To the little girl's extravagant entrance Laurent payed little attention. He just raised an eyebrow with slight curiosity as to why she was requiring their cooperation. He thought the Grangrel preferred to act alone or command the lower ranks. Plus he didn't like the way she addressed him. But he did like her idea. An slaughter of the powerful was very fitting for their house. And gaining an ally in a place as competitive as this wasn't a bad idea. Maybe together they would be strong enough to do something worth of impressing their superiors.
Very brutal, Lady Grangrel. Your father will surely like it." He mocked a bit the fact that she thought that being Amaury's daughter would mean something. That man fucked so many women that a bastard child wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But he didn't want to start a war with Igraine, so he avoided voicing his thoughts out loud. "I'd gladly give you my support." He offered her his hand in a gentle manner, forcing a bit of a smile in his angel-like face, though his eyes remained cold and expectant.
Igraine looked up at Laurent with a proud, cheeky smile; she always let any sort of praise go to her head. She was about to take his hand of cooperation when Elizabeth interjected.
"And how do you plan on getting past the royal guard?" Elizabeth piped in suddenly, her smile now holding a cold disapproval. "Will you blurt out your intentions to kill Her as you enter Her halls?" She asked sarcastically. "If you don't reveal vampirism in this endeavour then I will personally kneel before you, whelp." She finished, suddenly slapping Igraine across the face with her pipe, sending hot tobacco burning across her cheek.
"Just because Amaury fucked a little girl to make you doesn't make you special." She whispered in her ear, moving past her to the other one.
As the ashes from Elizabeth's pipe splashed across Igraine's face, burning her, Igraine flinched, but managed to hit the sweet spot between trying to preserve her dignity while simultaneously not seeming rudely defiant.
"I'm sorry, Lady Parks. It was a...silly idea," Igraine said in a subdued and monotonous tone while Elizabeth turned to give orders to Laurent. With Elizabeth's head turned, Igraine bit her own lip painfully thinking about Elizabeth's comment about her birth.
"Whelp, come with me." She told Igraine as she descended into the tunnels below the tavern.
Igraine made to follow Elizabeth when a massive cloaked figured slinked out of the darkness.
An enormous shadowy figure watches as the two Adjutants, Laurant and Igraine, are bossed around by the imperious Elizabeth. Before Elizabeth can vanish into the tunnels beneath the tavern, the heavily garbed vampire steps forth. This person's face can not be seen, hidden behind their shrouded hood.
"Oh my darling Elizabeth, where, oh where are you heading now?" the ambiguous sing song voice of her superior calls out. "I have come to give you orders. Pressing matters, my darling." It's quite clear from their demeanor that they are a Prelate, a rare sight for the two Adjutants. Unseen eyes suddenly dart to Laurent and Igraine. A soft chuckle can be heard before this enigmatic person steps closer to Igraine. They kneel down to get on her level, silently breathing.
"Amaury's bastard. As edible as your mother was. If only he had let me have you when you were a child..." the shade whispers ominously to her. Igraine can make out the lower portion of this eerie person's face. Two massive scars run from the corners of their mouth, a terrifying Chelsea Grin "smiling" back at her. The rest of their jawline seems burnt and scarred. Before she can respond, they stand upright and stride toward Elizabeth.
"As I was saying. Pressing matters, Elizabeth. Very pressing, yes. Lord Grangrel would like you to find the root of the Malkavian infestation." they purr. "This isn't an open ended assignment though, my darling. Oh no, no, no. You have until the end of the night to uncover a lead. If not... Well..." The person draws a smile across her lips (as if insinuating she'll have a permanent smile just like his), snickering all the while. Whoever this figure is, they are clearly not sane.
"Don't think I have forgotten about your kiddies though." they tell her, adding more onto her plate. The shade spins around and stares at the two again. "You two... So young, so fresh. They call me the Wraith, for I have no name. I have served Lord Grangrel longer than anyone. As a matter of convenience, I will have you carry out a couple of menial tasks that would be beneficial to our House."
The frail, gross hand then aims at the smaller vampire, and a long, saliva coated tongue drags across the Wraith's chin. "And you, my treat... If you wish to find yourself in the kind graces of you father, then locate a package that was taken from him. It contains our newest supplement to our thriving, underground... 'pharmacy'. Yes, yes, the white stuff." they inform her, a somewhat seductive tone to their voice.
With that, the cloaked figure begins to take his leave. However, a few steps forward and they stop. "Remember, failure is not an option, my sweets..." they warn before vanishing from sight.
Igraine is frozen stiff at the approach of this ominous figure. She had only heard rumors of the Wraith before but seeing...it...outdid all the hearsay. Here was a creature that possessed not only a high position, but had the physical strength and cunning to back it up. It was all Igraine to do not to gulp or show abject fear as the Wraith stooped down and threatened to eat her. Igraine knew her mother had been 'disposed', but she didn't know how; now she had a guess.
But what possibly struck her the hardest was the Wraith's mention of the coca. The cartel had recently been dealing with South American traders and came upon the substance which was more potent than opium, procuring a fairly large sample that was offered up to Lord Grangrel to have the first taste of its effects as well as to allow him to judge whether the cartel should procure more, or learn to synthesize it themselves. To get another block of the stuff in a timely fashion was all but impossible, and at any rate, Amaury was possessive: if something of his was stolen, he didn't want a 'replacement', he wanted to regain what was his and no other. Igraine imagined the block being wasted on some decadent lowlife sap who didn't truly appreciate its value, getting high as the stars in some back alley and possibly sharing it with his fellow bedraggled vagabonds. Igraine imagined returning to her father in disgrace with nothing but a handful of powder cupped in her quaking hands. She dared not imagine what her father and the Wraith would do to her if that actually happened.
When the Wraith left, Igraine noticed that Elizabeth was more than a little peeved at having been bossed around by the prelate, and thus felt a slight vindictive satisfaction inside, though she didn't let it show. Though Elizabeth told Igraine and Laurent to continue to follow her orders, Elizabeth left the building so quickly that Igraine assumed that her previous orders to follow Elizabeth were moot at this point. At any rate, Igraine doubted Elizabeth would let her into her carriage. Igraine ran to her room and grabbed what looked like a long pole wrapped in burlap and headed up to the tavern entrance, catching the scent of her father. He had recently come back from a meeting, she assumed, with the other elders. He could have lost the coca at any point along his journey to the meeting and back, so all she could do was follow the trail and see if she could discover any traces of the distinct, sharp, and intoxicating scent of the drug along the way. Slinging the wrapped pole across her shoulder, Igraine ran out into the street, heading in the direction of the Café Royal.
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