[indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/5yMteM4.png?3[/img][color=black][b]𝓔[i]sther[/i][/b] [b]𝓟[i]uniceus[/i][/b][/color]				[url=https://photos.smugmug.com/Miscellaneous-Categories/Favorites/i-WBJ4R7C/6/36d9fc8e/S/St.%20Sophia%20Cathedral-6695_6_7_8_9_HDR-S.jpg]x x x[/url][/indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/5eXPXBu.png[/img][indent][color=black][b]sᴀɪɴᴛ sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ's ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴏʀᴛʜᴏᴅᴏx ᴄʜʀɪsᴛɪᴀɴ ᴄᴀᴛʜᴇᴅʀᴀʟ | ʟᴏs ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴇs, ᴄᴀʟɪꜰᴏʀɴɪᴀ[/b][/color][/indent]

Peter’s body moaned silently as it dragged itself through the corridors of the Church. His darkened eyes faltered, landing cowardly on the three lit candles, like withering irises. Their flames were burning pollen, melting the stems into the finely grounded rocks, [i]Raz, dva, tri... Umirayet zaychik moy...[/i] 

The heavy close of the wooden doors veiled the masquerade and revealed the day having clothed herself into a maddening darkness with dusty clouds and blankets of sunless sky. The contrast between the dim lights of the Church were still noticeable. Annie’s small body was trembling, kept at a distance that was weary of her Uncle Scott and shunned by the Ventrue. Her small lips made no sound, pressed together in a supple manner of confused innocence. The Malkavian cracked a smile, uncurling his posture to her vulnerable attired emotions and bare neck, uncurtained by her golden locks dressed once in a bun, and while closing the gap between the girl and him, Peter toyed with his voice, “One, two, three, four, five. Zaychik came out to play.” His hand extended and crawled through the air swiftly as it took hold of the scruff of her neck, petting the nymphette’s nape lightly.

“Privezli yego domoy Okazalsya on zhivoy,” Esther finished the rhyme, “You tease her too much, Uncle Scott,” she gently scolded as her steps slowed to allow the two others the ability to retain the same pace as she was traveling. The heels of her shoes clicked softly against the gray pavement, carefully judging the wrinkles in the cement as they landed. Esther’s back was arched straight, holding her head high with an authoritative air. Perhaps, she had overstepped her conversation. It so much appeared patience and time were not on her side tonight, “Ivan is a bit away down the road,” her chin nodded towards. A black sedan that was parked a little ways from the cathedral, “He’ll be able to help us with your attire.” 

Esther had not been the least bit amused with the Malkavians outfit, especially in reference to his attending a ballet recital at Pepperdine University, so eloquently adjusted in Malibu. The pretentious disposition, which rested on her face, smiled in regards to her comment. Although, there was a shrug of hope that his performance would give his new outfit any true longevity, she was calloused towards crushed dreams and was rich enough to not mind a short lived suit, so long as it served its purpose.

The Malkavian made no reply to her nipping commentary. His mind was long gone, tangled with the flocculent flesh running over Annie's mortal parts. Esther took note of his lack of response and continued in her walk towards the Rolls Royce, parked under the dusky covers of trees, hiding the streetlights and any attention that might be watching or listening. It might have been well that there had been only an ignorant reply to Esther's commentary.

As the three approached closer, it was made out that inside the dark car, there was a shadow of a driver who was propped in his seat with an arm relaxed on the sill of the window. His clothed elbow was leaning against the pain, and his cheek was pushed into a closed knuckle. A solemn emotion was drawn on his face, even with his eyes watching intently and brutally as he watched the three figures emerge from the large temple. His body did not stiffen or relax at their sight; and it was not until Esther opened the door, did the man stir, brustling his skin against coarse hair.

“Dear Ivan, oh were, oh where did your manners go? Tsk. Tsk.” A quiet glare pierced over the driver. His body tensed at the sound of her voice snipping through his strings of lull. A moment of silence passed through him as he tried to find means of attention and begs for mercy in a pious manner. Her demeanor was offering less of a threat than the internal flame raging inside of her. He was sure of it as klutzy movements or large hands pushed open the driver door to help the two others inside of the sedan, forfeiting his intelligence.

“Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?” Peter mocked the driver. His smile wired up his face as he studied Ivan, “Why, she's been to London to visit the queen, and all the bridges are falling, falling, falling down.” His hand left Annie’s neck and crept towards Ivan’s tan, masculine features. Excitement was dripping from his movements as his upper body leaned forward, giving the escort several kisses upon both of his clean shaven cheeks. A laugh was bubbling inside of Peter, but for unbeknownst reasons it refused to truly surface and merely swayed the Kindred into the car, bloated with a saturated memory of the father’s taste. He would gladly dine again with Esther's permission.

The little ghoul crept after her master, tiptoeing around the brunt card driver, as if he was a large monster, ready to erupt at any moment, even if he, too, was also on his toes, afraid to cause any stir in his mistress’ temperament. The ghoul, void of emotions and moving in frames of kindred instinct, snuggled up close to her master, and her head limped like a doll against his side. The leather seating was stiff and made their own sounds with the movements of the two, but soon after, with the presence of Esther fuming with a heavy pretense of despondency that drowned out any curses from the Cobweb, quietness appeared from both of the backseat passengers.

Ivan closed the door and swept his own huge body into the car, once more —  Esther was already settled, sitting upright and patiently agitated, wandering memories of her own undead life, “We are going to San Francisco, my dear Ivan. If you could please, pozhaluysta.” She spoke politely and grimly to him, turning her cheek slightly to face him. His obedience stirred stiff muscles to start the car, and after the car started with a low rumbling purr, her last words spoken before entering San Francisco were, “Thank you. Spasibo.”