[Sodium_noir] Alessandra

[Liz Oleksyn]

Alessandra Gaspare
Old Clan Tzimisce
an opulent apartment in the Towers
Saturday evening

So many wondrous distractions


Alessandra Gaspare sat on the floor of her bedroom,
gown billowing out around her, deep in concentration. 
Surrounded by stacks of books, the Tzimisce had every
intention of allowing her servant, Sophia, a
last-minute touchup to her dark, luxurious hair.  But
that moment of opportunity was lost when Alessa picked
up a weathered volume on Etruscan paganism and idly
glanced through a few pages.  The glance quickly
became a serious perusal. In the end, with a
dismissive wave of her hand, the Tzimisce had moved
into the bedroom and, much to Sophia’s frustration,
planted herself in the middle of the floor, pulling
nearby books and scrolls into messy piles.  

Thirty minutes passed.

Sophia, it must be noted, knew an extraordinary number
of curse words. Most were in her native Romanian,
dozens more in her mistress’ tongue -Italian, and
still more in various dialects acquired in transit, as
they’d moved from the Continent to the US.

At this moment, she was mumbling a few of the more
hair-raising phrases under her breath.  Alessandra,
engrossed in her studies, was oblivious to
this.

“My lady, he will be here in minutes!” Sophia pleaded.
“Your hair is not finished and
oh, that lovely dress. 
Look at the creases you’ve made!”  She stamped her
foot for emphasis, and it was the only thing that
brought Alessandra to attention.

“Hmm?”  The Tzimisce glanced upward, emerging from her
reverie. “Oh, Sophia, do stop fussing.  I’ve plenty
of....oh, dear...”  Alessa noticed a nearby clock. 
Ash would be here any moment.   She closed the book
and stood, making a haphazard gesture at smoothing the
wrinkles in her dress.  After a few choice words of
her own, she moved quickly to the mirror and began
fussing with her hair.

Within minutes, Alessandra was satisfied.  The gown
was one of her favorites - an older dress that Sofia
had taken much time and great care to preserve.  It
was made of silk, midnight blue in color, with an
empire waist and a scooped neckline that molded her
breasts into an alluring and almost scandalous
position.   Pearl earrings and a matching necklace
almost completed the ensemble.  All that was missing
was a handsome Toreador to grace her arm...  

She smiled.  Ash’s blood now blended with her own. 
His taste, his smell, the feel of his skin, was
embedded in her memory - in her very being.  This was
love, she believed, or as close to it as their kind
could know.

Alessandra sat on the edge of the bed and awaited his
arrival.  She was trembling like a young bride.  

It was the first time she had done so in centuries.

(on the wings of TAG)

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