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 Charity Extravaganza, @ Belda/Kenzie
Lawrence Benoit
 Posted: Apr 21 2017, 10:31 PM
69 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
Mountain Standard time N/A
job
Neurosurgeon
species
Vampire
group
Valdit Nest
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
514
mature
N/A
Maybe you think you that can hide I can smell your scent for miles
N/A
Nobility



It was another night of extravagance; all of the high uppity ups would be there, flinging their cash around at this charity event for children. It didn’t really matter all that much who the event was for – the rich folks would head there and support them, if only to impress other rich people and make a name for themselves. That’s not why he went to these things, though. Wasn’t there to rub shoulders or elbows with these types of people, and try to get in their good graces. The vampire went to these things because he liked children, but he’d been robbed of the ability to have any of his own a long time ago. Was a little happiness too much to ask for? Apparently; vampires weren’t supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be the monsters from the nightmares parents told their little young ones before bed each night. Or, at least, that was what he had heard, anyway.

Monster or not, Lawrence wasn’t here to feed on any man or woman at any rate. He’d already fed tonight, plucking some hapless person off the street and wooing her until he fed on her, and then sent her on her merry way. Perhaps it was not the best method of procuring a meal, picking people off the street at random, but it had suited him for quite some time. Immensely better than jumping from the shadows like he used to – or said one certain vampire, who shall remain nameless. He highly doubted he’d ever make a proper vampire in the eyes of that older gent, but at least he wasn’t starving himself any longer. There was a bright side to everything, and Lawrence was ever the optimist. Given immortality – and a ton of heartache – a vampire needed to have a little optimism in this world. Vampirism wasn’t meant to be glamourous, but it wasn’t without its perks.

The event wasn’t too far from his place in the North Western part of the city, a few blocks at most, which made choosing to come tonight all the more easier. Still, he favored taking a cab rather than just walking there, not wanting to must the clothes that he wore. Seemed a little faux pas to arrive via cab, but he wasn’t the only one that was taking a cab to this thing. He’d spent the last twenty minutes after he came here watching as more people filed out of taxis, looking prim and proper in their expensive evening wear. Okay, so this event wasn’t supposed to be super glamourous, he’d noticed; it was for children, after all. He wasn’t sure what his mind meant by that remark, but heh. After about thirty minutes, Lawrence straightened his dark grey suit jacket and went into the party.

Once inside, he snatched up a glass of sparkling champagne – rose tinted – and brought it to his lips as he walked. On the stage they had set up, there was a small orchestra with all of their thousand-and-some dollar instruments; bows stringing across the strings, flutes and woodwinds being blown into, and percussion as well. A nice little upbeat tune was played in hopes to lighten the spirits of the patrons within. No one looked too doom and gloomy, he’d noticed, but they were enjoying the music anyway. Some of them were dancing, even, while others opted for chatting in small groups away from the dancers. And others, still, were watching as other people danced. He’d say there were a hundred or so people here, perhaps more than that would show up a little later. It was still relatively early in the evening, and he didn’t think the bulk would show up until about seven or so.

There were trays of hors d’oeuvres being passed around by serves, which he declined all of them when a tray happened to be shoved in his face. Food was a thing of the past, and about the only thing he missed from his human years – that, and of course, the family from which he’d been taken. Valentina was not kind in removing him from his moderately happy existence – nor was she in the following years, making him a slave to her will and forcing him to watch as she violated his sister. How he hated her; the only solace he had about that whole thing was that perhaps one day she’d come here, and he’d get the chance to stake her himself. Or even, that she had been picked off already by some hunter. The latter was highly unlikely, but preferred, at the end of the day – he didn’t need a death drawing attention to him.

Ah, well. There wasn’t much he could do about it now. Even with feeling her presence like sirelings could, he couldn’t really say where she was at the moment. The woman was notorious for changing cities rather quickly as she was never one to settle in one place for too long. That thought gave him comfort because perhaps she had been here, and already left. But he doubted that rather highly. He’d have sensed her for certain if she had happened by his little corner of the world. Taking another sip of champagne, he was rather relieved when someone beautiful happened next to him – a woman – one that wasn’t too far off the type he preferred. He gave her a smile, and greeted her, saying, “Good evening to you, madam. I’m Lawrence Benoit. Might I be so bold to inquire your name?”
PMEmail
^
Belda DeRosier
 Posted: May 6 2017, 11:07 PM
27 posts
puppeted by Kenzie
Bel
EST She/her
job
Brand Consultant, Sugar baby
species
Siren
group
Seelie Court
sexuality
Pansexual
status
Single
age
382
mature
Bring on the debauchery
...the sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonders forever.
N/A
This Isn't Love




Oh, charity fundraisers, the excuse to get dolled up while endeavoring to make all the concern for whichever cause the event was being held for appear sincere. Although it was much easier to conjure up sincere concern when children were involved, the little things with wide innocent eyes. Of course it also helped that society had deemed them precious beings, representative of their future as a society. As if there weren't beings who'd seen the rise and fall of societies and still continued on living in the world. Belda may not have been the most motherly individual but even she wasn't completely apathetic towards children. Though to truly be fair the siren would have been attending the fundraiser regardless of the cause it was for. Her objective for the night was reputation, maintaining the good one she'd built over the years and staying visible among the wealthier potential clients. Rubbing elbows and making connections, dancing about important circles and smoozing. Along with bolstering the reputations of a few clients, ensuring they were present and acting appropriately. It really wouldn't do to have her clients tarnishing the work she'd already done for them and this would ensure the work the siren did would be continued into the future. Of course, the charity fundraiser was for a good cause and would justify attending but Belda had always been much more focused on taking care of those that she knew and cared about over strangers. The people close to her heart would always hold a much higher priority than the faceless mass of individuals these types of fundraisers attempted to champion.

A small drawback of the event being for children meant that a slightly more conservative and modest appearance would be needed. It would come off as distasteful and make her presence appear disingenuine. Which wouldn't do at all. Propriety would dampen some of the enjoyment the siren normally got from looking dressing up, requiring her to use restraint on not only her choice of dress but also jewelry. So Belda had found a modest enough dress, tasteful enough for a fundraiser aimed at children but still flattering and extravagant to match the company she'd find at the event. A balance she wasn't unaccustomed to, but tended to be more satisfied and better enjoy the whole experience of getting ready for and attending events where that wasn't required of her. Belda supposed for the children she could play at some modicum of modesty.

Like many events, regardless of their distance from her apartment, Belda would get a driver. It wasn't even a decision really, setting up with the chauffeur company she often used was just as much part of her routine to get ready as doing her makeup. Why bother with a valet parking and having to retrieve her car the next day?

Belda would arrive with the majority of people, filing from cars and into the event. Familiar and strange faces filtering through the crowd. The siren would largely ignore the orchestra and the dancing patrons, othering than acknowledging that they played well and were a much better option than a sound system. But it was a bit unsurprising the effort had been put in to get live music - it was for the children after all. The more people enjoyed themselves, the more likely they were to spend larger amounts. Rather than spend her time dancing Belda was socializing, talking up familiar faces from both her business and social lives. This was her reason for attending and Belda was incredibly effective at rubbing elbows while appearing much more sincere, as if the charity support was her main reason for attending. The siren was catching up with those she hadn't seen in her normal glamour in a while, having attended some of the same events with them but not as herself.

She'd float through a few clusters of individuals, pleasant conversation and compliments falling from her lips easily. These events were exactly her cup of tea, or rather glass of champagne. All dressed up and playing among the social elites, bettering her business and reputation. It lifted her mood back to where it normally would be at any other extravagant event. Belda would waive off the hors d'oeuvers with a polite smile, not wanting to risk bad breath. It wouldn't be too long before the conversation Belda was currently in would bore her as topics turned towards family and baby stories, apropos for the event but uninteresting to her at the moment. An empty glass would offer her an easy and effortless out to the conversation and Belda would discard her glass for a new one from a passing waiter as she made her way towards a quieter area. One where the blonde would be able to evaluate the room and consider whether she'd remain business like or simply enjoy herself for a while. Noticing an attractive blond on his own had her decision leaning towards personal enjoyment. The dark grey suit was a wonderful touch, fitted perfectly and stood out from the predominately black suits worn by most of the male patrons. He didn't appear to be searching or waiting for anyone; perfect.

With her mood raised even more Belda closed the distance between them, easily navigating through the few individuals in between them until they were close enough for polite conversation. Well maybe a little closer than was needed, but propriety had hampered her night enough already. The smile had already been present as Lawrence noticed her presence and began to introduce himself. "A better evening now Monsieur Benoit." She commented before offering her hand in greeting, an excuse for the closeness if he cared for propriety more than she did. "Belda DeRosier. It's a pleasure to meet you, I only regret that you aren't a familiar face. Are you often attending fundrasiers?" Her inquery was genuine, even at events Belda normally donned a different glamour she couldn't recall seeing Lawrence. Or perhaps he was part of whatever organization this was benefiting?
PMAIM
^
Lawrence Benoit
 Posted: May 8 2017, 09:10 PM
69 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
Mountain Standard time N/A
job
Neurosurgeon
species
Vampire
group
Valdit Nest
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
514
mature
N/A
Maybe you think you that can hide I can smell your scent for miles
N/A
Nobility



The music was largely enjoyed by the vampire as he slipped through the crowd, staying on the outer edge so he wouldn’t bump into anyone. It was a good turnout, he noticed, and it was clear that there would be a good turnout as far as donations went as well. He himself had donated to the charity before, and had every intention of doing so again tonight. Eventually he would cross the floor and hand over a check for five-thousand dollars – a meager amount, he knew – but every contribution mattered, no matter the amount. And this wasn’t one of those events where a minimum was required. Any amount would do – even if it was just five dollars, but given the crowd within the building, he thought there would be a lot of deep pockets at this thing. One would think, anyway.

Lawrence paused on the outer part of the crowd, his eyes watching the orchestra as they began a tune he had heard a time or two before. It was from the movie Titanic he knew, but he couldn’t tell anyone the exact name of the piece they were performing. A lively, upbeat tune to quell the nerves of the crowd, if there were any. There was always some kind of music at these things; its purpose was to quell the crowd, and make them feel welcome. Lawrence didn’t know if it had either effect on him, if he was being honest. Perhaps the music calmed him in the way a soothing voice might soothe a beast – immensely bad analogy, but it was true. Anyone who knew anything about vampires knew that they were monsters. Murderers and kidnappers of young women – or some kind of shit like that. He wasn’t up to speed on the whole monster thing of present day.

More trays of appetizers were passed up, but he did place his empty champagne glass on a passing tray and grab another one that was filled with the same kind. Sipping at it with lesser vigor, he fell back into his trek around the crowd. He wasn’t searching for anyone, and he didn’t know if there would be anyone here from the hospital. Was always a possibility, he knew, but unlikely. Lawrence didn’t know if nurses would qualify to be allowed to attend something like this. Still, this event was for everyone. Hardly anyone wasn’t invited. There were types to look out for that might be denied entry – if nothing else than to keep the riff raff out. Drug dealers, junkies, other bad types, for example.

For once his mind was on something other than blood and keeping himself sated. For once he could slip through the crowd and not be tempted to bite into someone’s neck. It’d been a while since he had that. Years, even. Proper feeding kept him from attacking anyone, and he could even do his job more efficiently now. It was a good thing, and one that would remain part of his life from now on. His biggest issue was that he didn’t want to put a kind of burden on one of his nest mates – a burden that would result in the end of his life as he knew it. It came down to feeding properly or being staked, and Lawrence chose the one where he would be alive. Obviously, right? It was a hard concept for him to understand that feeding didn’t necessarily mean he had to kill in order to get fed – something he had his sire to thank for; chaulked up to be just another reason that made him want to see her dead.

No matter; tonight was about socializing and meeting people he had never met before. That was something he liked about the city: there was always a face within the city limits that he had never met. More people were moving here or passing through here on their way to another part of the country.

The appearance of the blonde female was refreshing; she was someone he would have remembered meeting, he was sure of it. He noticed a bit of a French accent that clung to her words, and that alone made him smile. It’d been ages since last he visited his homeland. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss DeRosier, certainly. It is refreshing to see someone I’ve not run into before, so in that I agree with you.” There was a bit of a French accent that clung to her last name as he spoke it. “I noticed your accent… Are you originally from France or did you just live there for a time?” He went on, although he gave her time to answer before continuing, “I was born and raised in Mâcon, but that was quite a long time ago.” He laughed a bit at that.
PMEmail
^
Belda DeRosier
 Posted: May 18 2017, 12:43 AM
27 posts
puppeted by Kenzie
Bel
EST She/her
job
Brand Consultant, Sugar baby
species
Siren
group
Seelie Court
sexuality
Pansexual
status
Single
age
382
mature
Bring on the debauchery
...the sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonders forever.
N/A
This Isn't Love




The touch of the live orchestra was appreciated despite the fact that the siren was largely ignoring the music. In fact its pleasantness was part of what allowed her to push the music towards the back of her mind in order to better focus on the people around her. Live orchestras were much more soothing on her ears than a sound system, and in her opinion allowed the players to show off and demonstrate their skill much better than a simple recording could. Of course spending years in courts with live performers long before audio recordings were an option may have coloured her opinion. It may have cost the organizers more money, but the orchestra would be able to grease the deep pockets in attendance easily. People who were enjoying themselves would donate more, even if it was a familiar song being played.

Upbeat music for the energetic greetings. It would also help with the mood of those who viewed these kinds of events are a chore to done, who underestimated the amount of opportunities an event like this could open up. Benefitting a reputation, publicity, and rubbing elbows with the influential and elite of the day. It was nothing to worry over for Belda, she’d mingled with aristocrats and nobles throughout the years and even witnessed their decline. Comparatively to societal and propriety rules of decades passed the fundraisers of present day were easy to navigate. Of course there were most likely also people who didn’t frequent these events sprinkled in, ones who were motivated by the charity that was being benefited rather than the social opportunity. Or perhaps those who worked with children, supporting their occupation and the charity but unused to the present company. The social rules may have become more lenient but they were still there, as was the distinction between the classes. Undoubtedly posturing would make it worse as well. Luckily none of that behaviour phased the siren, easily fitting into those of higher society and being warm enough to not cow those who were not. Cowing them would be bad for business and her reputation. Besides Belda was attending as herself, and not some pretty little bauble on the arm of someone in need of posturing and flaunting their status.

Conversations were easy to slip into, whether it was a familiar face that had caught her attention or a prominent name she had recognized and made the effort into the conversation. Warm greetings and Belda was immediately charming and ever the social butterfly. This was what the night was primarily about, charming and building her social network. Making new connections with those she did not already know and maintaining her current connections. It wouldn’t do to have her knowledge of the people around her out of date. Truthfully the charity mattered little to the blonde siren as it was acting as more of a backdrop and excuse for the whole affair than any kind of motivation. Sure she would donate a healthy amount to it, but mostly out of her own self-interest.

However, every one deserved a break from their work. Especially if that break was taking the shape of a handsome stranger who appeared to be alone. An absolutely delightful break when her name was pronounced properly by Lawrence, which had her estimation of him rising. So often Belda found Americans unable to quite grasp the phonetics of her name and had grown used to dulled version of her surname despite her refusal to speak her name with the accent she’d adopted in her time in America. “It is also incredibly refreshing to hear my name pronounced properly.” The smile that Lawrence drew out with the simple act of pronouncing her name properly was delightful and charming. As sincere reflection of her response.

“I was born and raised in France for my youth before travelling with my father and sisters.” She confirmed with a fond smile. Belda may have made a home for herself in San Francisco but there was nothing that would be able to beat the fondness that she had for her homeland. She preferred it even to the fae realm, something that was mostly evident by how far between her trips there were – and they were only ever to see family. “That’s just north of Lyon?” It was half a question and half a statement pulled from her recollection and offered with a smile. From what she could recall, Belda didn’t think it was a large city but that very well may have changed in recent decades. “I was born in Marseille myself. When did you make the trip across the pond?” She asked, eyes flicking over Lawrence’s appearance curiously. ‘Quite a long time ago’ had a lot of different connotations depending on how long someone had lived. She’d met many who would say her departure of Europe for America at the turn of the century was a long time ago, and she knew others who perceived that time span as relatively short in comparison.
PMAIM
^
Lawrence Benoit
 Posted: May 18 2017, 09:48 PM
69 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
Mountain Standard time N/A
job
Neurosurgeon
species
Vampire
group
Valdit Nest
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
514
mature
N/A
Maybe you think you that can hide I can smell your scent for miles
N/A
Nobility



The music wasn’t too overpowering or loud, the sound level being just perfect for this kind of setting. People here and there were making their way to the donation area – a more or less podium set towards the back of the room. Ladies with shiny baubles here and there on the arms of perfectly groomed men – couples no doubt – seemed to be the ones donating money the most. A few bachelors here or there donated, men who were too wealthy or busy to have married. Rare among them was the one woman of the lot that seemed to be on her own completely, and she was already heading towards the exit with a couple of young men surrounding her. Security for the old broad? He didn’t know, but it was a possibility. Just from looking at the people it here, it was difficult to tell what their story was. Not that it was any of his business, but Lawrence was a man who liked to discern people’s stories as he watched them. Creepy? Odd? Probably both of those things. But there were men like that out there, and also those that took orders and those that gave them. Which one was Lawrence, might you ask? Hard to say – he’d been a man of all of those traits once in his life.

Older gentlemen and even ladies seemed swayed by the music – some of them were dancing while others were in tight knit groups conversing over the music. The days of waltzes and lavish parties might have been over, but charity events and galas had taken their place. The wealthy mingled with other wealthy, and the poor were actually welcome to some of these functions. Anything for the sake of children, he’d guessed. This particular function was for the children’s hospital – and it made him think of all the kids over the years whom he had told ‘the news’ to. Of course, during those times, the parents were told in place of the child. How could a little girl know what death was at her age? She’d barely begun to live, and he was telling her she was going to die? It seemed preposterous that he – a creature that fed on blood and chaos – should be allowed to live when a child would die. It didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t fair – a thing he’d been told time and again by parents who didn’t want to believe him. But it was life. Life wasn’t about fairness and happiness; it was cruel and unpredictable, and anyone who thought otherwise was living a fantasy.

His mood was somewhat soured with these thoughts, and instantly he was grateful for the gorgeous distraction that had come his way. This event itself was a distraction from the everyday toil of work. Even when he wasn’t at work, there were files to go through, documents to read and sign, and texts to flip through when making a diagnosis. His home was more like his office; there were three computers in the house, two tablets, three desks, two cell phones and a pager all within his home. At work there was more of the same, only there was one computer and little else technology wise in the office space at work. It was a lot to keep track of, really, but he was grateful for the nights when he didn’t have to look at a screen. When he could look at and talk to a real live person who wasn’t a patient. Add on top of all of it the nights when he had to hunt. Some nights he traveled down the street to hunt, and other nights he went clear across town into the Soma district. He’d starved himself, really, just to get more work done. But he couldn’t do that anymore. Proper feeding and taking care of himself came first.

“Oh? I imagine it, like mine, is pronounced in rather interesting and wrong ways. Amusing, yet aggravating – I know that all too well.” And in spite of how many times he told someone how his name was pronounced, they always seemed to get it wrong. In his field there was a lot of mispronunciation – something he’d grown used to, having worked in this field since the seventies.

“Oh how lovely – it must have been exciting to travel with your family,” God knew he never got to travel with his own family. Every bit of traveling he did was by himself – or accompanied by one of his fledglings. He missed France in all honesty and was in the same boat as Belda as he had a great fondness for his home country. San Francisco might have been where he lived, but it wasn’t truly ever going to be home for him. Every few years he traveled back to France - at least for a few days before being thrown back into work. “Yes, that’s right,” he said, confirming that it was, “The last time I was there it had changed immensely from when I lived there with my family. Of course, everything changes eventually.” He certainly had. His smile was easy – it felt good to meet someone from France, even if they weren’t from the same city. Macon and Lyon were rather close together, enough that it could have very well been the same type of land. “Shortly after 1900, but I didn’t arrive in San Francisco until – about a decade ago now,” he says, as if it was normal to be over a hundred years old and looking like he was in his forties, “A little secret – I’m older than I look.” He smiled at that, as if his species was some big secret or something. In point of fact, it wasn’t – not remotely. Some people liked to know what race was working on them at the hospital.

“So what do you do for a living, Madam DeRosier?” For conversation’s sake and everything, he’d try to stick to subjects that weren’t too invasive.
PMEmail
^

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