Night's Omen

[1:49 AM]

Persephone had instructions to follow, and she would get to them eventually. For the moment, she had explained to Verity that there was one person she wanted to give a head start to. She expressed that he was her only friend, and that she wanted to get him far enough away from the epicenter of destruction so that he would not be caught up in the blast. Verity had agreed, reluctantly, but she understood the need for her felines to have friends outside of Midnight. Kronos had no need for them, but Xavier and Persephone both had made odd choices - her precious tiger had become taken with a hunter, one whom Verity would have enjoyed meeting first-hand in more polite circumstances. She was interested to see who had stolen his heart from her. Persephone had made friends with her Darren long before - her wildcat, she called him. She seemed quite happy when the topic of him came up, and like Xavier, did not relish the idea of caging and breaking her companion. Verity felt as though all of her darling cats were leaving her, but when they returned every evening and brushed her cheeks with genuine kisses and inquiries about her day, she knew she had little to worry about.

So Persephone had her permission, her one-chance Charlie ticket out of town. She didn't know if Darren would take it. He was stubborn, but she would try. She approached the bar, noticing how busy they were, and wondered how much of the fallout the Triste's magic would resist. She wagered a good portion, but she didn't think all of them would get away unscathed. She knew that there was a Vida also. She hoped they could manage. She had seen what her Verity was capable of, so she knew what damage a Triste could do when provoked. Persephone leaned on the bar, a cigarillo twisted in her lips. She loved the European cigarettes - Kronos had brought some back for her, a treat. She wore only a black tank top and fited blue-jeans, that olive-coloured animal print duster her only means of fighting off the chill. Lucky Persephone enjoyed the cold.

"Hello, playmate," she said in her clipping accent, smiling at Darren and focusing her neon green eyes his way. "I need to borrow you for a moment."

Persephone had still shocked him with her not-crazy persona, and she would take his hesitation into consideration before making him come with her. Hopefully he was ready for a break; she already saw the wheels in his head turning as he looked for Anthony, the tawny wolf Persephone knew now by name.

Darren had started out the night in a nice, dark-colored button-up with a dark tank underneath, and the bar had been all his, but that had changed pretty drastically.  Now, his button-up was dangerously close to being yanked off, unbuttoned and opened as much as he could get it without actually losing it.  He'd made plans to relinquish it to Heather once she arrived, so that he could go catch a few drinks with Paris and then hopefully allow the night to devolve into ridiculous lemur sex.  It'd been a little longer than usual since they'd been able to make time for a night of drink and sex, so he was looking forward to it, and Heather was way late.  If they hadn't gotten busy two hours before, so busy that Ash had descended from the office upstairs to help in the kitchen and bar as he was needed, and Anthony had shed his leather jacket and slipped behind the bar so that Darren wasn't completely overwhelmed.  They were okay with busy, but this was alarmingly so, to the point that if a problem had arisen, Darren wasn't so sure that they could have taken it without Ash intervening and putting someone, or a few someones, on their asses.  He and Anthony were just so mobbed that getting through to any troublemakers would have put them in some serious shit.  There were also way more supernaturals, some of them powerful, than Darren liked in the bar at any given time.  It wasn't a good situation, not if anything at all went sour.

Then, he smelled her.  Somehow, in all the chaos, he smelled her first, then heard her clipped accent as she leaned in against the bar near where he was pouring about four beers.  It still creeped him out to hear, and see, her as anything other than the crazy, but somehow endearing, jaguar who used to come in and want to play.  Now, he knew that she was smart as hell and probably still crazy, but not in the same way, and it freaked him out.  She'd been messing with him, and he still didn't understand why. 

"Well, that moment is going to have to wait, I think," he called over the taps, finishing filling the third, then moving onto the fourth, trying to keep from putting too much head in.  It was a delicate balance, not letting too much into the glass while still putting enough for appearances, and he was busy, so it was tempting to just walk away as the glass filled.  That wouldn't do, though.  "We've been slammed for hours, can't exactly walk away."

It had been easier to explain making allowances for Persephone before, when she'd been crazy in a way that suggested she didn't understand why he couldn't just pull himself away.  Now, it was a different story.  If he left Anthony alone, the wolf would never catch up.  "One second," he called, grabbing the glasses up and bringing them down the bar, where he pulled from a pile of bills the people sitting in those seats had set out.  They'd been lucky, getting those stools.  For everyone else, he had to grab bills out of their hands in the air, then grab drinks, and he did that with another order before returning to where Persephone was to pour a Miller draft and some shots.  "What's up?"

The best he could offer right then was to talk while he worked, since he'd glanced over at Anthony and just didn't see himself getting away.  He still didn't know where Heather was, but the phone had been ringing off the hook, and he couldn't exactly take the time to get to it. 

 She watched him tend to his tedious job for a few seconds, and then she proceeded without his permission. She reached out, flipped the little door up and walked behind the bar, blocking him from moving any further, and from her expression and body language, he would be able to infer that if he dumped beer on her, she'd make him sorry. She put a hand up and put it on his chest, stopping him from going forward, though she didn't grab a handful of his shirt like she was inclined to.

"No, now," she said. "It's important."

The way her voice curled around the words, making them so that nobody heard but Darren, was a talent she'd picked up from operating in Midnight's echoing halls. Her stance would have been threatening if she backed up another inch and changed the way she had her feet situated, but as it was, it wasn't drawing attention from anyone because everyone was too busy running around trying to get things done. Persephone glanced up, at the roof, presumably assessing how many more people were in the Hollow that she could not see - she'd be right to assume that Danielle was there, at the very least. She flicked her bright green eyes back to Darren, studying his face to see whether or not he was going to concede. If he didn't, she'd make him go, and he didn't really want that.

His mind really was entirely on the job, focused and utterly involved in the internal list he had going on that told him who got what and in what order.  It was a delicate balance, one that required speed and the ability to shave seconds off of everything he did wherever he could, and suddenly Seph was behind the bar, in his space.  He seriously almost plowed into her with drinks in hand, and the only reason he didn't spill everything everywhere was because he was a cat, and way too in tune with that feline part of him.  He saved them, but shot her a sharp, irritated look as she planted her hand on his chest to stop him from moving.  He did not appreciate it. 

"Five seconds," he told her, slipping away to drop off the drinks he had in hand, and then he called into the kitchen for Ash, whose pale face was sweat-slicked as he glanced up from the stove.  "Need 30 seconds, Heather's still not here."

"I'll be out."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, gesturing to Anthony toward Ash, and the wolf gave him an unpleasant look that took in Persephone and obviously didn't trust her.  Darren wasn't going to wait for her to drag him over the bar, though. 

He stepped up after her, leaning in close enough to be heard over the crowd.  "Seriously, I have maybe a minute," he told her, grabbing his bottle of water on his way.  He was going to slug as much of it down as he could, since this was probably his only chance. 

 Obviously satisfied with her victory, not that she wouldn't have grabbed him by the face and thrown him over the bar if he hadn't have complied right then, she smiled pleasantly and made hastily for the front exit. Once outside, she put her hand around his bicep, fingers curling forcibly as she literally dragged him away from the door and several feet back into the alley where nobody would see or hear them. She pulled something out of her back pocket, and held it out to him. It was a small envelope.

"Plane ticket. Credit card. Cell phone. Passport. You need to leave, right now, and head for LaGuardia. You can take my car, and you can give me the keys to yours. Park it in the lot and put the ticket in the center console; I'll retrieve it later. I'll park your car at your apartment. Paris is already at the airport waiting." She narrowed her eyes, smirking. "You didn't tell me she could read minds. She knew what I had to say before I knocked on the door." She paused. "I see she didn't call you, though. Good girl, follows directions. She's definitely worth keeping around."

Persephone leaned against the wall, arm up so as to obscure the view of anyone passing, keeping Darren almost entirely hidden.

"Before you ask, I can't tell you. All I can say is that you aren't safe, and you need to understand that if you stay, I cannot protect you. Your girlfriend is getting on that plane in two hours, whether you're with her or not, because I heard her consulting that witch doctor, and he's happy to have her out of the country for the next few days - or weeks. However long it lasts." She watched him, liquid emerald eyes so dilated by her pupils that they appeared almost a glowing ring, a halo around the black holes that bored into him.

Persephone could be as satisfied with her temporary victory as she wanted to be, because victory wasn't entirely hers just yet.  She got him outside, then basically manhandled him into the alley, which was pissing him off.  He finally shrugged her grip off of his arm, the cool air doing wonders for cooling off his skin while her sudden orders had the exact opposite effect.  If she'd thrown this on him inside, he'd have probably reacted worse, it was true, but that didn't mean she was going to get a great reaction.

Obviously, he didn't know what the hell was going on with Midnight, but now she had him on guard in a way that had him seriously worried about those phone calls that they'd been missing and short with.  Someone had said that Connor had called for him.  Shit.

"WHAT?  Not safe?  What are you talking about?!  I need more than just a packet of travel requirements and some orders, Persephone," he told her sharply, glancing down at the envelope she'd shoved into his hands.  If she was trying to send him somewhere, said she 'couldn't protect him', then it was something big, and he knew she had her hands in Midnight.  If he was in danger with Midnight and she thought that sending Paris with him (not to mention Aristide agreeing), then it was bigger than just him.  He'd never really done anything worthy of attention from Midnight.  That made him think that there were other people in danger, and he was a hell of a lot more interested in them right then.  "What about Connor?  My parents?  How big is this thing?"

Here, he'd thought that Purezza was a problem.  Persephone hadn't ever gotten involved in THAT.  

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Didn't I just say, 'I can't tell you'?" she asked, her tone every bit as aggressive as his. She wasn't allowed to tell him why, and so she wouldn't. "I don't know about your parents, or Connor, or whoever else you're connected to. This didn't start with you, you're just going to get caught up in it, and I know that for a fact." She wouldn't tell him that she'd seen lists with names and photos and addresses, because she wasn't supposed to divulge any of that to anyone, including him. She wondered if Xavier had been as good about not releasing information. Of course, she wasn't sleeping with Darren, either. He was attractive, but definitely a little too soft for her liking.

"It's so big that I've got shit I need to begin handling in the next few seconds, so if you don't want to make up your mind, I'll take my paperwork back and this will be the last time I'm sure I'll see you alive," she said bluntly. "Not to 'lack confidence' in your skills to defend yourself, but let's just say I'm glad I'm on the right side of this equation," she said. She glanced around the corner of the alley, where a drunk man was stumbling out of a bar, one of the men she'd sent to round him up his newfound drinking buddy. He could buy her a few more  minutes, but not much after that. She looked back at Darren.

"Listen, I put my ass on the line for this, so if you're not going to take my advice, I'm going to get moving." Persephone usually wasn't so gruff, or mean to Darren, but she really didn't have time to stay and make nice with him like usual.

He didn't like it, not any of it, but it freaked him out that Persephone was even offering him this, and that Paris was supposedly already headed to or AT the airport, with Papa's blessing.  Darren hadn't heard anything about that man being wrong, basically ever.  If Papa approved, Darren figured that Ash needed to know, and getting himself out of dodge was a damn good idea.  He hated the idea that he was running, but she wasn't the only one lacking confidence in his abilities to defend himself.  Between Andrew and Connor, he could take on a hell of a lot more than he used to be capable of, but he wasn't Connor.  He also didn't know that everyone that knew Connor had lost contact with him.  That would have been even less encouraging.

"Fine, I'm going," he conceded, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but he squared his jaw, and made clear with the way he was no longer ready to shove the envelope back at her that he wasn't refusing.  "LaGuardia it is.  I'm calling Ash on my way, though."

That was his requirement.  He wasn't leaving the witch completely off-guard, nor was he refraining from calling Connor and the rest of his family.  He fished his keys out of his pocket and offered them to her, just as she'd asked. 

 "Call whoever you want on your way, but don't tell anyone where you're going. Just tell them you're leaving. I can't take the chance that they've got all of your phones tapped, and I know for a fact I watched several calls go out myself earlier from people who aren't breathing any longer," she said. She took his keys with a snatching motion, and simultaneously tossed her keys at him with her other hand, the shiny duo making an arc and jingling softly.

She looked at him for a moment, fixed, and then seemed to snap out of it. How many of his relatives had she watched get dragged out of their houses, destroyed? How many of those matches had she personally struck? She'd never say. "Don't stop for anything. Treat red lights as four way stops. Take the direct route to the airport, not the back one. We've got men waiting for people to try and leave the country," she said wryly. "If anyone apprehends you, you tell them that you want to speak to Verity, and you tell them nothing else, regardless of what they say or do to you."

She held the keys up to the light and smirked, despite the situation. "A Corvette? I didn't figure you for a V8. Mine's the Porsche around the corner. There's a handgun under the seat, and a a Kevlar vest in the passenger seat. Put it on and get the fuck out of here."

No, Persephone really didn't take into consideration that people might not want to do what she said. If they didn't do it, she'd make them do it; and if she didn't feel like that, she'd let them die when they didn't listen. Either way, she kept a schedule about herself.

 When Persephone had said that Midnight had been waiting to sack people at the airport, she hadn't been kidding. They hadn't told her who it would be, though. If she'd have known it was Bacchus, she might have suggested that Darren travel by boat. As it was, he himself was not in the immediate area - Bacchus was too much of a jester with his control. It wasn't that he couldn't - he was old enough, clearly - it was that he wouldn't. Niall had come to terms with his old friend's lack of regard for life long ago, but since both of their abilities involved a touch of the crazy, who was he to say that what Bacchus did was bad PR for Midnight? He had a cult, one he'd managed to continue collecting for over a thousand years. Sure, they were human and they died, but more always found their way to the comforting and severe touch of the 'god' of pleasure and pain.

His cult members had been circling the terminals for hours, using the information Yvette was transmitting to them from the ticket kiosks to apprehend people as they left. There were so many of them that they'd taken to wearing uniforms, and more than one was posing as Homeland Security. That was the biggest victory Yvette had done for them thus far - as a technomancer, she had walked right into the airport's computers and provided them with everything they needed to know, including false identification cards that they could obtain. It was putting Midnight on the map in ways that Jeshickah never had, by using proactive force to advance their hand. She had, maybe, before the first fall, been so enthusiastic, but after it hadn't been the same.

As Darren came through, the man on the small cart driving with people's bags, as he had been doing mindlessly for hours, signaled the Bacchae on security. Once they sent the imagery to Yvette and the response had been a positive ID with a no kill order attached to it, they went through their motions. Darren would be allowed to get all the way to his gate before "Homeland Security" pulled him into a bleak waiting room with one entrance and exit and left him alone with nothing but a table and a chair.

Well, she wasn't arguing with his requirements, so it wasn't like he was going to be arguing back.  He still didn't like the idea of running, probably never would, but her warning about the phones being tapped and people dying didn't sit well with him.  Even as he caught her keys and returned her smirk with a tight-lipped smile, he was thinking about his own family, both immediate and extended.  There were a lot of them, and he wasn't naive enough to think that they'd all be safe, so how many of them fell into the category that she'd mentioned?  Did she know details on any of them?

God, he didn't even want to know.  He had to call his parents, pronto, and just hope they were alive.  His mom was a leopard, just like he was, and his dad a hunter.  That meant they'd stand a good chance, right?  He wouldn't even ask, in case she shot it down. 

"Gets me around," he said simply, nodding to her instructions and trying to pretend that he didn't get the feeling from her stare like she was looking at him as though she wasn't sure she'd see him again, or something equally depressing.  He was just hoping he didn't get shot in the head on his way to the car.  That would be really anti-climactic.  "Right.  Guess I'll catch you around, then."

He wanted to ask if she could even try to look out for his parents and cousins, at the very least, but he figured he already knew the answer.  Persephone made no sense to him, especially now.  Before, when he'd thought she was crazy and didn't really comprehend things the way everyone else did, he'd been a little more okay with it.  Sure, she'd been with Midnight, but he didn't blame her and hadn't had to over-think things.  They were both cats, she showed up with the little ball to play, and that was that.  He liked her.  Now, it was all sorts of confusing because she wasn't as simple as he'd thought, he didn't understand why she'd played at being so crazy, and frankly?  He had absolutely no idea why she liked him the way she did.  It just didn't make sense that she'd help him.

"Thanks, Persephone.  I don't honestly know why you're doing this, but I appreciate it," he told her, straight up and honest, offering a wave with the hand that had the envelope in it as he turned for her car.  Maybe it was a conversation they could have after the crazy was over, if they ever had it.  He wasn't so sure they would.  Either way, he had to run.

The first thing he did was call Ash's private number, and he did get the witch, who got a rundown on the fact that Darren's cat friend, who Ash would know immediately, had pulled him and made him leave the area, that shit was going down with Midnight and people were dying.  He wouldn't have been surprised if Ash didn't shut everything down as soon as he got off the phone, especially considering how quick the witch was about ending the conversation.  Then, it was his parents, Connor, Chase, anyone he could get in touch with.  His parents and Connor didn't respond, but Chase did, and she had nothing good to say.  While he was driving to the airport, kevlar vest thrown on under his button-up and the gun in his lap, she let him know some of the people they'd lost contact with, including Connor and Victor, which just made his heart sink.  It was bad if those two were down.  He told her to let him know if anything changed, that he was on strict orders to get out, and she agreed that it was a good idea.  He got off the phone feeling like his entire world was falling apart, and getting into the airport didn't help.  He had no way of knowing how many of these people were running just like he was, or how many were working for the enemy, but he tried to put a normal face on.

It bothered him that he had to leave the gun in the car, but the kevlar stayed with him.  Yeah, he was likely to strike an odd image, heading in with no luggage and a bulletproof vest, but whatever.  She'd given him a credit card, so he got the message; buy what you need when you get there, and don't waste time going back home.  She'd stressed speed enough that he wasn't playing around, especially since he had a plane to catch.  If he was utterly honest with himself, he was both pleased and made more paranoid about the fact that he wasn't stopped the entire time he was in the airport.  He pulled the kevlar and his button-up off as he went through the line, dropping both in the basket at the metal detector, then putting them back on like it was an everyday thing, which seemed to work for them.  Apparently, there were other travelers that went with the kevlar, so he was fine getting through all the way to his gate.  By that point, he was starting to think that he was going to get out of there just fine, and his mind had turned to the positives about the situation.  Unplanned vacation with Paris, who was waiting on the plane for him.  He may have hated the circumstances, but the location and the company could have definitely been worse.

When 'Homeland Security' pulled him aside, he was pretty sure that the location and company did just get worse.  They didn't really react if they saw the run instinct that flashed through his eyes behind the pleasantly confused smile he plastered on his face, and he had the rush of uncertainty regarding what they were stopping him for.  Was it actually Homeland Security?  Maybe because of the vest?  Or was it Midnight and their people, trying to get him away from the crowd?  If it was really Homeland Security, he was screwed if he ran, so he really needed to go along with them, but Midnight made for different rules.  If it was Midnight, going along with them was suicidal.  Tossing the Verity comment out first thing was an idea, but Homeland Security would be likely to think that he was serious trouble if that was the case, and the only people that could pull enough strings to get him out of that mess were dead, dying and running for their lives.  He much preferred the idea of trying to make a run for it, if only because he'd rather die running than be taken alive and killed at their leisure because he'd gone along with their wishes quietly, but he had to trust that Persephone was right in telling him to ask for Verity and that it'd work.  He had to, because the alternative was taking off and hoping he beat the odds and got away.  He didn't see it working for him.

It left him in a damn waiting room with a table and a chair, hoping that they weren't planning on killing him with boredom.  The room itself was so stark that he wasn't even sure what team they were playing for, but the single entrance/exit didn't make him happy.  It meant he was trapped if someone unpleasant came in.  They'd taken his things, too, which meant no phone.  Big surprise there.

 Usually, Bacchus liked to handle things on his own, but for this instance, he allowed one of his Bacchae to do it for him. The room was empty save the table, and since they'd taken everything Darren had, he would have no choice but to literally sit around and do nothing. About five minutes passed before the door opened, and a late twenty-something woman stuck her head in the door. She was almost too pretty to be a security agent, but there was no real way of defining that. Given the looks of women that were in the hunting guilds, it would be no hard leap to assume that sometimes women that good looking could be in other fields of enforcement and service.

"It'll be just a minute," she said. She smiled, and there was a row of straight, white teeth behind her full lips. It was an insincere smile, but there was no real reason for him to think that - it was just... the way it felt. Her blue eyes didn't mirror the idea of a whole-hearted woman, that much was obvious. She closed the door again, and then nodded to another of the Bacchae. "Do it. Bacchus told us not to drag our feet," she said. She made a gesture to the man and then folded her arms, watching through the double-sided glass with narrowed eyes.

After a few seconds, the room began to feel with gas. This was the easiest way to do it, as far as she'd concluded, and she didn't want to risk failing. Bacchus didn't like failure. When the shifter had finally finished struggling, which hadn't made her flinch, by the way, she opened the door and went in. She pulled out a syringe and jammed it into his limp arm, then motioned for the others to come in.

"Bag him and bring him to Midnight. I'll let Him know we've gotten a high-profile individual."

There was that moment or two of panic, realizing that this was definitely not Homeland Security (even though the insincere woman could have passed) when the gas started entering the chamber like it did.  That was a natural reaction, as was trying for the door even though he knew it wouldn't work.  What went to show that he wasn't the garden variety idiot was that immediately after the door failed, he squared his shoulders, shortened his breaths, and tried a calmer approach to the door.  A little more thought and a little less in the way of hurried breaths and movements.  It didn't help him except to keep him conscious for a short time longer, but at least he tried.

Waking up on a cold, damp floor would have been enough to make him realize where he was and what was going on, even without the smells.  That wasn't an option, however, and it was the scent of fear, pain and blood that caused him to shoot up to a crouching position from a barely conscious state.  He was still reeling a little from the movement as he took in his surroundings in a hurry, all darkness and stone, and he slipped a little further towards leopard in an attempt to gather more information.  He didn't get much, except that there were people who really didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be here, and that there was someone nearby.  He wasn't so sure he even wanted to talk to them, just in case it made his life worse, but really?  What difference did it make?

He was in a fucking cell.  In Midnight.

"Are you fucking serious?" he hissed, knowing that there would be no more chance of escaping this cell than that room, and that was a scary thought. 

 Mya had rested her head against the bars, if only because they were cold. They'd put her back in the cell, because she wouldn't comply. It was at the behest of Verity, who hadn't wanted to see Taran, because she knew his name now, break his "new toy". No, they were all seeing just how stubborn a peacock could be. Mya was fortunate; she was exquisite in body and face, and it was the only reason she was still alive. He hadn't cut her, but he'd been about to - that knife had looked so like his eyes, the colour that the moon reflects on a mirror, and equally as empty and cold. She shuddered to think of that icy gaze, and in the instant retracted from the bars, eager to hide from the sensation she'd just found so comforting only moments ago.

Her head was pounding. She was dehydrated and tired from fear and control, unable to separate reality from her dream for moments at a time. People would come and go, walking the narrow corridor between the cells whilst whistling a jaunty tune perhaps or even talking on phones - some said nothing at all, and one, one made Mya scared in a primal sense when he even placed his hand on the outer doors to come into the dungeon area at all. Verity had told her to be grateful for who her new Master was, and on some level, Mya understood why. Physically, the raven could harm her a great deal, but mentally he had no control over her, no more than she had over herself. Some of the vampires there could peel her like an onion and make her beg for them to do it; she didn't relish the thought of it.

When she heard Darren speak, she blinked, her vision hazy in the dim light that was provided from creaking and old lights suspended in the hall. "Serious as a heart attack," she said, voice breathy and soft. She crawled to the bars again, not daring to put her hands on them, but her form was silhouetted in the light as it moved to and fro, making her whole, and then shadow, and then whole again.

"Midnight has decided to take a personal offense to an attack placed on them, or so I was told," she said; she neglected to tell him that her presence there and her presence at all had been what had set the ball into motion, because Taran had yet to inform her of her oversight with her information. Mya, really, was responsible for all of this, and he'd tell her the next time he saw her, and then her idea of control being easy so long as she kept it would fizzle and be a notion of the past that she would cease to remember because it was easier to forget.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked. Then it was followed, swallowed even, by a bitter laugh that seemed not to fit the appearance of the girl when highlighted by the light. Wry didn't suit her, not one bit, and yet in her voice that was the only tone present. "Of course not, forget I asked. They take time away first; distort it. It drives some people crazy alone, the lack of temporal knowledge."

Darren really wasn't expecting what he got when he heard the response off to his right, and then he was almost wishing that he'd kept his mouth shut.  No company had to be better than crazy company, and this girl sounded like she was almost there.  Crap.  He wasn't serpiente, so he was okay without another person around.  He didn't really want a cuckoo bird for a cellmate.  Ironically, he could smell bird from her when he got a little closer, and was suddenly considering the cuckoo bird thought once more.  Huh.

"It was really early morning when they caught me at the airport," he answered, ignoring her babbling and grabbing at the pieces that made sense.  Midnight taking offense, for starters.  That was all this was about?  Who had done it?  Did anyone even know?  Who the hell told her?

He scowled even further than he already had been (was this possible?) when he got close enough to smell the pain and fear coming off of her, as well as a few more subtle things that he couldn't quite place, but didn't like.  He'd learned long ago to trust those instincts, which was why he stayed out of reach.  "It's going to take more than not knowing the time to get me," he muttered, flicking his green eyes around to try to find out something else about the place.  He hated the idea that this really might be game over, and just didn't have it in him to accept it.  Maybe that was the difference between the two of them.

"Early morning. Same for me, too," she said. "But I was gone when you arrived." She wondered how the girls at the club had fared - if they had gotten out or not. Zaine had known that she had known something, she was certain of that, but she didn't think he understood what precisely she knew, just that she did know. "That stupid dog hit me in the head," she said, referring to Cerberus. The mark he'd made, the bruise he'd left when he'd hit her, was already gone. Of course. Mya had extra-special care instructions on her label, but that didn't mean exceptions wouldn't be made.

"Take a lot more than that?" she parroted. "Stupid cat," she said, pressing against the bars now, wrapping her long fingers around them so that he could see her more fully. Her brilliant cyan and emerald eyes were lidded, clouded by a long fan of black lashes and makeup still applied, because Mya was valued for her beauty. She smiled again, and it was a knowing and dangerous smile.

"When they come, you won't be so daring," she informed him, words but a harsh whisper.

As if on cue, she closed her eyes sharply, a pained expression crossing her face. She could feel that sense of dread swelling up in her belly, and she released the bars as though something in the cell had dragged her off, throwing her weight backwards and scurrying to the far corner of the cell. She was still in what she'd worn at the club, which was very little, and all she had in the cell was a rough blanket, which she now wrapped around herself, trying to hide. She managed to wedge herself to a point beneath the tiny and fractured wooden bench so that no light could reach her, and she hid under the lumpy, uncomfortable cloth, breath so still it may as well have been not at all.

Just a half-second after that, the door swung open, and the scent of madness and fear slid down the hall like an impending darkness, distorted child's laughter. There was no presence, and then a form took shape, mostly of shadow, at the top of the doorway. He walked down the step slowly, deliberately, and passed each cell with leisure, as though he enjoyed simply walking the corridors and oozing that terrifying sensation from his very aura. Raphael did indeed enjoy that, of course, but he was specifically interested in the location of one item in particular, and it had been expressed to him that she had been seen last in the dungeons.

He passed through slowly, eyes sweeping the cells and other various nooks and crannies, though he didn't seem to find whatever it was he wanted in particular. He paused by Mya's cage, rapping on the bars and laughing his low and throaty laugh to himself - just a sort of "Heh" noise, but it was enough to send a chill up her spine and cause her to nearly faint in horror. He was gone after that, the door swinging shut with a bang.

Mya stayed where she was.

Oh, daring had nothing to do with it.  He was damn certain that he wouldn't give a shit about the time once someone actually focused their attention on him, and it would be a sheer will to survive that gave him any ability to fight.  He wasn't a peacock, and was therefore required to be more 'daring' than her.  It was a law of nature.

Speaking of 'nature', he had utterly no ability in the first few seconds that Raphael's power swept through to even move, and then when he did it was to leap towards the portion of his cell furthest from the vampire.  There, he nearly shifted, just out of an instinct to protect himself better while he was unarmed as a human.  He held that off, but couldn't prevent the growl or a partial shift.  In the dark, human eyes would have never noticed it, and the vampire seemed to utterly ignore him, so all was well.  It was stupid when he had the brain capacity to think through the fear and dread that had washed over the whole area, since he'd run the risk of drawing attention to himself, but christ.  That kind of power drew a primal sort of reaction, that deep, horrible fear of something lurking in the dark waiting to eat you.  Even for a predator like a leopard, that power warned of a bigger predator.

That, and he was in a cage.  It wasn't helping.

It took a few minutes even after the door slammed for the fear to slowly creep out after the vampire, lingering effects crawling over his skin like insects and making him feel sick inside.  That he could see being enough to get him.  He was in deep shit, here.

"Fuck this noise, I'm done," he hissed, running a hand through his hair, then feeling disgusted in himself when he realized that he HAD slipped in shifting.  He reversed it, sitting against the cool wall and shivering a little.  He wanted OFF this ride.

It had been an hour or so since he'd last been down there. He knew the peacock was for Taran, but it struck him as idiotic that the guard should be given a pet. Raphael hadn't really been privy to the full story, either, or he might have understood, but as it stood at the moment it seemed more like favouritism on Verity's part. He wouldn't openly complain, but he was discontent all the same. He didn't even really desire the Phasi, to be honest. He'd never been partial to birds, especially blonde ones. Still, her eyes were utterly exquisite to look at, and he did so freely, watching her try to hide herself beneath the tiny bench in the cell.

  He reached out slowly, deliberately, fanning his power out in such a way that she could feel it coming on. She tried to hide even more at first, and then she began to whimper. He could detect speech in her whining, the words 'please' and 'stop' appearing frequently, but those were two things Raphael didn't ever really respond to. He just pushed harder, causing her to cry. He didn't know what she was seeing, and he didn't care. It wasn't until the cat in the other cell made a distressed noise than did he turn around and direct his attention elsewhere.

By the scent of him, Raphael could figure several details - he smelled Bacchae, for one, the faintest scent of old wine and blood betraying the ancient vampire's followers. He could smell cat, naturally, and he could smell the chemical clinging to his clothing that they'd used to drug him. "Still here? Not bought and paid for yet, it seems. I don't even recall seeing your name on a held list... I guess that means you're a free agent?"

  Raphael had reeled his power back in for the most part, but it was there, pressing just at the edges of Darren's personal space. It was like a bear trap that was set directly around him, ready to snap shut at any second. Raphael seemed to only need a reason.

In the hour since Raphael had last walked through the dungeons (had he gone out to terrorize others, or was he manning the desk at Midnight?), Darren had checked out every last corner of his cell in search of a weak point. Naturally, anything that could have been useful had been taken from him, and he even tried shifting to see if he might be able to make something budge, use claws or teeth to his advantage, or even see something that he couldn't.  By the time he'd realized that there was nothing he could do, he was feeling pretty desperate.  Maybe if he was here and starved for a few weeks, he could get out through the bars, but Andrew had been working to build him up, not make him thinner.  He had very little hope that he would be forgotten long enough for all of that to work.

Yeah, he was lucky that he'd been left to examine the cell that was currently his whole world for that long, and then there was that slow creeping dread again.  It made it clear that Raphael was on his way in again, and this time, Darren didn't sit there and stare like a moron.  As soon as he felt it, he was in the furthest corner of the cell, eyes closed and hoping that Raphael wouldn't look over (he felt bad for Mya, but she wasn't anyone he knew or cared about, nor was she particularly nice, so he wasn't risking his neck for her).  Of course, even keeping his trap shut and staying in his corner as far from the vampire that was radiating fear all over the place, Darren was getting plenty of overflow from Mya's cell.  Raphael was pouring it over her, reaching and pushing more for all of her crying and whimpering, and it was spreading out from her in toxic waves that were sweeping Darren himself up while they were at it.

His heart was pounding furiously and a cold sweat had started even before Raphael had focused on him at all, and he was trembling both with the fear that Raphael was putting out and the effort not to give in to a shift.  He knew it was irrational to think that shifting would help him at all, but that didn't stop the instinct from sticking with him.  If his eyes weren't already feline-green like Persephone's, they certainly would have been now, and it was the smaller things he was currently slipping on.  Just a little length on his teeth and nails, a little slipping with his senses (which was making it worse; Mya REEKED of terror), and a choked sound that was something between human and cat that also managed to draw Raphael's attention.

FUCK.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, he was so fucked.

Raphael drew his power back in, and really, that was all that saved Darren right about then.  It was all that allowed him human reasoning and the ability to form words, but he could feel it where it laid in wait, closing in and ready to swallow him up.  He sat up suddenly with the attention that was on him, one knee on the floor while the other leg was drawn up under him.  It wasn't like he could do anything, but something felt wrong about cowering there with his back against the wall.  If he had to be cornered, he wanted to at least be upright and with his foot on the ground. 

"You can't keep me here, I'm freeblood.  Persephone, Verity, I have to see them," he told this freaky vampire in a wavering voice, and he probably should have just kept his mouth shut and hoped that Raphael got bored; one of the other vampires had to be less horrible, but did he really want to let them cycle through and torment him until he could find one that wasn't scary as hell to make the request to?  Persephone had said to ask for Verity, so he was.  He didn't really know who she was, but if Persephone thought he needed her, then he was all about it, especially right then.

 The problem was that Persephone had never imagined Darren would be in a cell. She would have warned him the weight of Verity's name if he didn't ask for her in a specific way, so just throwing it out there was liable to invoke the mega rage from the people who loved her. Raphael fell into that group, and it showed on his face in a smoldering ire as Darren brought her name up.

"How dare you speak my Mistress' name," he growled. He pushed out with his power so hard that in the next cell, Mya began screaming as she envisioned growing old and terribly fat. He ignored her for the moment as he stepped closer to the bars. That bear trap that had been hinged precariously around Darren snapped shut, plunging him into a horrible reality where everyone he loved had been ripped apart, their intestines strung out like decorations for a party. And that wasn't the worst part of it.

"You have no right to speak her name; you sully her honor just by thinking of her!" he yelled.

And suddenly, the power dropped off like a flash. Raphael's jaw was at an awkward angle and then he toppled over, blood spraying out of his mouth and nose.

Well, Persephone had been having a lovely time of this evening. So far she'd been helping with the crew to cast a terrifying drag net of carnage over the city. But it was time to go home, and that was made clear when Kronos called and told her that someone had shown up at Midnight that he felt she'd be interested in. Another cat, he said. And he told her she "might want to come home."

Well, fuck. She turned her own Corvette around so fast she almost smashed it, but she was quick with her hands and feet, and managed to straighten it back out. By the time she got to Midnight, she was running up the steps and through the door. She nearly knocked Ember over as she headed to the dungeon area, and the captain of the Raven guard grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

"Persephone, what's wrong?" she exclaimed.

"Ember!" she practically shouted. "A cat - a leopard shifter, has he been brought in?"

The Raven's brow furrowed for a moment as she thought. "Yes, he's in a cell. The Bacchae got him a few hours ago. Why, is he yours?" she asked, her head tilted. Persephone was one of the only people that Ember actually considered a friend, which was funny given how cruel everyone in Midnight was. But it wasn't like she could befriend any of the people who worked under her, so people who were on her level of power were the only option she had.

"He's something," she said, frowning. She cocked her head to the side, lime green eyes wild. "Who's down there with him?"

Ember's face formed one of shock. "Oh, God. Raphael is. He was looking for me, and I was going there, but then Verity called me up here because she said that she was reassigning Taran, and - "

But Persephone had already turned and was running. She was in her human form, but she was running at full speed, and in such a frenzy that she shifted without really considering it. Of course, she was so much more cat than human that it wasn't as though it would have taken much thought to begin with. She crashed through the doors and raced down the stairs, just in time to see, with her feline eyes, Raphael attempting to drive Darren insane. She could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, but fortunately, Rajz had skilled her in the art of shielding, and in her feline form, shit just didn't work right on her.

She shifted back into her human form as she came within a few feet of him. She still had such momentum that when she swung her powerful arm around, she connected with his face so hard that she knocked him ass over end. She actually hurt her hand a little when she hit him, but it felt good, too. She'd been wanting to do that for a long time, and now she had a reason.

"HE ASKED TO SEE VERITY, YOU FUCKING TAKE HIM TO SEE HER," she roared. She followed with a swift kick to the chest, cracking his sternum with her steel-toed boot. Persephone was the only female who could make them look both sexy and fashionable, it seemed, and she sure as fuck knew how to use them. But the kick wasn't enough - she'd grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him into the bars of an empty cell - she actually slammed him a few times, for good measure. Then, suddenly, she dropped him on his ass.

"I think, my dear, you've made your point," Verity said. God, where the fuck had she even come from? She stood in the doorway, her arms folded neatly beneath her breasts. Her brows were raised in - amusement? Her full lips formed a smile, and it was hard to deny that she did not look anything less than radiant. She seemed to remain there for an extra moment, for emphasis, and then began to descend into the room, no sound but the clicking of her heels.

"Raphael, Ember is upstairs. Please go attend to her," she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, like a warm spring breeze. Of course, there were warm spring breezes everywhere. Auschwitz, for example. She did not lift a finger to help the vampire up, watching with those ethereal silver eyes as he stood immediately. He seemed to forget he'd just had the shit kicked out of him.

"Of course, Mistress," he said. He nodded to her, and then literally hauled ass out of the dungeons.

She turned to Persephone, who looked shell-shocked. "And can you show me what is so utterly important that you made a mess of one of my favourite trainers?" she asked brightly. There was a danger ebbing in the room at that moment, pressing down on the walls. It was Verity, and she was actually allowing herself to be a little... annoyed. She hoped it was a good reason coming from Persephone's mouth, but when the girl just gestured to the cage, Verity understood.

"Ah, and who have we here? Come closer, darling, so I can see you. Don't be afraid," she cooed. "I won't bite."

Famous last fucking words, right?

Darren had a second of warning, maybe a few seconds while Raphael's power rose up like a tsunami wave that was going to smash into the shore and everyone stupid enough to be stuck there, and though it may not have actually been visible, the terror that power held was nearly tangible.  It threw Darren's pulse into overdrive, threw the cat that had been lingering ridiculously close to the surface into a fit, and he had NOWHERE.  TO.  GO.  He hissed at the impending wave, the attempt at aggression while cornered and trapped not much different from a predator turned prey facing down a hunter with a gun, and it had exactly the same result; the attack fell, and Darren was in no way able to do a damn thing to protect himself.

So much for asking for Verity.

The hiss exploded into a scream that quickly turned from human to feline as the terror and his own dangerous heartrate threw him from one form into the next (Darren, by his own fault, was too much cat to resist switching forms under duress), but both cat and human would have suffered the same.  He saw people dying, people that he'd always thought were powerful and invincible, the people that could never have fallen, all dead, all dying, all in agony.  Connor's lifeless eyes staring at him from a pool of blood and Chase's tears streaming down her face, his mother's lithe grace unable to save her from the onslaught and his father cut down in a gory mess trying to save her, Ash overwhelmed, Anthony and Chloe, Danielle, PersephoneDaveandrew.  Everyone he'd ever loved or respected, torn apart and screaming, all in front of his face.  He could smell the gore, feel the heat of it spattered on his face to the chorus of screams and choking.

Then, suddenly, it all stopped.

He lay trembling in the corner on the cold stone floor, panting and unsure that he could even draw enough breath to survive yet in danger of hyperventilating, and like a fog was lifting, the sounds of screaming and violence returned.  These seemed somehow distant, though they were just on the other side of the bars, but the rest was in such vivid technicolor brightness that the rest of the world seemed dim in comparison, and hearing Persephone's voice over the sounds of violence had to be impossible.  He'd seen her guts strewn across the floor as her bright green eyes went dark, he'd lost her, it was impossible that she was there.

Or was it?

He couldn't tell, couldn't figure out if this was real or if it was just another level of the place that was about to turn sour when a silvery, musical voice drifted through the violence.  He shivered again at the sound, the soft feel of it brushing against his raw mind in a way that felt both soothing and painful at the same time.  He'd have been content to be utterly ignored at this point, but there was no denying that Raphael's complete removal from the room was an instant improvement.  Still, he didn't move as that voice like little twinkling bells spoke again, this time with an entirely different aura of danger rising up from the darkness around them.  If it were at all possible, he pressed further back against the wall, the damp of the stone seeping into his fur and making him colder, but he couldn't get far enough away from that feeling, couldn't get far enough away from all of it.  

He wasn't following the conversation, might not have even been able to right then (if he'd had words available to him and been asked, he might not have been able to offer his own name immediately), not after having the force of Raphael's rage directed at him.  He'd had no way of understanding Raphael's psychotic love for Verity, had no way to know that just saying her name would throw the trainer into the kind of rage that could unravel someone, and the images that had been tearing through his mind would have been bad enough if not for the illogical, inescapable madness of utter terror.  He'd have been more fine with Verity and dead-but-not-dead Persephone talking amongst themselves, but Persephone didn't respond in any way that he heard, and why should she?  The dead couldn't talk, could they?  Of course they couldn't.

Still, the lady with the musical voice and dangerous dark turned her attention on him, and he didn't really understand her promise right then, but he knew subconsciously what she wanted.  She'd beckoned him closer, and whereas before he'd been desperate to be as far from Raphael and then her, he was terrified now to risk not doing as she'd asked.  It was with a sense of urgency that he'd never displayed before (even to escape his mother's notice for something he'd done as a kitten, or under Andrew's training) that he shot forward, belly close to the ground.  He was afraid to get too close, but more afraid to make her ask again that he come closer, so he was nearly at the bars when he stopped to essentially just cower there and shake.  He flicked his bright green eyes up at her for a moment, more to see if the dark and danger surrounded her the way that Raphael's dread did, and when he found that it somehow didn't, he still flicked his eyes away.  If this was Verity and just saying her name got him that kind of a response, he didn't know what looking at her was going to cost him.  He'd turned his gaze to the other person there, to Persephone, and it didn't make sense.  She was alive and whole, then dead and torn apart, then alive and whole again, like images flickering on a bad TV.

Verity reached out and unlocked the door of the cell Darren was in, motioning for him to come out. "Come on," she coaxed, as one might talk to a cat who was viewing snow for the first time. "Come on, it's okay," she encouraged. Her voice was soft and high, and she used that Triste ability to calm him down.

"Hm, that took all of sixty seconds for Raphael to do," she observed, crouching down to cradle the jaguar's head in her hands as she stroked his fine fur. She looked back up at Persephone, her silver eyes gleaming. "I wonder how Narkisa puts up with his tantrums every day." She spoke so casually, so idly, that it was disturbing.

Persephone couldn't help but snort a little. She regarded Verity with high respect, obviously, but as she worked directly for she, Niall, and Midnight Europe, she'd seen a little too much to cross herself and worship at their feet. Which was fine. If they'd wanted Persephone to be a lap dog, they'd have gotten someone else.

"She tunes him out by now, I bet," she said. She glanced back up as Kronos' dark form suddenly shadowed the doorway, blocking the light of the stairwell behind him. It made him appear a ghastly, ghoulish silhouette outlined in white for a split second, and then he emerged forward.

"Mm, something," Verity observed of Persephone's statement. Narkisa must have been so exposed to his power that it didn't traumatize her like it did others, that much was obvious by the lifetime she'd spent at Raphael's side versus the quick minute Darren had been plunged into his ire.

"Ah, Kronos," Verity cheered, standing slowly. "Are you checking on us?" she teased. "Do be a love and tell Niall I'll be occupied otherwise for a few moments, won't you?" she requested, her voice still as high and sweet as ever. She turned back to Darren.

"Let me see you, pet," she said, and while it sounded like a request, those were often commands disguised as allowing someone the idea of their own free will. She absently put a hand on Persephone's shoulder as she waited. She and Persephone were identical in height, but Verity was wearing heels for the moment, so she was slightly taller. Still, she waited patiently, her hand a casual thing, as one friend might do in a moment of laziness.

Darren could feel like a moron later, when he'd recovered somewhat, and he would.  Raphael had traumatized the hell out of him, exposed him to a level of fear that made Purezza seem like nothing, shaken his grip on reality and now there was Verity, who for all of her sweet voice was still obviously dangerous.  Add in Persephone, who he thought he'd just seen die, and he didn't know what the fuck to do, but he knew he couldn't take another go right then.  Where normally, he'd have tried to just keep his mouth shut and hope that Persephone had his back enough to get him the hell out of dodge, he wasn't sure if she was even actually there, considering she looked healthy and safe.

As Verity unlocked the door, he flinched back a few millimeters, not actually moving so much as leaning away from the door (imagine that, considering how glad he'd have been just a little while ago to have the door opened), but she beckoned him out with that pleasant tone of hers.  He had no way of knowing that his pulse was calming and his terror easing because she was playing at his auras, and part of that was because he never noticed when Ash did it, either.  It was subtle, and who was he to pick it apart, anyway?  If it helped, it was probably a good idea, at least for now.

He snuck forward, still low to the ground, but his movements were a little more cautious and not quite so desperate to avoid a repeat now that his heart had calmed some.  He still regarded Persephone like he wasn't sure what to make of her, but even as he approached Verity, he tipped his head up to sniff at the air.  It smelled like Persephone, though there was so much else going on that he could have been wrong, but he didn't think he was.  It smelled like her, so it had to be her, somehow.  That meant that if Persephone was alive and it had been alive, maybe the others were, too?  It just seemed so hard to believe that it was a lie when it was so vivid, but here she was and the leopard had no doubt that this was Verity, too.  He'd gotten what he asked for, just not as quickly as he'd been hoping, or without a cost.

Fortunately, he wasn't stupid enough to wish that he could tune Raphael out, considering the kind of trauma that Raphael had rained on Narkisa to make her capable of that.  Narkisa was insane and it was amazing that she could function on a regular basis, whereas Darren was a sane, normal (ish) person suddenly thrown into Raphael's rage.  There was no comparison, and who could blame him if he hid behind the leopard in some attempt to protect himself?  The cat sure as hell didn't want to die, so it wouldn't get him killed, and if it gave him a few precious moments to try to recompose himself, it was a good deal.

Except for the fact that he was sitting in Midnight, his bright eyes closing to soak up the way the Mistress of the place stroked at his face with her soft hands.  For all the stress that his parents and cousins had put on telling him that he had to be careful about people he didn't trust knowing that he was a black leopard, he sure hadn't been messing around when he fucked that up.  Christ.  The only person who really didn't need to know about his breed and coloring missing was Niall, and he'd know pretty quickly after all this. 

His eyes turned back up to her as she made her 'request', and he wasn't stupid.  Her body language was all casual, her hand falling to rest on Persephone's shoulder as she seemed to wait patiently, but her tone and stance didn't disguise well enough the fact that he really didn't have much choice other than to obey.  Hiding behind the cat obviously wasn't an option any longer, not when refusing could only make the situation worse, so he did as she'd 'requested' and shifted back to human.

That landed him on his knees in front of her, pale and dirty from the cell floor, hair damp and matted down from sweat, and reeking of fear, the drug that the Bacchae had used to knock him out and perhaps the smell of the cult themselves beneath all the rest, but he couldn't even smell that any longer himself.  All he knew was that he was pretty miserable, even with the fear forced down to a manageable level.  It still left him skittish about looking up at them (especially Verity, since just a glance at her had him flicking his eyes around in case Raphael jumped out of a shadow somewhere), but he'd never been afraid of Persephone and he wasn't now.  Now, he was more about focusing and determining for sure if what he was seeing now was the lie, or what he'd seen before.  She was alive, it had been a lie.  He released a long, harsh breath, one of his hands rubbing over his face like that was going to help.  It didn't.

"Thank you," he murmured.  At least he was smart enough not to open his mouth more than that.  It was probably a good idea.

 Verity observed that Darren was still very much aware of his surroundings, and laughed a little. "He's not going to come back," she assured him. "You needn't worry about him any further." Of course not, because now Verity was here, and all of the attention in the room had damned well better be focused on her. Nobody had ever seen her bad side, and they didn't want to. Ever. Part of that was due specifically to the fact that she was a female and could rage in that special sort of way only women could - something Niall knew and liked not warning people about because he enjoyed not being the object of her ire and if he could watch it happen to someone else, he got a certain delight out of it.

She looked at Persephone, a brow arched. "Is this your cat, the one you told me about?" she asked, her voice interested.

Persephone nodded, tossing back that length of hair she'd finally grown out. She cut it so often it was almost strange to have it long, but at Verity's request, she'd let it grow out again. She could feel the woman's fingers brushing the wavy ends of it gently, and she smiled a little. "You could say that," she said with a smile in his direction. "Although, he's more like my friend than my cat."

"I see," Verity replied, breaking away from Persephone to step further into the cell to get a look at the human version of the cat. She made a thoughtful "Hm" noise, and then cleared back her long, arrow-straight and perfect brown hair, glancing back to Persephone. "Do see that he is cleaned up, yes? It would reflect poorly of me if he wandered around in that half-cocked mangy state."

Annnnnd there it was. Persephone had been waiting for her to drop the hammer, and she'd done it. She smiled, though, and gave Persephone's jaw a caress as she literally fluttered out of the cell and back towards the doors, where Kronos waited. He held his arm out to escort Verity from the cell, having gone to find Niall as she had asked, and returned to escort her as she so rightly deserved.

"I expect you'll join us for supper, my darling?" she asked, turning her head back to Persephone. "Bring your friend." And she was gone.

One thing that Darren deserved credit for was the fact that he knew better even without a warning that doing anything that displeased Verity was a bad, bad idea.  He could feel that aura of danger around her even when she was being friendly, and while he could definitely appreciate that she was being so nice to him when she could obviously be even worse than Raphael, he knew for sure that he didn't want to inspire any kind of change in her demeanor.

Apparently, he managed well enough, since he was able to look up at Verity without immediately glancing around for Raphael after she told him that the vampire wasn't going to come back and that he didn't have to worry about him.  Naturally, Darren was still worried about him because the guy was scary as hell and unhinged, but he didn't flick his eyes around in fear that the vampire was going to jump out of the woodwork screaming and throwing terror around, so that had to be an improvement, right?  Right.  Yeah, he was going with that.

Honestly, Darren's brain hadn't had the chance to consider any of this situation past the fact that he was utterly screwed just in that he was there, so when Verity asked if he was Persephone's 'cat', he naturally glanced her way, his thought processes sluggishly working to keep up and push aside the reoccurring images of death and gore that Raphael had thrown at him.  Her cat?  Hers?  His brows knit together just in time for her to say that he was more like her friend than her cat, which was good to know and made him feel just a little better, but the wording that Verity had used brought back what Raphael had said before everything else he'd done.  

"Still here? Not bought and paid for yet, it seems. I don't even recall seeing your name on a held list... I guess that means you're a free agent?"

The conversation went on without him (and why wouldn't it?) and Verity told Persephone to see to it that he was cleaned up because it would 'reflect poorly' on her if he wandered around like he was.  Verity went on like she hadn't said anything, but Darren's eyes shot to Persephone, trying to gauge just how bad this was and utterly failing because her face just didn't give anything away.  The Triste was escorted back out by a man who seemed both impressive and intimidating (Darren had no way of knowing who he was or that he'd been the only reason that Persephone had come rushing back to Midnight when she had, essentially saving his ass), but Verity was certain to let Seph know that she was expected to show up to supper and to bring Darren along.  Supper?  Really?

It was only after Verity and the man had disappeared that Darren's hands when up to his head, sweeping his hair completely out of his face for a moment (it wouldn't have a great effect on the overall appearance when he eventually let it go), and took in a long, deep breath.  It didn't help because all he could smell on the air was terror, blood and pain, but it was more about the internal rallying of himself than anything.  He was well and truly fucked, wasn't he?  Was he ever even going to make it out of here?  Verity seemed a hell of a lot better than Raphael, but he didn't want to belong to anyone.  Had he gotten saved from one mess only to land in another?  As much as he liked Persephone (even if her crazy act had bothered him when he found out it wasn't legit), he knew that she wasn't quite right and he sure as hell didn't want to know how that'd happened, especially not first-hand.  It was something he'd never have asked.

"So.  Made it to the airport, at least," he offered, and he might have even been a little surprised by his own ability to make it sound casual.  Inside, he was a little nauseous, and very strongly considering panic.  

Persephone wrinkled her nose as she sniffed him - something that wasn't entirely uncommon for her to do. "Bacchae. Ugh, his cult is so weird," she said with disgust. They smelled like opium poppies and sandalwood. "That ancient asshole is a little too creepshow for my taste. I guess you didn't get a chance to tell them you had a freebie."

She thrust her hands into her pockets, nodding her head for him to follow her - after she waited the obligatory few moments for him to get his head straight after being exposed to Verity, anyways. Meeting her for the first time was always an interesting experience. "By the way, good first impression. I had my fingers crossed you weren't going to fly into a panic when Verity came down. If you think Fear Monger is bad, you don't ever want to see her pissed off. Even Niall doesn't want to see her pissed off," she added with a grim laugh.

Verity had her moments, and though they were few and far between, they still existed. Persephone always made it a point not to be around when they happened, because she didn't like getting caught up in whatever had piqued the Mistress' ire. Persephone sighed a little and brushed some of her hair behind her ear. This had ended up a lot better than she thought it would, at least. She was feeling a bit peckish, for one, and two, Verity was obviously interested in Darren. That was way more good than bad, even if Darren didn't feel it.

"Come on," she finally directed, walking toward the stairs. "You can get a shower and change and we can go to dinner, because yes, we do have to go now. It's definitely going to be the most interesting thing you've ever experienced," she remarked. She could say that with certainty, too, because she'd overheard Niall talking about Justinian. If they were coming, it was sure to be a night to remember.

Darren usually tried to avoid being quite so blatant as Persephone was when he sniffed her over, but not today.  This time, he was just as natural about breathing her in as she was, and though he didn't find her scent quite as unpleasant as she found the smells clinging to him, she had blood and fear that he was certain wasn't hers lingering about her.  It wasn't encouraging, and it made it clear exactly what she'd been doing before she showed up, but he couldn't even find it in himself to think badly of her right then.  She'd come back, from the dead it had seemed initially, and she'd saved him from Raphael.  He could deal with the way she smelled.

He also didn't have it in him to even consider that he couldn't entirely shake the leopard.  The way they'd mutually invaded each other's space to trade sniffs had emphasized that, and it should have been something he noticed and shook off.  He didn't.  Perhaps some part of him didn't want to push the leopard entirely down, or perhaps the leopard wouldn't go (because the human was obviously doing SUCH a good idea of protecting them), but he didn't consciously try.  He followed Persephone up and out of the dungeon when she gestured for him to, and that was a relief, as was her mention of a 'good first impression', to be honest.  No, he didn't like how that situation had gone in the LEAST and he would definitely have his chance to feel like a moron later for how badly Raphael had wrecked him, but Persephone made it sound like he hadn't done half-bad.  God, he hoped that was true.

"Frankly, I don't want to see anyone here pissed off.  It sounds like a bad idea," he told her honestly, eyes just a little too wide as he took in the individuals trapped in cages that they passed.  He was lucky as all hell, he knew that, but he felt bad for them.  He even felt bad for the crazy bird-girl in the cage next to his, but most of all, he was afraid for his family.  He didn't know what the rules were on who was killed or captured, but he was scared senseless for his poor, beautiful mother who was just as rare of a 'specimen' as he was and his human father who would die trying to protect her.  He was afraid for his brave cousins and all the rest of them.  How many were already dead or captured?  He almost wanted to ask Persephone, but he didn't think he'd like her answer even if she'd tell him, which she probably wouldn't.

His family was dying, and he had to go shower and change to sit at dinner with a bunch of very scary people and Persephone.  What the fuck was even going on here?  "I don't know how many more interesting experiences I can take tonight," he muttered, but he would go do exactly what she said because he didn't really know what else to do.  He didn't know if his freedom was being granted after this crazy dinner party, if he was stuck here, or what the hell was happening; he didn't even know if he'd have a home and a life to return to if he was let go, so did it matter if he went to dinner with Persephone?

Nope.

Persephone turned in the narrow hall, blocking Darren's path for a moment. She reached out and put a hand on his face, her gesture so gentle it was almost more frightening than if she were taking a swipe at him. "I know you're nervous," she told him, leaning in. "But trust me. If Verity remains interested and happy, it will only benefit you. I promise," she added. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, something slightly more innocent than what would be expected of her. It was a strange idea of Persephone being the type to try and give someone else a pep talk, but the night had not been precisely normal, had it?

She lead Darren to her quarters and ordered a slender teenage girl to fetch clothing in his size, which she detailed from the pile he'd left on the floor. She set it on the counter of the spacious bathroom, and then retired to her vanity where she studied herself. She finally opted for an elegant black cocktail dress that hung above the knee slightly, with thin straps and a low neckline that showed off her angles (since she didn't have curves). She left her hair alone, the length of it now brushing her shoulders and slightly waved from being wound in a bun previously. She was touching up her eyeliner, the black smudged paint making her bright eyes seem positively neon in the low lighting all of Midnight had to offer, when Darren finally emerged from the bathroom.

"How do you feel?" she asked him, doing up the tie he had somehow knotted as he stared at the reflection of them both in the still-lightly fogged mirror. "Can you do this or do I need to stick a wind-up key in your back?"

Meanwhile, the black towncar pulled around the front circle drive of Midnight, a silent servant opening the door to allow the passengers to exit. Iloquil's long, tanned legs emerged first, her black Couture d'Orsay Valentino shoes making clicking sounds as her feet hit the ground. Her black Aidan Mattox lace dress hugged her form splendidly, and her mane of mahogany and caramel curls framed her face with perfection. She had a gift in her hand, a bottle of wine wrapped in red metallic tissue paper and tied with a black lace bow, something she'd no doubt done herself given her affinity for black lace of late.

She turned to her consort, holding out a hand for him to hand her the bouquet of flowers. Chrysanthemums were long recognized in Europe as the flower of death, so why would they not be appropriate to bring to their fledglings for an evening dinner at the house of death itself? "Here," she said, thrusting the bottle at him. "You carry the wine. It's less feminine. I don't feel like hearing it from Niall."

And this was where the dazzling effect and splendour ended, and the two became a real couple.

She paused to examine the bottom of her shoe, then caught back up to Justin as he ascended the stairs of the front walk. "Would you believe I have found gum on my shoe? Or, the remnants of it, at least. Christ, I walked from the house to the driveway. If I find out those bastard kids at the estate next door had something to do with this, I'll ensure their family is cursed lesions on their genitals for the rest of their existence on this plane."

The door opened and she effectively cut off Justinian's lecture, exclaiming "Verity darling!" She practically threw the flowers at him so that she could embrace her friend, and Justin became forgotten.

Really?  The night had already been so ridiculous that Persephone halting him to try to give him a pep talk and a kiss on the cheek was nothing in the realm of 'weird'.  He appreciated this more than the rest of the evening, that was for sure, and the fact that he was already in the shower and washing away as much of the horror from earlier as was possible by the time the teenaged girl came in to fetch him clothes didn't hurt.  He was better off seeing as little of that as possible right then.

It was after the shower, when he was feeling more himself again in the steamy bathroom, that he really stopped for a breather.  It was refreshing, the heat and the clean water, but the stack of clothing only seemed to remind him exactly what he was walking into.  A fucking dinner with the big bosses that were killing and kidnapping everyone.  Right.  Perfect.

Persephone could obviously tell that he wasn't quite feeling confident about that situation when he walked out, stepping up to fix his botched tie knot and to ask how he was feeling.  "Honestly?  Better, but still," he told her, words not really cutting it right then.  What was there to even say?  At least Persephone could come up with a joke or two, but this wasn't all that unusual in her life, was it?

Still, he appreciated the effort she made and chuckled a little, though it came out sounding a little relieved and breathless.  "I can do this, I guess.  Yeah.  I mean, it could be worse," he offered, moving automatically to run a hand through his hair because that was a pretty usual gesture when he was stressed or nervous, but Persephone caught him before he could destroy any semblance of neatness where his hair was concerned.  He smiled apologetically, took a deep breath, and nodded.  He could do it.

He'd known better when he handed the flowers to her to begin with.  Really, he had.  She'd thrust the bottle of wine at him and taken the flowers, but he was going to be carrying both in the end, so it wasn't like it mattered.  He knew this and accepted it with the same kind of understanding that he had about pretty much anything Iloquil did.  After the number of lifetimes they'd spent together, very little about her surprised him. 

Having been about to ask why she would even be concerned with that family's genitals, even if it would be to curse them with lesions, he was effectively steamrolled once more when she forced the flowers into his hands so that she could greet Verity.  Then, he was forgotten until Verity herself paid him a glance, and then he smiled and took her hand for a light kiss, offering her the flowers.  For just a moment there, he had the appropriate amount of attention, and then the women were talking again, catching up as though there wasn't the equivalent of a massive gang war going on out in the city.  He found it amusing, especially when he entered behind them and saw Niall in the moment after Verity and Iloquil swept over and around him.  The Master of Midnight was greeted by Iloquil, of course, but she and Verity were far more interested in each other, giving Justin the perfect opportunity to offer his fledgling the bottle of wine and just stand back.

"Glad you made it.  How is traffic?" Niall asked, nodding his thanks as he took the bottle and the two followed their women.

"Not as bad as you might think.  Some accidents, a lot of traffic violations, police occupied elsewhere, it's all to be expected.  How is everything going?"

"Smoothly.  Our operatives are reporting fairly consistent successes."

"Good to hear.  I trust we'll get the interesting news during dinner?"

"Absolutely, but we'll save it for then.  Iloquil will want to hear, I'm sure."

"Naturally," Justinian agreed with a grin, allowing himself to be escorted into the dining room that was made up in preparation for their dinner.  Honestly, they didn't get together often enough. 

 Persephone practically slapped his hand away as he tried to "fix" his hair, and since it had fallen perfectly she wasn't going to allow him the opportunity to mess it up. Verity demanded perfection in her subtle way, so Persephone was going to try and run interference where she could if she could help it.

"It will be fine. I promise. I'll warn you, though, that this dinner is going to be like nothing you've ever experienced before in your life."

And with that, she offered him her arm. A soft tap at the door punctuated the gesture, and the teenage girl stuck her head in.

"Mistress, the guests have arrived," she said ominously.

"Perfect," Persephone chirped. "And Kronos?" she asked.

"He is waiting for you both," she said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Hannah. That will be all." At Persephone's dismissal, the blonde, who looked utterly resplendent, inclined her head and walked away.

Persephone lead Darren down the hall to where Kronos stood, waiting. He didn't simply stand - no, the man loomed somehow, his presence dark and intimidating, like a nimbus cloud waiting to unleash. He straightened, if that were possible since the man stood straight as a rail anyways, and leveled his gaze not on Persephone but rather Darren.

"Darren," she said slowly, sliding her arm from his and moving to the left to form a half-circle between he and Kronos. "This is Kronos. My father."

Bomb. Dropped. If Darren could handle this, he could handle dinner.

 "I have a surprise for you, my dear," Verity confessed in a hushed tone to Iloquil after accepting the flowers from Justinian and giving them a delicate sniff. She adored chrysanthemums. They were exquisite flowers, and this bouquet appeared to have been hand-picked especially for their centerpiece. As usual, perfection was all Iloquil and Justinian had to offer. It was probably why Niall and Verity simply came to expect it from others.

"A surprise?" Iloquil asked, tilting her head. "Justin darling, do you have any idea about this?" she asked him in a low tone as he took her arm while they paired off to walk into the dining room.

Iloquil saw herself when Rajz stood up as she walked into the room. Iloquil wasn't quite so quick to forget Justinian this time, instead squeezing his hand tightly before she practically ran to Rajz with a loud squeal. She grabbed him into a hug, which was returned wholeheartedly as he spun her around the room.

"I had no idea you'd be here!" she exclaimed. She turned back to Justin, her eyes wide and her mouth frozen in a :D face as she eyed him. She looked back to Rajz and put her hands on his face, shaking her head a little. "This is wonderful. Rajz darling, I've missed you so. You must come more often," she insisted.

Verity put her hand on Niall's shoulder, tossing her dark curls off of her shoulder with a smirk. "I daresay this is going to be a wonderful evening," she told him.

At least Persephone seemed to think that everything was going to be fine, since he didn't, but he was going to have to take her word for it.  She'd gone out of her way to watch out for him so far, and even if everything didn't go according to plan, that had to count for something.  Not that he wanted to go play with Verity and her friends, but as unpredictable as all that was, he couldn't see Persephone having gone to all that trouble trying to get him out of the area just to fuck him over now.  It just didn't seem to make sense, especially after telling Verity that he was her friend and not 'her cat'.

He had no idea what he was in for.

'Guests' should have been slightly ominous, and perhaps it was, but there was so much to be worried about that Darren basically just let Persephone take him by the arm and lead him further down the rabbit hole on this one.  He understood that he was in over his head and that he had no way of knowing what was going to happen the rest of the night, but she still managed to take him completely and utterly off-guard when he officially met Kronos.  Not that anyone normal meeting that man for the first time could have been prepared, anyway.

They walked out and the man somehow managed to straighten a little further, all darkness and danger, and even with the predator mindset that came with being a leopard, Darren wasn't so sure about this one.  He felt a very feline need to be aggressive in the face of this level of nasty, but purely for the purpose of getting the hell out of dodge and not because he really thought he would do anything other than get smashed if he fought for real.  God, was he sick of being on the weak end of things.

Having Kronos' gaze fixed so completely on him didn't help the way he felt about the situation, not that hackles-raised worry that he was going to get his ass kicked, not in the least.  Kronos had a damn impressive presence to him, and then Persephone had to drop the big bomb, as the man was staring Darren down and already making him feel like a bird who'd been let out of its cage.  It wasn't a nice feeling, and not one he was particularly used to, and it only got worse.

Her father.  Her father.

"Oh," he said stupidly, eyes widening as he took the man in again with that in mind.  Her father.  Well, he could see where she got certain things.  Okay, he could deal with this.  The scary man was her father, and now that he wasn't quite so distracted by everything else, he could smell the feline about him.  Also vampire, which explained why the guy looked like he wasn't much older than Persephone.  Dysfunctional, yes, but why would that be a surprise?  He'd already known that Persephone's life had been very different from anything he'd ever known, so this was just shedding light on her past.  Yep, and he was in perfect shape for putting that information together.

Wrong.

His eyes were still wide and it was unlikely he'd regained much of his color since all of this had gone down, but he still drew himself up with a subtle (but entirely noticeable to a vampire), deep breath and offered Kronos his hand to shake.  This was all so ridiculous and wrong to begin with, but he'd been raised well and this was Persephone's father.  If he was wrong, then he'd have to deal with being awkward.  "It's nice to meet you, Kronos," he offered, and really, he wasn't lying.  It was much nicer to meet him as Persephone's friend and to be properly introduced than some of the possible alternatives, and he did like Persephone.  She was strange, but she was his friend.  That was hopefully enough.

It was good of Iloquil not to utterly abandon Justinian as soon as she saw Rajz, considering the jealous nature of gods and goddesses, but Justinian didn't often make a complaint where Rajz was concerned because of Niall and Alexander.  Alexander made a little more sense than Niall, simply because of their friendship during their mortal years, but other than blatant curiosity as to what would happen if he turned a human without blocking off his power, he'd had no real intentions when he turned Niall.  It was only after, when Niall had overcome most (not all) of the insanity Justinian had left him with that he and Iloquil had approached the younger vampire and his triste companion.  Rajz had been a very different situation, which was perhaps where Justinian's jealousy came from.  Fortunately, he had a very good handle on it.

Enough so that when Iloquil was done squealing and being twirled around the room, Justinian stepped up with a smile and a hug for the younger vampire.  It was at the point, what with their ages, that they were much more like a family than just friends or anything so formal as normal vampire hierarchy would suggest.  Justinian was in full agreement with Verity that it was going to be a wonderful evening, as was Niall.  The Master of Midnight, having returned sometime ago from overseeing the work his people were doing, was quite pleased with the way the night was turning out.

"I agree completely.  Your invitations were perfectly chosen, as usual," Niall told her, obviously pleased with the outcome.  Actually, he was pretty damn satisfied all around.  This had been a good move, both for appealing to his own wrath and indignation at being attacked (and very nearly killed, since the only thing that had protected him had been his own caution) and as a business decision.  They were removing the opposition and obtaining fresh product all at the same time.  Relations may be suffering, but it was also proving to be a very effective show of strength.  Let the guilds suffer.  The survivors would never make this mistake again.

 Persephone exhaled slowly as Kronos extended his hand and shook Darren's. "I've heard much about you," he said. His voice was booming and low, remnants of an accent long gone on the way he pronounced his words. "I trust she's not been too much trouble?" he asked, arching one of his black eyebrows. Persephone snorted loudly and then cut between them as she took Darren's arm again.

"We're going to be late," she warned him. She could deal with an introduction, but they could skip the 20 Questions and wait until they sat down. By then, she'd hope that the rest of them would be busy amusing themselves for her father to zero in on Darren again.

She practically dragged Darren down the hall, Kronos following behind them ominously. When they made it to the room where everyone was, the scent of food was wafting through the large double-doors on the other side. Where they currently stood was more like a cocktail room, with several comfortable chairs, bookcases, and a bar where a good-looking woman made drinks with grace.

A slender, tall brunette stood with her back turned, arms draped over the shoulders of two vampires in varying heights, both men. She had a martini glass in one hand, and as they entered the room she turned her head slightly, lined eyes wide. "Persephone darling!" she called. She left the company of the two men and walked smoothly to greet them.

"Iloquil," Persephone said. If Darren knew who she was, his face didn't betray it - when Persephone looked at him, he just had the same bewildered expression he'd been wearing for a while. "This is Darren. Darren, this is Iloquil." The way she said it made the woman sound like an event, not a person - which was true.

 Iloquil was glad that Rajz and Justinian had finally gotten over whatever it was the problem had been. She refused to acknowledge that she was jealous, or that she did anything out of spite, but she clearly did both of these things and she knew it. She just denied them because - well, because. She had taken a few moments to admire the artwork decorating the various rooms of the lived-in side of Midnight while the group walked towards the cocktail room for pre-dinner drinks. So very European, she thought. She took a drink from a Serpiente bartender, and walked back to Rajz and Justinian, who were speaking to eachother.

"So, how are my two boys?" she purred.

"Business is good, although I will say that Niall did take me by surprise when he told me what had transpired over here," Rajz said, raising his glass and his eyebrows to the Master as he stood with Verity and her newly arrived brother. The vampire with the long dreadlocks smirked, silver eyes flicking from Rajz to Niall.

"Of course, we wouldn't pass up an opportunity to follow suit," Timoziel said. "It's about time," he added.

"Indeed," Rajz said. "Europe has been torn apart. It's much like the old days," he acknowledged. "It is a pity that Alexander isn't here to enjoy this. I'm sure he would be thrilled with all of the carnage we've wrought."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Iloquil said. "He was always the rational one," she confessed. She tightened her grip on Justinian slightly, as if to convey her rue for his vanishing act. "I'm very eager to see what this surprise is you've all been discussing though. If my Rajz wasn't the main attraction, I'm incredibly interest to see what is."

At that, the door opened. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Persephone coming into the room - her brows raised. The feline approached with another feline in tow - an attractive feline. And of course, as though on cue, Kronos came in behind them, part of the shadows that surrounded the edges of the door.

"This is Darren," she was saying to Illoquil after she'd broken away from Rajz and Justinian, and Iloquil batted her lashes rapidly.

"Darren," she repeated. "So charmed," she purred. Instead of taking his hand, she leaned in and gave him light kisses on either cheek as though it were the most normal gesture in the world. "Did you just arrive?" She tilted her head a little, and her smile froze slightly as thoughts directed to her from Verity.

"Oh, I see," she said, holding two fingers over her lips. She blocked a small smile, and then laughed. "Well, how fortunate that you're here now." Tact, Iloquil.

Too much trouble?  HA!  This whole situation defined 'too much trouble', but Darren certainly wasn't going to point that out.  Fortunately, Persephone saved him from having to answer that and any further questions her father had for him by warning them that they were going to be late.  Yeah, he wanted that as much as he wanted to play 20 questions with Kronos, and he liked it about as much as he liked hearing that Kronos had heard much about him.  That couldn't have possibly been good, could it?

Maybe, depending on what Persephone had said, but still.  Around these people, the best he could hope to be was a mere curiosity, or so he thought.  That might change by the end of dinner.

He was in further over his head as soon as Persephone led him in to meet the other guests, and it was probably ridiculously lucky for him that the names he was going to be offered would draw a complete blank for him.  He wasn't a hunter, just possessed a little of their training, and he definitely wasn't familiar with the heavy-hitting vampires like most of them were.  He had no way of knowing that Iloquil, Justinian, Alexander, Rajz, Timoziel, Niall and Verity were typically on a 'no-touchie' list among the hunters, just because they were that bad.  He just knew that they were vampires, and that Verity was one of the bosses.  He'd gathered from what Persephone had said that Niall was also a big name, and he wasn't stupid enough that he couldn't put it all together, but that still left massive blanks where the others were concerned. 

Actually, despite his worry over who he was supposed to be having dinner with and the fact that Persephone was practically dragging him along because he wasn't moving quite fast enough for her, he couldn't help focusing in on the fantastic smell of food that was coming from the other side of the doors.  Forget cocktails, he was much more interested in the dinner itself, considering how long it had been since he'd eaten and just how crazy things had been since then.  The fact that it smelled so good really didn't hurt, either, but his attention was effectively returned to Persephone when a beautiful brunette addressed her, already on her way to greet them.

Iloquil.  The way Persephone said it, it was obviously very important to remember it, and realistically?  There was no way in hell he was going to risk forgetting one of these names, as if he could.  Every person in the room gave off a feeling like they were important, like they could bring your world down around your ears without the slightest effort, and yet they were all milling around and socializing with each other like nothing was going on.  All except for Iloquil, who was in his space, kissing his cheeks, and the gesture was so unexpected that he actually laughed a little at her question about his arrival, her hesitation and then her own laugh when she said it was fortunate he was there now.  Yeah, you could say that.

"I think that might actually be an understatement," he told her, and just like that, Iloquil might have broken some of his tension.  Imagine that. 

 "Yes, Raphael can pack a bit of a punch," she said. She smirked a little at Persephone, and then added, "but I believe he's on a level playing field with this one." She put her hand on his chest as she laughed again, to herself, and then tilted her head. "Come with me. I'm being terribly rude - I'll introduce you to the others."

And with that, Darren was yanked from Persephone and ushered towards the others. Persephone snatched a glass off of a passing by tray and downed the entire thing, only to meet eyes with Kronos as he gave her a curious look.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," he said, offering her a pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, it's not him I'm worried about," Persephone replied darkly. She had a funny feeling that everything hinged on the impression these vampires had of him.

"Darren darling, this is Justinian, my - well, husband just doesn't seem to cover it. Consort? God? Justin will do," she finally said with a shrug and a smile. "And this is Rajz. He's currently controlling Midnight in Europe. Oh, you've never been? It's utterly exquisite, though I guess I could see why you'd be hesitant. Come darling, don't be shy, he won't bite."

Persephone covered her face with her hand.

It was good to see all of these people again, and in the midst of a massive success such as this?  It was all the more exciting, especially with news that Midnight Europe was following suit.  Niall truly didn't have any intentions of completely eliminating the hunters, if only because they good for keeping things interesting (and he wasn't so foolish as to think that the rumors he'd heard of a Diamond guild weren't true), but kicking them into the dirt was a fun time. 

Persephone was not wrong in her assessment of the situation, or in thinking that quite a bit hinged on what these vampires thought of Darren.  She might not have understood the extent to which she was right, but neither did the vampires yet, so that could be excused.  Niall, for one, was interested to meet this cat that Verity had gone off to handle while he was occupied elsewhere, and he was actually already just a little appreciative of the leopard's presence just because his need for Verity had given Niall the opportunity to prepare the true surprise for the evening without Verity finding out.  When Niall had gone out to supervise and help with the attacks, he'd been rather successful.

Thus, his mood regarding Darren the leopard was already pretty optimistic, and then Iloquil brought the cat over to introduce him properly to them all (something that was all the more amusing considering where Verity had found the cat earlier), and he had to admit that he was impressed that the young man was somehow managing to relax.  His pulse spiked a bit when Iloquil introduced Rajz and mentioned Midnight Europe, his eyes widening enough that Niall actually laughed,  and Justinian (who had surprised Niall and offered his hand in a shake when introduced to the mortal feline) leaned in to touch Iloquil's shoulder, likely passing along a silent comment, as well.  If Niall were to guess, it would probably be to be nice and take into consideration the cat's traumatic experiences thus far that evening, but who was he to say for certain? 

"Darren, it's good to finally meet you," Niall offered smoothly when Iloquil turned the cat's attention to him, and he smirked at the feline's hesitation in also shaking his hand.  Obviously, the cat had a clue.  "Persephone was very concerned about your safety tonight, so I'm glad to see that you're here in one piece.  I hope Raphael didn't come on too strongly."

Credit where it was due, Darren ducked his head a little with what Niall figured was a self-deprecating kind of chuckle, and nodded.  "Oh, he did, but I'll live.  Thank you."  Whether the cat knew exactly what he was thanking Niall for, the Master wasn't entirely sure, but he approved of the respect.  This looked as though it would go quite well.  Who knew?  Perhaps this was a habit they should continue, and if Niall had his way, it would be Verity's beloved tiger and his lupine lover next.  Meeting that girl would be very interesting.

"You're welcome.  I trust you'll find some way of making us glad you did," he agreed, and ominous though it was, he didn't elaborate, instead letting Iloquil finish dragging the cat around as she pleased.  That in itself was entertaining.

 Niall wasn't the only one who was waiting for the time when Xavier would decide to clue he and Verity in as to Kimber's personality from a more intimate standpoint. Really, why he was so protective of her was rather frustrating - if Verity had wanted to harm her, she'd be a rug on her bedroom floor already. She smiled a little as she applied her lipstick in the mirror, and then handed the cosmetic off to a boy as he collected her glass from her.

She made her way to the others, who were now swarming around the new cat, and she grinned broadly. "Isn't he so cute?" she asked, reaching out to take his jaw between her thumb and index fingers. She turned so that her head was next to his and looked at Niall, batting her lashes. "I want to see the gorgeous people who made this boy," she said.

Now, that sounded like a polite comment about his parents and their good-looking nature, but what it actually translated into was 'Find his parents and bring them to me at once.' Yes, Verity fully expected that Martina and Zane Liten would be there in time for espresso in the sitting room, if not present for at least the main course.

Speaking of which, Hannah opened the door of the room, nodding graciously to the group. "The appetizers are going to be served if you'd like to be seated," she said. She exited the room, but a very rigid looking man in a white coat held the door open with a gloved hand in wait.

"It seems the rest of our conversation will have to take place at the table. Darren, I hope you've brought an appetite," she informed him, taking Niall's arm. Iloquil and Justin did the same, and Persephone finally managed to break away from her father and their heated discussion on whether acid was a viable method of training to catch Darren by the arm.

"Oooh, I think they like you," she said, her tone nearly a warning pitch. "Let's hope they stay in high spirits and don't break down into a screaming match during dinner. Niall is sometimes a topic of argument for Justin and Iloquil, but it seems like tonight she's too preoccupied."

As if on cue, Iloquil turned around and gave Persephone an "Oh, hush," wave, a dismissive gesture with her hand. Then she pointed to Justin and nodded to Rajz, as if to say, 'I have my own topic of argument'. She looked rather victorious and turned back around, to come face to face with Justin who had the most amused expression on his face over the entire exchange which he very obviously saw.

Persephone coughed politely and looked away.

This was fucking SURREAL.  If he'd stopped to consider even HALF of the implications of what these people were saying, he'd have probably broken down into a mess, especially with Niall's maybe-threat and Verity's mention of his parents.  He didn't know that when the words left Verity's mouth, Niall sent word to someone within the fortress to make it happen and then dismissed any and all concerns about it in favor of smirking as his companion called the cat cute and manhandled him just a little.  For his part, Darren took it all in stride with a very mild sort of amusement about it all, internally still very nervous while somehow managing to be infinitely grateful that they all were being friendly.  That they seemed to like him only made the situation weirder, but he wasn't about to complain and he sure as hell couldn't deny his hunger when Verity mentioned his appetite (he'd had a rough night and hadn't since well before his shift at work).  It was all just...strange.

Then, there was the fact that the vampires themselves were all acting so normal with each other than it was painful to think about what they really were, so he didn't.  It was easier not to think about how old they all had to be (since he didn't actually know) and what they were capable of, and when he didn't think about it all to focus instead on their interactions, they seemed like pleasant people.  Justin and Iloquil were almost like a set of proud parents come to visit (he had no idea how close to reality that was), with Niall and Verity proudly showing off their house and what they'd built for themselves.  It just sucked that 'what they'd built' was horrific, and that was another thing that he couldn't think about if he wanted to get through the evening without having a nervous breakdown.

Darren most definitely saw the exchange between Persephone and Iloquil as she took hold of him and lead him after the vampires, but he wasn't involved in the conversation and despite being only mortal and not nearly as trained as someone like Persephone, he caught the slightest tilt of Justin's head and wondered if a vampire that old could really miss what was going on.

Oh.  Nope, he didn't, but at least he looked like he thought it was kind of funny.  Darren couldn't help smiling, because again?  This was surreal.  Nobody would believe him in a million years that he'd been here and witnessed this, and dinner hadn't even started, yet.  "I like being liked, it seems like a good idea," he told Persephone in a quieter tone, but by no means was he trying to keep anyone from hearing.  In company like this, he knew it was impossible, so he wasn't even trying for that.

 As they were ushered into the dining area, which had a massive banquet table, chairs, cozy place settings and the like, Persephone tightened her jaw a little. There were still more surprises, she knew, she just didn't know what. She had no privy information, either - but she did know that Verity would have covered every inch of Darren's life rather quickly while she spoke to him - not by question, of course, but by rifling through his mind. The Triste was old, and had much practice in the same way their vampires had. She'd seen everything in the blink of an eye, and anything she questioned him on after the initial glance was a mere formality in his introduction to her. She couldn't very well just ignore him because she knew everything he'd say, could she? That would be a sign of a terrible hostess.

"Of course being liked seems like a good idea," she said, side-stepping a man with a decanter of wine who was already approaching the people that had been seated. "But trust me, your interests quickly become their interests."

She had little time to warn him beyond that before her chair was pulled out for her, and she had no other choice but to seat herself. She really couldn't believe the Thanksgiving-like setting that the table held - flowers, lead crystal glasses, decanters and ewers otherwise of substances that resembled sparkling waters, flavoured drinks - even blood. She'd never seen Verity go this far out of her way for a dinner, before.

"Fancy," she said under her breath, brows perking as she caught Darren's eyes. She was thankful they'd been seated together. She could stab him with one of her many silver (yes, real silver) forks should he open his mouth to speak out of turn, or worse, try to put a foot in.

 Made it her business, indeed. As she sat down next to Niall, who took his place at the head of the table, she wondered how exactly her newly-invited guest would react to all of this. Darren... he was enjoyable, but he was a novelty. He was in the middle of the biggest war that Midnight had waged since the burning times, when Jeshickah had made it her personal mission to kill everyone who had a hand in the destruction of her pride and joy the first go-round. And now, an attempt, however feeble, had been made on the life of the Master of Midnight, and they were retaliating again in a similar fashion. She wondered when the cat would outlive his entertainment value and she'd be forced to either kill him or add him to her own collection.

She didn't really deign to have to watch Persephone sulk, either, so she supposed she could just cut him loose. She did enjoy the idea that he was cousin to the Crimson Guild leader, and that he had so very little power he was aware of his actual negative pull against them (like gravity - were they all falling, Darren lacked so much pull he'd fall up). Oh, who was she kidding? She watched him unfold his napkin and marvel at the sheer amount of forks at his place setting, clasping her fingers together. She smiled, mostly to herself. Niall was saying something to Justinian, who sat to his other side, and they were both laughing. Everyone was laughing, everyone was having a good time. In part, it was due to this feline.

She did fancy him, she supposed, and deferred to Niall's opinion about allowing him to live. When that changed, she would revisit the idea. Of course, that didn't mean she didn't want to see what made him tick. He was a guest in her home and she was the Mistress of Midnight - she was allowed to play any game she chose to suit her fancy.

"I believe we have a late addition to our party," she said suddenly, standing as the doors opened. In strode Raphael, arm linked with a petite and rather stunning, olive-skinned woman with a mountain of dark hair. So, Verity thought, sizing the old vampire up. This is who captures the hearts of the felines so. What an interesting dinner, indeed.

"Raphael, who might your friend be?" she asked, her voice edging in razors.

The trainer, who looked a might different than the last time Darren had seen him (what with the being pained in the mouth by Persephone and all), released the brunette from his grasp, walking her out two lengths so that all could gaze upon her. To Darren who had no idea of their history, this was a shock - to Raphael, this was a Sunday dinner.

"Mistress, allow me to present an old and dear friend. Ekaterina von Jungingen, of Tizoc Theron," he said. Katya fell into a low bow at his words, though her mouth had twisted into a hate-filled sneer at their content. She didn't need everyone in the room to know who sired her; even Darren hadn't known that. She didn't make it a point to betray her lineage, if only because she enjoyed being underestimated. She was much more strategic than people would give her credit for, but thankfully her two power-hungry sisters often overshadowed her and allowed her to quietly gain loyalty.

"Of Theron," Verity said. "How curious. I've never heard of you."

THAT had been an insult, based strictly on the way she saw Darren and Persephone react to her very presence. She knew who Katya was; she knew the lines of most vampires who had any ability worth mentioning. But she didn't have to admit it, and she plainly had just feigned ignorance for the sake of seeing just how this vampire would react.

She smiled blithely at Darren. "I understand she is also a friend of yours, my dear?" she asked/teased, her tone hard to interpret from its saccharine sound. "I felt you wouldn't mind having yet another familiar face while we conversed and dined." And she'd kept that bit quiet from Niall, too. The last thing she needed was him getting in the way of her petty jealousies.