The Reign of Terror

[Kk_s]

“Queen Antoinette, the lady of France.” faintly the voice spoke, arrogance lingered in his words. “What is such a whore to do?” his sweet melody causticity resonated from his throat, dancing delicately through stagnant air. Satin locks of golden threads draped over cerulean shaded eyes. His ivory silken skin was slightly dotted with honeyed color stubble. The silhouette of his agile face were sharp and domineering. His defined yet subtly round cheekbones and narrow jaw line made for a ravishing appearance with his statuesque appearance.

His thin pale lips curled into a supercilious smirk. “Such treachery will not be tolerated from someone of renowned royalty who the people respected” taunting, “The people of this weary nation will get their Revolution, but for what cost?”

Zacharie Nikodemos Moreau IV grew jaded of his prominent position as Ambassador between divided worlds. Granted, the affairs of the mortal world were intriguing. The frivolous spending from the beloved Queen, while her feeble husband, the “admired” Louis XVI, strained to keep his rueful life private, away from scrutiny.

He reclined over the slick mahogany of lavishly constructed wood with impeccable details and craftsmanship composed his desk. “Inane bureaucracy, L'ambassade des affaires Vampiriques has become.” the dim fire flickered casting voluminous shadows, which filled his office. Zephyr blew the brisk night air, which stung against his supple skin leaving a frigid memory lingering behind.

The night was young, as the moon shone brilliantly over Paris. Society would be redefined for both worlds that coincided. The immortals, which mingled among the living, were in secret of their true identity. Manipulating the fences of mortal affairs, pitting one against the other, causing an outbreak where crimson would paint the streets. Yes, a Revolution, which the peasants of this nation seek.

Zacharie pushed back the many papers, which cluttered his desk. He poured a glass of scotch to finish off the day’s shift. With such influence he had gain, manipulating the Royal Family and the High Council would be child’s play.

[Chi-Chan]

A young woman sat upon a desk in the city of Paree'. The beautiful city of romance. Love. And yet she sat, not dancing with vigirous men at parties nor sharing that of the company of a man but that instead of staring at her boss as he gave out the details to the strange happenings along the towns of France. It all linked together within her mind and though the others did not believe it she knew she was working with something that was not that of a normal human or at least had much more status than that of a normal criminal...the sightings were unusual, the crime scenes more detailed and yet taunting than most. It all seemed abnormal for such a normal criminal could conduct. Afterall, this city was mainly made of tourists, ancestory and the men and women who had come here with dreams or at least born here and had, had those dreams shuttered away. But even so, that type of nightlife was hard to find in the happy streets of Paris...If you looked once you would see a romantic paradise for both single and taken people alike but once you looked twice, your eyes opened and you started to see the homeless men on the sidewalk. The drunks lingering in every alleyway waiting to take advantage of some wasted man/woman...and very now and then they would get a odd case, where one had died and no clues could be found. This would be one...yet something seemed different, more important about the case she had been placed upon. This one seemed to have much darker intentions.

Finally getting up as the man at the front, her boss, stopped talking, she noticed many of the office's eyes land on her. She was quite young to be within this business itself and many of the officers/detectives who had been in the business since their youth obviously despised her. Found her to be a what could be said in the less threatening tone, a know-it-all. Just out of the best college within Ireland and excelling at all her grades, she seemed to be the typical prefect student. To bad she had never seemed to have the attitude to go with it. While other teenagers had been teased about their talents she had merely laughed at the person who had tried to insult her. Making themselves feel more insecure then they were trying to make her feel. It often worked. She couldn't help but grin now as another sarcastic remark was thought within her head. Well at least now that your staring at me, I look good. I mean I would hate to be in this situation and only weaing my nightgown or something informal. She held back the utter and total look of amusement. To tell oneself, the woman did look quite fashionable with her features. Her long orange or what some might call, red hair tied back into a lose bun, bangs and hair falling onto her face. A emerald green shirt or the olden day term, blouse with a black belt around her waist and just under her chest seemed to highlight her curves, also making her eyes which were the same color of that of the shirt brighter. The long black pants making her legs look long and the black boots which were hid underneath making her seemingly taller...

But even in such a fashionable way she had dressed, not one of the detectives seemed to enjoy her efforts and it was clear why. Not only was this girl, Anya Mc'Worths, the youngest but the only woman within the squad. She was also one of the highest of her crew, The first head detective since the one before her had seemingly dissapeared. They all felt like this young woman was not ready for such a job. That it should be given to men of more experience and that her gender qualified her kindness, making them think that because she was female she would feel pity. It had made her want to laugh when the boss had pointed out the very reason why they despised her so well. But really, she knew it was not just that of her age nor of her gender but that they themselves wanted to be in her position. That they envied her mind, her age and her sucess. With that last thought, Anya made her way towards the door, the boss calling after her with shouts like "Where are you going?!" and the men grumbling such things of how inresponsible she was. The truth clearly in her head was clear though; She had heard enough of the case. The rest was that of what she already knew and was it not in her best interest to stay healthy and the best concentration level for her work. They were just tiring her now with facts that she had already learnt or already known. The overall case had already been told to the men, so what was it that held any importance to her herself. Nothing.

And so, grabbing her black trench coat, placing it within her arms and pulling her black bag over her shoulder, Anya made her way out the door and into the night streets of Paris, France. Making her way home or perhaps even lingering along the cafe's or clubs that had been placed within the streets...

{{God thats a long post...}}