smokestacks.

What do you think about this one?

Camille, that have been spending the last hours deciding on something to wear, showed
him yet another dress. It was far too much like the last; black, sharp, classy and fatale,
just like her. Raphael told her as much and she laughed, delighted, but discarded the
dress anyways.
It is just a meeting. His patience was meeting a near end Pick any, youll look
fine.
Oh, Raphael, Raphael. Those sharp nails found their way into his cheeks; the low
purr of her voice had some threat in it Thats why you have yet so much to learn.
This is not a simple meeting; dont let whatever they told you fool you. A ball, they say?
More like a demonstration of power. Theyll want us to know where our place is and I
will tell you: by the end of this night, they will all know. Now And she patted his
cheek gently, in an almost fond way help me choose a dress.
Raphael couldnt remember a time when he wasnt by Camilles side.
The demons that he tried so desperately to hide were only subdued by her gentle yet
threatening presence. Everytime she looked at him with that glint of malice sparkling
in her eyes he was remind that there were much more to worry now than his past
and part of him was grateful for that. She wasnt his sire, but as he been lonely and
desperate for many years and as he found himself wrapped around her finger, it was
almost like she was. He became so dependent of this bond, of this strange connection
that she created, spinning a web, tangling him in all these lies. He couldnt seem to
escape. In fact, he didnt wanted to escape. He was far too weak, far too lethargic to wish
for anything to change.
Thus, he stayed and helped her dress up to that unspoken war that the elder vampires
wielded between glasses of wine and half smiles.
As for himself, he dressed to match her.
(A couple made in hell).
.
He opened the door of the limo for Camille like a good gentleman, offering her his arm.
She took it with a polite smile as they gained the marble staircase under a rain of flashes
and curious stares. Raphael was never good at dealing with all the attention that Camille
Belcourt attracted to herself, but she grow up fond of all eyes on her; it was just another
annoyance of being her right hand man. She was polite with the press, even as she
dismissed them and, at the front door, a servant offered to take her coat. Raphael stepped
aside and let his eyes wander.
There was something almost graceful to the Rossi Mansion as it stood in the middle of
that rotten city that was Monte Serrano. They stay at the town was brief, but
everywhere they look the landscape was the same: the ruins of an empire that, once
portentous and shiny, was now putrefying under the rust of a progress that never came.
The people that were left behind in this sudden rise and fall plainly fled this sinking ship
or just surrendered and drowned with it. The crowd was poor, dying of hunger beneath
the feet of the underworld, but still there were place for opulence and luxury as the
decaying nobility ruffled its feathers like peacocks that would never lost their majesty.
Thus, it was only natural that they were invited for one of the most expensive parties of
the year in the whole east of Aracuan Lake. It was the way things were in Serrano. It
was just the natural order that preceded the world itself.
Mademoiselle Belcourt! A charming voice greeted them And her companion,
Raphael Santiago, I assume? They shook hands briefly I think we were never
properly introduced, Santiago. I am Franco Rossi, the host of this humble party. And by
the heavens, Camille, you look even prettier under this pale moonlight. As beautiful as
I remember you in what? The late Victorian era?
Oh Rossi, you flatter me. And If I know you, this party wont be humble at all, so
save your modesty. It was nice to see the smile of the newly arrived prince falter
Now, where is the beautiful Loraine? I think she could entertain Raphael here as we
discuss the grown up business.
If Camile saw the twitch in Raphaels frown, she pretended to not notice. Franco Rossi,
tall, powerful and with all his aristocratic features dressed head to toes in haute couture,
smiled a smile that didnt quite reached his eyes. He agreed to show up the place to
Camilles protg despise the fact that it was a thing that any low born could have done.
It was yet another show of how much she could influence the court of that small town;
even their prince bowed to her presence.
Loraine, my dearest Rossi said to a girl with the sharpest widows peak that
Raphaels ever saw Can you not let Santiago here die of boredom as Camille and I
discuss some important things? I know that you wont care in the slightest.
Raphael fought the urge to grimace. Camilles way of showing at everyone in the party
what Santiago meant to her and what was his place in their twisted hierarchy made him
sick. Behind Franco, the prince, he caught a glimpse of her flashy smile, always too
delighted with the way that the world tended to bend to her wishes.
Loraine, unlike the mostly ladies that make themselves at home in the ball room, wasnt
using a long dress or a fancy skirt. She preferred to show up in ripped jeans, industrial
boots and a fishnet top that let the eyes wander plenty through her bra. She shrugged
her shoulders and Franco left them to their own matters, slipping away in the crowd
with Camille. When Raphael tried to approach her, she ignored him, looking the other
way. She seemed perpetually bored out of her mind, fed up with the whole universe.