IC Time: Dec 10
Location: Olympic Towers Hotel, Port Angeles
Synopsis: Looking to put some ghosts to rest, Stasia asks Demetri for a favor.
Submitted by: Stasia
Demetri sits at his desk in his office, computer keyboard in his lap, feet kicked up on the wooden surface, eyes on the screen. Off in one corner of the room is a man, mortal, gagged and bound. He smells delicious, must be a snack for later.
Hotel lobby duty is never one of Stasia's favorite assignments, but as one of the younger members of the coven, she takes her rotations there. Dressed professionally (in an outfit she'd never have chosen for herself) with dark brown contacts to conceal her vampire eyes, she plays the part of some random hotel guest lingering in the lobby or the lounge. At least she was marginally entertained by watching the human staff set up the Christmas tree.
Once she steps off the elevator, she slips off her heels. Damned uncomfortable things.
Demetri hears the slound of slipping heels and a faint grin touches his face. The bound victim in the corner looks up with panicked, widened eyes at the sound of another person approaching and begins muffled cries. "No one cares about you…" The Volturi says with a gentle chuckle. "Stasia, is that you?" He calls.
Stasia's head comes up, scenting human.. which is not common on the 'restricted' floor. "Demetri?" She replies, "Did you pack a lunch today?" She pads down the hallway toward his office, shoes in one hand.
"Yes. I am guilty. That's Frederick. We're going to go out later, when it's dark." Demetri does enjoy playing with his food. There's a few tears in the man's eyes, already puffy from such activities and his muffled cries die down to more snuffled weeping sounds.
"How are you?" He asks of the woman, gesturing for her to have a seat. "I was trying to order a new coat, but the internet keeps disconnecting me. It's very frustrating." His accent is heavy, some of the words lacking inflection.
Stasia spares the doomed human a disinterested glance. She has an entirely different style, preferring an ambush and quick kill. But to each, his own. The sobbing sounds, however, are mildly annoying. Humans are so noisy.
"I need a favor, Demetri." She murmurs, taking the indicated seat. Her shoes are dropped on the floor beside her and she demurely crosses her feet at the ankles. She may not like skirts, but she did come from a time when that is what women wore.
"Alright. What is it that you need?" The elder vampire asks, reaching to set the keyboard aside and give her his full attention. His eyes are very dark, he must be hungry, likely is savoring the time before he feeds to make it all that much more enjoyable. When you've lived for centuries, one must make some things as intresting as they can to avoid monotony.
"I need to find a wolf. A specific one. Can you track it from a single hair speciman, about a year old?" Stasia folds her hands neatly in her lap, meeting the other's gaze. She blinks a couple times, feeling the contacts dissolve from the venom in her system and after a few moments, her irises return to their normal garnet hue.
"Probably. Why do you need to find this wolf, specifically?" Demetri asks. "How are things going?" He adds, leaning forward to cross his arms on the desk. There's another muffled whine from the corner and the vampire turns a glare on the human, "Quiet Frederick, or I assure you I will peel off your fingernails one at a time before you die, then crush your teeth.. one at a time… then ground the shards into your eyes with my thumb." There's a polite smile and he looks back to Stasia.
Stasia ignores the human. It won't go on living for long anyhow. "I'm going to kill it and send its hide to my apartments in Volterra." She replies, matter of factly. "It destroyed something very important to me." She settles back in her seat, absently crossing her ankles the /other/ way in mimicry of human behavior. "Otherwise," she shrugs. "I am well. And yourself?"
"What was destroyed? Is there a way to further implicate the wolves at the same time?" Demetri asks, seeming to be okay with this reasoning, but wanting to make more out of the situation. "I'm well." He says with a faint smile.
"You know how I was made vampire." The brunette replies slowly. "I had an identical twin, who was in the camps with me. She survived the experience and lived to wed and have children. They settled here." A pause, "You might recall that not long after I joined the Volturi, they were murdered. Theresa found scents of wolves, but little else. I'd gone back to the house, since I've been here. Everything had been cleaned, re-painted and new carpeting. But I did find one wolf hair, left behind." There is another pause. "My bloodline is gone now. And I want to lay the ghosts to rest."
"Alright. Then we will say this is on the basis that they destroyed your family. Do you have the hair?" Demetri asks, not getting terribly sympathetic, but his words are gently spoken. He could never track his own bloodline, it would be impossible.
Stasia nods. "I do. It's in my room, tucked safe away. Jack said he would help, as a means of discharging his debt over the cigarette game." She considers, "If the wolf is not close, we may need to get leave. Or wait until this matter is settled first." Stasia doesn't like that idea particularly, but if she knows for sure they will be able to track the beast, she can put off her need for revenge.
"Well, how about I take a look at it now and see if the mongrel is near, then we can decide what to do?" Demetri suggests. "It might not be a wolf at all, it might be … a dog? Or not enough for me to see." No, his abilities are not infallible.
"All right." The woman gets smoothly to her feet, picking up her shoes. She isn't concerned about the human. Demetri knows how to secure his prey. She will lead him down the hallway to her own room.
Demetri rises as well to follow, but does pull the office door shut behind him. Frederick isn't going anywhere, his ankles are broken, but that's neither here nor there, he's also tied up.
Stasia's room is one of the standard suites. She hasn't added a good deal to it, so it is the normal hotel decor. However, it does offer a view of the water, which is why she chose it. Her belongings are kept neat, clothes and shoes in the closet. On the closet door hangs an old backpack, faded and well worn. It's Israeli army-issue, circa 1950.
It is into this pack where Stasia produces her sample. The long hair is carefully tucked away in a folded piece of paper, between two journal pages. "It's a wolf hair," She is sure of that. "But a year gone, I can't tell if it is a natural wolf or not." Werewolves have their own unique stink that is easily distinguished from that of a natural wolf.
Demetri nods slowly and reaches to take it from her, then wanders over to the window to gaze out at the water while fingering the item. He rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, a distracted expression on his face.
Stasia waits patiently, but that doesn't come without effort. She holds her trusty backpack that has travelled many a weary mile with her. Something she's not been able to let go of.
Demetri finally turns back after perhaps twenty minutes, gazing at her again thoughtfully. "This favor; do you ask it of me, or the Volturi, Stasia?" He questions softly, the wolf hair now twined about his finger.
"From you." Stasia replies evenly. She's mulled over the implications of this and made her decision. "This is personal."
Stasia carefully takes the hair and returns it safely from whence it came. Her journal has several odds and ends between the pages: newspaper clippings, some notes, things that for whatever reason, she found important enough to keep safe. "Thank you, Demetri." She dips her head respectfully, speaking in a subdued tone.
Demetri smiles faintly, nodding. "It should be fun." He says, flashing a grin. "Let me know when you want to go. I think I'm going to go take Frederick for a swim." His amusement grows more wicked. "Is there anything else you need?"
Stasia shakes her head faintly. "Nothing that cannot wait until after dinner and a swim." She considers, "It's so convenient having the ocean nearby. It makes cleaning up so easy."
Demetri chuckles. "It does. I will be back later." He intones, smiling again before slipping out of the room to go play with Frederick. Likely he's going to torture the poor man anyway because he has no reason not to.
Stasia lets the Greek vampire go. She's thinking more on the fact that she's placed herself in his debt than on the doomed mortal. But then, she knew there was no other way to see this through and letting it go was simply not an option.
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