[WoD] Snow Angels

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The boots. Ah. Gabriel had hoped, naively, that she would forget them. They were a piece of tell-tale evidence to what had truly gone on that night. For all he had endeavoured to bury the truth of the evening in some inaccessible recess of her mind, plying her subconscious with lies, the fact remained that the truth was still there. There was some amusing irony in the fact that a simple pair of boots could, if studied enough, unlock her memories. Nevertheless, he retrieved them from behind the desk and willed her mind to be still, to think nothing of their damaged state, at least for the time being.

As he passed the window, he caught sight of some far off fire and wondered if it was the product of mortal inebriation and celebration, or something darker, some extension of the attack that had taken place on the gallery. The ring of the telephone broke the silence in room. The speaker phone activated and a well-spoken voice said: “Your car has arrived, sir.”

Gabriel exchanged a feigned look of slight surprise with Sansa, “Unusually quick, weren't they?”

Before she could move, he stalked across the room to the doorway. Again, he opened the door only slightly at first. He could here hushed voices and movements, but saw nothing of the ghoul carcasses that had littered the walkway previously. The room had a dark aura about it, a halo of pain and violence – but it was one that was visible only to Kindred eyes.

“Still a few stragglers left,” Gabriel said, turning back into the room. “Have you got everything?”

[Sansa]

It was fairly fast for a cabbie, especially on New Years, one of the busiest nights of the year. However, there were probably many party guests downstairs that would have needed a ride home, so it made sense that one would arrive quickly.

"Ah..." Sansa zipped up the boots and stood experimentally. "Yes, that's all. No, wait - my coat is downstairs. I - I'm not sure where though." She hugged herself, rubbing her bare arms.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“The cloakroom, I suspect.”

Gabriel lead the way back out onto the walkway. He moved casually to the pathways edge and glanced down into the floors below. Some of the artwork that had adorned the walls, floors and ceiling had been mysteriously vanished. There were a number of men who must have been gallery employees sweeping up. Here and there a more finely dressed figure stood, occasionally a couple nursing one another. Many were speaking on mobile phones.

Looking back to Sansa, the Prince motioned ahead. He noted who was still present and silently wondered who amongst those absent had suffered Final Death. The dust cloud caused by the falling sculpture had cleared now, but earlier it had been thick enough to blind him to the conflicts of others. Though he suspected the Sabbat had suffered greater casualties, namely in their legion of ghouls, he did not doubt that a handful or more of his own guests would have to be struck off the invitation list for all future gatherings.

The atmosphere on the first floor was uncomfortable. Those still remaining were no doubt eager to leave, yet some still hung at the gallery's entrance. Gabriel felt the eyes of many on him, as more than one Kindred tried to meet his gaze. No doubt the Ventrue in particular had many harsh words for him. They would have to wait.

“Here we are.” In the foyer, the pair were greeted by a weary looking and rather out of breath young man. He had Sansa's coat in his hands.

[Sansa]

Navigating the stairs, all four winding flights, was easier than she'd thought it would have been, and Gabriel led her out into the foyer. The party seemed to be well over, with just a handful of guests left, waiting for their cars or companions.

She accepted her coat, a bit embarrassed that Gabriel would see her in it, and shrugged it on. Pulling a scarf out of a pocket, she wrapped it around her neck, and was momentarily puzzled by a slight soreness on the side. Sansa glanced up at her host, and all such thoughts vanished. She smiled.

"Looks like that's it." She hugged her coat around her as the front doors opened, blowing in a bit of snow from the steps outside. "Do you... ah..." She'd never given her number out to someone she'd just met, but she was dying for the gallery tour and hoped he had been serious about it.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The steps from the gallery's entrance were covered in a snowy blanket. A carpet of white, peppered with black footprints, stretched off in all directions. Gabriel paused a moment, his senses extending as he felt the presence of numerous other Kindred hidden within the shadows.

The Prince took his companions arm, leading her down the icy steps. He glanced in all directions. To the right, some twenty feet away, he sat a black cab waiting. The driver gave a casual toot of the horn. Gabriel smirked and began to follow the trail of steps already left in the still falling snow.

“If you do still want that tour,” he said, as they neared the car, “you can reach me on this number.”

Removing a slip of paper and pen from his jacket pocket, he carefully jotted down the digits. The pen returned to his pocket and the paper he placed into Sansa's hand. He held her gaze for a moment, ensuring beyond all doubt that she would return to the gallery once more. The cab driver gave another startling honk on the horn, as if to say that he hadn't got all day to wait.

“Well, my lady... your carriage awaits.”

[Sansa]

Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes held hers, and then the cabbie blew his horn and the moment passed. Gabriel helped her into the cab, and the car pulled away from the curb.

She looked over her shoulder, and saw him standing there in the falling snow, the street lamps lighting the scene with a strange glow. He looked after her for a moment, and then turned back to the building. Sansa settled back into her seat and told the driver where to take her.

After a few moments of utter silence except for the crunch of the tires through the fresh snowfall, her mind wandered. Where had he said Jude had gone? She had a faint recollection of something pleasurable to do with Jude. Her hand went unconsciously to her scarf, and she fiddled with it around her neck.

Never mind that, Emilie would never believe what she'd done for New Years. Or who she'd met!