly - not obnoxiously, or annoyingly, so, but notably: "Yet to implore for your name without having laid eyes on you would most grossly harm any sense of decor, do you not agree? All the more since we have now established that it is perfectly within your rights to allow me passage, if you but were so kind?"

[Dramiscius]

Eying the gate closed gate, Cecile responds without skipping a beat, continuing with the same fake innocent sounding voice she'd begun with

Sure thing Mr, let me just find something to reach the door with and we'll get you in.

Having no intention of letting Leibowitz see her, Cecile instead opts to stealthily re-enter the house and inform Gerald of the situation with Leibowitz and the missing drivers.

One sec, I think I've got something here that'll work.

As she attempts to quietly sneaks off

[Worlok]

"Why certainly, young lady. But I must say, I am surprised at how poorly dear Gerald receives his guests these days." Leibowitz did not sound offended, in fact, he seemed greatly amused about something there, but if he said much of anything more, Cecile would likely have missed it, seeing how the distance between Mr Hurst's office and the backdoor was great enough for his voice to trail off along the corridors after a certain point. If he had made an attempt to detect her stealthy escape, it had apparently failed. Not that rare an occasion, really.

What was remarkable, though, was that Gerald's office door was closed. And not only that, but the door was locked, and uncomfortably warm to the touch. Off in the distance, steps could be heard, rapidly moving away from her position - the distinctive marching steps of Gerald Hurst in a hurry. Apparently, her sire was on his way to the front entrance.

Another door, one she did not remember having paid much attention to before, had been left open further down the hallway, and she would pass it if she were to follow the man.

[Dramiscius]

Looking up from the locked door, Cecile raises an eyebrow to what sounded like Gerald marching towards the front. Not enjoying the feeling of what seemed to be a trap, she decides to carefully follow in the direction of the footsteps, making sure to be as stealthy as possible. Thinking that she wants to get to the bottom of what's going on, spying on (in a stealthy fashion) Gerald or whoever's running off away from the house would seem to Cecile as the current best course of action.

[Worlok]

While passing the door that had been opened while she had been out back, Cecile could hear some strange clamor, the sound of pots and pans beating against one another maybe, or some cans falling over, but the room she passed was dark, and other than maybe a servant, there was noone here who'd have business there.

Gerald was well on his way to the front-door, and Cecile too, but as she was just about to round the corner, she heard a harsh voice curse - or at least utter something that sounded a lot like a curse, but in an unfamiliar language, from out of the dark in the unlocked room.

[Dramiscius]

Looking back towards the noise, Cecile decides to investigate while continuing back stealthily making her way towards the room. If she can get a glimpse of whoever it is then tracking them down will only be a matter of time, however falling pots alone isn't going to do the trick.

Approaching the door Cecile carefully looks for a window to peer through, and failing that poking an eye around the corner without a peep.

[Worlok]

The room was unlit and stayed unlit as she approached, so whoever was inside did clearly not need any sort of illumination to do whatever it was he did in there. Just as Cecile approached the doorframe, however, a long, emaciated-looking arm reached out of the darkness, tipped by a vaguely claw-like hand and wrapped in a somewhat familiar-looking suit-sleeve. While it would hardly have been surprising for the intruder to try and grab her now, by her reckoning, the man himself did apparently not harbor any such intent, merely locking the doorknob in a visibly vice-like iron grip and pulling the door shut with a resounding bang before she could take too close a look.

In the mean, Gerald had likely stopped - or been stopped - in his tracks, for no more steps could be heard from ahead.

[Dramiscius]

Seeming somewhat startled by the door abruptly closing, Cecile decides to return to her persuit of Gerald. Stealthily hurrying back towards the last direction she'd been hearing the noise from.

[Worlok]

Followed all the way along the hall by the retreating sounds of irregular foreign cursing and metallic clattering, Cecile made good headway for the main entrance, yet without finding Gerald on the path. The only one she did, as such, find, was the servant, Preston, coming out of a room she remembered to be a sort of storage area, applying some band-aid to an obviously fresh wound on his left lower arm and muttering obscenities under his breath, seemingly without noticing her.

She did not remember the house having ever had a doorbell - or rather, one that would be heard by Mr Hurst and family, as the one on the main gate was typically only heard in the security guard's little outpost. Now, however, the clamor of what sounded like an actual set of heavy, brass bells resounded throughout the corridors, and Preston, now about done with his first-aid-efforts, startled, cursed some more, and ran off towards the entrance, from where Gerald's voice - yes, indeed, Gerald's voice - now went to the most unbecoming lengths of calling for him by name.

[Dramiscius]

Raising an eyebrow towards the sound of bells, Cecile quietly follows Preston to further investigate the strange matter.

[Worlok]

Following the servant to the front entrance through winding passage upon twisting corridor, Cecile eventually passed a large two-wing door and stepped into the main hall, one of the more lavish rooms in the manse and easily fit to hold even the most expensive celebrations in. Atop the expansive staircase, next to a rather strange metal statue that vaguely resembled a very large bat and had been there almost as long as she had, stood Gerald, and it did not take him too long to notice her: "Child! What are you doing here? The guest is about to be let in!"

[Dramiscius]

Giving Gerald a glare, Cecile responds quickly

The damned driver was missing... he left a key on the stone, am I to drive myself? And your "guest" Mr. Leibowitz tried to have me let him in through the back gate, I told him my parent's were here on business with you and scurried off following Preston back into the house, looked like he'd been in a small tussle with someone.

Without a moments pause, Cecile looks around for a shadowy area of the room to go and vanish from sight.

[Worlok]

"Wha... really, child? The driver's gone? What about Mr Osbourne, then? And what's that about the backdoor, there?" Gerald seemed confused, and Preston just as well, though in the latter's case, that might have had something to do with him being mentioned there. Hurst again: "And Preston, what's that about that tussle you had?" - "Sir, Mr Hurst, just a scratch. Cut myself on a nail by accident." - "... I see. Still, child, leave before he is let in. He can't hear us here, but he's behind that door right there, this much I know." He was worried, panicked, and his carefully cleaned-up appearance was already threatening to fall to the tics and twitches of his unease again. This was not going as planned, at least for him.

[Dramiscius]

Indeed father, perhaps Preston saw whoever was rustling around in the room by the back as well, the lights were out and they locked the door as I approached.

Ah, well perhaps later, for now i'll make myself scarce.

Cecile says as she looks around for a shadowy area of the room to vanish in.

[Worlok]

As it so happened, both the area immediately beneath the stairs, the one behind the door she had come in through, and the ones shadowed by or beneath the various tables and flowerpots standing about would be ideal as vantage points.

"Yes, you do that, child. Please, understand that I'm not angry. But this is important, yes?" He almost sounded sad, remorseful even, and still very, very in-over-his-head, even as he forced himself to assume an upright position, and commanded Preston to go and answer the door at last.

[Dramiscius]

Seeing Preston make his way towards the door, Cecile steps into the shadow of a nearby flowerpot and activating her basic powers of supernatural stealth to become completely invisible while stationary awaiting their guest.