tampered | as the blood runs down the walls [in-progress]

as the blood runs down the walls [in-progress]

When; Feb. 25th
Rating; PG-13 for discussions of the grotesque
Characters; Grell [

der_freischuetz]
Summary; After this discussion, two interesting people set a date for dinner.
Log;

It was with a spring in his step and a cheery tune on his lips that Grell Sutcliff made his way across the City to the restaurant at which he'd reserved a table that night. Of course, they'd technically dined together just the other day, but such a dinner as that... this was much more sedate, much more intimate. After all, the good lady did wish to hear a story, and Grell Sutcliff, who at times so missed that persona, Jack the Ripper, was more than willing to provide one.

He'd already sent a bouquet, and he'd deemed another bundle would only be tacky, so it was only a single white rose he carried tonight, and since it was a public restaurant, the surprise dash of red was concealed between the petals- his particular brand of gift. Along with his usual brand of fashion, flashy crimson coat and the merry click-click-clicking of his low heels as he approached the front doors.

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Waiting for him there, black suit and red tie in place, Rip van Winkle smiled when she saw him.

Apart from enjoying his company, however, there also was another reason to this meeting: Curiosity, all started with the letters of one ironic curse. What was it now, this tale of his? Little need to speculate, though, she was going to hear it soon enough.

At first she had been surprised to hear their dinner was to happen in a public restaurant. Although with the City's known vampire population, they surely could provide her with something. Just a pity that the approved somethings usually suffered in taste for it, but that could hardly be helped, could it.

"Why, hello," she said and since that alone did not quite fit, "good evening."

It was an immediate response for those few who had garnered his favor, and so Grell dipped in to that peculiar cross between a curtsy and a bow that he did so oddly well once he stood before the Millennium vampire.

"My mistress, my good sir~" A smirk to his lips, half-joking, half-serious, professing the single rose with a flourish for Rip to take from his gloved fingers.

"I trust I didn't keep you waiting long? It would be so very remiss of me."

He was the only one to address her like this and did she ever like it.

Truth be told though, Rip was not used to flowers. Much less getting them as presents. She looked at him in surprise before accepting it, the rose going from one glove to the next. As she held it up to appreciate, she spotted its hidden touch of red. A grin flashed across her face.
"Oh, thank you! Considerate and lovely."

A few minutes, not too long. "You didn't at all, no." Then a sweeping gesture to the doors- "Shall we go in?"

Grell considered himself a master of the ways of flirtations and flattery, whether he was acting as the gentleman or the lady, and so flowers- well that was a necessity. One simply changed the sorts of flowers depending on their recipient. And for Rip, well, only these would do.

"Of course~ I don't know about this place's... wine selection." Red wine, of sorts, for this lady here. "Allow me."

Moved to get said door, holding it open with a flourish.

[ooc; argh sorry for the big delays ;;]

"Ah- thank you!" Of course. Her gentleman in red in one moment, her blood-stained lady in the next, all depending on context. "And let that be my worry," she said. "After my lady was so generous the last time, it would hardly be appropriate to be picky now." Playful courting or amusing playing, what did it matter.

And so she entered the restaurant, expecting an intimate table in a corner for privacy. Hadn't he also said candlelight? She wouldn't be surprised either, if he had kept true to that.

At the very least candles did make a splendid light for a little story about Jack the Ripper.

What Rip expected, indeed, Grell delivered. At least- he delivered through reservation and properly mannered threatening of the wait-staff. They were shown quickly to the corner booth, and indeed, a waiter soon arrived to light the candle, there, bowing before disappearing once more, Grell taking the masculine roll briefly to remain standing until Rip took her seat.

"I hope this will be to your liking? It's so comfortable for conversation, after all."

[ooc; sob I finally think we're out of the woods]

Ah, the advantages of a little well-placed threatening! Convenient, wasn't it. And such a good service! Rip didn't attend these restaurants often, perhaps she should have.

"It is." Of course, the style was a little too ...romantic for her, but on the other hand, not a bad atmosphere at all- She waited for him to take the other seat, opposite her.
"You did make sure to make it a pleasant set-up."

"It would be only proper, of course." He finally took his seat with his usual manner, smoothed down the front of his waistcoat, adjusted the fall of his crimson coat and crossed his legs daintily, keeping his elbows off the table though he leaned forward.

"For an evening in which I relate such a beautiful tale?" Almost purred, so very quietly over to the table so that there was no change of overhearing.

Rip placed the rose she still had been holding in one hand carefully on the side of the table.
Her enhanced senses had no trouble picking the words up, and yet she leaned forward as well to return the act for his sake. Besides, she liked how that gave it the feeling of a shared conspiracy.

"Not one for letting the suspence drop, hm?" Her own voice lowered, a tone of amused eagerness. "You have me curious to hear it."

Indeed, it was far more for effect than anything. Grell, too, had enhanced hearing and senses, but... the conspiracy was part of the charm, to him. His fingers laced in pristine gloves, lips curled in to a sweet, sweet, smile.

"What do you know about Jack the Ripper?"

Glasses dangerously low on her nose, her usually half-sleepy eyes seemed more awake as she looked at him directly. What a question. Although with all the build-up involved, it could be an important one. Better to pay twice as much attention! Once for her own curiosity and once for the chance it might be beneficial information for Millennium - how tiresome it was, this change, that had not been her role to do so at all-

"Only what is famous." A slight shrug. "He killed women in the late nineteenth century and they never caught him, yes?"

"Aaaah, that it's become famous is the best part~" Grell sighed happily, unable to prevent his voice from swelling with pride.

"They never caught him because, well- two things." Unlaced his hands to hold up two leather clad fingers, pursing his lips almost childishly, like a young girl with a secret she was dying to tell.

"One- it wasn't just one man. It was a couple, see?" His precious, bloodied, Madam Red in her prime. "And two- I'm here, aren't I?"

She froze, staring at him with wide eyes. The one ever so untame curl of her hair trembled slightly in front of her glasses.

What. Had he really said...? Jack the Ripper in the City! Nononono. Grell being Jack the Ripper ...or at least, half of it. She couldn't decide if that surpassed the man who claimed to have killed Hitler or not.

When the words came back to her, at first, Rip was too surprised to remember to stay quiet. "Y-You are...?" Catching herself, trying again, she forced her voice back to a whisper. "Now, what an unexpected revelation. I must admit, I didn't envision--," a grin slowly spread on her face, "oh, it's making you part of history!" He truly was a little more famous than she had thought.

"And," a quick sideglance to ckeck if a waiter was approaching, "a couple, you said...?"

He basked in those reactions, the curl of his grin turning a bit sharper, a bit more dangerous. After all- while those murders were only a small portion of his work, they were his crowning achievement, the art he'd worked upon London painted in blood and terror.

"Ah, yes." His sweet little- Oh. But indeed, a waiter rounded the corner with their table in mind and Grell just set back a bit, crossing his legs daintily as he smoothed down his vest.

"Shall we order first? Anything you like, of course."

"Very well, how generous. Though I fear I'm a little limited." A little playfulness mixed into her dry tone; how appropriate that was. In general, there were quite a few options, varying from place to place: some - like the bloodbags from back home - closer to actual fresh blood, some less so, containing a surrogate. Tapping one gloved finger against her lips thoughtfully, she decided it mattered little. They were not likely to have a choice available. "Anything to satisfy a vampire's special diet will be fine."

Of course, those options were all lacking something -- the freshness, the killing, the excitement~, ahh, she quickly tried to hide the look of longing that had sneaked on her face. A monster's hunger. She couldn't be blamed for getting in the mood for that after such a topic, yes?

"Though, please, do not let politeness keep you from having a proper dinner."

"Surely they ought to at least be able to offer a blood type choice- assuming that might matter to you? I feel as if people bother to name them differently, they ought to taste differently." Spoken with an air of certainty- rather, he expected things of the world ought be like that.

"Either way, I hope you don't mind if I partake of steak, then." A grin of his own, those sharp, crocodile teeth as he turned to the waiter to order.

"Of course!"
Besides, Rip was of the, admittedly biased, opinion that his was one likable grin. Yes, very likable! Though perhaps a figure of all - what had been the term again? - "Shinigami", who was to say. A pity he appeared to be the only one here.

She waited patiently until he finished ordering and the waiter left again before replying. No need to draw attention to these issues, after all. Then she shrugged, one hand waving the words away as if they were of little importance.
"Blood types do taste differently, but you might be overestimating their consideration when it comes to those like me. Usually, at least.

In any case," and she went back instantly, from bored to interested and awake-- "you were going to tell your story...?"

"Nfu~ Yes, yes, I was." The sparkle hadn't ever left his eye, but Grell leaned forward once more, his gloved fingers dancing down the buttons of his waistcoat excitedly.

"Now, this story doesn't start with a man, like you might think- or maybe it does. It starts with a woman, you see- a woman who'd lost everything and been forced to deal every day with women who had things she no longer could dream of..."

Trailed off, and suddenly leaned even closer to smirk a bit, whispering now.

"How does that sound- quite a dramatic start, no?"

Again she leant forward as well, they were close, oh so close. The flame of the candle flickered between them, as if dancing, Rip thought, as if applauding. Absent-mindedly she brushed the unruly curl of her black hair to the side, since it was getting in the way.

"It is. Very classic." Easily fascinated; the temptation of a good story, who could resist it-- "What was it she could no longer dream of?"

"This woman, I shall call her Madam Red... had lost her husband and unborn child in a single moment. To add further pain to already indescribable mourning... the accident left her unable to conceive again." There was something decidedly intimate about this story- and the fact that Grell was sharing it, for indeed, it was something personal to him he'd only ever eluded to with most others.

"Perhaps she'd have gotten over it easier, if she wasn't a doctor, a woman's doctor, and if she wasn't confronted, day after day, with those filthy whores of London, given the gift of pregnancy she herself could no longer have, and so desperate to throw it all away beneath a scalpel." His dramatic nature didn't stop at acting, and he had a good tone for story-telling, steeped with sympathy and feeling.

"Aaaaah, it was something so pitiable, if only you could have seen it!" A dreamy, nostalgic look had come over him. "Her bitterness, her regrets and her anger... not even the happy family she tried to join, her sister and nephew... the man she had loved, but her sister had married, could soothe that burning need in her. And so, on a dark night quite unremarkable except for her intent... Madam Red snapped."

Tilting her head to the side, she listened without interrupting. 'Madam Red', how suitable. His story-telling talent was not lost on her, even though she could appreciate the tragic conflict of being unable to conceive mostly as a literary concept.

And then - ah, the third act of a traditional drama, the climax, the turning point!

"Snapped and lived up to her name?" Rip suggested. "And where do you come into the picture, I wonder."

"She tried to kill one- did kill one, you know, a knife, a dark alley, the entire cliche affair. But the emotions... those weren't cliche at all!" A dramatic, happy little sigh, tinged with nostalgia, as he leaned his cheek in to his gloved hand.

"I was watching, see, death god and all, and oh it was just too tragic to watch, her shaking hands afterwards, her regrets... so I took her under my wing~"

Ahhh, yes, the rich emotions of one driven to the edge, so much more intriguing than ghouls! The retelling made her smile; it was enhanced by the emotions even being doubled - those of 'Madam Red' in his story and his own. Difficult to tell if he acted or not, but it did make the tale sweeter for it in any case.

"Oh, I understand, who would have stayed hidden there!" Her voice full of sympathy, of course. "But if I remember correctly," after all, it was a few months ago he mentioned something like that, and here her smile faltered, "the end was still a tragic one, wasn't it."

It did add to literature and yet-- when it came to true~ stories, tragedy was a two-edged sword.

Edited 2010-04-30 06:55 (UTC)

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as the blood runs down the walls [in-progress]

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i am so late omg please punch me

pfff. if we're a little quicker, we might get this thread finished next christmas <3

it would be an awesome christmas present

true, true.

>3

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