The Sinister Puppet was known to be a club akin to one of BDSM. It was grungy - far grungier than even the White Mice club not too far away - and was lit with predominantly black lighting. Black was the colour of choice, and crimson was a colour that appeared far too often for anyone's comfort. It was a place for vampires, people pretending to be vampires, and ignorant idiots to gather, wash down some choice alcoholic beverage, and grate against each other in sexual movements. When the former Tarepha leader - a woman by the name of Nyx - owned the club, she could often be seen among the leather-clad throng, choosing a victim, and bringing him back up to her rooms, where his screams were lost to the music that school the walls of the refurbished warehouse.

The new leader, one Euthalia, did no such thing. Indeed, she felt no connection to the club whatsoever, and was but a mere name on the owner's lease. None of the people that came to the club could ever remember seeing her, or even imagine why Nyx had sold the club. The only time they even knew this Euthalia Akakios to take part in the club's melodrama was when one of her goons - a rather large, built, Native American - came down to fetch someone... Or when someone went up to see her. Very few people did, however. That first night someone went up and came down screaming was enough to tell them that whoever Euthalia Akakios was, she was a power to be reckoned with.

They had no idea.

Up the winding metal stairs, past the round tables situated on the catwalk, and into the maze of rooms that occupied the second story, there was a door. It looked oddly out of place in this place underworld, for it was painted a bright white. If you were to press your ear to the door, you wouldn't hear the grunge music from down below, but the soft, dulcet melodies of Mozart.

She sat this evening in a white winged chair inlaid with golden threads. Her small head was bent over a book that was so ancient looking, it seemed like the pages would crumble at her touch, but they didn't. Her red-brown hair was curled into its usual ringlets, tight around her face and kept back with a large blue ribbon. Her dress was all lace and white with a blue sash around her waist. White buckle shoes dangled off the edge of the chair. She looked the very epitome of innocence, like a young butterfly floating upon the ruins of ages long past. Her feet bobbed back and forth.

The room itself was like a portal into another realm. The walls were a soft white over pink, and everything was lace and innocence. A large canopy bed done in Victorian fashion was located right next to the door. There was also a small tea table to be found, with porcelain dolls seated around it. For the most part, they looked like Euthalia herself did: faces kept in a false smile. There was one, however, that had blood and a lump of flesh that was undeniable clinging to its face. Whether it was there accidentally was anyone's guess... but anyone who'd ever met Euthalia knew that she didn't do much by chance. It was all carefully calculated.

She looked up from her reading suddenly, her blue-green eyes distant. "Another one has come," she said quietly, her voice holding no emotion. She looked over her shoulder at a servant who was waiting there. "Fetch the tea." The servant scuttled off into the next room, before coming back with a beautiful china tea set. He set it on the table. "Leave me." He did as he was asked.

Slipping off the chair, she placed the book that was almost half her side on the cushions, one hand resting upon them. Her face was a blank mask, as blank as any doll's.

She may have looked innocent, but she was truly the personification of apathy.

Sergei had only just arrived at "The Sinister Puppet" moments ago, he had just fled the Unmei Dojo and for fear that perhaps his foes would seek him out he fled back to the only place he knew in the city he could be safe from them. He was new to the city but knew this was a safe place for Tarepha.

He was weakened and his hair a mess from the fight. On the outside his facial expressions made him seem like a lost face in the crowd which he normally bared a look of sadness across his face and his eyes bared the torment of his past pains, unless he was angry of course, on the inside Sergei's thoughts ran wild and violent. He had the woman right where he wanted her, before the other man showed up. He licked his lips just at the rememberance of what her blood tasted like.

Sergei walked through ignoring most of what’s going on as his eyes were fixated on the floor. His pride took quite a hit during the fight, retreating is a custom he had not grown fond of, and having to retreat to a human disgusted him to no end as also did the fact that two vampires came to her rescue. The only answer for him was to find and kill this woman to remove the stain from his mind. His fishnet shirt was torn a bit more than usual revealing his frail and pale body. He had enough sense to wash the blood off of him before coming around mortals so that wasn't much of a factor, the only thing visible in his appearance was his clothing and his red hair a mess. But...that still made him blend in with the crowd atmoshpere.

As he walked paying little to no attention to his surroundings, he found himself looking at a set of winding metal stairs. Sergei had heard people speak of a the owner of the club a girl on the second floor, but has yet to meet her. Sergei felt an attraction to climb up the stairs and even if he didn't want too. He had little to no choice in the matter; someone was up there that he had to meet in person and he sensed it was one of his own kind but more powerful than himself. He almost felt as if something was calling to him...could've just been his own self psyching himself out or not but either way Sergei began his way up the stairs to the second floor. Possibly, it was just a mere attraction to the power he sensed.

He examined his surroundings and made his way past round tables and found himself walking through rooms until he saw a bright white door. Sergei stepped up to the door and looked at how much it contrasted the rest of the building. He felt a presence of another vampire behind the door. He ran his hand down the door softly and paused asking himself the same question we all do from time to time...should he knock or just walk in. For fear of a sign of disrespect to the woman he knocked softly and awaited a response from the other side.

Euthalia may not have had telepathy, but it was no difficult feat to sense those that belonged to her. Oh, they may think themselves their own masters, but she knew better. She knew that under her tutelage, the Tarepha coven could become more powerful than it had been in ages. All they had lacked in the past was a strong leader. Well, they had one now, and they were no more than puppets to her cause. Only Cheveyo would be immune to it, for he was her dearest friend. The rest would dance upon her strings. She would instate coven law and practices like no other into her coven. They would have the power she so desired.

She said none of this out loud, not to anyone. The Amman didn't frighten her, nor did any of the other coven leaders. If they killed her, she died, and was therefore not suitable for the position she'd carved for herself afterall. Her silence was for her own benefit. She needed to make the proper connections, and recruit more to her cause. If that meant keeping it secret and playing along with the laws of the city, she would do so. Euthalia was one who had learned to bide her time extremely well. A child she may appear to be, but she was no innocent. If anything, her exterior was more a blessing than the curse. It hid her true purpose; her true self - the self that only ever emerged when she was particularly angry. Anger didn't come easily to her, so it was rare that her facade was broken.

The one outside her door was truly a child in her eyes. She wondered if he would be of any use to her at all, but pushed the thought away. Even the smallest of minions could be of some use. However, she'd had a little birdie tell her that he'd gotten into some trouble earlier this evening. Naughty boy. They'd have to address that at sometime in the future. Now? Perhaps, perhaps not.

It was time to begin the game.

After all, what point was there in having such an exterior if one did not use it to one's advantage? Nothing. Therefore, it was only logical that she pretend to be what she appeared to be. It meant that she could learn who was truly loyal to her, who truly respected her... and who did not. Those that did not were dealt with swiftly, and learned not to cross her. Euthalia was not above torture, although she hardly ever did it herself. That's what Cheveyo was for. The only one who lived outside her buggle of apathy.

"You may enter," she called, her voice soft and innocent as downy feathers.

Sergei wanted to get that feeling of belonging to something again. Unaware that he stood before the door that would lead him into the presence for the first time of the leader of the Tarepha. As she gave him permission to enter, Sergei slowly grasped the doorknob and gave it a turn and pushed the door open. He stood before the child like vampire, and felt very small. She looked like a little girl but her cold eyes and just being in her presence made Sergei feel unworthy.

His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out what she was to him. What intimidated him about her? He looked at her with his sad tormented eyes and lost and confused look painted on his face and in that moment she might’ve realized Sergei did carry a lot of child like qualities. He carried a lot of insecurities and a lot of confusion about himself. He’s been alive for 85 years and still he had the same troubled look he did when he became a vampire at the age of 16. He was a bundle of dysfunction, their was a very thin line between his sadness and his madness. He didn’t know what to say except for.

“ Hello” spoke Sergei softly.” My name is Sergei Konstantinov.”

There was no flicker of surprise on Euthalia's face as Sergei entered. In fact, there was absolutely no chance in her facial expression whatsoever. She was still, still in that way that lizards and snakes have right before they lash out and grab their prey. At the same time though, she might've been one of the porcelain dolls that were littered throughout the room. There was an innocent perfection to her, and if she had been a doll, she would've been the best work of some dollmaker's career. The fact remained, however, that she was not a doll. She was not a girl, either. She was a woman, well over two thousand years old.

Euthalia had learned a long time ago not to let preconceptions rule her. If your enemy gained even one moment of surprise, it could cost you the advantage. Nothing ever surprised her, and if it did... she hid it. It was controlled. It's what she'd worked her entire existence towards. The person walking in her door could've been the handsome Adonis - the youth that captured the love of both Persephone and Aphrodite - and Euthalia Akakios wouldn't have bat an eye. Beauty didn't beckon to her. She had no desire to be surrounded with excrutiatingly lovely things, nor did she desire sex in her child's body. There was only one ultimate thing that drove Euthalia in the end - power. It was not reckless, but carefully thought out years, even centuries, in advance.

"Welcome Sergei Konstantinov," she said, adding a childish lilt into her voice and making it seem that much brighter. "Do you know who I am?"

With a smile that seemed to light up her face, she walked forward, her blue eyes glittering with cheer. There seemed nothing feigned in this expression, but the truth was that it was all a lie. Few, however, could pick it out. It was another thing that she'd practiced an oh so long time. She walked forward until she stood before him, beaming up at him. She took his larger hand in her smaller ones, like a girl holding the hands of her big brother.

"I'm so happy you came," she gushed, beaming. All traces of the cold, apathetic being were gone now. "My dollies do so love company. Will you stay for tea with us?" He didn't have a choice, it would seem, as she pulled him along to a chair. "You sit here." Wandering to the other side of the table, she hoisted herself up in a chair opposite him, having to fold her feet under her so she could see properly over the table. Picking up the teapot, she poured the liquid - red blood, still warm from whatever body it had come from - into his cup, and into her own, before folding her hands decorously in her lap. "Sugar?"

The smile never left her face.

Sergei was often looked upon as a weakling. The vampire who turned him and took him under his wing along with two other vampires he turned, thought of him as the weakest of the three. His eyes hung low and lips always still never to crack a smile, might get a smirk out of him if he’s doing someone harm. His figure was very slim his ribs stuck out slightly from his skin and his shorts were low enough you could see his pelvic bones point out just below where his fishnet shirt ended. Physically he looked like he could be broken into two without even trying. His appearance of being sad made him often prone to people trying to take advantage of him or bully him. Sergei loved the fact people underestimated his abilities. Made the rush of his kill so much more pleasuring.

On a flip side to his appearance, He exploits his prey this way by playing it off as he’s a suffering man, he found it fun to gain the trust of a human and toy with their emotions just before he would kill them in the most gruesome ways. Behind his shell on the outside, inside lurked a beast. He would play into the human’s empathy for people who suffer. Emotions were a funny thing to Sergei, how he could confide in some woman and than later kill them the confusion in that woman the human is going through exhilerates him. Sergei loves toying with people whether it is emotionally or physically. Mind games were his thing and it brought him great pleasure. He was a tormented being, he just actually found a use for it...a use that would seem rather cold to most.

The woman spoke to him with greetings and asked him “If he knew who she was”. He didn’t but before Sergei could answer she was walking up to him and taking him by his hand and escorting him to the Tea Party and continued speaking. One phrase caught his attention though. “I’m so happy you came”. Did she know he was coming? He looked at the beautiful chine tea set as she told him about her dollies and how they loved company. Than asked her if Sergei would stay for tea. “You sit here” she spoke. Sergei took his seat as she moved to the other side of the table. She took her seat across from him tucking her feet under herself to make it to where she could see over the table. She picked up the tea pot and poured the crimson colored beverage he loved into his cup, as she did for herself also. She spoke again saying “Sugar?”. Sergei wasn’t fond of sweets. So he shook his head politely no. The earlier feelings of intimidation had left as she spoke to him.

“ No, but thank you for the generousity,” Sergei spoke kindly letting the words roll off his lip in his Russian accent. “But I’d be happy to join you and your Dollies for a bit of tea.

Sergei held up his cup to a friendly toast or cheers to the woman and took a drink of the blood she had graciously shared with him. He looked at the room decorated in its innocence and looked at all the dolls around the room and at Euthalia. The room was exceptionally bright and happy looking. Too him a lot like a child’s room would be. He wanted to ask her about what it stood for, but thought maybe he should start out slow…maybe ask her who she was first.

“ You asked me moments ago, if I knew who you was” Sergei spoke looking at for the first time into the eyes of his leader unknowingly.” I am not aware of who you are. Would you be ever so kind enough to tell me?

Sergei normally wouldn't have been so generous to a new face. But she was different, he felt it was appropriate to adress her in a well mannered way. She has been kind to him which was something Sergei had forgotten how it felt.

By the look of them, it seemed that Euthalia and her coven member couldn’t be any more different. He was flamboyantly modern – including the exterior sullen expression – while she appeared to be cheerful, and traditionally Victorian. Certainly no little girl in these modern ages would be as polite and decorous as she was showing herself to be. Children were a reflection of the times. In that sense, and many others, Euthalia was not a child. She was not born in Victorian age, but much earlier in a country most people had never heard of. Still, to anyone who didn’t have children of his or her own, she might appear to be the ideal child. She was soft-spoken, and well mannered, and – above all else – seemingly innocent.

If they knew the dark shadows of ideas that flew through her mind, they would not be thinking so lightly of her. Even her own parents, long dead, would have probably been outraged or disconsolate respectively. They would deny that she’d ever been her child, and was instead some demon or some such thing in their child’s body. Well, they were close enough, yet very far away. No, she was not the daughter they had known two and a half millennia ago, nor would she ever be again, but she was most definitely not some demon possessing her body. One would think that a demon would choose a body where it was more likely to be able to pass unseen. Such was not the case with a particularly lovely child. Years of being confined to the shadows had taught her manipulation, and much had changed her.

She was a woman in her own right, but one that would never be able to look it. Instead, she played the child.

“Don’t be silly!” she laughed, waving his comment about generosity away with a hand movement akin to that that any socialite worth her weight would have been proud of. It was a very adult laugh, but in her voice, it sounded only like chiming bells. “Cheveyo says it’s rude not to have tea waiting for people when they come to visit. You should always be polite.” She said the last part in a deep voice that one could only assume was supposed to be an imitation of this Cheveyo.

In truth, Cheveyo had said nothing of the sort. He wasn’t the type to worry about proper tea etiquette. He was the type that was good at carving people up. It always made a good show, in her opinion.

Nothing but polite smiles showed on Euthalia’s face, but inside, she was almost annoyed. He hadn’t known who she was. She couldn’t really blame that for him, as she was certain that he’d only just arrived in Demaitre. That and she was secretive enough that few who didn’t live in Demaitre knew of her exterior appearance. She wasn’t as Nyx had been. That girl had been disgustingly frivolous. Euthalia was once again glad that she’d killed her.

“Oh,” said Euthalia, her mouth forming into a perfect ‘o’ for a moment. “How rude of me!” She beamed again. She turned to the doll with blood and flesh on it. “This is Bridget, and I’m Euthalia Akakios.” There was no foreboding tone in her voice, and nothing to give away the fact that she’d was much more dangerous than she appeared to be.

Sergei sat in a room that was decorated beautifully, and he sat in his chair dressed in dark clothing. Very much of this era. It could be looked upon as immature, but perhaps it had its benefits. He seemingly fit in for the most part; Sergei was all about being conniving. Although, he is attracted to dark things and doesn’t mind dressing like the local teenagers. He could get close to the people he wanted to kill with ease and looking the way he did didn’t make him an open target. He’d just be looked upon as a Goth kid like the rest of the teenage movement.

Sergei had been alone for years now. Coming to Demaitre is his first interaction with other vampires for a bit of time now. Lilia left him and Anastasia was stolen from him. Yaroslav betrayed him. His former leader abused him and controlled him by means of domination, and took away everything from him, leaving him as a lone existence. Something that would tear Sergei apart for many years. He was strong willed though, over the years he learned how to depend on himself solely. Sergei had little trust in others, after those event and only depending on himself.

Sergei wasn’t easily fooled. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Euthalia might’ve looked innocent, but he wasn’t that ignorant on the subject of portraying ones self as something they weren’t. At first, he might’ve thought this woman might’ve been as sweet as she acted.

As she spoke to him about the politeness of having a tea party ready for someone whose coming to visit. Sergei thought to himself, she must’ve been Tarepha or otherwise how’d she know he was coming. Vice Versa, that must’ve been why he knew she was up here.

She introduced herself and her dollie. Was this similar to a Tea Party that a kid would have? Sergei played along.

“ Nice to meet you, Euthalia Akakios” Sergei spoke “ Beautiful name, may I ask Euthalia, are you the leader of I?”

Sergei was very much new to Demaitre and there was a lot to be learned. He bowed his head politely.

“ Greeting to you as well Bridgette” Sergei spoke like a gentleman.

Sergei brushed his messed up hair from his face waiting attentively for her response with still no signs of emotion in his face.

Behind the smiling façade, she was studying him. Oh, it wasn’t just with her eyes. Eyes, after all, could be tricked. They could be blinded by the physical, and not see the core of a being. No, she was studying him with all the power of Tarepha at her disposal, probing him with her power to see his own. Would he realize this? Probably not. If he did, he was far more powerful than she could have anticipated, and would be an ideal puppet to use for whatever means necessary. She would expand the Tarepha, gather more power for her darling members, and hold a position of power higher than Nyx had ever held. People would fear her, and rightly so. All she needed to do was implement her plan.

“How very polite, he is!” said Euthalia in a stage whisper to her doll. She beamed at Sergei, and smoothed out Bridget’s hair. It was an oddly maternal gesture, and looked odd on one so young looking. “A very fine guest for our tea party. A very fine guest indeed.” Her eyes glittered now, with something like amusement or happiness. It was hard to tell. They looked almost false, like a package of something generic you’d buy at the supermarket. Still, she looked for all the world like a young girl.

So. He did suspect who she was. That was good. Had he not caught on, she might’ve grown mildly frustrated. If there was one thing she did not like, it was not being recognized. A tad contradicting, perhaps, since she rarely went out, but such trivialities mattered not. The fact of the matter was that she was the Leader of the Tarepha, and she was damned well going to get the respect she deserved, even if she had to torture every member into nothing but a bag of bones screaming for mercy to do it. Euthalia cared nothing for an individual member, and everything for the Tarepha as a whole.

Giggling, she replied, “Why, of course I am, silly! You don’t suppose I’d be living in a dreadful place like this if I didn’t have to, do you?” Another giggle. Picking up her tea cup, she lifted her pinky in the air and took a sip with all the decorum of a Victorian Queen. “That’s why I invited you up here for tea. I always like to meet the people in my coven. It won’t do if we’re not friends, will it?” Beaming smile.

Inside, Euthalia felt like gagging.