My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 06

He looked around some more as he made the trip. So much to take in, so many sounds, so many people, far more people than he'd expected. It was almost cramped. Almost. The room was enormous, big enough to handle a thousand people, and there was at least five hundred within as was, half Kindred and half a mix of thralls, ghouls, and apparently, Begotten and Uratha. More than enough to make his antisocial nature come through, and make him want to leave, go home, maybe browse the internet, play some video games, binge watch something on Netflix, anything to be away from so many shoulders, so many eyes. Didn't matter how long and how often he found himself dealing with people, he'd never like doing it. It'd always be a mask to wear, being personable and sociable with groups larger than three. And wearing a mask all the time was exhausting.

Before his brain could spiral down into a pit of annoyance, he caught Antoinette's eye. She'd moved on to talk with Garry, no doubt trying to settle his nerves about the Mirrden expansion. But when their gazes met, she smiled at him, and offered a tiny finger wave, subtle, down by her hip. He didn't need to enjoy crowds, didn't need to enjoy socializing, this 'chew the fat' dialogue that grated on him so much. When the party was over, he'd be going home with Antoinette, and they could have a conversation where the topic lasted longer than thirty seconds.

Energy restored, he made his way through the crowd.

"... Natasha?"

"M-Mas... Jack. Um... I s-suppose I d-d-don't need to call you Master Terry." The beautiful little creature smiled up at him, big smile, a smile he was almost shocked to see on her face. Not because it wasn't a great smile, but because she was normally so much more subdued. Having two werewolves in her bed must have really agreed with her; and he almost laughed at the thought. It was a good thought, but thinking about it now wasn't a good idea.

She was beautiful. Natasha Vola was wearing an off-white dress of simple fabric that hugged her body tight, but it went down past her knees, and really accented the little figure she had. Her hair was done up in an interesting ponytail too, with a bun concoction at the top before it cascaded down into a normal ponytail behind her. And, despite Natasha probably not realizing she was doing it, she was nudging her head closer to him, hoping he'd notice the difference.

'Notice anything different?' His mom would say, when she came home from the hairdressers. 'Put on weight?' He'd say, and then get a slap upside the head. The memory tugged at him, and his smile softened as he watched the small woman inch her head toward him.

"Your hair looks really nice."

"Thanks!" she said. She'd be blushing if she had the blush of life going, he could see.

"Ye flirting wi' Tasha right in front of 'er wee jimmies!"

Fiona Fiona. The girl was wearing a royal purple dress, something that hugged the hips, exposed the back, with some loose hanging cleavage to hold her large breasts. Very alluring on the short, curvy creature. What was surprising though was the glass of red she had in her hand; it wasn't blood though. Must have been wine. And it wasn't her first glass.

"Hey Jack."

Oh shit.

Clara came up to stand beside the two girls. She was of an average height, maybe a bit taller, but next to the two tiny girls she seemed quite tall. Dwarfed by the two Uratha behind her, Matthew and Arturo, but still. And the beautiful woman was wearing a dress, black, strapless, something that squeezed her body and emphasized the athletic figure while exposing her strong shoulders. Gold-colored, large earrings contrasted her bare neck, and the tight dress split over one leg above the knee, while the skirt went all the way down to her ankles where she wore rather fancy high heel sandals, black as well.

"... um, hey, Clara. You look great."

She winked at him. She knew she looked great, and from the look in her eye, she liked that he noticed. Antoinette not a hundred feet away, she was playing with fire. Hell, he was playing with fire.

"And 'ere I thought ye vamps would nae have a gid thing to drink!" Fiona took another sip, and then another, before she nudged Clara with her elbow. "Ye sure ye dinnae bring it yerselves?" Alcohol brought out a depth to her accent that had Jack blinking. Hard to understand, but delightful.

"We're sure." Clara nodded with her head toward Maria. "Ghost lady apparently knows her drinks... not that I think Fiona here could tell good from bad wine on her best day."

"Well aren't ye a bit racist? This cause I'm Scottish?" Again, Fiona nudged her, but the smile on her face refused to break. "But, true. Gettin' me blootered though, so, I'm happy." And up the glass went to empty its contents into her mouth. "Yuu! Tall laddie. Gie me another woulds ye?"

"Right away ma'am," Matt said, and turned to find the waiter or waitress. Sommelier, maybe?

"Ah like him," Fiona said. "He's handy."

"Did Avery come?" Jack said. "I might need to pull some damage control if Jacob's around."

Clara reached up and cradled her jaw. "Please do. Would prefer we not have a repeat of last time. That said, she's not coming."

Smart of her. A sad situation, but smart of her.

Arturo came up behind Natasha, put his hands on her shoulders, and held the tiny girl against his body. It was cute, seeing the combination of embarrassment and joy on her face as she realized everyone could see her boyfriend holding her. Crossing a social line she was very much not used to; Jack could understand. Antoinette would do the same thing, and he'd immediately get hit with embarrassment, at first. But after a few social events, and getting a blowjob from her in Bloodlust, the embarrassment started to fade. It would for her too, he was sure.

"Jessy around?" he said to Natasha. "Surprised she's not with you."

"She, um, she's—oh, over there."

Sure enough, Jessy was over with the Carthians. Being a bit aggressive maybe, but as far as Jack could tell from a distance, the encounter was a lighthearted one. Jessy had her arm around a man's shoulders, and was stroking his chest through the shirt of his suit. One of her ghouls probably, and it seemed like the girl was offering the ghoul to some of the Carthians. Upon a second glance, he found one of her other ghouls was actually already sitting down, and had a Kindred behind him, taking a quick sip of his neck.

"That," Clara said with pointing finger, "is weird. Dolareido is weird. You know how private some Kindred treat the act of feeding? In Tijuana, Kindred never drank unless it was somewhere they felt perfectly safe."

Jack nodded. It made sense, and he was glad the Kindred situation here was a million times better. "We do feel safe enough here to share. Mostly. Or, maybe, we're just trying to pretend we do. Lots happened that left a bad aftertaste in our mouths, and now that it's over and done with, maybe everyone just wants a taste of this openness before it turns sour." Everyone looked at him with furrowed brow. "Shit. If, if it turns sour!"

"J-Jessy, she um, she's... being an amb-b-bassador, sort of, with the Carthians. I guess?"

Seriously? "Is she drunk? ... did she drink someone who was very drunk?"

The Kindred nearby chuckled. Fiona and the werewolves raised a brow in confusion. Probably didn't know Kindred couldn't get drunk, or they just didn't find it funny. Ah well, joke lost.

"P-People seem happy," Natasha said. "So m-m-maybe she sees an opportunity to smooth over some tempers, because of the Mirrden business."

Hopefully. He looked back over to Antoinette, who was moving through to other Kindred. No doubt she'd come over to the Uratha and the sole Begotten eventually, but business first.

"Actually, has anyone seen the sheriff?" he said. "Daniel's been hard to spot as of late, like he's sneaking around all the time or something."

Natasha nodded, pat Art's hands so he'd let her go, and stepped in closer to talk quieter. "D-Daniel is... keeping an eye on things." She wanted to tell him, he could see it in her eyes, but she knew not to. But, that alone was important information, her not telling him the information. Meant that, there was a good chance Daniel was up to something of a sensitive nature, and considering the man's skill set, that meant spying. Course she could have just been misdirecting him, like Julias might have with a client, but he didn't see Natasha doing that to him.

"Now presenting, Alder Jacob, and his subordinates Beatrice, Jennifer, and Othello, of the Circle of the Crone."

Well, damn, that was almost everyone in the Circle in Dolareido. Jack knew of the man Aaron, but had never spoken to him. Beatrice said he was an antisocial type like him, introverted, but preferred books to games; Jack could relate, though.

Everyone turned to watch the four walk down the stairs into the room. And many people's jaws dropped, Jack's included.

Jacob was first, and he was wearing something similar to that time Antoinette held a ball. It was a suit, except the sort of suit you might find on a general in an army a thousand years ago, from the north. It even had leather straps across the chest, with a fur neck lining of some animal, and leather straps that dangled from the waist. It could have been made bulkier, like armor, but it was thin stuff obviously made for comfort wear, for gatherings like this. The bandage over his eyes almost disappeared in comparison.

Othello was dressed in something similar, but more tribal, brown leather that matched his dark skin, with brighter shades of string that held the old, imposing clothes together. Jack could imagine the man wearing a giant skull for a helmet with that getup. Not comical though, no, far too real and far too on the nose for Jack to simply dismiss it as posing. Othello was a part of the Circle of the Crone, after all. He had a woman with him, a beautiful creature with near ebony skin, a curvy figure, and a flowing, dark red dress.

Much as the two men looked quite intimidating, and even handsome, it was the two female Kindred that had people staring, everyone staring.

Beatrice came down the stairs first, black veil covering her shark mouth. Seeing her with a lot of mascara on was, just like last time, a bit of a shock. But it was the flowing waves of the black dress on her that were so beautiful, contrasting her hard body. And, as she came closer, when she turned, he could see the dress exposed the naked side of her body completely except for where the loops of the hanging fabric curved upward at the ankles. Like liquid night. The silver necklace, and the silver, delicate chains for gloves, were like twinkling stars against the black.

First thing she did was walk toward Julias. And, considering how much people were watching, no doubt Triss knew that she was creating a very movie-like scene by walking up to the big, important Mister Mire, lifting the black veil up where it dangled over her nose, and kissing him.

Jack smiled, and looked back to his friends. "She really does like to show off."

"Aye, but ah would too if, well, I was Beatrice." Fiona scooped up Matt's offered glass, took another sip, and nodded with her head toward the final person to step down the stairs. "Holy hell."

Beatrice liked to show off, but Jennifer was showing off incarnate. He'd thought what she wore was revealing at the last ball he'd seen at her, at Antoinette's Black Hall, but now she was wearing nothing but a high hip black thong, and a cloak thing that dangled around her arms in front of her breasts. And, just see-through enough that his eyes locked onto her nipples.

An elbow in the side jolted him to awareness.

"Jack Terry," Fiona said, "ye nonce! Yer love is right ower there!"

"H-Hey! I am... a man, and I do not have control of my eyes. This is a gender handicap."

"It's true," Matt said. "Just like boners. Got no control over them."

Art nodded, as if they were just stating the obvious, and Jack motioned to them with his hands as defense against Fiona's glare.

"Bunch ah twats. I cannae believe ye, ye... whoa." She raised a brow as she looked Jen's way again, prompting the rest of them to. They'd missed it at first, considering how easy it was to stare at the ninety-five-percent naked woman, but she had a rope in her hand. The rope, something black, maybe nylon, came out behind her and split into two, and held by the neck two men. The men wore nothing but loincloths, fashioned after Ancient Greece style as far as Jack could tell.

And, as if the woman had broken the dam, more thralls and ghouls started to become more apparent. Like being awoken from a slumber, or maybe, like being told it's ok to walk among the lions. Many got up, and with master to guide them, started to mingle. Others, started to get a little more comfortable with the Kindred they knew, or maybe didn't know. And all of them were drinking wine, a lot of wine.

"Makes me regret never getting drunk," he said.

"Ye ne'er been blootered?"

"Not really. Tipsy a few times? Liquid courage and all that, just doesn't agree with me mentally."

Natasha nodded, and again nodded her head toward Fiona. "F-Fiona's being... a stereotype, on p-p-purpose I think."

"I'm Scottish, nae Irish." The girl gave Natasha a punch in the arm, complete with loss of balance that had her falling until Matt caught her.

Clara, laughing and smiling almost as much as the drunk girl, reached out to grab a glass from a passing sommelier.

"Ok, you vamps may not be able to get drunk, but wolves can. Just takes a lot more than it used to. So my good man, keep em coming." She waved off the sommelier, and downed the glass like it was going to vanish if she didn't. "I'm going to need to get wasted to convince my brain to accept this."

He couldn't blame her. Clara, Arturo, and Matthew may have dripped of strength, confidence, and everything that made them terrifying titans of power, but they looked uncomfortable. Art was holding Natasha halfly because he was probably feeling a little overwhelmed; Jack could see his eyes darting around and taking in everything, analyzing everyone, measuring them up and checking for threats. Understandable. But the man was also glancing around at all the skin, and leather, and chains, and corsets. The men were wearing fancy clothes, but for a ball like this, the women went all out, as Jennifer's display showed.

Jennifer. The girl was basically naked, and Jack had a hell of a time not peeking. Made all the worse as the beautiful woman started to head his way, sway to her hip and ghouls on a leash.

"Jack Terry," she said, once near. "I have to thank you, for dealing with that creature. Beatrice's life would have been in danger if not for you. And your Uratha friends." Grinning, the witch winked at him, and turned to look at the Uratha. "Jennifer, of the Circle of the Crone, as that pompous man at the door announced."

Wasn't just him having trouble looking the woman in the eye, everyone was struggling. She really was fucking gorgeous. Jack had to glance at Antoinette a few times, just to remind himself she was real, real and beautiful and awesome and would totally rip his head off if he kept staring at the half naked women all night. She'd said it was ok to look, not ogle. Not his fault! Totally not his fault, like Matt said.

"It was a pretty crazy night," he said. "I got lucky."

"Indeed. Oh, this is Hal, and this is Frederick." She motioned to her two ghouls, and the also nearly naked men offered small bows. "Care for a taste?"

"Aye ah think ah would!" Fiona stumbled toward the two men, before Clara grabbed the tumbling girl by the shoulder and pulled her back.

"You wouldn't respect yourself in the morning."

Pouting, Fiona tried to wrestle herself free, but failed, half cause she still had a drink in one hand, half cause she was drunk as fuck by now. But her cheerful smile returned a second later, and she leaned on Clara as the alcohol took her on a journey.

"Ye're strong."

"Comes with the territory."

Jack smiled at Fiona. Maybe she did like playing up a stereotype a bit, being surrounded by strangers. She was still fun, and they needed fun. "I'm not sure people will be too willing to share," he said. "I mean, maybe a little, but—"

"Holy shit, this is pretty sweet." Jessy hopped on over, a bounce and sway to her step that would have convinced Jack she was also drunk, if she was kine. But, now that she was closer, he could see the color of her skin; girl was blushing life, or had freshly fed on a large meal. And, to fit the theme of the night, her dress was a loose, silk dress hanging from tiny straps down to her thigh, ocean blue, and did nothing to disguise how hard her nipples were.

"I understand that your ghouls are already sharing themselves, Jessy Herrington," Jen said, and she gestured to the other side of the grand room, where more Kindred were gathering, as well as more of the ghouls and thralls. Indeed, people were tasting. Some of the Kindred comfortable with each other were Kissing the same prey, at the same time. More than one of the kine looked both exhausted, and pleased. Very pleased.

He really pitied the Uratha men. He could smell the arousal coming off of them, hell he could smell it coming off of Clara as well. Being surrounded by so much skin, just like Bloodlust, was bound to make anyone alive aroused. Only difference was the lack of people fucking in the corners, and he was sure that'd change once the party was over and people went their separate ways.

Jessy and Jennifer, two very dangerous women, both very confident in themselves, very over the top, and without the foundation to back it up. Antoinette could back it up, Antoinette could walk the walk, talk the talk, et cetera, but these two? Well, they were stronger than him at least, and that was enough reason for him to be careful.

Or were they? Maybe Jessy was stronger than him, but Jennifer? The beast in his gut was telling him a different story. The posture, the glances from her eyes, the way she positioned herself when looking at him, and the way he did her. The unspoken language of the beast extended beyond body language as well, invisible auras only the animal inside could feel or understand. And it was telling him this Kindred a decade older than him was not his superior.

And as he glanced around, he took note of the other Kindred, the ones of similar age to Jennifer, a bit older, a bit younger. To varying degrees, he could feel it in his gut that many of them that should have been stronger than him, weren't. And those he thought were of similar strength to him, weren't. It was by no means a clear science, understanding the hidden language of the beast, but still.

He could feel the Ventrue ego in him swell. Julias was right, he was strong for one as young as he, the youngest of all the Kindred in Dolareido, and the others knew it too. Would other Ventrue his age have been able to communicate with two crows as easily as he, and have them perching outside to monitor the ball? Maybe. Maybe not.

Careful, Jack. Julias has warned you a million times about Ventrue and hubris. So instead of becoming the next Greek tragedy, don't overstate yourself, and don't invite trouble. Also, get out of your head and socialize, for fuck's sake.

"How did it go with the Carthians, Jessy?"

"Eh, they're kind of pissy, as expected. But it's nothing too bad. Not like anyone's been hurt or anything, too much anyway, it's just a bit of territory. So I brought the boys as a bit of an olive branch, ya know?"

The group looked past her to the Carthians. Well, not just Carthians anymore really. Some of the Invictus were there, and so was Othello. And, it looked like it was getting a bit intense. Jessy's ghouls had their shirts completely open, and various Kindred were taking small nibbles of them. Othello's ghoul — if she was a ghoul, hard to tell without getting closer — was sitting down, and Othello was taking a quick sip of her while a couple other Kindred took their own as well, from the wrists and neck. The wounds always healed of course, as each vampire licked the bite marks to close the puncture marks. Some vampires took licking a little far, and got their hands involved, squeezing and groping gently.