22. Amber Hart
Getting up at around 4:00 is a strange experience for Amber. Of course she knew it would get dark earlier than any other day, but the feeling of rolling over and checking the clock to see a digit lower than 6 is... oddly human. She gets ready for the day with extra care. Tonight is a special occasion.
The Grand Wyndham Hotel is decorated for the Holidays in suitably subtle fashion. No religious iconography on display, but little blooms of color here and there stand out against the lobby's normally neutral or dark tones. A tree, lit with honest-to-god candles but unadorned by any star or ornaments, sits on display. There's even mistletoe hung over one particular corner of the room playfully. Mr. Marcus sees Amber coming in immediately - the man's eyes are impeccable - and he smiles warmly in welcome. "Miss Hart. A pleasure to see you on this shortest day of the year."
She's chosen to wear an evening gown tonight, and a jacket to cover it up against the chill that most expect her to feel. It's not her usual style, but she doesn't want to feel undedressed for the occasion, as is sure to happen otherwise. The dress is a deep red, hung over one shoulder and gathering together to a silver broach in the center, too bright to be bloody, but too dark to be cheerful. A slit runs up the other side almost to her hips, flashing an enticing amount of leg each time she moves. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Marcus, on the longest night," she returns the smile.
"Io Saturnalia, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, or my simple well wishes for the holidays, whichever happens to apply, madame." He bows his head with a tinge of... respect that perhaps wasn't so deep before. Hm. "The Lord of the house is greeting his distinguished guests on Floor 13, though you are one of the first arrivals." He smiles, a just-between-us flash of brilliantly white teeth. "I prefer your punctuality to fashionable tardiness."
"If everyone were late, then there'd be no one to impress with their fashion sense," Amber agrees, with a half-chuckle at the vagaries of those who can't keep a schedule. "Besides, the snacks are always freshest at the start of the evening," she offers him a flirty wink as she heads for the elevator.
The Thirteenth Floor of the Wyndham is much more decorated than the lobby. Piano music fills the hall gently from some distant source on the floor, and wreaths hang from each of the room doors, some looking more like circlets of thorny bramble than traditional pine boughs. The normal lights are dimmed and a carpet nearly the same shade as Amber's dress has been rolled out to show the way to the little "club" Amber visited last time. Cozier and less formal than she'd expected. The whole place is decorated in white and silver, with several abstract ice sculptures dotted around. The temperature would be cold for even bundled-up mortals, but feels perfectly fine for the dead. Most of the tables are gone, leaving a polished and smooth dance floor, mostly being used by a few scattered punctual individuals to chat, rather than dance. All are vampires, of course.
And sitting at the piano, playing with his eyes closed, is Lord Theo Wyndham. His black suit, exquisitely cut to his frame as always, stands out like a shadow on sunlit snow and beautiful music pours forth from the grand piano it must have been absolute hell to get into this place. He's playing a song Amber isn't familiar with, but it's not a Christmas one. His right sleeve bears an embroidered pattern of nearly the same shade of black as the cloth underneath, and Amber's keen vision takes a moment to pick out the nature of the design: An Ouroboros, wrapped around his arm and eating its tail near his wrist.
Amber doesn't disturb the lord of the manor from his reverie, instead fitting herself neatly into the scene by heading for the windows. Looking out over the city is always an acceptable way to invite conversation without seeming awkward if no one takes you up on it. She can't help but take the measure of those her eyes cross - in a room full of vampires, how could one avoid comparing themselves to each and every one? Seeking to discern one's position so as not to offend those more powerful, and to receive the attention of those below. She has the unfortunate suspicion that she's near the bottom of the totem pole. For now at least.
Like clockwork, someone comes up to appreciate the beautiful vista of the skyline with Amber. "It's a brave new world, is it not?" And only when he speaks does Amber recognize Metzli, Dona Dominguez's "high priest." Without the fearsome paints and decoration he just looks like any other man, dressed in sober grey and his long hair pulled into a ponytail.
"That has such goodly people in it," she agrees with a touch of misquoted Shakespeare. "It has been rather kind to me so far."
"Curious." Metztli murmurs. "My mother has said similar things, on occasion." He glances to Amber. "She will be here this evening. The Wyndham whelp amuses Her, I think." His lips curl in a little superior smile. "Will your master be joining us?"
"I hope so. It would liven things up a bit, to have have someone handsome to dance with," she smiles, as if imagining Siveri and oblivious to the slight just offered. "I'm glad I was able to be of some assistance to your family," she offers a complement in turn, making it rather gauche for him to properly object without being rude.
"Yes." He remarks after a moment, as if unsure how to deal with someone outside the paradigm he's used to. "The Dominguez family does not forget those who show us kindness. Nor those who awaken our wrath."
It's perhaps fortuitous that at that moment, Amber feels a cold hand on one shoulder. "Miss Hart! So glad you got my invitation." Lord Wyndham remarks cheerfully. "Actually, there was something I've been meaning to ask you, before things really get into swing and I'm pulled every direction at once." He tilts his head to Metztli, smile unflappable and cheery tone irrepressible. His patter is good, almost like a con man. "So sorry to interrupt, won't take but a moment." And before any response can be mustered, he's walking with Amber away from Metztli. "Sorry if you were making a play." He murmurs so softly only vampiric hearing could pick it up, his lips barely moving. "My gallant instincts sometimes overwhelm me." A little self-effacing, amused gesture towards his chest. "That and he creeps me the fuck out."
"No, thank you," she accepts the diversion and rescue gratefully. "The last time we met left rather an impression, and it's hard to imagine him in a more mundane context," she offers an opinion that could easily be taken in a positive light, were it not uttered in response and agreement with the fact that he's a creepy fucker.
Theo nods in agreement. "Well, despite that brief bump in the road - welcome to my solstice celebration. Is this your first Winter among us, or your first after coming to this city?"
"My first," she might be more uncomfortable admitting her youth were it not already written in her actions, were it to someone likely to take advantage of it rather than cover for her inexperience. "What were you playing? Probably something with a history older than the Europeans in this land," she can't help but poke some fun at the pretensions of her elders.
"Oh God. You sound like my second mother now." He winces playfully. "Despite my very august demeanor, I've only been Kindred for a decade." Even with his joking tone and amused grin, there's a sense of reciprocity to the words, vulnerability exposed in mutual respect. "It's something my predecessor, Lady Hypatia Wyndham, wrote. I don't even know if the song has a name, just sheet music."
Amber is uncertain if she should ask, but were the subject too delicate, Lord Wyndham probably would not have brought it up. And she's very curious, since she has nothing else to compare her own story against. Neither her deceased 'second father' nor Siveri have much encouraged her to meet other vampires before now. "How did you come by her position?"
"Inheritance, I suppose." He warms to the subject, obviously enthused to talk about the history of the hotel. "The Wyndham, you see, always has to have a Regent. Ever since it was built, there has always been a Wyndham. My second mother felt... the sleep of ages calling her, as it were. She chose me to be the new Lord Wyndham after a short and very intense search. I was just Theo Carter back then, of course. I only knew her for... three weeks or so?"
"That's quite a change. I think I spent my first three weeks trying desperately to find an alcohol that still worked," she laughs self-deprecatingly. "Well, that and enjoying myself in other ways. Quite an eye-opener."
"I was learning to run a hotel, but there's always time in life for... other enjoyments." He would never do something so gauche as wink in a public gathering of dangerous predator, but if a man could wink with his voice, Theo would have managed it.
"The Wyndham seems quite an important place. Neutral grounds where everyone can meet - very prestigious, to be in charge of it," she agrees. "I'm sure you have no trouble keeping yourself entertained."
"I do my best." He shrugs modestly. "Speaking of entertainment - would you care to dance?" A few other guests are starting to filter in, some dressed in clothes that might have been upper-crust fashion fifty years ago. Their elders.
"It would be my pleasure."
Theo takes Amber's hand and they sweep onto the dance floor. While he's certainly graceful and poised, Amber can tell she's had much more formal education in dance, and he quickly defers to following her lead. Soon, Amber can feel eyes across the room settling on them both. And while some of the idle chatter being exchanged must be talk of alliances, partnerships, and other cold practicalities of Kindred existence, it's with some genuine pride that Amber sees envy in some of those dead eyes. Theo proves a competent partner, always able to accentuate her own skill in small ways without taking the spotlight. Every now and then she catches a little impressed smile on his face.
Amber luxuriates in the attention - not drawn by the magnetism of her inner beast this time, but simply earned by the fact that she's both beautiful and skilled. Of all the vampires she's met recently, Theo's the only one who neither scares nor repels her. Surely he has something to gain by wooing her as he has been - but so does she, and that's cynical definition of a friend - those you only use in ways that strengthen them. Siveri is many things, but he's not a friend.
The song comes to a close, as such things always must. As the music fades, Theo takes a single graceful step back and raises Amber's hand up to meet his bowed head - but doesn't quite touch his lips to her skin. Perhaps it's a cultural thing; the mouth is much more of a weapon for their kind. After a moment he lowers her hand and releases it. "As much as I would delight in spending the rest of the evening in the warm glow of your company, I'm afraid my responsibilities must intrude." And now, head half-bowed, he does wink at Amber playfully, a friendly acknowledgment of the brief glimpse they gave each other of the real person under the masks.
"Of course, thank you for the dance," she gives the polite response. "And for the invitation." A bit more genuine - she might never have known about the event if he hadn't reached out to her personally. It's good to get a chance to mingle with peers of her own accord. She finds her way back to the edge of the room, ceding the floor to anyone else who fancies a turn or two in the public eye. She looks around, checking out the new arrivals, if there's anyone of particular presence or someone she already knows. She doesn't think she could have missed the Dona, but Siveri could very well have arrived and be keeping a low profile.