The Dead Woman serves tea and crumpets
Posted: Sun Jul 07, 2013 6:58 pm
Richard Sonnac venomously despised going to the mansion. Whenever it came time to visit the mansion Sonnac would try and find some other alternative even if it meant doing something that caused tremendous amount of pain. Sadly, nothing would ever come up and he would go to the mansion hoping that he could get his task done quickly.
Oh don't get him wrong. He rather adored the mansion. The architect must have had a muse whispering in his ear when he designed it. The mansion had a modern flare with a subtle marriage of English Country Home aristocracy interwoven into it. It was beautiful. It made one feel as if they were in a fairy tale world where their Snow White or Prince Charming was ready to sweep them off their feet. The mansion also had a bit of magic to it and that magic would spread giving life to its surroundings. Flowers would bloom. The sky would stay clear. The air would freshen and turn refreshingly crisp. No, Sonnac loved the mansion. He even desired to call it his own. He just hated the place for its occupant; The Dead Woman.
Contrary to her name, The Dead Woman didn't look like a corpse at all. In fact, she looked and acted as if she were one of the living. She was lively and cheerful and had a frenetic energy that could not be contained. Those who knew her would scratch their heads in wonder on why she called herself The Dead Woman. Maybe it was a Goth thing or something. To be fair, Sonnac thought to himself, The Dead Woman always did dress in black. But, unlike other Goths, The Dead Woman didn't look lethargic and resigned nor did she have a desire to smoke clove cigarettes and read God awful poetry.
If anything, Sonnac saw The Dead Woman as more of a socialite. She certainly oozed their pompous and self absorbed cheer. She was also a slave to fashion calling designers her gods and goddesses. One story he remembered hearing about her was that she had gotten Ak'ab filth thrown on her very expensive jacket. In a panic, she had whipped out an Armani handkerchief to clean her jacket with. Later, as the story continues, she couldn't save her handkerchief as it was too soiled and wept as she tossed it away.
Sonnac definitely saw The Dead Woman as an eccentric and snobbish beauty but deep down he knew it was all a lie. His instincts were screaming that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Reaching into his pocket he took out his cell phone and called up the Templar database. He then entered his identification and once authenticated called up The Dead Woman's information.
She was a vampire and a very old one at that due to her snow white hair. These were the really scary creatures. Their ability to terrify and awe even the most hardened hunter came from the simple fact that they were old. Age had its privileges for the supernatural. The older you got the more powerful you became. While The Dead Woman's true age had not been determined, it was felt that The Dead Woman was at least a thousand years old.
One of the abilities a vampire of that advanced age had was being able to read a person without any effort at all. This wasn't done with any supernatural help it was done with experience. Imagine living for all those years and encountering change with the passage of time and adapting to it in order to survive. Through each new thing she had learned The Dead Woman encountered the same thing again and again which was the expressions of others. Anger had the same look with everyone much like happiness, laughter, joy, and so on. Seeing those expressions time and time again only ingrained them and made them easily recognizable. With time that ability could evolve to the point where one could almost read word for word what that person was thinking just by looking at them. Dame Julia had colorfully and truthfully said it, "I don't like being read like I was some sort of children's book for primary school toddlers."
In general, human beings prided themselves on being strong or clever or both. It all went back to a sense of accomplishment. This is who I am and I built that through years of hard work and dedication. Such accomplishments brought victory in times of conflict. It was Darwin's theory at its best. But against a creature that had seen the rise and fall of nations it really didn't mean anything at all.
That was what was so scary. It was to know that your best was never going to be good enough because the monster facing you just had more. How can you win against that? How can you even fight against it?
The ultimate failing of that power was that any creature who had it flaunted it. If you knew you could be read like a children's book for primary school toddlers then why put yourself in that position? Why not avoid it? This was not the case with The Dead Woman. Her quirky socialite attitude screamed stupidity. Even though people saw that she was a vampire they felt that she was one of the "safer" ones due to her absent minded eccentricity. So they would go to her and converse with her. They were completely unaware that The Dead Woman was understanding them but was also playing them.
While she always introduced herself as Lily, there were unconfirmed reports that she called herself Lilith.
Sonnac stopped.
Lilith.
The name itself held no shock value what so ever. The days of frenetic fanaticism and untamed fear were long gone. This was the age of the Internet. A few keystrokes, some mouse clicks, and a little bit of patience could unmask the bed time stories that kept kids up at night sweating. After all, Lilith was a name most commonly associated with horror movies, video games, and comic books. There is nothing to be scared about with something that's meant to entertain. Some even used the essence; the spirit of Lilith's actions as an empowering gesture. No longer will we be subservient to men we will walk with them as equals.
But there were those who remembered what the name stood for. Secular pagan fires with chanting that serenaded the demons from their dark hellish places. Screaming children sacrificed with pride so that the so called leaders of men could be empowered for another day. The desecration of innocence and all things sacred just for a chuckle. Sin. Desire. Evil. These were the things that made Lilith a name to be both feared and worshiped to so many.
Sonnac felt his grave walked on when he thought that.
But there was nothing to worry about right? Intelligence from all three main factions suggested that the Oorchi group had Lilith in their possession. There were eye witness accounts of the creature herself and they resembled nothing like The Dead Woman. Another point was that Lily never came out and said that she was "the" Lilith of legend. In fact, the name Lilith was rare but not unheard of. For all anyone knew, Lily was simply born with the name.
See? Nothing to be afraid of.
So why was he afraid?
Being the man that he was Sonnac understood that his position carried with it a certain amount of paranoia. Monsters. Demons. Rival factions with technological and mystical supremacy banging at your door. The end of the world just around every corner. It was all real. Men like Richard Sonnac understood that having authority and responsibility meant facing these dangers on a day to day basis. You had to wonder what the other side was doing. Sometimes you had to second guess yourself in the hopes of saving a few thousand more lives. Paranoia was a natural part of the job. It was a sneaky thing. It would be the gut feeling. Maybe the little angel on your shoulder giving you last minute advice. It would be your friend for a time. Eventually though you would feel the strain and when you broke it would feed and it would feed well.
Sonnac tried to explain to himself that there really was no reason to be paranoid. All the evidence spoke to the contrary. Wolves in badly made sheep skin Halloween costumes would prance happily and merrily and sing to him how lies can hide between truths and truths can hide in between lies. The imagination would kick in. It would paint these pictures of imitators holding the name whilst the real power stood quietly in the shadows.
Sonnac shook his head and told himself that such things were not true. All the evidence suggested as such. As long as there was doubt then the dancing wolves in badly made Halloween sheep skin costumes would always speak out.
Approaching the door Sonnac put all fears and worries aside. He reached out to knock but before he could the door opened. Lily stood there smiling with one of her famous smiles that screamed mystery and intrigue as well as sassy playfulness. Somewhere in that smile was a hint of sexuality as well. She said, "Hello Richard, why don't you come on in? I've made tea and crumpets."
Oh don't get him wrong. He rather adored the mansion. The architect must have had a muse whispering in his ear when he designed it. The mansion had a modern flare with a subtle marriage of English Country Home aristocracy interwoven into it. It was beautiful. It made one feel as if they were in a fairy tale world where their Snow White or Prince Charming was ready to sweep them off their feet. The mansion also had a bit of magic to it and that magic would spread giving life to its surroundings. Flowers would bloom. The sky would stay clear. The air would freshen and turn refreshingly crisp. No, Sonnac loved the mansion. He even desired to call it his own. He just hated the place for its occupant; The Dead Woman.
Contrary to her name, The Dead Woman didn't look like a corpse at all. In fact, she looked and acted as if she were one of the living. She was lively and cheerful and had a frenetic energy that could not be contained. Those who knew her would scratch their heads in wonder on why she called herself The Dead Woman. Maybe it was a Goth thing or something. To be fair, Sonnac thought to himself, The Dead Woman always did dress in black. But, unlike other Goths, The Dead Woman didn't look lethargic and resigned nor did she have a desire to smoke clove cigarettes and read God awful poetry.
If anything, Sonnac saw The Dead Woman as more of a socialite. She certainly oozed their pompous and self absorbed cheer. She was also a slave to fashion calling designers her gods and goddesses. One story he remembered hearing about her was that she had gotten Ak'ab filth thrown on her very expensive jacket. In a panic, she had whipped out an Armani handkerchief to clean her jacket with. Later, as the story continues, she couldn't save her handkerchief as it was too soiled and wept as she tossed it away.
Sonnac definitely saw The Dead Woman as an eccentric and snobbish beauty but deep down he knew it was all a lie. His instincts were screaming that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Reaching into his pocket he took out his cell phone and called up the Templar database. He then entered his identification and once authenticated called up The Dead Woman's information.
She was a vampire and a very old one at that due to her snow white hair. These were the really scary creatures. Their ability to terrify and awe even the most hardened hunter came from the simple fact that they were old. Age had its privileges for the supernatural. The older you got the more powerful you became. While The Dead Woman's true age had not been determined, it was felt that The Dead Woman was at least a thousand years old.
One of the abilities a vampire of that advanced age had was being able to read a person without any effort at all. This wasn't done with any supernatural help it was done with experience. Imagine living for all those years and encountering change with the passage of time and adapting to it in order to survive. Through each new thing she had learned The Dead Woman encountered the same thing again and again which was the expressions of others. Anger had the same look with everyone much like happiness, laughter, joy, and so on. Seeing those expressions time and time again only ingrained them and made them easily recognizable. With time that ability could evolve to the point where one could almost read word for word what that person was thinking just by looking at them. Dame Julia had colorfully and truthfully said it, "I don't like being read like I was some sort of children's book for primary school toddlers."
In general, human beings prided themselves on being strong or clever or both. It all went back to a sense of accomplishment. This is who I am and I built that through years of hard work and dedication. Such accomplishments brought victory in times of conflict. It was Darwin's theory at its best. But against a creature that had seen the rise and fall of nations it really didn't mean anything at all.
That was what was so scary. It was to know that your best was never going to be good enough because the monster facing you just had more. How can you win against that? How can you even fight against it?
The ultimate failing of that power was that any creature who had it flaunted it. If you knew you could be read like a children's book for primary school toddlers then why put yourself in that position? Why not avoid it? This was not the case with The Dead Woman. Her quirky socialite attitude screamed stupidity. Even though people saw that she was a vampire they felt that she was one of the "safer" ones due to her absent minded eccentricity. So they would go to her and converse with her. They were completely unaware that The Dead Woman was understanding them but was also playing them.
While she always introduced herself as Lily, there were unconfirmed reports that she called herself Lilith.
Sonnac stopped.
Lilith.
The name itself held no shock value what so ever. The days of frenetic fanaticism and untamed fear were long gone. This was the age of the Internet. A few keystrokes, some mouse clicks, and a little bit of patience could unmask the bed time stories that kept kids up at night sweating. After all, Lilith was a name most commonly associated with horror movies, video games, and comic books. There is nothing to be scared about with something that's meant to entertain. Some even used the essence; the spirit of Lilith's actions as an empowering gesture. No longer will we be subservient to men we will walk with them as equals.
But there were those who remembered what the name stood for. Secular pagan fires with chanting that serenaded the demons from their dark hellish places. Screaming children sacrificed with pride so that the so called leaders of men could be empowered for another day. The desecration of innocence and all things sacred just for a chuckle. Sin. Desire. Evil. These were the things that made Lilith a name to be both feared and worshiped to so many.
Sonnac felt his grave walked on when he thought that.
But there was nothing to worry about right? Intelligence from all three main factions suggested that the Oorchi group had Lilith in their possession. There were eye witness accounts of the creature herself and they resembled nothing like The Dead Woman. Another point was that Lily never came out and said that she was "the" Lilith of legend. In fact, the name Lilith was rare but not unheard of. For all anyone knew, Lily was simply born with the name.
See? Nothing to be afraid of.
So why was he afraid?
Being the man that he was Sonnac understood that his position carried with it a certain amount of paranoia. Monsters. Demons. Rival factions with technological and mystical supremacy banging at your door. The end of the world just around every corner. It was all real. Men like Richard Sonnac understood that having authority and responsibility meant facing these dangers on a day to day basis. You had to wonder what the other side was doing. Sometimes you had to second guess yourself in the hopes of saving a few thousand more lives. Paranoia was a natural part of the job. It was a sneaky thing. It would be the gut feeling. Maybe the little angel on your shoulder giving you last minute advice. It would be your friend for a time. Eventually though you would feel the strain and when you broke it would feed and it would feed well.
Sonnac tried to explain to himself that there really was no reason to be paranoid. All the evidence spoke to the contrary. Wolves in badly made sheep skin Halloween costumes would prance happily and merrily and sing to him how lies can hide between truths and truths can hide in between lies. The imagination would kick in. It would paint these pictures of imitators holding the name whilst the real power stood quietly in the shadows.
Sonnac shook his head and told himself that such things were not true. All the evidence suggested as such. As long as there was doubt then the dancing wolves in badly made Halloween sheep skin costumes would always speak out.
Approaching the door Sonnac put all fears and worries aside. He reached out to knock but before he could the door opened. Lily stood there smiling with one of her famous smiles that screamed mystery and intrigue as well as sassy playfulness. Somewhere in that smile was a hint of sexuality as well. She said, "Hello Richard, why don't you come on in? I've made tea and crumpets."