"Alone, Andrea, yes, again." With a coquettish wink, Llhena lifted her small black-beaded handbag from the edge of the desk at which he was receiving the dining guests for the Petit Paris.

She had reservations, as she frequently did. Long ago she had been a poor Scottish villager. That was in the beginning, but in all the time that she had lived she had had considerable time to amass a large fortune, though she kept that tastefully to herself. She liked this restaurant, however, prefered it above most others. Andrea was one of the hosts for this time... She always arrived at a quarter past eleven, and ordered a simple glass of wine, but she would never drink.

She glided over the floor with a model's grace, skin the colour of a very fair Mortal woman's. Her black dress was simple, swirling around her thighs and stopping a few inches above her knees. She was just tall enough, but not so that she overshadowed most men, and the hourglass shape had remained with her... She had been one othe prettiest village girls, but now that seemed so funny... So many things were funny. Bared shoulders would have been chilled if she were not so used to being cold. A diamond solitaire hung in the hollow of her throat. It was simple, elegant, and not very large, but of a very high quality. Two dangling pendants matched the charm with smaller glimmers of the light they caught. A bracelet with three of the small jewels completed the simple adornment, but no ring rested on her fingers.

She chuckled softly as she set her purse on the small table off along one of the sides of the Petit Paris and carefully made sure that her dress would not wrinkle, slipping into the booth, and scooting over a little, shaking back her dark curls as she placed her handbag beside her and waited for her usual order.

He asked what she would have.

She replied fluidly with her usual reply and a curve of her full, closed lips.

With an inclination and a brief smile at the consistency of their concise encounters, the man moved off to serve her, returning when he had what she had requested.

It's rich contents were always the same dark, burgundy colour, but not a drop passed her lips. She had loved the fruit of the vine once... Somehow now, though, it no longer provided the balm it had back then. Wine was rare enough when she was a child (ah, how long ago!) and certain rougher beverages were to be had. She had been partial to heather ale, though her mother had diluted and doctored the stuff until you could hardly tell it was alcoholic... Hmhm... Her mother...

Before all the trouble with the soldiers, and their unwanted construction, her mother and father had been the epitome of a loving couple, model parents and members of their little village community... My, how times changed.

One slender hand lifted and carressed the crystal wine glass. She held it, bringing it up as though she would drink, but wafting it beneath her nose, eyes greedily taking in the garnet colour. She set it down and twisted the stem carefully, gently swirling the contents, and letting the sight, the memory of taste, take her back...

She reached up to brush aside one of the tickling tendrils of her hair, sighing softly with eyes rivoted on the wine glass before her, reacquainting her with so many forgotten things... This was always her time to reflect...

Andriette watched the other vampiress from her dark corner, she had wandered in to the restraunt after a feeding. She had on a long black skirt and a white ruffled blouse, her hair was pulled up in a loose bun. A few small hairs fell across her forehead, she sent the woman a telepathic message, Welcome...

"Mmm..."

Llhena purred mentally. She had heard the voice easily, but rather than let it interupt her reverie, she simply seemed to ignore it, though really she was only waiting.

Her finger dipped into the waterglass beside her and rimmed the wine glass, causing a crystal ring to emanate from the booth in which she sat. The sound was deafening, almost painfully so, in her keen ears, but she did so enjoy it. It was a fine sound - clear and beautiful and painful at once. Nix the clear part, and it would be a representation of life.

The fabrics that draped the windows and the arrangement of the restaurant in a way that was both elegant, open, and secluded at once had caught her attention on her first visit, and impressed her to repeat the event. After a while, she knew the staff by name, and they knew her, when she would come, etc.

As with Andrea and the waiter, however, no one ever acted any differently, always asking the same questions, getting the same answers, and showing the same polite civility.

The wine was so deep, so rich. The garnet colour appealed to her, and she yearned to sip it, but knew from experience that it would do little good, and possibly considerable harm. Too bad that Immortality excluded some of the benefits of Humanity. It was a gritty, rugged in between.

Oh, many of the Immortals lived long, wealthy, 'successful' lives, but at the same time they were lacking. They could never really use the money as they wished, because over the course of their tireless lives, things were too unstable. Plus, wealth was little when you could not taste, could not feel...

Ah, yes. The diamonds glittering against her fair skin were an outward sign of prestige and position, but in reality they meant very little. Such a thing would be best placed on the lover of an adoring husband - or even a diamond of far less quality, because there was meaning behind it. For Llhena, as for many of her kind, such considerations had long since ceased from being a consideration.

So she finally deigned to tip her chin about (not snobby, generally, but those who are slightly out of their minds have a tendency to be a bit arrogant at times) and let her eyes roam for the source of the message.

"Quoi?"

She mentally queried the unseen voice, unconcerned and disninterested, though in truth that was not totally so... or perhaps not. Who could be sure? Doubtless not even she. Especially not Llhena.

The wine sloshed around in the glass, swirling over the smooth crystal in little jewel-coloured waves. Mm... Soothing...

(( :blink: Wow... look at my short post...))

Andriette tilted her head in a relaxed manner, Vous avez- un buisness dans cet endroit ? She ordered a glass of wine from the woman-servant, Dana, the waitress was small and petite, blonde curls topped her head.
Andriette had come in here before, she'd been thinking of buying this restaurant, but now she wished only to drink from one of the cooks. Her previous meal had been less than satisfactory, the stupid young club hopper had been popping pills for most of the day, a fact Andriette had learned only after sipping the wasted creatures blood.
She looked at the other vampiress, this interruption needed to be removed. Another of her kind would be a great road block in her scheme to knock the humans in this place out.

"Non... Je souhaite apprécier seulement le bon vin dans la paix... Y a-t-il quelque chose sans compter que la nourriture qui a votre intérêt?"

Her thoughts continued to roll in French, though she idly wondered why she had chosen that particular language... Perhaps the restaurant... She was never one for logical thought patterns, however. She might start speaking Mandarin at a summer party with Chinese lanterns. Crazy, ludicrous, even; yet so very like her.

Her eyes slid smoothly to the side, running over the room until she thought she saw a glimpse of the 'speaker' between the fronds of a ferny potted plant that shivered in the air conditioned room. The woman was seated, but there was a waitress blocking her view partially so that she could not be certain...

The age of the other vampire in the room failed to get a reaction from her. She was of a goodly age, not too old - near her own age, relatively... Taking another mock sip of wine, her memories began to blur as she focused on the present, a little tense at finding another vampire in her place of peace. It was improbable that she would not have met one at some time... So she was not greatly surprised - if a bit disappointed, perhaps - at this development.

A languid attitude that was only partly feigned fell over her form, still postured gracefully in her seat, but with a more indolent, apathetic aire about her.