Beautiful Bones

"Phillipe ! William George ! I can't find the entrails, the eye of newt, or the dried bats wings. I can't even find my bloody glasses. Remind me whose blatherin idea it was to build a house this large again ?"

The young feminine voice came from a body, the lower half of which was all that was showing from the top of a precariously leaning pile of boxes, crates, and chests. Tattooed legs were shown to be shapely from beneath the singular, scandalously high slit in her form fitting vanta black dress. Lacking any and all accent other than vexation save for when she had called out the two names, she could really hail from anywhere in the world.

There was an odd click clacking sound as the two male figures made their way into the room with which her voice had come from. At first glance, both looked to be bottlers, dressed in impeccable attire. For those gifted to see beyond the illusion cloaking them, they were honest to God hulking skeletons. They arrived just in time to each catch one of the falling ridiculously tall heels that the kids now-a-days were referring to as 'bitch clicks'. There also may or may not have been a briefly panicked sound before the rest of said female disappeared into the chest in which she'd been searching. Seconds later, there was the loud sound of something giving a pleased belch.

"Compliments to the chef."

The voice was oddly hollow as the two 'men' glanced at each other. The glances were followed by simultaneous looks to matching watches circling their right wrists. Exactly three minutes later, there was another belch, the chest snapped open and the woman was ejected and in the process, taught how to fly. She didn't have to hit ground though as the French appearing male stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his timing perfect for catching her as if she weighed no more than a feather. That was when the Englishman stepped forward, first to set to fixing her tussled hair, then to pluck the aforementioned glasses from her head and hand them to her.

"The components in question are in cool storage in the basement, Madame, as per your request for the betterment of their keeping. I also feel the need to remind you that the size of this domicile was your request. It is in fact vastly smaller than your last home. Were you thinking to take tea anytime soon ?"

Wriggling her way free and out of the grasp, she patted the Frenchman's shoulder affectionately. Settling the cat's eyes glasses in place, she sighed contentedly.

"Perfect timing as usual, Phillipe. You outdo yourself. I will be doing tea as soon as I finish putting together this gift, William George. So wonderful of you to remind me as we both know I'd forget. Oh and lemon cookies ! Do we have any of the little bone shaped ones you make ? Those are one of my favorites. If we do, I really should put some in with this package Lest he not now who sent it. Bloody forgetful Vampires. Ooooh even better. I should host a masquerade gala. Who was I sending a package to again ? Oh dear. I've forgotten already. It would appear some random soul is going to recieve quite the odd gift then."

Clapping her hands together excitedly, all five foot flat of her spun about in a dizzying circle.

"Get the staff together boys and set them to task. Spare no expense. Set it for three nights from now. Plus ones acceptable of course."

Both 'men' merely nodded before bowing and heading back out of the room to see to their Mistress's orders.

Johnathon Auvyearmitore was a revered member of the vampiric community. Although not many actually knew him, or his ways. He lounged on the stump in front of fire next to him. The wood was crafted in a fashion that it was quite a comfortable sit. Especially when one was reading. He bothered not with his Masque and allowed his Scales to breathe. His monstrous snake like form was off putting to most, and arousing for the rest. There wasn't any other option He had found. The book he clutched was old, dusty, and written in an undecipherable language, but he read it as if he knew every single word. The blood wine he sipped on swirled around the goblet in his hand. The cemetery around him was alive with the sounds of wildlife, as well as the pleadings of the spirits that were bound to the land here. It was music to his ears, the wailing, and screaming. The grounds keeper approached quietly, wishing not to be much of a disturbance to him "Sir? I've finished for the evening, and will be returning home. Is there anything you need before I depart?" Johnathon smiled at the older man and allowed his book to sag away as he looked over, pushing his full moon spectacles fully over his eyes "Very good Reggie. I have not a need for anything. I have my wine, my entertainment. I will see you tomorrow, travel safely" he waved to the man as he departed and fell back into his book. His grandfather's words always brought him comfort, and now these tomes were all he had of the old serpent.

Hours had passed since she had been eaten by her pet Mimic, one of the multitude of things that her loyal servants and anyone in their right mind warned her against having in the first place, much less keeping long term. She had managed in said time to pack quite a few goodie bags to go with the invitations that her two most intelligent resident bone boys were already elbow deep in working upon. She really did wonder sometimes who was servant and who was Madame, or Mistress. Different names for the same thing. Then again, just because they'd had the perfect invitations already nearly finished save for a few personal details that needed to be added ? Was that them being proactive about their duties, or had she told them before today that she wanted to host such a gathering and had simply forgotten mentioning it ? One option was most definately better than the other.

Oh well. There were cookies to be had ! The lemon flavored ones shaped like bones. The raspberry ones that were mini bite sized skulls. There was even a new type. Little poison vials that tasted like fresh limes.

Ah but yes ! True dark meant it was her walk about time. One of the best times of the day in her mind. There were boneyards here to explore and dead or even close to dead things that needed finding. Also this goodie basket. She clapped her hands excitedly. She'd so outdone herself with this one if you were to ask her opinion. She wasn't sure why she'd packed it, or the invitation that was carefully tucked away inside, but she had. Surely she'd remember the why later. Swinging a cloak around her shoulders, a voluminous hood went up that did in fact make her look like a very eccentric little red riding hood. Or a Reaper. Or some demented combination of both. Especially add the basket now in her hand and the way she skipped out the front door ?

But alack and alas, dear city of Chicago she was no wondering your streets, swinging her basket of goodies. Most people that would pass her this time of night would think her touched and stray far, far away. Those that got close enough to see beneath the hood would note her mismatched eyes and her dare the devil smile before moving on. It almost made her sad sometimes. But oh well, the dead were better anyways. Less limits, less fears. Aha ! A boneyard ! No longer would she be sad. Skirting around the backway and wiggling her way through the gate, she carefully maneuvered her basket up and over it. Once it was firmly in hand, she began skipping her way through the darkness. Humming softly to herself, it was a touch to a grave here, a touch to a grave there. Some she would stop to whisper blessings to and others earned a quiet little hiss. Nearly all of them would receive some sort of notice as she searched out what this place's crowning glory would be. All of them had one, it was just a matter of finding it.

He heard the humming and stilled. It didn't seem like naredowells, perhaps simply a lost soul? It did award his gaze, unfiltered by the glasses, the red yet reptilian eyes pierced the darkness searching for the sound. His fire would be quite noticeable, and were he to be discovered one would find him as tight as a coiled cobra, ready to strike. His top hat and staff were checked, sitting behind him. His satchel sat next to his lounging spot. Reaching his hand into it whatever he retrieves unseen in his closed hand. His Masque caused the dark green scales to fade to flesh, reptilian eyes to yellow gold. His skin was pale hair black.

If she even saw the fire, she did not deviate her original path nor hasten her step. She would pass by it in her own time. If thought about for more than a mere second or two, the humming didn't really sound like that of a lost soul either.

Eventually though your fire was came upon. Setting the basket down beside her, she stuck her hands out to it. Rubbing them together near the flames to chase the bit of chill from them, it wasn't till she had scooped up the basket again and was about to move back along her way that she actually noticed you. Oh she really had not been expecting you. Clearly hadn't. Her head casting to study you after she managed not to yeet her entire basket at you in surprise, even you would have difficulty seeing beneath that hood. Though even with it that five-foot nothing form was female. That at least was confirmed.

"Greetings and Salutations, Mr Dead Boy. My apologies for interrupting your moonlight reading. Perfect place for it really, if you ask me, which you clearly didn't. Do you like cookies or wine ?"

"My, my, what have we here" the creole accent was almost to thick to understand "A little Gothic Goldie locks." He sipped the wine from his cup "Unfortuneatly darlin, I doubt your wine has the same effect that I require" he stood slowly yet elegantly, similar to they way a serpent would uncool "However you're politeness and clear naivety to your current location does award you a shadow of doubt." His movements were clear and broadcasted, he meant no harm, but the distance had been closed rather quickly "And I happen to appreciate a good cookie with my wine"

"More flies with hunny than with vinegar is what Papa always said. That and you needn't resort to being rude no matter the situation until all other avenues have been walked down. Goldie Locks was a thief, that I am not, thank you very much. She was also a vandal. The poor bears. I would be closer to little red. Though you Sir don't feel a wolf. So I'm not too worried. Which if I'm wrong, I'm going to need to write that in my books. An undead woofie. I think that bothers me for some reason and I like to think myself quite open minded. If you are what my antennai say you are, than you might be surprised. Where I am... Wait. I'm not in a closed forth evening boneyard ? Well shucks. I must have made a wrong turn at Alverqurque and Ninth."

While her head did have to tip a bit to look up at you, she did still manage to keep her features hidden. Your sudden closeness seemed to bother her very little in fact though your words over the cookies drew an excited almost trilling from her.

"They are the best but I may be biased on that. William George does amazing things with food of all forms, but his sweets ? It's a miracle you didn't confuse me for one of the three little pigs instead. Raspberry, Lemon, or Lime. I have more than enough in here if you'd like one of each "

He spun on his heel and covered the distance again rather quickly, and called out as he slid into his seat once more "Remy! Bring a chair would you?" The lumbering mound of flesh and bone that carried an elegant but slightly dirty cushioned chair out of the darkness didn't remain. As soon as the chair was placed to his left it shambles off once more. If one were to inspect it, it might have once been a man, but now seemed more skeletal, and almost lifeless. It made no sound and offered no quarrel. He waited for his minion to leave before smiling at her, that thick creole accent floating like silk through the air "And perhaps we should call you Eve" he allowed his masque to fade away, leaving his serpent like appearance to shine in the fire light "In the Garden of Eden"

"Remy was the name of the Cajun thief from X-Men comics. I for some reason doubt that I'd his namesake though. Thank you, Remy, I am sure you are quite the dear."

Yes, she talked at your servitor as he shambled off as if he were a real person. Stepping over to the acquired seat, she seemed unphased by the dirt and simply lowered herself to perch upon it. Her eyes widened gleefully when you allowed your scales to shine, rocking forward a bit to better study them in the light.

"I appreciate the sentiment, I think. Though in truth I would more consider myself Adam's first wife, Lillith, Mother of Monsters. I do very much approve of this garden, however. I was just bemoaning the fact that I did not know where Amy healthy ones were in this city. "

He waited for her to sit before a tray of wood grew from the ground between them, seeming from the roots of the nearby tree. Or perhaps those were bones. He set his cup upon it and sat back "Remy is also the name of a lecherous, adulterous waste of blood that impregnated a wonderful young colored woman in New Orleans then after promising her He would take care of her instead skipped town and went and started another family in New york" he produced a cigar, and chomped the end off, before reaching out to the fire and scooping out of small portion to light the end with. Tossing the flames to wench they came He never let her out of his site "I'm not a necromancer if that's your belief."

She listened intently to what you spoke, something you knew for a certainty even without being able to see her features. The tray rising up so unexpectedly did earn a quiet, albeit ecstatic clap before she lifted her basket to her lap. Flipping the cover open, she drew out two little satchels. Closing the basket, she set it back beside her. Opening one, the smell of fresh baked goods would wafte up to your nose. Bones of lemon flavor. Skulls that somehow smelled of the freshest raspberries. Last but not least were the poison vials that you could almost taste the lime on your tongue. Not what one would expect from a cookie, but somehow it worked. Sliding the opened parcel across to you, she set about working on unwrapping yours.

"The story sounds personal. Those are the promised cookies for with your tea. Do you dance ? More importantly, do you enjoy it ? I didn't believe you to be a Death Singer. Blood calls to the blood. Or at least our curse does. I can taste that you are living death though. Just not of a variety I've yet to ever encounter."

He shrugged nonchalantly and smiled as he leaned forward and retrieved one of the lime cookies. He nibbled it at first before taking a healthy chunk. His taste buds were certainly having a debate, but was all positive. It awarded her a gentle moan as he focused on the flavor a moment "Absolutely divine." He seemed to gather himself and refocused "You said Witch Doctor wrong. Hoodoo that voodoo" that last was said almost in sing song, questioningly "But I to can sense those closely allied with Death. As for my rarity, that's quite simple. Theys 2 others like me, and even they aren't like me."

It was a quiet roll of laughter that tumbled from her like a playful puppy at that moan. Were you to look over, you'd be fairly certain she was doing a butt wiggle of happiness. Shrugging those cloaked shoulders,

"I'm just the vessel of delivery. Can't take a single stitch of credit for their creation. But I will tell the inspired mind behind them that you approve quite so muchly."

Leaning forward again to listen to your further explanation, there were nods here and there, quiet murmurs that while they did not interrupt, told you she was in fact listening and absorbing. When you paused again, she would step back in,

"I am what I am. Most never know really. I'm usually just seen as a quirky, odd, young woman with too much money for her own good. The first two would be right, the second WRONG. As to the third... Whose right is it to judge and define how much is too much ? Three is a very small number. I think there's more of us than that. As I last knew, I was one of seven. That reminds me, I should give the others a poke. If I may ask... Are you actually a Life Drinker ? Er Vampire I think you would likely prefer."

His smile was before dark, and humor filled "You said Kindred wrong." Were the only words offered know response to her question "Do tell me, what is that lured you to my humble patch of dirt?" He puffed on his stoogie exhaling the upwards, allowing the smoke to simply escape.

"Oh. Kindred. I still prefer Life Drinker, but to each their own."

You could see she was filing your correction away into her mental files, though something told you it may be conveniently forgotten. 

"What drew me here though ? Well you see... im new to the area and was seeking out areas of potency. I may also be looking for a thing. A component really. Before you inquire, I have no clue what it is. I'm hoping I'll know it when I see it. If I see it. I was not expecting however to come across such delightful, fleshly conversation."

"A component. I would imagine for some sort of ritual, or expirement. Perhaps I could be of assistance. Although I would some more details about what exactly it is you need it for." He sipped his tea some more as the Shambler reappeared with a parcel of mail and handed it to Johnny "Oh goodness! Thank you kindly Remy! I had totally forgotten" he waved his hand and the Shambler bowed its head and hobbled away once more. He flipped through the paper, flipping multiple, into the flames and opened only one, inspected it for a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it into the flames as well.

"Well technically I'm looking for two things. One may be simpler than the other. Or it may not be. One only really knows when they know. The component though. It's for the only project I've never been able to finish. As the completionist that I am, I really should be more troubled than I actually am. But why be weighted by troubles when I have all the time in the world ? In truth I suppose you'd call this project a... Resurrection ? The body is surprisingly intact for it's age and the power I've put into it myself has it vaguely animate... but I'm missing something. I know I am. Just not the what. Now that I've gotten that out of the way. I also find myself in need of a dance partner. And an outfit. A costume really. I just. Well I despise shopping for clothing. For me that is. Was that last one anything interesting ? Oh ! Junk mail. I also hate that. Such a waste of the poor trees."

He pondered for a moment while glancing her way, tapping his chin and mumbling incoherently. Almost as if in some unknown language. Slipping his fingers into the satchel at his hip he produces but a pinch of something that gets flung into the flames. His eyes hyper focus in the dancing licks of heat studying them. The once wild and carefree fire now became calm, almost sentient, purposefully dancing. It resumed its wild nature as he looked over at her once more and asked inquisitively "What did you use for a soul?"

The angle that her body shifted to spoke that her eyes had moved to watch the changing flames. Tapping a fingertip to her chin, there was a soft almost cooing of delight over the alterations. When it did eventually die down, her head cocked speculatuvely at your question. 

"Soul, soul, soul. My own essence fuels the Others. It's not a lack of strength being offered. Just a difference. Souls are such finicky things. I'll have to find just the right one."

Murmuring softly to herself, she suddenly stood up. Brushing herself off of whatever imaginary specs of dirt, she stepped in close enough to sweep her cheek along yours.

"I really should be going. I have things to figure out before the masquerade. Like where to find myself the right soul."

The flames did not like her words at all, roaring to a raging inferno for but a brief second. This brought Johnny's eyes back to it, and it calmed as he studied them, as if they spoke to him. He sighed and held his hand out to the flames "I know not where to find it, but I know where to look." The flames reached out and took their pound of flesh that was offered. His palm was seared before the flames returned to their original state "Nothings ever free" chuckling he flexed his hand and stuck in his pocket "After you then. You'll find I'm rather stubborn. You asked for help, and help I shall give. However I can only help how I know to, so you will simply have to trust Lady Luck tonight. Rest assured I have never failed" his staff and hat reappeared in his hands, almost like magic, or Remy sneaking up behind him and placing them there. Either or.

Even with that damnable hood still in place, it was clear that she was ever attentive to both word and actions that you offered. When the flames took their price, the sound that tumbled from her lips was soft, but clearly displeased. However, there was a note of acceptance, of understanding that danced through it as well.

"You shouldn't have to pay any price to help a stranger. Odd that you would. But not unappreciated. Do you have need of anything ? If you're going to help me with both the soul and the dance, you'll be needing to spend the night beneath my roof. While I can offer much of what you need while there, I wouldn't be so foolish as to assume I can offer it all."

The words were offered even as she noted the reappearance of your hat and staff, the arm not carrying her basket extending from beneath the cloak in gesture for yours, should you take it.

His hand reappeared, but with no damage what so ever and affixed his belongings to his body where they belonged before gently taking her offered "No one dances better than a Serpent. After you milady" he pulled himself into her side and tucked her arm before beginning his stride through the Graves. He was kind to those resting there, not walking over any directly, and calling out every so often, as if he were leaving his house for the evening and issues orders to staff. It would take him no time to guide her back through the maze she didn't even realize she had walked through. Once out he would stop, and smile at her "Now it's your turn to lead"

"Oh there are many that might find a challenge in those words of dance, Mr. Serpent. I do so look forward to finding if there is truth to them or not."

While you said your greetings and what nots, she seemed to have even forgot that you were leading her out, a low, soft singing falling from her lips. Latin, but not, it was surprisingly lovely and those that called your boneyard home seemed to swell beneath it. Were you to look at her just the slightest bit closer, with something a little more than mundane sight,  she seemed to be glowing as she sang. Even without touching her bare skin with yours, you could feel she was offering a kiss of her energy to those that lay within your yard. Not in attempt to claim them, but perhaps to feed them as she had you with the cookies. It stopped before you lead her off the direct grounds themselves, though it seemed to take her a moment to come back to herself. When she did, she did in fact take lead of your walk.

"Will you need P.J.s to sleep in, Mr. Serpent ?"