[Deal With It] Giselle & Lars

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

Ah, Giselle, silly angry Giselle, she thought as she spread her arms – stretching the otherwise knotted muscles in them and between her shoulders. Breathing a sigh, she smirked, glancing down at the body of the man who’d had high hopes of a happy ending. Tossing her skull in an elegant show of distaste, she prodded his corpse with disgust. How useless they were when they were empty and limp, quite cumbersome even to look at. Rising, she moved with grace towards the door, pressing a small button beside of it. “Abigail, send Gordon up for the discards.” A pause followed by a shaky “Yes mum” insured she’d been understood and Yvette turned and made her way towards the powder room. Shutting the door behind her, she shrugged the remaining lingerie off her hips and unlaced the corset. She rarely wore actual bras but found corsets much more effeminate. It was most definitely a personal preference and nothing more. The bathwater had been running since she arrived in the room – the action of starting the water so mechanic that it hardly bore mention.

Turning it off as it was nearly to the point of spilling over, she slid neatly into the steaming water and simply lay there. Her locks had been tugged back into a loose bun while stray locks curled about her features. A messy yet provocative look. She wore it well. Allowing her oculi to close, she mused silently within the depths of the heated pool for some time…nearly an hour before she rose, seemingly alerted by an unseen and unheard alarm. Exiting just as quickly as she’d entered the aquatic envelope, she took the plush towel from the rack and dabbed her body dry before wrapping it about herself. Her lips were pulled into a small, benevolent smirk while she ogled her wardrobe, deliberating on what the evening called for as far as attire went. Something simple. Now it had to be deliberate, not something that any bum would just toss on but jeans seemed alright. Sighing on a pair of peach toned skinny denims, she wore a black strapless bra to accommodate the shirt whose back was quite open. Fifteen minutes later would find her sitting before her dressed, staring amusedly into the mirror as she put on her earrings and tipped her hat.

Beautiful. There was a certain amount of narcissism about the woman that was undeniable but this self centeredness was rather charming as far as Ms. Audley was concerned and as her only steady companion that was all that mattered. The help had moved the remnants of a Mr. Cheves (?) from her quarters while she soaked in the tub and she sat back on the foot of it while she pulled her pumps on and then crossed her legs. Mentally preparing herself for the fun this evening promised. It was still early, only eleven thirty and so much to do. Rising pristinely from the mattress, she took no purse. Her cell phone was tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Money? Unnecessary. Car keys? She would be driven. Striding down the stairs she murmured her need for the driver to pull the Mercedes around the front. The maid practically leapt to the task in an effort to stay on her mistress’s good side. Painting on lip gloss that was clear with hints of gold shimmer in it, she stepped out into the night and smirked as her breath collected before her. The back seat door was opened for her by a stealthy and alert driver who was perhaps twenty eight or so with his black hair slicked back and his golden tanned face taut with somberness.

Murmuring the address to him as she sat back and crossed her legs daintily, Yvette glanced lazily out the window as her home disappeared. The drive held a duration of nearly an hour but they arrived just in time for twelve thirty to roll around. Muttering for him to remain nearby, he drove off the lot slowly and quietly as he had always been instructed to do. A pleased smirk was adopted by the vampire’s lips as she stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of the Victorian style manor. It was slightly on the cliché side, not unlike her own place of residence and that induced a chuckle from the depths of her throat. So alike they were. It did not take a brain surgeon to see that beyond the house itself there was much more to be seen on the property – her sister lived without want for anything, as it should be. Tossing her skull as she shook it, dismissing the mirth that came with a surprise visit to a clearly moody Ms. Giselle Audley, she mounted the stairs and stepped easily up them. A single, deliberate rap was placed on the thick wooden door, and a moment later another – more insistent. She had no desire to wait.

The fact was she was rather excited, this had been her sole purpose for some time and frankly she would enjoy a life beyond the mission of seeking her sister out. In her back pocket, folded neatly was her birth certificate should her sibling require proof and that was all. Cocking her hips lightly as she waited, her brows light on her forehead for the most part though those lips could not hide her laughter at the entire situation. Giselle would simply have to take it with a grain of salt.

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Word Count // 917
Outfit // Click!
Tag // Audley & Trell
Music // Coffin Nails by Atreyu
Comments // BAYAM!

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[Giselle Audley]

Giselle passed a restless Ziggy from her lap to Lars's. The pup settled down instantaneously. Figures... She met her husband's eyes with a roll of her own. A faint huff escaped her lips. Casting her gaze back on the big-screen, she repositioned herself now that she was without puppy. Reaching for her glass of freshly squeezed blood, quiet tones articulated her thoughts to Lars, "We'll need to sign her up for obedience school. And she peed on my Persian rug again." Ziggy was a high class pooch now. Why settle for a wee wee pad when there was a perfectly good Persian rug?

Giselle raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. The newlyweds decided on a quiet night after a hectic week of getting marriage documents finalized along with financial business settled and puppy shopping. Then they were in New York for a few days to sell Lars's apartment, get the remainder of his stuff left there shipped to Paris, and look into the purchase of an extravagant vacation home. Also, they were to leave for their honeymoon in a couple days, which they were both very excited for. Tonight they had no plans, so Lars opted for a movie night in Giselle's home theater. Giselle cheerfully agreed and let him pick the movie.

Currently, Sweeney Todd was singing out an epiphany. Giselle rested her head in the crook of Lars's neck. Her fingers idly trailed to Ziggy's head to scratch. "Wonderful choice, darling! The plot is absolutly captivating," she crooned. Marriage had been treating the couple well thus far. As anxious as they both were, everything was just like it had always been; just... legal now. She thought she'd never see the day when she would call another man, "husband". Likewise, Lars's issues with commitment made the proposal peculiar at first. Giselle was high maintenance, and Lars knew all too well that if he left her, she would kill him without hesitation. But she wasn't worried. After all the trouble she'd gotten him into, he faithfully stuck around.

Beaming toward the newest member of their family curled up sleepily in Lars's lap, Giselle couldn't help but be proud of herself that she could enjoy Ziggy despite her not being house broken. She was so much like a baby, and Giselle would have liked to have been a mother. Having Ziggy was the closest thing to a child. You could say Giselle's decision to welcome the little animal into her home had a motive other than simply wanting a pet.

This was nice, catching rare downtime with husband and Ziggy. Giselle reached over Lars and grabbed the bowl of popcorn. It smelled heavenly, produced a pleasant crunch, but hardly savory to a vampire who's taste buds denied anything other than blood. Nevertheless, Giselle got a nice fistful of popcorn and unceremoniously shoveled it in her mouth. Popcorn escapees flew in all directions. Glancing at Lars with a crooked grin, she brushed popcorn off his chest and flicked some off Ziggy's back. Quickly, she redeemed her sloven manner, "Is that not how mortals eat it? Large handfuls stuffed into the mouth despite it's maximum capacity?" grinning impishly, she added, "Here. Have some. Like this," she grabbed another handful and flung it at Lars. Ziggy only looked up from her nap for a moment with a cute confused look on her face as she probably wondered why it was raining popcorn.

Giselle was interrupted mid-laugh by a brisk knock at the door. Her smile wavered as she debated getting it or not. Choosing the latter, she settled down into her chair until another rap, louder this time, initiated a Ziggy spazz attack. Leaping off of Lars before either vampire could restrain her, she made a mad dash for the front door with her pathetic little bark. Giselle jumped up scowling, her eyes narrowed to slits. She placed a hand on Lars's shoulder and growled an, "I'll get it," with that, she stomped after Ziggy.

In one fluid movement, she had Ziggy under one arm, and a hand on the doorknob. Opening it a crack, a scent whooshed in with the wind. Giselle's temper flared. No fucking way. Flinging the door open, it slammed against the wall producing a resounding boom within the foyer. The chandelier shook overhead. Giselle's wild eyes took in the sight of her violently. "YOU!" she screeched, "Do you have a fucking death wish, girl? How DARE you come here?!" Giselle snarled. Seething anger rolled off the vampire. Ziggy was going crazy under Giselle's arm, trying to gnaw and claw her way out of the vampire's grasp. "LARS, GET YOUR GUN!"

the count was 769 and she's wearing this and also, Ello ello.

[Ellie]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=2][bg=0f232e] Lars stifled a laugh as Ziggy was plopped into his lap. Her grey-brindled form snuggling into his sweatpants. She was a good three or four months old, and still had a good bit of growing to do before she met her twenty pound adult size. He'd never had a dog before, so the new responsibility was captivating. She had splayed herself out on his lap in an effort to get comfortable. Her feet were hanging off his legs as stretches out as she could get. Puppies were hilarious creatures. Lars's hand coaxed her into a doze as it rand from her head to her tail rhythmically - his eyes on the large screen in front of him. His legs were out on the seat in front of him, the little home theatre having a good five rows of seats, four in each row. Much comfier and cleaner than any movie theatre itself. Given it was a little smaller, but he wasn't going to complain. Giselle was oddly dressed to the nines - to watch a movie in her own home. But he guessed that's just what she did to embody her whole style. Lars on the other hand was content wearing rolled up grey sweatpants and a batman shirt. Call him crazy. They were rather ill fitted for each other as far as present-ability went. Despite his long douse of wariness to marriage, it hadn't cheated him thus far. Knock on wood. He didn't feel any different, he just felt official. He hadn't decided if he liked that particular feeling or not. It was just sort of there, nothing special. Documents meant little to him. Giselle liked them though, so he guessed he didn't mind going through the motions. He listened to his wife's praise on choice of movie and snorted from amusement, "Sure," he said in a playful mocking tone, "You just like Depp - don't lie. I'd fuck him too." He liked his lips and still stared at the screen. Giselle's hand went digging for the popcorn. He glanced it warily, his stomach very much full of the buttered goodness. So much so his mouth felt stale. He could take no more. So when Giselle asked him how to consume it properly he just scrunched his brows and shrugged before the substance was hurtled at his face. He grunted, a smile breaking out on his face before his two tattooed hands reached for the whole bowl. He was just about to flip all the contents on his lover before the knock rang out. Way to ruin a perfect surprise! Maybe it was a blessing in disguise - Giselle migh tnot have taken too well to the whole bowl. But that was for him to find out and the intruder not to hinder, right? At present, Giselle was displeased and Ziggy was alert - her bat-shaped ears in the direction of the door to the home theatre, Lars's attention was there aswell. Lars's hand rested on Ziggy's back, but alas - thar she went a'barkin'. The last glimpse of her clumsy self down the hall called for Giselle to get up. Lars smiled up at her apologetically and nodded, "I'll pause the movie." With any luck the individual at the door would just be some person trying to preach their religion, or someone trying to sell something. Someone Giselle could "kindly" send away. But then he remembered the hour - and mentally cussed at himself. With any luck in all things good it would just be a friend. But with the resounding bang of the front door within the mansion walls Lars highly doubted that. Lars already began getting himself up at that point. He stretched his limbs lazily as he heard Giselle screeching to get his firearm. Granted, Giselle was a big girl and could handle herself. But the motive for his rushing was primarily for a weak and defenseless Ziggy who might not hold her own. Skipping steps and jogging down the upstairs hall, Lars yanked open their bedroom door. Instead of walking round the bed he flung himself upon it and yanked open the drawer on the nightstand of his side of the bed. Retrieving the .45, he quickly loaded it and shoved another clip into his sweatpants' pocket. Once he finally made it down to the foyer he puzzled the situation carefully. Well n one was rolling on the floor in offensive. Ziggy lurched herself out of Giselle's grasp and bolted over to him - away from the crazy aura of anger and to someone a little more levelheaded in this moment of time. With no present real danger, Lars eyed Giselle and the women at the door skeptically - picking up his dog first and tucking the shaking thing under his arm. No wonder it settled to him foremost. Lars cocked his gun and moved forward to Giselle's side. Instead of just shooting like a maniac he just pointed it to the stranger's - or at least the face was unfamiliar to him and questioned, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" THIS IS TAGGED TO YV & GIS. ELLIE HAS BEEN LISTENING TO BRAND NEW AS SHE WROTE THIS 816 WORD POST HERE WHERE LARS IS WEARING THIS, AND SHE'D ALSO LIKE YOU TO KNOW, lars wants a new home theatre - the larscave.

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[yvette gabrielle audley*]

Oh this was just too beautiful. Yvette had high expectations for her sibling, something she doubted would be in vain as Giselle Audley had proven to be very much the drama queen that the Audleys were notorious for shaping up to be. The woman was certain their father would not be baffled at all to find them in such an uproar. As her final knock took place the immortal listened, tentatively but not without your pedestrian mirth curling the outermost seams of her lips. Giselle was such a child though, like a five year old who thought the world was a stage or that she was in some movie. It was only natural that she would be non-plussed at her sister’s arrival. That would mean she might have to share the stage.

Then again, anyone who knew Yvette could immediately snort in reproach; the youngest Audley had no interest in any part of the game Giselle was playing. This world was her plaything, yes, but an obnoxious approach simply was not lady-like. Her mother’s stern, hypocritical stare overlooking her every move when happenstance placed them at the their home at the same time was heavy in her mind, prominent and prissy as she was. Mannerisms were key, if not vital to existence…no matter if you were a cold blooded killer who was destined to spend a damned eternity wandering the Earth and weeding out the idiots.

For all intensive purposes Yvette appeared calm, nay, pristine as she listened to the ruckus that went on just behind the door that she currently stared at. Her mouth shaped three simple words as the runt of a dog’s yips grew more insistent, and those words were: Three…Two…One. At the appearance of a somewhat flustered…okay pissed…Giselle it was just out of Yvette’s power to stifle that smirk and so the expression conquered her features. Get your gun! Now that was icing on the cake. ”Now this is just uncanny. I thought I had you pegged but this house…very suiting for an Audley.”

She even went so far as to glance over her sibling’s shoulders, though not truly interested in what was there to see – Yvette was playing, driving Giselle up the walls. If Giselle was intelligent as Yvette predicted well…she’d live a little longer. After all, Giselle hadn’t a clue who she was now did she? Poor sweet sister. If only Vet had a sense of compassion…even mercy would be helpful in this instance. Self preservation though…that would be just peachy. However it seemed all were in short supply this evening. Yvette still hadn’t answered Giselle’s question, her maddeningly calm gaze simply watched as the mongrel writhed out of the redhead’s grasp and bolted to the gentleman who’d just descended the stairs.

”And you must be Mr. Trell. A pleasure.” It was amusedly murmured, in a tone that suggested she really had no use for introductions or any interest in him. She just…happened to know his identity. Arching a brow just as the muzzle of the gun leveled with her gaze she liberated a chuckle, arms folding gently over her breasts as she eyed it then the couple. ”You two really have filthy mouths. God knows where they’ve been.” Smirking, again in oblivious amusement, she shook her head and dismissed the antics for the time being. ”But in the spirit of reason I suppose I’ll just come out with it…, she paused but then continued as if presuming they would be on the edge of their seats. ”Yvette Audley.” She did not explain, she did not move to leave or edge past the weapon pointed at her, she simply stared albeit lazily at her sibling, seemingly done mocking Lars and his silly pistol. If pain were a fear there was no hint of the apprehension. Wouldn’t it be nice if she was scared…it’d make things a little less like Alice In Wonderland now wouldn’t it?

Alas that just wasn’t happened, Yvette was Yvette for better or worse, as unapologetic as her sibling, possibly as high strung and definitely as violent…just put in a different package and stirred with a few different ingredients in mind. In the end though, we’re all Audleys. Except Lars. Sorry…you have the dog though right? You two can be precious and batty together while the Audley girls duke it out. Shalom.

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Word Count // 725
Outfit // Click!
Tag // Audley & Trell
Music // Coffin Nails by Atreyu
Comments // oohmy.

[/blockquote]

[Giselle Audley]

[atrb=width,397,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=1f1423] Lars seemed to materialize at her shoulder, poised to shoot the intruder. Thank goodness Ziggy escaped her clutches; where Giselle was clenching her fists, Ziggy's neck might have been. Giselle leered at the vampire. A savage growl escaping her lips did little to present Giselle as a classy woman and instead gave her the disposition of a beastly animal. Giselle thirsted for her blood. She hated this creature with a blazing passion. Her arrogant nonchalance pissed her off, and she had quite the tongue. Giselle didn't take kindly to insults. Especially insults from this infuriatingly calm girl who thought the world was her oyster. "You cannot seriously think you can just show up on my doorstep and expect to leave alive. You better have a fucking award-winning excuse for this," she snarled. Incredibly enough... she did. There was but one Audley left, and the line would die with her. Family history, especially history of a family so prominent as the Audley's, was burned into every member's memory: mansion was built in the 18th century by a Vicomte. When he died, he passed on the house and all his fortunes to his good friend, Jacques Audley. Since then, every Audley had rightful ownership to the house. Family history was a touchy subject for Giselle since she always felt she was cheated into the grandiose line. Her adoptive mother was physically incapable of conceiving a child. Adoption was her parents's last resort -- the only sure way to keep the family going. Giselle was your typical only child - a brat who took everything for granted. But respect for the ancestry of the Audley's was demanded of her. She was arranged a hubby before she first set foot in the mansion, and assigned the responsibility to fuck him and procreate. However, when she landed herself a couple of pretty fangs, she didn't have to give two shits about the Audley line anymore with her new immortal self. So she promptly slaughtered her parents. Family disgusted Giselle. Maybe if it was just her, husband, and child, it'd be okay. But extended family? A very, very extended family of Audley's who were around for centuries? She wanted absolutly nothing to do with them. She didn't need family, she was perfectly happy as an Audley loner. Why would she want to breed more little rich snobs -- bastards and bitches who only cared about what investment to make next? There was no sense of love, thankfulness, loyalty, or kinship. No fuzzy warm-heartedness you get from having this amazing lineage of family at your fingertips to have possibly loved you, be with you, help you grow, come first before anything. The Audley clan were as cold as the coins in their pocket. Money came first before everything. The Audley's walked the earth like robots, programed to do one thing and one thing only: reproduce and make money. Yes, Giselle was carrying the line just by living, but "Audley" was nothing more than a title. It sustained no meaning. Lucky for her she was the last one -- an endangered species. She didn't have to deal with other rich snobs -- she could barely handle herself. Besides, she wasn't going to allow any other Audley to live anyway if that meant sharing the fortune. So when Miss Yvette introduced herself as an Audley, Giselle's first thought was, Merde! I must kill this girl! but common sense enabled her to voice, "Bullshit." Another Audley was an impossibility, it didn't matter what relation this girl claimed to have with Giselle. She was a mentally disturbed vampire and just a wannabe. Giselle laughed and slid her hand across Lars's arm, indicating it was okay to lower the gun. Now wasn't that just precious. A secret admirer. Giselle was flattered... really. But enough was enough. Time to send her on her way. Giselle would accuse her of fraud, that would give her the message. Let her down easy, a rare act of kindness. Giselle was being very generous. "Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle. Je ne savais pas que j'étais en présence d'un autre Audley! Comment je suis ignorante de penser que je suis le dernier! Si vous s'il vous plaît, pour prouver votre nom, quelle est la devise de la famille Audley?" she asked cunningly and annoyingly condescendingly with a poisonous smile. The question would prove A.) if she's actually a Parisian, and B.) if she knew the family motto, which Giselle already knew she didn't because it was only revealed to an Audley, and Audley's were sworn to secrecy never to reveal the motto to anyone. The family motto was "La mort me suit" - Death follows me. Ironic for Giselle, anyway - the motto was supposed to remind every Audley that money was eternal and they were not, because Audley's were frequently under the misconception that they were eternal because of money. Giselle was eternal, and she had money. In your face Audley's. As she awaited the phony's answer with not a worry in her heart, she stole a quick kiss from Lars who probably didn't know what the fuck was going on. His french was still rusty. Now that the vampire was at ease, Giselle gathered Ziggy into her arms. Stroking her soft back fondly, Giselle thought to herself, La mort vous suit, cherie - Death follows you, my dear. Death follows you, and anyone else who tries to defile the Audley name. the count was 902 and she's wearing this and also, That stuff she said in French was "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I didn't know I was in the prescence of another Audley! How ignorant I am to think I'm the last one! If you please, to prove your name, what is the Audley family motto?".

[Ellie]

[atrb=width,350,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=2][bg=0f232e] Lars just stood there, brows furrowed. He was accustomed to being left in the dark now. Shoot first ask questions later. He'd officially adjusted. So with the barrel of the gun pointing towards the woman's thigh expectantly, he waited. In all honesty he hoped he wouldn't have to fire. Simply because Lars was ninety-five percent positive Ziggy would piss all over his side. Poor thing. He and Giselle would knock years off of her with every passing day. He'd thought of it momentarily as they adopted her - but hey, those eyes? He was willing to take the risk. It wasn't like the two of them had ill intentions, she'd just have to toughen up and become bomb proof is all! Meanwhile, the dark haired, grey eyed woman gave her name - Lars rolled his eyes and audibly moaned his displeasure. His gun rose from it's position downward - ready to shoot this person square in the chest. No need to play the nice card and bide precious time, bounded with lies and deception before they all blew themselves to smithereens. "I am so fucking tired of people with that last name randomly showing up at this fucking door and interrupting my life," he gritted through his teeth, recalling the last time someone waltzed into he and Giselle's life. As if he would play himself for a fool this time. Luckily enough for him Giselle had learned to not be so gullible in that time. She didn't seem to be so taken by this particular intruder, thank fuck. Nor did the one out in the cool night look very offensive, but it wasn't as if he was going to take too many chances with an unknown identity. Giselle's hand snaked on his tattooed arm for it to be lowered. Lars tilted his head toward her, the confusion in his eyes. He pouted while the two conversed, the dog removed from his grasp. Ziggy eagerly stretched her flat face out to the stranger and sniffed like a mad woman, her large eyes bulging out of her skull more than usual. Lars leaned his back against the door frame and sighed after the kiss. Wat she aimed to do with it was beyond him, although it'd already served it's purpose in pacifying him against the wall, silly boy. He moved the firearm about his hands boredly, wiping smudges off of it with his shirt tail. Hazel hues trailed about the front yard... just in case this woman came with back up and she was merely the distraction. He could never be too careful. Not to mention he could care less about some family motto he wasn't apart of. His wife and whoever could talk it out all night but Lars wasn't the one to come to when you needed familial advice. He didn't know much of his extended family, they all lived in Italy - or so he was told. There were his grandparents, both pairs dying somewhere in his younger life and his parents. His father was an only child and his other the youngest of ten. So when his mother's Father came with her to America, her older siblings were already married and with their own family, or with their mother. Lars's mother, Rita, had been a daddy's girl so to speak. Until she met Lars's father, Andrew, in high school, however. You know, your little bad boy/spunky girl love story that ended in divorce. In all honesty he did have a good amount of lineage a few countries over - but they wouldn't know his name, nor would he really be able to even communicate with them if they didn't know English. They way he saw it - he never got a taste for it, therefore there was nothing to miss. To his knowledge he was the youngest and probably would be the last Trell (where on earth that surname came from was beyond him) - the bloodlines on his father's side had ran thin from what he knew, unless his fifty something year old father decided to reproduce again (highly unlikely). Then again, his father and his father before him weren't really the ideal candidates to carry your line, the sort of men who didn't speak hotly about their whereabouts because most likely their family thought the same of them. Maybe he and Giselle both could do some good signing up for that Ancestry dot com business. THIS IS TAGGED TO YV & GIS. ELLIE HAS BEEN LISTENING TO THE USED AS SHE WROTE THIS 684 WORD POST HERE WHERE LARS IS WEARING THIS, AND SHE'D ALSO LIKE YOU TO KNOW, ray needs to get the new Used album NOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOW. Meant To Die = my new fave songg 8DD!!

[yvette gabrielle audley*]

If there was one thing that Yvette sported without afterthought or regret it was the cool demeanor that was seemingly unshakeable even in the face of certain peril. After all her sibling was notorious for her temper tantrums and the blood results of those tempestuous outbursts. What Yvette was accomplishing meant little if she was only to be mutilated in the process…however, that did not occur to the young immortal. No, she could care less if she escaped unmarred or untouched this evening. Giselle’s clearly savage persona was one to be regarded, and in this case, giggled at. Silly Ms. Dracula. While Lars moved in over Giselle’s shoulder, a sneer threatened to tick at the immortal’s lips, the cliché words clogging her throat; “Using a man to do your dirty work?” Well… no matter.

Again with the profanity. Pursing her lips thoughtfully, there was no flinch from the younger Audley, no display of disdain or animosity only that child-like amusement that danced in her otherwise schooled features. The world was her jungle gym, and this beast? A kitty to be drench in ice cold water or fed to the dog, who in this case seemed well trained. At the thought of Mr. Trell the immortal’s nearly apathetic stare seemed to switch focus and assess his features. The overuse of vulgar language was something that would generally wear on Yvette’s nerves but to her credit she still showed no sign of irritation despite the snarl that bubbled in her gut.

While Yvette was always up for a good game of cat and mouse, the word play was a bore – she craved action, fists flying…blood. Very much alike, these women, very much indeed. Observing the dismissive way that Giselle regarded her mate, Yvette’s slender hips adopted an angle. There went all possibility for fun. She regarded its departure with regret but the knowledge that this tale was not yet finished and so she would have to remain – fun or no fun. Yvette had honestly expected something of more intrigue than a simple exchange of words, something more sinister or mystical but the meager exchange of code and phrase was uninteresting.

Still, for the sake of seeing to business she humored her sibling with a quiet sigh. Reaching in her back pocket slowly as not to bring Lars back into “I’ma busta cap” mode, she unfolded it thoughtfully and as she presented it to the assumedly loathing sister her words were murmured in an uncharacteristically flat tone. La mort me suit. In many ways the Audley name was as meaningless to Yvette as it was to Giselle. Her mother was not an Audley and so none of her good fortune had come from their father. The only scrap of significance it held was the fact that it endowed Yvette a sister – a connection to the world unbeknownst her for so long.

At this point Yvette would say that the night had proven something of a success, folding the paper back into place, she tucked it between her sibling’s arm and the mongrel she clung to. Her lips twitched with that everpresent mirth as she gave a somewhat taunting nod. Pardonnez-moi de vous interrompre votre vie bien passionnante. Turning on her heel without a second glance at the firearm and its captor she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, pulled the driver up and within thirty seconds he was at the front once again. Issuing one final glance to the eldest Audley, a flash of a grin was bestowed before she slid onto the seat, shut the door and instructed the clearly disgruntled servant back to her own abode. The night was finished. Naturally the birth certificate had been a copy so she had nothing to fret over should they destroy it in hopes of killing her claim to the family as she suspected they might. She would allow them time to stew before she interloped further… À plus tard.

x x x x x x x x x x

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Word Count // 657
Outfit // Click!
Tag // Audley & Trell
Music // Weapons of Mad Distortion by Crystal Method
Comments // French;; Pardon me for interrupting your clearly exciting life.

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[Giselle Audley]

[atrb=width,397,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=1f1423] Giselle was so smug, so sure of herself, so ignorant. A selfish thing she was. The intrusive Bitch was giving her sassy lip. Giselle didn't exactly care what this nobody thought of her and Lars, but she wasn't going to tolerate her speaking about them like that. Whilst Giselle waited for an answer during a moments silence, she caught herself staring transfixed at the stranger's peculiar eyes. It really was looking at an exact mirror image of her own eyes. She could feel her stomach churning, but she kept telling herself over and over that another Audley was an impossibility. God, what Lars must be thinking. Here we fucking go again probably. But this was different. Giselle had a history with Jack last time. Fuck, Jack was her husband still, and he just showed up on her doorstep expecting Giselle to take him back with open arms. After that experience Giselle wasn't so gullible anymore. Being akin to this girl was preposterous. No matter how this girl tried to prove it, Giselle would never allow herself to believe her. Not that she wanted to believe her anyway. The only thing the vampire would succeed in doing tonight was pissing off her and Lars. Giselle would just have to repay Lars for the silly interruption in bed tonight. So ready to condemn the vampire a fraud, the family motto went through one ear and out the other. Smiling triumphantly, Giselle was about to slam the door on the vampire's face when she processed what she had said. Giselle must have heard her wrong, she thought she just said La mort me suit. But she couldn't have. She'd never be able to know this... Giselle found a paper tucked under her arm, and then the vampire was gone. Her face blank now, Giselle stood motionless. Staring into the night her one track mind repeated over and over, Impossible... this is impossible... but was it improbable? Groaning, Giselle's hold on Ziggy slackened, and the puppy leaped to the floor and scampered off in the direction of the home theater, her back legs slipping on the marble as she ran. Most likely she was taking this opportunity to go eat fallen popcorn. The paper fell after Ziggy had launched herself. It lay open on the floor. Giselle's eyes flicked over it once, and then she very calmly straightened her back and walked away toward the kitchen doors without a word. The label stamped across the top had gloated "Certificate of Birth". Under it, the vampire's name: Yvette Gabrielle Audley. But that's not what disturbed Giselle. For underneath Yvette's name was her biological parents's signatures. But Giselle was only concerned with her biological father's name: Gabriel Audley. Gabriel. Fucking. Audley. Giselle hurled an empty beer bottle. Exploding against the wall with a terrific crash, it hardly drowned Giselle's banshee shrieks in incoherent French. Continuing to demolish the kitchen and accompanying the clamor of clashing pots and pans, knives thudding into the wall, shattering plates, utensils, glasses, and anything else she could get her hands on, with ear-splitting screeches making her throat raw and possibly breaking the sound barrier, she finally let up when she couldn't possibly do anymore damage. She sat on the floor, sparkling with broken glass, with her head between her knees. Her days of being an only child were over. the count was 551 and she's wearing this and also, Poooor Giz..