Toreador

         Most of the teachers who really knew Miss Nox chided her for not teaching the Night School, but Marilyn's nights were precious to her. Many of her Kindred found it difficult or even impossible to stay awake during the daylight hours, but as long as she got at least the normal eight hours, she could manage it for the other eight. Marilyn didn't exactly know what her generation was, but she suspected her blood ran a bit thinner than most of her peers. Not that she knew any locals; not surprising as that was a large part of why she had chosen to live in this particular town. She never had been good at exerting her presence, or seeing the strings in the webs of politics.
         That was part of the reason why she chose to teach, though. Marilyn would never captivate or manipulate a room full of Kindred, but a room full of students was beyond easy. Even knowing outside the Sun was blazing. It burned even through the building surrounding her. This was all worth it, though, when she woke up with her bills paid, and without having to compromise her morals living the way the rest of her kind did. In any case, it was how she found herself stalking out of the windy streets into the town's bar, Link's Den. It was named after the town, Links. Or rather, what the town was called today. Marilyn herself, a resident of the town for several years, knew that it once was a different name.
         As she stepped out of the sheer wind, the dark dress that had been plastered to her form fell back in place around her. It was still contoured to her form, but now only because it was made to fit her. She had never been the type of woman who could easily blend into a crowd, even before she had been turned. This was something that had worked out as an advantage to her, as an intelligence agent some years ago. No one ever suspected subterfuge from someone so brazen as her. Her striking appearance and posh demeanor drew eyes any time she stepped into a room.
         Much like now, as she found her way into the main lounge--or what ever they called it. It was much like the foyer--or whatever--in that it was lit brightly with neon lights, and colored spotlights. For a small town, it's youth had rather progressive views on style, it seemed. The only people who didn't stare a little too long were those out on the dance floor. And perhaps the only reason why was because she was staring a little too long at them. The smokey irises of her eye were roiling as she longingly gazed upon them. The music was of a brasher era than her preference, but still melodic enough to send a slithering shiver up her spine. She wanted badly to join them, but knew better than to risk breaking the Masquerade.
         Tearing her eyes away, she drove to the bar itself, and sat daintily upon one of the stools decorating the rim of the plank of wood designated 'bar'. She looked very awkward upon it, looking almost as if she were sitting side-saddle on it. The bartender knew already what to place in front of her, and did so. She took hold of the fancy glass she had been provided with, taking a sip of the clear liquid within. The taste of the liquid stabbed at her tongue viciously, but in a way she found quite pleasurable.
         Marilyn had always found it much easier than her Kindred to sustain the necessary vital processes to mimic living mortals. The quiet breaths that caused her chest to rise, the slight flush to her cheeks that came after only a few sips of the wine that she only could hold down because of the vitae of others charging through her veins. It caused her a small amount of guilt to go through the charade, but had long ago deemed it a necessary evil to keep her sane.
         She didn't have long to feel guilt, as she became distracted with dismissing possible suitors that came by to bother her. It was mostly the same people every day. Those who met her peripherally during her school hours, or those who frequented the bar itself regularly. She could always expect several propositions from most of the men in the establishment before the end of the night. Many of the women, too. Yes, standing out in a crowd was something she was known for. Much of the reason for why she had been chosen...
         As a teacher, however, she felt she had somewhat of a reputation to uphold for the sake of her students. So, as much as she would have liked to take the company of the kine for a night, she mostly rejected those supplicants out of hand. Still, even that much of an interaction got her gears grinding again. It made her feel almost alive. More than the wine, more than even consuming the life of those kine. Just that brief interaction where she informed a parent of her student, or a fellow teacher, or a random resident altogether; 'it just wouldn't be proper'. She couldn't be sure, but from the frequency of 'regular' suitors, they must have gotten the same thrill from rejection that she did.
         It must have been around the fifth rejection of the night, when one of the kine seemed to materialize upon the barstool beside her. She only noticed when a soft, slithering voice coiled itself around her withered heart and clutched; "Hey, Come here often?" She managed to contain her shock, merely exhaling softly. She was usually pretty good at tracking the kine, and this woman definitely was kine. "Aren't you a little fancy for a place like this?"
         In her own posh voice, she replied coldly(though she felt anything but); "I do, in fact come here often, and I am, in fact, a little out of place. But there are few other options in town, and I am not so 'uptight' that I will travel for miles to be somewhere more fancy, as you put it." Marilyn took another sip from the sharp glass of wine, to distract her from the heat burning her from the side. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. Are you new in town?"
         The sunny woman gave a laugh that sent shivers through her even more so than the music. Her serpentine voice contracted around her as she spoke again; "I don't live here. I'm on my way somewhere else. I get the feeling I'm not alone. Don't tell me you're from around here."
         Marilyn gave a quiet shrug of her shoulder. "No, I was not born here, but I have been a teacher here for about a decade or so." That was a relatively safe answer to give. Still it seemed like the painful grip upon her heart became an unbearable, crushing one when the woman seemed confused for a moment, then disappointed. "Oh, you're a teacher."
         Oh, that tore her apart. This exotic woman she'd never seen had waltzed upon the stage and stolen her attention, only to break her down the next instant. The crestfallen expression must have shown upon Marilyn's face, because a horrible look crossed the other's, who immediately seized upon the artificially warm body of Marilyn in a comforting grip. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that! I just thought you... were from somewhere else."
         The overtly pale woman gave a scoffing laugh as she turned her gaze away from the painful visage of the kine before her, focusing on the lively white wine in her glass, which she sipped after disengaging from the addicting warmth of the woman beside her. "That's a nice effort, but I can tell you think less of me. I saw it in your eyes. They can't lie to me."
         Staring at Marilyn for a long moment, the blonde finally said; "You're right. I'm sorry. I have committed prejudice. Surely you can forgive me for that brief lapse of reason." The sunkissed woman reached a hand out, resting fingers lightly upon the pale features of the distraught woman, turning her head and forcing them to make eye contact. "Hey. Listen. I mean it. I'm sorry. Don't hate me for one micro expression."
         The woman's snaky voice strung her up. It tugged upon heartstrings that had long since decayed from age. She quietly sighed and ignored her better judgement. "Fine, I forgive you. But you're going to have to do something for me in return." She peered down into her wineglass as she tipped it back into her darkly painted lips. She took the final drink from it, and set the glass back down upon the table and said "You're going to have to buy my next round."
         The other's features broke out into a smile so warm she felt the touch of the final death just on the back of her neck. So much life was in this particular kine. It sucked her in. She needed this feeling in her unlife. "You've got it, beautiful." She promised, reaching out for the bartender and indicating another for the both of them. After laying down her coin, she turned her attention radiantly back upon Marilyn, staring into cloudy eyes with her own sky-blue.