[h3] [/h3][center][h1][hr][color=crimson]Armelle Roksana Vasiliev[/color][/h1][hr][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2c78c4dc29e65dad5ee9d11260bd684b/tumblr_mf92dlOa8E1r00jioo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][sub][right][i]Somewhere in New York  ||  May 15th, Morning[/i][/right][/sub][h3] [/h3]
Mel opened her eyes to the ceiling, glossing over it lazily. So she was at Pierre’s place again. With an expansive view of the upper east side, his flat was always a nice place to wake up in, though the man attached to it was a different story. Ever since she’d caught his eye at one of the soirees his wife held, he’d been smitten with her. Sure, she may have led him on a bit, but he was intelligent enough to understand what he was getting himself into the first night, especially when the fangs came out.

[color=crimson]“Morning, Pierre.”[/color] 

The man beside her on the bed flinched, opening his eyes with a peevish smile. “No fooling you, huh?”

[color=crimson]“Not with a heart rate like that,”[/color] Mel said, turning onto her side. [color=crimson]“Like what you see?”[/color]

“Yes,” Pierre breathed, pupils dilating. 

Tugging at the edge of her lips, Mel rolled onto him, letting her weight sink down. As his breath hitched, her hair feathering over his chest, she kissed him, nipping and licking at his lip. She lapped up the slivers of blood she drew greedily, smirking as she avoided his attempts to deepen the kiss. Just as he leaned upwards, attempting to wrap his arms around her to get a better grasp of her, she pinned him down, grinding onto him. 

[color=crimson]“Stay,”[/color] she cautioned, drawing the word out playfully. Then, licking a trail down his jaw and onto his neck, Mel sank her fangs in, the salty skin giving easily to allow her to relish the warm essence of the life of the man moaning under her. 

As she sucked away, she felt the tension drain out of Pierre, his strained muscles relaxing as the euphoria took over. While she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy having complete power—complete [i]dominion[/i]—over another person, she didn’t reap much satisfaction from biting human, especially one she’s bitten so many times. This utter lack of challenge was why she accepted the invitation. After all, when Dmitri fucking Tepes sent someone an invitation, refusal was hardly an option, or at least not for Mel when the guest list was brought into question. 

After she’d had her fill, she unlatched herself, licking her fangs as she observed the blissed-out man below her, eyes glazed over as he smiled with half the correct muscles. Too easy, too simple, too predictable. But, a nice wallet and contact list.

[color=crimson]“Perk up, big boy,”[/color] Mel said, sliding down over the developing layer of soft tissue around his abdomen. 

[hr][center][img]https://media2.giphy.com/media/1g2aq8jbNhtgmnttEq/giphy.gif[/img][/center][hr][sub][right][i]Somewhere in New York  ||  May 15th, Afternoon[/i][/right][/sub][h3] [/h3]
Mel’s phone rang just as she was stepping out of Pierre’s car for the fourth time that day. New York was busy around her, a mixture of casual, business, and high fashion around her as the day went on. Ahead was her destination: another street of high-end boutiques made accessible with Pierre’s credit card. So she was manhandling him a little, but hey, he’d had a good morning. The only loser was Pierre’s chauffeur, who was forced to drive circles in search of a parking space, not knowing if he’d find one before Mel finished her tour, and even he was getting paid. 

[color=crimson]“Hi Daddy,”[/color] Mel said, her voice sing-song and dripping honey. 

“Dochurka.” Her father’s exasperation was clear across the phone, expressed in the minute strains and spaces in his voice and words.

[color=crimson]“Yes Otets,”[/color] Mel said, pouting. That too was communicated, if her father was actually paying attention to the call. There was a difference there, with her father—as there often was. For the monarch of a family that touted black-and-white views, Semyon Vasiliev had an awful lot of grey about him, making him both easier and harder for Mel to deal with. [color=crimson]“You called?”[/color]

“I am checking in with my second-youngest.”

[color=crimson]“And she is alive and well, without the family fortune. Tell that to mother.”[/color]

“Armelle, dochurka, do not be too cross with her. She means well.”

[color=crimson]“She means to marry me off,”[/color] Mel said, her smile dropping. [color=crimson]“Otets, tell me you didn’t put her up to it.”[/color]

“I did not.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t what Mel was looking for, and she let it stretch on until her father spoke again.

“Dochurka, are you sure you will not return to Russia?”

[color=crimson]“Yes, Otets.”[/color] Waving off the lady attending to her, Mel made for the exit, her mood spoiled. The light air conditioning created a breeze as she exited, blowing her hair forwards. [color=crimson]“And don’t bother reactivating my card—I don’t need it.”[/color]

Her father sighed, both of them knowing that she still expected it to be reactivated. This was how the game went: she would detach herself from her family financially for one, two, then three months, but eventually she’d fall back on them again. In a way, it was how she stayed a part of the family, even overseas. She’d contributed her fair share of the fortune, though mostly in the past, and nothing would change the fact that she was and always would be a Vasiliev. 

This, however, was exactly the problem. ‘Dilly-dallying the days away’ was what her mother had called her current lifestyle, and Mel supposed she was right. Yet, she wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t, whether or not she was living on borrowed time; her younger sister was now receiving suitors, and it reflected poorly on the family if a younger daughter married before an older one, but Mel wasn't quite ready to settle down. 

So, postpone she would, and as much as possible—or at least until after this weekend of fun and games at the Tepes’ expense.

[color=crimson]“Anything else, Otets?”[/color]

“Armelle,” Semyon said, this time with a depth to his voice that wasn’t immediately decipherable. “I wish you the best.”

[color=crimson]“Otets?”[/color] Mel asked, but a beep signalled the end of the call, leaving her to stare at her phone. Though maintained her pace, her heart was pounding: She’d rarely heard her father so conflicted. Did he know something she didn’t? She doubted it, especially considering that the Tepes event was so soon; her family wouldn’t dare interfere with her on Tepes property, and she was headed to the party later today. 

She tucked her phone away, putting it down to paranoia. Rather than fretting over possibilities and inevitabilities, Mel was going to do what she did best: live in the present, and presently, she had a party to attend.

[hr][center][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0kh44cDTP1rr0rtyo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][sub][right][i]Tepes Private Island: The Grand Hall  ||  May 16th, Morning[/i][/right][/sub][h3] [/h3]
Mel was among the earlier crowd to the hall, having woken up at the same time she did every morning: early. At this point, her internal alarm was more of an incurable nuisance than a choice, albeit being helpful once in a while. Today was one instance she got to be thankful for the habit pounded into her by her upbringing, but her happy mood hadn’t lasted for long: Her bedmate, bless their unaging soul, was already gone. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Mel took a certain amount of pride in being the light sleeper—the person who woke first—and she was both miffed and surprised by the fact that she woke neither before them nor when they left. 

This bit of annoyance, though, was what carried through as she arrived at the grand hall, taking a seat and watching the latecomers mill in behind her. Silently waiting as people were seated, Mel kept her eyes on the elders, watching their reactions as some drama unfolded at the royal table. While she understood their disapproval, she personally didn’t mind how the princes looked: clothing aside, there was hardly a problem. Besides, her own dress, low-cut and gold as it was, likely wouldn’t have made the cut for ‘royalty’ either, so she could partially sympathize. 

A smile danced on her lips as she watched. Having accepted the invitation because of the Tepes’ guest list, she was glad to see that the Tepes had delivered: The previous night’s party, with its chaotic nature, failed to provide a comprehensive gathering of everyone of import, but Dmitri Tepes had succeeded. With the variety of people and power in the room, Mel had little doubt she’d stay entertained this weekend. 

A royal throat-clearing started the entire affair off, and Mel listened, her eyes still ghosting over the family heads. Her attention, however, quickly fell on Dmitri alone as he reached the pivotal point in his speech. Suddenly, her parent’s actions made sense: Unable to convince her to rejoin them in Russia, they’d chosen to cast her out—or set her free, depending on which parent she was considering. But, somehow, Mel hated them even more for it; rather than letting her go, they’d tied her down with responsibility, with goals they’d chosen for her. Maybe she did want this, or maybe she didn’t. All she knew was that she didn’t want to compete on someone else’s terms. Her faux financial need for her parents had been her pledge of loyalty to her family, and if they thought she'd be helpless without them, they couldn’t be farther from the truth. While she spent her fair share of time for play, she’d been raised to spend the rest of it on work, and that she did.

That said, Dmitri’s challenge meant a lot more than just being fine financially. Allies and enemies, truces and rivalries—that was how houses were built. Now was the time to play her cards strategically and decisively. Who would she approach first, the former royals or the unlikely usurpers?