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0.7 - A New Skin; Cameron & Andrew - Closed
Topic Started: Jun 10 2016, 05:30 PM (124 Views)
Cameron Comorraza
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They say time heals all wounds. Inside and out. Given her current situation, that had been ongoing for the last several weeks, this phrase had begun to take quite a literal meaning to Cameron. There was something very strange about the human anatomy and the healing process it's capable of. She'd gone from being bedridden to carefully walking on her own without help, and especially without blood. While it was offered on several occasions to ease the pain of naturally healing, she chose to endure every single time. This wasn't one she made lightly, knowing full and well what the consequences of continuing to refuse would be given how long she'd stayed in this state of being already with the blood of another. If anything, she was simply testing her own willpower and strength. It was easier than admitting her rebellion against being under Andrew's will.

Sitting in front of the vanity in her bedroom, she stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, wondering who the person looking back at her really was. She'd spent many hours over the years since she'd been given this new face and body studying it and wondering what it was truly capable of. She could be anyone she wanted to, but in all those years, she'd still never figured out who that was exactly. Sometimes fate had an ironic way of showing itself, coming full circle. Her hair was clean and trimmed, spilling gracefully over her shoulders in loose curls and waves. Her nails were neatly manicured, her skin practically glowing. She'd forgotten what proper hydration and moisturizing could do for a woman in all the years she spent running. From the very man that had made her this way now. She was dressed in clothing that he'd bought specifically for her, seeing his own modest and graceful taste shining through given her choices, and the quarters that she'd been living in, he provided. Every shower, hot meal, extra pillow, and need was made so by him. She still hadn't decided if this was a blessing or a curse.

It seemed he was respecting her space, only seeing him from time to time in passing. If she wasn't staring in a mirror wondering who she aimed to be in this life, she was reading, or doing physical therapy. Not being able to move the way she could seven weeks ago was driving her more crazy than being under Andrew's thumb.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
The security surrounding Cameron's apartments was tight but not intrusive; while there were of course hidden cameras and bugs throughout the apartments themselves which could be activated at any time Andrew had ensured that all were switched off and not in use. This did not mean she was not monitored of course, carefully selected staff went in to see her and handle her needs, and the area immediately surrounding the apartments on all sides was closely monitored and had security teams on constant alert for any attempt to escape. Despite her restive attitude Andrew was still convinced that Cameron intended to escape at some point, he was not about to be duped into lowering the level of security, especially not now, so soon after her capture. What was important here was to ensure that she was contained, if she were to run then not only would he lose her, but he also risked all kinds of other problems to do with his reputation and the rumour mill. He could ill afford a misstep right now, though he was on better terms with the Prince than he had been any since his own time as one, she still viewed him with a degree of suspicion typical not only of a Prince toward their powerful subordinates, but also that cultural mistrust that Russians generally had for those of Western origin.

According to the doctors he had monitoring Cameron's health she was recovering quickly, and well, this did not surprise Andrew for she had been fuelled by kindred blood for so long and doubtless still had some lingering within her system to help things along; she had however refused to feed on further offered blood. This was what Andrew had expected, however at this stage everything was a test, a test of her trust, her personality and her attitude; if she had accepted he would be more concerned than he was at her non-acceptance so overall it was the best choice she could have made - at least from his perspective. Despite everything he still did not trust her, not yet, she had sunk into apathy and apathy allowed one to do almost anything without second thought; she had been perfectly willing to sacrifice the lives of children in order to escape him and that made her a dangerous entity as far as mortal went. There were in his experience only three types of people who would willingly hurt children, psychopaths, the insane, or the terminally desperate; though he suspected that the last option was the case he needed conclusive proof before he proceeded.

Today would be his first meeting with Cameron since he had spoken to her in her hospital bed; she had seen him in passing of course but they had not spoken and nor had he lingered so long that he would intrude upon her privacy - though of course he knew that she would not believe she had any even if he told her that he had purposefully left the apartment's interior unmonitored. So he entered through the front door and stepped into the living room; the apartments were spacious and provided a bedroom, bathroom, dining room, kitchen, library, and living room, so Andrew had no way of being sure which room she would be in or in what state he would find her. He decided the best way to proceed would be to remain in the living room, seated in a chair by the front door until she happened upon him.
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Cameron Comorraza
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The sound of the front door opening and closing caught her attention and yanked her from her reverie rather abruptly, looking over her shoulder at the clock on her bedside table suspiciously. She knew it was the front door because it was heavier than the other doors that lead to rooms inside the apartment, and took longer to shut. She listened for footsteps, other doors to open and close, turning slowly in her seat to face her own bedroom door, waiting for an aid or maid to come poking their head in. After a long minute, nothing. Looking back at the clock, Cameron was clearly confused. She knew the routine of the various people that came through at any given time like clockwork by now. She'd already eaten breakfast and taken her muscle relaxers, done her exercises for the day...bathed...her bed had already been remade...so who the hell was here? And why? The only people that came to see her had already come and gone for a few hours. She'd come to find a lot of comfort in those three hours of uninterrupted solitude. Since she'd gained more mobility, she'd become fond of simply laying on the fur rug in the library and closing her eyes. If she laid still enough, and focused on her breathing, she could leave this body here and be in one of the places she'd been reading about, before this world crumbled in on itself, or she ended up here. For two hours, she could escape. That was the only kind she could find here. Into her own head. What was eerie was how quiet things were there if she didn't read about other places, people, or things. She'd never realized how uninspired and unattached she was to...anything...up until very recently, in that regard.

Cameron let a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, gingerly picking herself up from her seat and crossed the bedroom, grabbing her book and empty water glass from her nightstand. She'd just go get a glass of water, investigate, and if it was nothing and she was simply being overly paranoid about this break in routine, she'd duck into the library and hide out there until this afternoon like she normally did. She opened the door and lost all confidence in that plan as soon as she laid eyes on Andrew Cutting, sitting just in front of her in the living room. Her bewildered eyes probably gave away her being startled, but she didn't jump. Instead she froze, her book clutched tightly between her arm and breast, and a death grip on the glass in her hand, as if they were a shield. She looked around him, but never away from him, as she reached with her free hand to close the door behind her. She wasn't sure if she should say something, or just sit down and have a staring contest with him, opting to do neither and moving awkwardly towards the kitchen without a word. There was no one in there, no one in here. They were alone. Just them. Why was the idea of being alone with him so unsettling? She didn't have anything to fear from him besides more tense conversation. She turned the faucet on and filled the glass up half way, drinking it down and setting the glass in the sink, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever was about to be said or done. What did he want? What could he say? Why was he here? Why were they alone? All these questions were screaming for answers, but she couldn't face him like this with her guard down. Why was it down in the first place? She shook her head and took a deep breath before turning around and walking slowly back into the living room, discarding the book on the dining room table as she passed by it.

Standing before him now, she felt incredibly naked and vulnerable. She was far from that, wearing pale pink silk sleep shorts and a thin grey cotton shirt, but that didn't matter. Her arms were crossed protectively across her bust, her legs feeling too long and bare for him to see. He'd seen her in much less before, but that was a different life. A different skin. This one was new; foreign to him and the only thing she could truly call hers anymore in this world. She didn't like how her shirt clung to her form, and made the sharp rise and fall of her breasts and the flare of her hips more noticeable. She tried to focus on how she liked the feeling of the silk brushing her thighs when she moved, taking a step forward and trying to find words, but coming up short. She had to choose her words carefully. He'd be paying attention to the first thing she said to him. Would she inquire as to why he was there, or fain submissiveness and assume he was here for something he wanted from her. Maybe that was because of how exposed she felt in the moment.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She said finally, imploring him and his steel blue eyes with cold cordiality. She couldn't decide what to show him, so for now, it'd be nothing.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
"Well you knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I did not bring you here to simply lock you away for eternity, what with your refusal to accept blood I think we can agree that you do not have all of eternity in which to be detained." Andrew stood as she entered and spoke softly in his typical crisp tone edged with a certain sense of cold boredom; he had chosen a plain white linen collarless button shirt with the sleeves rolled up in deference to the temperature for the occasion. Plain enough that it would not matter overly much if Cameron decided to lash out, yet fashionable enough to ensure that his high standard of personal appearance was maintained, it was also blessedly nonrestrictive - another key reason for the choice though was that it was as nonthreatening an item of clothing as he could bring himself to wear. Sharp expensive suits had their place and he generally preferred them for every day use as they provided excellent social armour, but here such attire would be wholly inappropriate given that he was hoping to keep this particular meeting as calm as possible.

The elder Toreador ran his hands absently down the front of his trousers, to flatten out creases made by his standing; a habitual motion that Cameron should know well. Next came the appraisal, his eyes coldly studying her in an analytical manner, there was no hint of any lecherousness yet he did not shy away from fully examining her form. It seemed more like the kind of analysis a man might make of an object rather than a person, however his reasons were quite benign - he wanted to see for himself that what the medical team and staff were telling him of her health and overall condition - it was a mixture of paranoia regarding his ability to trust people other than himself and his own sense of responsibility. Cameron was after all his guest, and the ancient kindred laws of guest right still applied to some degree even if she was his captive - well it did as far as he was concerned. As far as he could tell at this point she was as his staff told him she was, recovering well and physically quite healthy though she showed the possible signs of fatigue or anxiety brought on by her situation.

"Would you like something to drink, or perhaps something to smoke? I know neither are particularly good for you, but I think you deserve some sort of release while you are here."
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Cameron Comorraza
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Cameron rolled her eyes at the mention of refusal of his blood; she should have known that was why. In the end she knew she didn't have much of a choice in the matter, but the last thing she wanted was a blood bond. To be a slave to his will. To constantly be thinking about him, and living with a one track mind that revolved entirely around pleasing him. She'd watched too many dolls succumb to it over the years, and never wished to lose herself like that again. Not that the choices she made for herself were really much better, but at least she could say her last 'master' was much more understanding of her wish for free will. Him standing wasn't helping her guard much either, considering how physically imposing he was, despite his unusually casual attire. She was almost four inches taller now than she was when she first met him, and yet he still towered over her.

She shuffled her feet and looked away as he took stock of her, feeling his gaze burning into her skin. It made her cheeks flush, being this uncomfortable near him. The last time she was alone with him, she was severely wounded and on a lot of pain of medication, shackled to a hospital bed. Under normal circumstances, she was supposed to be flinging herself at him and at least attempting to fight and escape, but nothing about the living situation she found herself in was normal. Perhaps he'd stayed away and respected her privacy for too long. She'd gotten so used to only seeing him briefly and without words over the last few weeks that she'd begun to believe he'd leave her alone for good. Of course that was wishful thinking, she knew this conversation was coming. She just wasn't quite sure how to prepare herself for it. She didn't even know what exactly to think or say about it herself, beyond not wanting it in the first place. None of this was what she'd really wanted.

When he spoke again, she looked back at him with a rather puzzled expression on her face. He was actually offering her vices? That was entirely out of character for him. She shook her head though, her eyes finally finding his again, "No, thank you." Having to tilt her head to look up at him was already annoying her, so she made her way to the sofa, grabbing an overstuffed pillow off the end and using the arm of the couch to lower herself into a more comfortable position. She hugged the pillow in front of her as if she were trying to hide behind it, "I've already taken my pain medication...I don't think alcohol would mix well with them. Never smoked either... It's kind of you to offer, though." As much as part of her wanted to ask if punching him in the throat was an option, she knew it would only be met with some condescending smirk and a cool 'I'd like to see you try,' which only agitated her more. At least she was able to recognize she was doing this to herself. Her stiffly set shoulders seemed to sink with that realization.

"You're right, I knew this day was coming. Go ahead. Tell me that my little game is over and lecture me on the necessity of your blood. Remind me of it's precious value and the luck I have been bestowed in being offered it. Come on. Sell it to me. Make me change my mind and want it. Maybe I'll be more of a person with a little bit of you inside me. Maybe I'll finally find my 'true purpose'," her tone was apathetic. Perhaps she'd stayed in her own company for too long? She couldn't even be sure herself if resisting him was worth it anymore. Was she being genuine or sarcastic? She couldn't be certain. She didn't quite know what to think about Andrew anymore. Anytime she thought about anger or violence, she was reminded of what got her here in the first place. Lashing out was pointless. Trying to escape was pointless. Anything but submitting willfully was pointless. He'd keep her alive for another century and probably never truly force her to do anything she didn't want to beyond continue existing so he could keep trying to persuade her that everything he'd done, he'd done so they could be together. Until she finally bought it and accepted it as truth. Would he manage to make today be that day as well?
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Andrew Cutting
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"I don't intend to sell you anything. Nor will I be forcing you down that road in the immediate future; it has still only been a matter of weeks and though eternity does not yet lie before you I am content in the knowledge that there is still time." Andrew strode over to the kitchen, he knew the layout of the apartment and he knew where everything in it was, reaching into one of the cabinets he produced a bottle of cognac and the found himself a glass and poured out a measure for himself before taking a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast counter and taking a drink. He was not a man for strong vices, but as a kindred he was not affected by the alcohol at all and he drank for the taste rather than the buzz, the same went for tobacco, a good cigar was just the thing at times - though good tobacco was hard to get nowadays - however stronger drugs did nothing for him; the trouble he would have had to go to to get high would have been too great and to his mind there were no rewards.

He looked around the place and nodded with approval; he had staff come in to clean every now and again, and to provide some social interaction with her, but from what they had told him it was barely necessary, she didn't trash the place and mostly tidied up after herself. This was a good sign, a sign that she had accepted her present situation and was therefore making the best of it - if she had wrecked the place it would have shown a greater degree of defiance and a refusal to accept that this was her home for the foreseeable future. She was applying logic and of that Andrew approved, logic was the key to this entire situation, as long as she continued to operate along logical grounds the result of this affair would be all the better; if not then it could only end badly. After all she had everything to gain and nothing to lose by complying with his wishes; she might argue that she would lose her freedom, but the concept of freedom was a joke, an illusion used to keep the masses in check and to ensure the perpetuation of the existing order. He had spent so long manipulating world affairs and the governments of mortal men that he knew what the freedom of one man was worth and he could buy out the freedom of every person in the country for less than the change in his pocket.

"I know I have provided much for you here, but is there anything further you need or would like?"
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Cameron Comorraza
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She watched him drift passed her with faint curiosity, and watched as he draped himself on a counter stool and poured a drink from a bottle she'd never really paid much mind to. She'd only seen him choose to partake on probably a handful of occasions, and this being one of them spoke volumes. The more he spoke, the more she could be assured he wasn't here on the offensive. Continuing to be defensive was a waste of energy, but it was a hard habit to shake. Her hold on the pillow had loosened considerably since she'd first settled, she wasn't keen on moving either, but she could watch him from a comfortable distance here. Thinking clearly was easier to do when he wasn't within arms reach of him.

When asked if there was anything she needed or wanted, she found herself drawing blanks. Cameron caught his gaze again, acknowledging his question, and gave him a genuinely unsure look, not certain what to say. She paused and looked away, "I honestly don't know," was all she could manage at first, turning her head and looking ahead of her, blankly into space. There was nothing she could think of off the top of her head that she really wanted or needed. All the necessities had been generously covered already, and living in a place where all her needs were already provided for made for a much more uneventful and boring life. She wasn't in the physical condition to occupy herself with dance or exercise like she used to, but the main focus of her fitness regimen was to avoid ending up in a predicament such as this one. Yet here she sat.

"It amazes me how much of myself I've lost and not taken back," she said absently, getting caught up in her thoughts, "I've spent so many years trying to stay out of your reach, I don't know what brings me joy or comfort anymore." This much was the only truth she could find in her own reflection. She wasn't trafficking blood dolls or constantly moving from place to place, always having to keep a low profile and zero social connections. Not exhausting herself with covering her own trail left her with very little in the way of personal goals, interests, or passions. The only thing that really stuck was dance, and she was in no shape to do that anytime again soon. It only stuck in the first place because it was the only true talent she could use to her advantage as a front. "Not having to constantly look over my shoulder has left me with very little to do... I read. It passes the time. Occupies my mind for a little while. I've never really had a decent collection of literature at my disposal...or enough interest in it to actually check it out. Beyond that though...I don't know." She sighed with defeat, still nothing she could think of. She didn't have a favorite drink or food she could think of that really sounded appetizing. Nothing did anymore. She wasn't ever one for movies, or other artistic outlets. She couldn't draw to save her life, or any interest in writing. She never played an instrument or really cared to sing...but music was something she hadn't really remembered existed or that she was used to hearing until she just realized it'd been missing.

"Music would be nice, I guess. I don't really have a preference."
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Andrew Cutting
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There wasn't much space between them at this point and though they were hardly close Andrew had not really had this much direct contact with her since she had been brought in; perhaps she was simply playing the part to try and lower his guard, or perhaps she was genuine, at this stage it was too early to tell for certain, but either way he felt that progress was being made. Her uncertainty sounded real enough but it could just as easily be a ruse to try and set in motion a plan to escape - she was after all a survivor, and clearly had connections given the effort and preparation that had gone into her attempt to keep away from him. Anything she requested could have been laying down the groundwork for some escape plot, it could be a sign to some outside compatriots or provide her with some material she needed to enact a plan - Andrew was paranoid enough to consider it, but he wasn't paranoid enough to believe it. Her escape routes had all but dried up by the time she'd been captured; no car had been waiting to pick her up when she emerged onto the streets, no outsiders had come to her aid - hell no-one had even called the cops when the two men had gone into her place and even though he had the PD in his pocket a phone call on record to them reporting the incident would have meant some trouble for him. No at this point he was prepared to believe that her resources now were as sparse as all his information told him they were; any attempt to escape would have to come from her and her alone and the apartment had no shortage of objects in it that she could use to try and get out.

Music was something he could bring in safely however; he had his own very significant collection of music on file which included a variety which probably would have stunned Cameron given how generally old fashioned he was. He was after all a Toreador and since the end of the world had all but happened he felt it was part of his role to preserve a record of music from before the apocalypse - so he had bought up every new vinyl and CD, and had even managed to retrieve masses of audio files from the abandoned server rooms of large distribution corporations. He could go through his own stores and find pretty much any music she could want, he'd managed to save most of the music which had been produced during her lifetime, even if only in software form. He could have used this as an opportunity to introduce her to music that would suit his agenda, but finding the right music would take time and this would therefore raise suspicion - not only that but he wasn't here to out and out brainwash her, but rather gently sculpt her in form and mentality. Going so far as to try the Clockwork Orange or Manchurian Candidate approaches to this would only be counterproductive.

"Music should not be a problem. I'll make the collection available to you. As for literature... I can do the same there too. This building is probably the largest repository of cultural history left in the world believe it or not."
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