WARNING: Some language and mature themes. _________________________________________



Despite the chill of morning Vera sat outside yet another coffee house, the sun shining down to catch highlights within the depths of her tawny mane; tints of caramel, gold, with a hint of red woven in the long waves left unbound to gather at her waist. She had taken to coffee houses like an alcoholic did to most bars, they were a new and special haunt to her. Sitting in a wrought iron chair, a table at her side with a cup of steaming liquid wafting up its potent perfume but she left it mostly untouched while she considered the many denizens of Rhydin. Rushing even this morning to jobs and places, a few people flashing her a smile in greeting, a few even stopping to have a word with her.

It was as mundane as mundane could get when the people stopping to talk to her sometimes sported gossamer wings or flesh the color of blue and red, even the occasional gnome decided the Gypsy was worth a chat. The humans left her alone for the most part, odd considering she herself was human (for the most part, teased a corner of her mind) but maybe she was just boring to them, just like them, another usual face in the crowd, nothing to write home about. Today's mode of dress was just blue jeans she had stolen from her daughter's closet, a long cream color sweater thrown over a plain black T-shirt in difference to the cold air. She didn't bother with a coat, again the cold did not bother her like most others. She was chilled enough within to even care if she came home with skin tinged blue. This only reinforced the idea that Vera offered up nothing in terms of the supernatural and therefore, had nothing to give the more avarice people in search of spells, adventure, or revenge.

Looks were rather deceiving as the old pun went.

Rocking a bit the Gypsy drew her legs up to sit Indian style in her chair, crossing her arms to lay them in the cradle of her lap. There were dark circles hovering beneath her eyes, signs she had spent yet another night not sleeping. She was tense, tired, and a bit irritable though she kept up a pleasant demeanor for the locals, finally talking a sip of coffee while she nodded to the short gnome in front of her. She was currently being regaled of a story of pesky fairies creating untold damage to the poor creatures" garden. Most fairies ate bugs and while they usually could be helpful to a garden at the same time they were known for destroying the plants and flowers that live there in search for their food.

"How awful," came her murmured reply, a bit distracted and not all together there.

The gnome didn't seem to mind or noticed, going on with its shanghaied audience.



Finally he left with a friendly wave, talk of bread and wives ending his discourse. This finally left the Gypsy to her own musings, her mind still in its perpetual torment. Taking another sip of the piping hot coffee she narrowed her eyes up at the glare of the sun, rolling the bitter mixture of her tongue before allowing it to scald down her throat. Once again her mind was on Jacob, her mind was on the past, and how everything had gown horribly wrong in such a short amount of time. Grimacing she leaned back, pulled her shoes off and threw them to the ground. Even after years of becoming 'domesticated" foot wear was still a trial for her. Wriggling her toes now set free from the confines of leather she now considered her sock clad feet. The thick wool did offer some meager protection from the surrounding elements but of course she drew a few strange glances from the more human populace.

Didn't matter. She didn't care. It wasn't as though snow was covering the ground. She sent a few a speaking glance, piss off.

Like business as usual Vera did what she hated to do " she thought about the past.

She thought about the night when Jacob got tired of playing cat and mouse.

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Irony had its share of fun but tonight it had to be out in full force, mocking Fate and laughing with Death. It was all Hallows Eve, in dummy terms, Halloween, the night of Samhain or whatever you wanted to call it. In Vera's homeland this night was feared and never celebrated but Trent came from a different time and place and was all for dressing up. The theme was Peter Pan and the Gypsy was forced into a pale blue baby-doll gown that hung to her knees, white knee-highs, and black Mary Jane shoes. The shoes she had protested the most, not understanding while she couldn't go around bare foot if she was playing the part of a girl who had been bare foot in the classic children's story to begin with.

White lace circled just beneath the bust to give the gown a somewhat empire waist, the d"colletage edged with more of the same lace, puffy sleeves capping over her shoulders and ending there to leave her arms bare and free. Trent had also placed a black bow in her tawny hair; now nearly shoulder length in its curls, jauntily placed just a bit above her right temple to complete the custom. Glaring at her image in the mirror the young Gypsy had only one thought " she looked like a pedophile's dream come true.

"Are you sure this is even accurate" Or appropriate for that matter?"

Trent grinned at her in the mirror from above her shoulder, dressed entirely in green, save for his black boots. He had rakishly styled his brown hair into wild curls and strategically placed leaves in it. His outfit was more like some cat suit a prowler night use on a night of thievery, hugging ever contour of his body. It didn't leave much to the imagination either, Vera's eyes darting briefly over him, feeling a blush high light across her face. Yes, his tights which ended at the knees, didn't leave much at all. Clearing her throat she looked over to Rhia who was also with them, dressed as " you guessed it! " Tinker Bell.

All the players were represented, how cute, mentally snarked Vera. Rhia had left her glamour off, her skin a green shimmer even in the weak light flooding Trent's apartment. Long, twisting vines appeared to have sprouted from her head to trail down over her arms and back, a green so forest dark it appeared black. Grinning Rhia's eyes was as emerald as the moors of Ireland which flashed in amusement, "You look smashing luv!"

Chuckling Rhia flexed the charmed wings, fluttering them as she strolled over to examine Vera's great embarrassment. "You have just the right touch of innocence you know ?"

"I look ridiculous but thanks for the unneeded encouragement. Why couldn't I have been Peter" I bet Trent could have pulled this dress off, he's pretty enough ?" than a thought, "Or he could have been that Captain! Hook or whatever ?"

Grinning herself now she tipped her chin up, head back, to put Trent better in her upside view, "I bet I can take you in a sword fight."

Trent snorted with a shake of his head, "You wish Gypsy girl. C"mon, we have to hurry or we'll miss the other Lost Boys."

More muttering, "I could have been a lost boy ?"

Soon enough they had reached the party, the party goers a clashing mix of vampires, humans, and other creatures invited by their gracious vampire hosts. Everyone mingled and laughed together, the older ones keeping to the outskirts to keep a better eye on their younger clan members. Lanterns strung from the ceiling overhead, the only true light to be found in the huge room. It had been decorated with a theatrical air since the party was being held in honor of some new vampire. Not new in terms of being "made" but new in the sense that they held a position of honor in the complicated hierarchy of vampires. Vera had only partially listened to Trent as he explained that he was part of a "clan' and his was the Ventrue. They were the "genteel ones" the vampires who respected honor and history and also saw themselves as the ones born to lead the rest of the clans. Or something like that.

Of course it was a Ventrue vampire they were honoring tonight as head of the Camarilla, though the Crazy Ones, the Malkavians were also in attendance. This unsettled the Gypsy because of the Crazy Ones had been stalking her as of late, mostly to irritate Trent. It fell into the complicated realm of property and how all humans were viewed as either expensive property or fodder to the population of suck heads. But Vera was very polite in the sense that she never called Trent a suck head, at least not to his face. She got that Trent and as an extension the whole clan of Ventrue saw that they had a claim to Vera and thereby, no other clan was supposed to touch her. The crazy Malky just couldn't seem to grasp the no touchy rule laid down.

Neither did Jacob who had apparently contested Trent's right to the Gypsy, going so far as to announce she owed a debt and had to pay it somehow back to the Assassin. To a bloody vampire court! More damn complications brought about because Vera had felt the need to save a girl marked for death by this particular clan of vampires who specialized in it. And since the Ventrue specialized in law the question of her debt was still up in the air, many confused as what to do with one mortal girl who had already caused so much trouble. The solution many had agreed upon was that the Gypsy had to choose which clan she would go to. Vera had chosen Trent of course, which meant she chose the Ventrue though she had no intention of ever becoming a vampire. Thankfully the Gypsy was only sixteen with seventeen on the horizon and because the Ventrue were sticklers for things like law and honor, it was agreed upon that at the age of twenty and not a day later Vera would, in essence, be reborn into the clan of Ventrue. It all gave her a headache to think about.

She didn't understand much of what went on in the otherwise very secret world Trent had been inducted in but she knew enough to recognize that Trent was her protection. He was seen as her guardian and even a mentor despite the little known fact Vera had no intentions of becoming a vampire. It was perhaps Trent's affection and last lingering humanity that kept him from pressing the issue more though he more than likely believed the allure of eternity would change the Gypsy's mind.

There was also the little fact that their law stated she would have no choice in the matter. Be made or be silenced. The vampires were charming in that sense!

Trent had apparently even been given permission by his sire and other "elders" who were amused by Vera and believed that with some polish she would make a fine Ventrue, a real asset to their clan. She was like a living piece of history to them especially when Vera told them tales of her Gypsy life and homeland. She noticeably didn't share more than that but that didn't matter to them, only her views and moral stance on laws to insure they wouldn't be harboring someone more suited to the Brujah's or worse yet, the Setite clan. Still when forced into their company by Trent she turned the charm on, playing at being the gracious Gypsy girl who felt honored by their notice.

It truth she didn't give a damn one way or another, her game was survival and if she pleased the vampire hierarchy that survival was ensured.

The party was in full swing and soon enough Vera was laughing and dancing with the rest of them, swaying in Trent's arms, her face flushed with the pleasure of it all. Hey, gypsies loved a good party, and she threw herself into the thick it with an abandon that would stagger most others. She drank wine down like it was water, ate a few of the tidbits scattered around for the human members of the clans, and gyrated and wiggled with Rhia to the various degrees of music. The more "noble" of course turned their noses up at this human display but many of the younger vampires were as much in the groove of things as their human counterparts. No one didn't have to explain that the humans were there more as walking entr"es than anything else and since everyone was in the "know" it made feeding far easier. After all these were supposed to be the best of the crop so to speak and soon enough, follow colleagues.

Still for this night all decorum and grooming seemed to be lost in the moment, cold and hot bodies meeting in a rush as the night wore longer on. She had lost her friends in the crush, the impromptu trio separated for the time being. Laughing the Gypsy was hanging on the arm of a young Toreador dressed as King Arthur. The young vampire kept pressing kisses to the high slant of her cheekbone, murmuring nonsense into her dusky skin. She didn't mind, enjoying the flirting with a gusto brought on by too much wine and not enough sense. Still was she only human and detached herself with the promise to come back. It was a promise she meant to keep if only she had been allowed.

It had taken some jostling and even pushing to find the restroom provided thoughtfully for those who would need it. After taking care of business and she had washed her hands Vera spied a set of towls on a stool. Picking one up she dried her hands off, pausing to give a goofy grin in the mirror above the sink. Unfortunately another face reflected back, peering malevolently at her " the Crazy One, the Malky who had decided Gypsy was a fine taste on his palette.

Like a serial killer he wouldn't have garnered a second glance from most people, his hair and eyes a no descriptive brown, his features plain and at once ordinary and harmless. He affected a charm in most settings to put others at ease but he had ruffled her feathers early on. Call her crazy but being shoved into a wall and viciously feed upon had a tendency to make Vera dislike someone. Strongly dislike someone. It was Trent and the power behind his clan that had saved her but the Malky had continued to stalk her, following always at a polite distance but there, always there, her newfound psychotic shadow. Jacob had chased him away a few times, she supposed to keep his investment safe, but it just didn't help her much in the comfort department. Maybe because Jacob just didn't provide to her the comfort she got from Trent.

And there he was " her newfound psychotic shadow — smirking at her from the mirror. Ghostly pale fingers threaded themselves through her hair before grasping tight and slamming her face into the mirror. Spider cracks spread out through the reflecting glass, cutting into her forehead. Blood blossomed and leaked from her cut skin, dripping down like red tears to stain the white porcelain of the sink.

Well shows how much you can depend on for vampiric law and rules.

She didn't have enough time to gather enough breath to scream, the vampire throwing her across the bathroom to crash into a wall with an effortless strength. He wasn't old, not by vampiric terms, but he was still stronger than any human. She crashed into the wainscoting before slumping down, her pale blue baby doll dress pooling at her knees, her legs numb from terror. The Mary Janes hampered her movements, her try at standing made graceless and clumsy. It didn't matter. Grinning like the Reaper of Death the vampire pounced on her, jerking her arms before those spindly fingers grasped her wrist. He broke it like it was dry kindling, her scream shattering the air, piercing it with its ferocity.

"Sweet little girl, pretty little girl, little girl all alone," sing song whispers pressed into her skin, a mouth full of teeth against her neck, tasting, smelling, all with the intent to devour. "My girl, my girl, sweet little girl all dressed in blue. Little boy green is gone, gone, gone, all tied up with pretty red ribbons."

The struggles she put up were feeble at best, her arm numb from the break, her eyes fired up like amber flames, blazing in her terror and rage, "You sick bastard, bagami-as pula in mata!" She doubted he understood her but she had basically told him to f*ck his mother.

The Malkvian only laughed, caressing his hand down her side, along the slope of her thigh and down further until he grasped her ankle. He gave another twist, the sickening sound of bone crunching, followed by another air renting scream that echoed back to them from the walls. She couldn't fight the nausea so she turned her head and released the contents of her stomach, the stench of bile unmistakable.

"Icky little girl! Now we must clean you up, yes clean up icky little girls, wipe their snotty noses and dirty mouths, yeesss ?"

Fingers clawed into her scalp once more, pain untold making her cry like the little girl he said she was. Hooking and jerking up while the vampire stood he dragged the Gypsy over to the sink. The sound of water filled the silence along with her pained sobbing, rushing up and out of her at a harried pace as she strained and whimpered. The vampire merely hummed, looking at the mirror before crooning, "Little girl broke the mirror, means seven years bad luck! Bad luck for the little girl, means seven years as mine, mine, mine, yes seven years you are mine. Think I can keep you, little girl, whole for seven years?"

And people wondered why at times she hated most vampires.

The sink was full of water and before her next gasp the vampire " she had never learned this monsters name " shoved her head down into the wet pool. "Must get you clean, little girls should not be dirty. Sweet little girls, made of sugar and spiiiice "."

Yes, so, Malkvians were a deranged and seriously bent lot of suck heads. He was a true representation of his people, they must be so proud.

Jerking her up from her the torture of partially drowning, Vera choking and gasping for air, the vampire threw with her an almost nonchalant grace and watched gleefully as she crashed into a stool that had towels folded on top. The force of the throw combined with even Vera's slight weight broke it almost completely apart, bruising her ribs in the whole process. Despite herself she began to cry again, the tears a silvery track down her face, harsh and bitter in her mouth, mingling with the copper of her blood. Wildly wondering why Trent or even Rhia wasn't helping her. Could no one hear them' Hear her screams" It was like some horror movie she had once seen on that thing called a television, the monster was going to eat her and no one was rushing to save her.

But like in some of those shows she had watched a bit of hope in the form of a shattered wooden leg that stuck out and into the hollow of her stomach from the stool she had crushed, a probing "Hey, need some help?" sort of hope, her forearms saving her from a potential disembowelment. Truly it almost made a perfect stake. Maybe too perfect' Hell with that she thought. Huddling with a whimper she blinked away the tears clouding her vision and grasped the makeshift stake with her good hand, feeling the vampire now hovering behind her.

"My sweet little girl blue, what treasures have you in store ?" he trailed his hands up her legs, caressing her broken ankle in an almost tender gesture, Vera feeling a sickening rush of nausea yet again. She lay on her stomach, her whole figure trembling as he roughly pulled her towards him, spooning himself around her in a parody of a lover's embrace. She felt his teeth on her neck, deadly pinpoints pressing, playing with her, while he considered a new torment.

"What to do, what to do, there is so much we can do?" A hand shifted and started a slow tug on the edge of her dress, dragging it up with an agonizing slowness, "Oh pretty girl, what treasures you have in store for me ?"

Now or never, it was now or a very bad never. She jerked forward and heard more than felt the tearing of blue cotton, her body arching up and down sharply enough she feared for breaking her spine before she twisted on to her back. It was only because of the surprise he felt at her continued defiance that she had even a chance, no second thoughts as she slammed the makeshift stake into the place his heart should be. Looking back the Gypsy had to reason that it had to be because of his insanity otherwise she would have been just another cold corpse in Rhydin Alley that had given her the edge. He didn't expect her to try and fight him still, believing her sufficiently cowed and docile from his torture.

Panting she looked up at him, sprawled on her back, her arms and legs now akimbo like the rag doll he had used her as. "Bag pula-n gatu tau!" Roughly translated, though she didn't have one, Vera told him to stick her d*ck in his mouth.

But he only grinned. "Well played little girl in blue."

And passed out in a state of paralysis that is common for staked vampires in this realm of nightmares.

Groaning she weakly rolled to her side, only dimly aware of the door now, finally now!!! Hello, getting killed over here! opening. Everything hurt; everything was a new agony to the sixteen year old who had thought she had experienced agony before. Wrong! Closing her eyes she whimpered, "Trent, where were you ?" God, I needed you and you weren't here!" Those whispered words were meant to stir guilt, to share some of her pain. It felt almost like a betrayal that he had come to think so much of her and yet, when she was screaming from being broken he had not heard her. Worse yet, he had, and still had done nothing for her.

Silence. For long seconds that carried with them eternity there was nothing but that infernal silence, the Gypsy closing her eyes tightly as more tears slipped free. She refused to look at him, refused to see the truth in his eyes that she had foolishly allowed herself to be a victim. Vampires have excellent hearing; she thought for a hot, rage full minute, the vampires had known what was going on. She had learned from the very lore Trent kept spoon feeding her that unless she had taken the Malky's head, he was still technically a living creature. This had been ". What' A test' Trial by blood and fire"

F*ck that and f*ck them.

Two arms scooped Vera up as though she were a feather light pillow, cuddling her against a solid chest that felt as though it were made of stone, no heart beat beneath her ear. Sighing and while she hated herself for it she snuggled down into the cold embrace, for once allowing relief to flood through her. This was still Trent and more than likely he had no choice but to go along with things. She had proven herself, right' She was safe and better still, alive. With her eyes closed she didn't see the hand that tenderly wiped away the blood still seeping through the cuts on her face, she didn't see him as he tilted his head down, dragging a roughened tongue across her brow.

She did feel a whole new sense of terror though when his chest rumbled in silent mirth, an insidious voice drifting like a lewd caress to her ears, "You know I hate men that hit women but everyone else felt this was necessary. You are after all only a human child but still, you managed to escape death, and from a vampire."

His tongue once more made an appearance, licking her face clean from the blood, the tip of it tracing the edges of her wounds, savoring. "Impressive that you staked him and didn't call out for help, knowing we could hear you." Jacob rumbled with a hungry voice, pursing his lips to kiss her split brow, more mockery than care, "Impressive, this spirit you have. You passed my sire's test and because your little boyfriend has been neglectful of you, you have changed hands. Time to come home " little gypsy."

The Ventrue wasn't the only clan that felt the Gypsy would make a good addition.

((This was a collaborated story, spun from old logs between muns. Everyone has given their permission to share this part of the tale here. ))