ＯＮＥ! σf α кιиd → 「PR!VATE」

[Xx-Kishio-xX]

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[Lady March Hare]

And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world
mad world
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"Now, you see, there are several options when it comes to the food…" the man in the colorful shirt said, eyes lowered to a book laid out on the table before him with a critical sneer on his lips. "The caterer you had set up for this event was awful, simply awful. No wonder they ended up flaking on you, kid. Terrible. You should report them to the Better Business Bureau. Sue them, or something."

Standing at the man’s side with arms crossed over his chest, Elliot Thornton struggled to keep a smile off his face. When the man in the colorful shirt glanced his way for some sort of assurance he quickly corrected his expression to one of interest, flicking his hand towards the man in some sort of agreement and prompting to continue. Encouraged, the man did so.

"Now, it’s rather last minute, but my company will be more then able to fulfill all of your catering needs, Mr. Thornton. Give me an hour, two if you’re feeling generous! We’re more then used to operating under tight schedules. Just leave it to me!"

"Ah… well, everything looks in order." Elliot said, clearing his throat. He hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention to exactly what it was the man from the catering business had promised him. "I’ll leave it in your capable hands, then."

"Yes sir!" the man said, the light of excitement from landing the job bright in his eyes. "I’ll get to work right away. If you’ll excuse me…"

Elliot nodded as the caterer turned to scurry away in excitement, and the man left behind lifted a hand to rub at his face, his craggy grin finally allowed to show in force. To think that there would be such a fuss about the catering, of all things…

Of course, catering was important when one was expecting to host a proper party, one worthy of the name of Lancaster Incorporated. Yes, Lancaster Inc., one of wall street’s darlings and the largest distributor of medical and surgical supplies in the world, was hosing a gala like none other. It was the company’s thirtieth anniversary; it had been thirty years to the day that Elliot’s father had established the oddly named company that would be his legacy, a company that would employ countless humans and vampires alike. It was the first of its kind, a cross-species enterprise… not that the humans under its employ knew it. Lancaster Inc. was as much a cover for the vampires that had established it as it was a source of income for the vampires associated with it. Monetary income, of course, was rarely an issue for most vampires; a benefit of living forever was that one had an infinite amount of time to accumulate wealth. But wealth that didn’t appear to have a source was always in question; by living under the mask of the company, the vampire coven that ran it had a legitimate excuse for living the way they did. Thirty years was impressive, and called for a large celebration for both humans and vampires… which is what they were pitching to all of their employees. Attendance of all employees, with family in tow, was mandatory.

Which is why an issue popping up with the catering was so amusingly ironic. Elliot himself and those like him would eat none of the food that was going to be set out; they gained sustenance only from human blood. The catered food was for the human guests… oh, and because a party without food would be seen as strange by the humans. Elliot’s father was the sort of man that thought about these things, appearances; he was rigid when it came to the maintenance of the vampire’s ruse as normal human beings. He was busy, so Elliot had stepped forward to handle the catering crisis; all with ample amusement.

Of course, if he thought about it, the situation got even more ironic. For the party to which the vampire coven was paying such rapt attention to was not just an anniversary celebration. Oh, the anniversary was a convenient excuse, but the real reason was to get a large group of humans together, to size them up. The vampire race had reached their thousand year mark, one of many, and it required special attention from the immortals. Vampires were graced with strength, beauty, durability and immortality, all gifts received when the blood of a human being was ingested. But it was a system that needed supplementation every thousand years with a special sort of blood from a special sort of human. A thousand years had come and gone, and Lancaster Inc’s party was going to be an ornate hunting ground. Every vampire in the coven would be smiling, dancing, speaking sweet words, raining compliments… whatever it took to get close to each of the humans present. Close enough to catch a clear scent; close enough to tell if that human was of the sort that the vampire needed.

It would be the biggest hunt of the millennium… and Elliot was preparing for it by wrangling caterers.

"Ridiculous." he chuckled as he turned away.

Elliot was excited; it was his first millennium feeding, and he had heard such grand stories from the elders about such an event. He had been told that their coveted special strain of human was less likely to fall for the wily ways of a vampire, but Elliot was not sure if he believed it or not. On the one hand, the elders had the experience to make judgments about such things; on the other, the elders were often windbags, making wild judgments and sticking to their long-held discriminations. More often then not, the vampire populace in general was prone to judgments that struck Elliot as irrational, and in this particular circumstance he was divided on how much to skew his thoughts in either approval or disapproval. Of course, his confidence influenced him by leaps and bounds; he was positive that no human he set eyes on would be able to fend him off. And if one did manage to raise some sort of resistance? Well, he would welcome the challenge; a vampire had to have something to keep himself from getting bored.

Well, the catering crisis had been averted; the question now became what to do with himself while waiting for the party to begin. His first thought was to seek out his half-brother Christopher… ah, but everyone was busy with preparations. Perhaps going and making a nuisance of himself quite this early in the day was pushing his luck. Besides, there would be plenty of time for such things later. Chuckling at the thought, Elliot laid out his options before him.

Decisions, decisions…

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Time flew fast for vampires, but it seemed to slip by with extreme speed for Elliot that day. Almost before he knew it, it was time for the party to begin. The humans had yet to arrive; only vampires were milling about, seeing to this detail or that addition, keeping busy to clamp down the general feeling of excitement. All were dressed beautifully, in glittery gowns and high dollar suits, all carrying themselves with the regal, graceful air that was natural to the vampire race. Were a human to glimpse them meandering around en masse, it would be impossible to ignore that they were different then most mortals; when the doors finally did open and the guests poured in the vampires would subtly change their mannerisms. Oh, there would still be no missing them, but they wouldn’t alarm before they entranced.

Elliot had put time and consideration into picking his wardrobe, into making sure that his appearance matched the importance of the celebration itself. Of course, the millennium feeding was of utmost importance, but it was also the veritable birthday of the company; one had to look his best, for his father’s sake. Normally he didn’t put much effort into such things; why bother? Vampires could look good dressed in nothing but a sack; it wasn’t really something worth investing time into. But he was excited, and when excited Elliot Thornton gave his all. Satisfied that he looked the part he would be playing, the vampire then turned his attentive eye to the ballroom before him, scanning slowly from one side of it to the other.

The ballroom that the Lancaster company had rented for the evening's event certainly was stunning; Elliot couldn’t quite remember who it was exactly that had been in charge of the decorations, but whomever it was had exquisite tastes. The dark wooden floors were reflected in the room-wide mirrors that covered the ceiling between classic Italian buttresses and recesses crafted of wood, and the tasteful but noticeable decorations of the room were of silver and pearl. The caterer had delivered the speed and service that he had promised; the entire back wall of the establishment was lined with linen tables practically overflowing with an assortment of food that the humans were sure to find appetizing, while a stiff-backed man with an alarming mustache stood by a separate table to serve beverages that ranged from wines to sodas. The room was wired with an excellent stereo system, but the decision had been made to forgo it; a live string ensemble stood near the back, the long, drawn out notes of their tuning filling the hall without echoing unpleasantly. And, of course, all of the windows that could have let in rays from the setting sun had been tastefully covered with light hued curtains of a heavy, impenetrable fabric. Overall, it was a delightful setup, one sure to gain the approval of human and vampire guests alike.

"Well… looks like we’re ready to go." Elliot said aloud, just to be conversational with… someone.

Apparently, someone else agreed; a hush fell over the vampire populace, and a hand was flicked in rapid order. The band stood at the ready, breathed in as one, and laid string to strings; a solid, beautiful note started a light tune as the doors opened and the humans were welcomed in. And so, with great pomp and circumstance, the millennium feeding of the vampire corporation began.

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[Lady March Hare]

Didn't you read the tale
Where happily ever after was to kiss a frog?
Don't you know this tale
In which all I ever wanted I'll never have
For who could ever learn to love a beast?
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When she dreamt, she dreamt of the moon. Always, always of the moon.

It was never anything interesting about the moon, say, something to embody Freudian symbols up for interpretation by the dreamer, something that would reveal secretes of the mind hidden by the mind. It was never hanging omnipotent and all knowing in the background, supervising some internal dialogue that was dreamscape; it was never anything other then what it was: a full, white moon. It was always full, rendered in complete detail easy to pick out against the black, empty night sky that surrounded it. And in her dreams there was silence; always, always silence.

So when Charlotte Fairholm awoke with a jolt, it was not because her dream had been any different from any other dream she’d had, any more frightening or confusing to warrant a rude awakening. The peaceful, soothing silence had been shattered with a suddenness that was obviously unnatural, and not by an alarm clock, sounds of traffic, or other normal tones to which one could find themselves startled awake by. No, the sound that’s echoes were slowly fading had been a howl; a drawn, agonizing howl. The unmistakably haunting howl of a wolf. And so her body had gone rigid even before her hazel eyes had snapped open, staring at the wall across from her prone figure and going still, her breathing slowing to a halt as she listened. Her heightened hearing brought her the high pitched whine of the television in the den, the tinned, distant sound of a crowd’s roar, shrill referee whistles and sport channel announcers debating some call, and, closer, the sound of bodies shifting on a couch and male voices rising in general discontent…

"Son of a-! Is he blind? No, no, tell me; is he blind?! Because I was watching the same thing he was, and I can clearly tell that was a penalty!"

"Dude, we get it, he’s blind…"

"Shut the hell up, both of you! Lotti’s sleeping, remember..? We aren’t supposed to wake her up…"

Too late. the girl known by her peers as Lotti thought, pressing a palm to her eyes with a small sigh. Concern that some immediate danger had befallen one of her kin alleviated, the girl turned her head to the side, peering through the brown mess that was her hair as she squinted at the round plastic clock that hung on the wall. It took a second for the positioning of the hands to make sense to her, and when it finally clicked she groaned and pushed herself into a seated position. Damn… I overslept.

Pushing her hair back from her face, the young woman took a long moment to scan her room, organizing her thoughts. The place didn’t look like the typical room of a girl her age; the walls were wood paneling and there was no decoration to speak of if one were to ignore the dilapidated clock hanging by the ‘door’, which consisted simply of a thickly woven blanket hung on a rod to fill the portal. There was no desk, no chairs, no bed; Lotti sat in the middle of a large ‘nest’ of comforters and blankets that were arranged on the floor in the corner of her room. The floor was bare but dirty; large paw prints in thick mud wandered in from the door, to each of the walls, and crisscrossed before leading to her bed. She’d tracked in mud again, and the realization that she would have to do her weekly cleaning regiment earlier then usual if she wanted to stay sanitary made her cringe. Nothing assaulted the hyper-sensitive nose like chemical cleaning products.

She had fallen asleep immediately after returning from her nightly romp in the moonlight, so the girl pulled a blanket around her bare form and pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t have time to be lounging around; Lotti had somewhere to be. So she dragged her feet to the curtain and pushed it aside, squinting as she stepped out into the sunlight that streamed in through open windows. There was the smell of something cooking in the small kitchenette that made her mouth water, but Lotti allowed her eyes to trace to the den to the side and the three shirtless men that occupied it. As she had suspected, they all had their eyes fastened to a small television screen, which displayed the football game from the night before. It was a recording; those seated before it had wanted to watch their favorite teams battle in person, but it had been a full moon… and they had their priorities.

"Hey, Lotti." the first of the men lounging said with an idle wave. "Did we wake you?"

"Who, you, Jordon? You’re as quiet as kittens." she said with a pronounced roll of her eyes. "Don’t worry about it; I had to be up anyway. You guys are better then any alarm clock. Hey Raul, Andrew… what time did you guys get here?"

"Sometime… aw, come on! Bad call, bad call!" Raul groaned without looking away from the screen, his concentration absolute.

"Sorry…" Jordon said, not surprised by her general lack of clothing as she trudged across the floor to the communal bathroom. "What time did you get in this morning, Lotti?"

"Six."

"Ouch… you must have been having a ball." he said with a grin. "Even we didn’t stay out nearly that late… hey, what are you doing up? If I were you, I’d be in bed ‘til the moon rose again."

"Well, I’m not nearly as lazy as you." she said with a grin. "I have plans."

"Oh… hey, that’s right. You’re going to a party or something, aren’t you?" he chuckled. "Well, well, well… have fun, princess!"

Shooting him a one-fingered salute, Lotti stumbled into the home’s bathroom and started the shower, clamoring in to work the dirt from her skin and the leaves from her hair. She had, indeed, had a wild night; usually she didn’t make a habit of spending her evenings out; she did have school to think of, after all. But on the nights when the moon was full sleep was impossible; no werewolf could resist its call to run wild.

Yes, Lotti was a werewolf, and her home was one of many dens that had been established by her pack. From the outside they looked like perfectly normal human homes, but they were all connected from werewolf to werewolf. They were resting places, havens to seek out to heal or sleep or eat or just connect with the rest of the pack. Her particular home was owned by her mother, who managed to maintain a 9-5 job even on the days after a full moon, but it was open to all of their brothers and sisters in the pack. So it was a common occurrence for her to wake up to the wailings of irritation from Jordon, Paul, Andrew and countless others like them; in a werewolf pack, there wasn’t much sense of personal time.

Squeaky clean, Lotti was halfway through shaking dry before she realized she was in her human form and reached for a towel. Finger combing her hair into something close to presentable, she looked to a plastic covered hanger that had been left for her, as promised, by her mother before she'd left for work. The plastic was moved aside and the dress inside slipped on with suspicion; it was not often that Lotti found herself in a situation where wearing a dress was deemed necessary. She was a bit of a wild child; dresses and skirts were generally avoided for conveniences’ sake. In fact, this was the first time Lotti had worn a dress since… since… well, she couldn’t exactly remember when the last time she’d worn a dress was, but to be sure it had been quite a while since then. It was unusual, but she supposed it would pass inspection; she spared a moment to make a face at herself in the mirror before she resorted to what passed for primping for Lotti. The end result was simple but passable, free of jewelry that could choke her if a transformation was deemed necessary and with naturally straight hair maneuvered into something that alluded that its slightly wild dishevelment was intentional. After a second’s contemplation she sighed and gave up, moving to exit the bathroom. The instant teasing catcalls that followed made her cringe.

"Ooh la la! Look who learned about showers!" Andrew, finally distracted from the game by halftime discussion, snickered from the couch.

"I know! It’s like she’s a girl or something!"

"Very funny, very funny… shut up." she said with a pronounced roll of her eyes. She was used to the taunting of big brothers; she had a lot of them, after all. She slipped into the kitchen and peeked in the oven; the pot pies within weren’t even close to being done. Sighing in disappointment, she busied herself with making a sandwich, which was immediately scarfed down. Having covered all of her bases, Lotti checked the clock and turned to the door; it was time to go. She looked back to her pack mates and lifted a hand in farewell. "Guys… I’m going. Make sure you take that out of the oven before it starts to burn. Mom probably won’t be back for a couple of hours yet, and she won’t be happy if the place is burned down."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Please, we’re not completely irresponsible…"

"Sure…" she said with a teasing grin. "See you later."

"Remember to be back by midnight, or you’ll turn back into a..!" Jordon’s laughter was cut off by the closing of the door behind her, and Charlotte shook her head slowly.

"What a bunch of animals…" she murmured to herself before starting on her way.

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Lotti paused to check herself before the door of her friend Erika, making sure her hair was as smoothed into place as possible and that she looked a little more put together then usual. It always made her a little nervous to just walk up to the door and knock. In werewolf households, there was no such thing as knocking; one just barged on in, sometimes without a greeting, and headed straight for the food. It wasn’t rudeness, just one particular failing of animal nature that had taken quite a bit of time for Lotti to learn to work around. Animal nature wouldn’t work in this particular household. Erika was Lotti’s closest friend; the werewolf girl considered Erika to be as much a part of her pack as any of her other werewolf brothers and sisters. But that was the issue; Erika was not a werewolf. Erika was a human, Lotti’s only human friend.

"Okay…" she breathed, heels clicking against the pavement as she moved to stand before the door. She wasted no time in lifting a hand and knocking, trying not to look as out of place as she felt.

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