fallen angel

Vyvyan was a little more than nervous to be at a rehearsal dinner — it felt like an affair far too intimate for the likes of her, someone who hardly knew the Weiss family, and wished to keep it that way. However, she could always use more money lining her wallet, though she had never complained about her modest way of living. That was how it had always been. Before she was on her own, Kalyani packed her three adopted children around on her hip and well into adulthood, making her money through means that the aspiring singer had never nosed about. Looking back, she wondered if she should have asked more questions. If being more openly inquisitive would have yielded answers to the chagrin of her past. Now, all she could do was accept that what was done was done, and it was out of her power to alter the surety of time itself. The sagacity that her newfound life offered did not allot her the prowess of a blind seer.

She had been familiarizing herself with the surroundings in preparation for tomorrow. When she stumbled out the door and was met with a gust of wind and a fresh breath of air, she realized she must have made a wrong turn seeking out the dining hall. About to turn around and send her cane in another blind search for her destination, she paused, her hand lingering on the door. "...Addie? What are you doing here?" Voices were wonted to one who didn't have eyes to determine anyone's countenance; it was now the most reliable compass she had for another person's presence. Some, she could identify by touch, and those she was less inclined to know so intimately through the cadence of their voice, their accent, the quirks in the manner of speech. Everyone had dead giveaways, and few were good actors at disguising it. Except those who were professionally adept at such a talent, of course. Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura came to mind.

Cassandra's already pin straight posture springing up to an impossibly rigid degree, the blonde could hear her heartbeat pounding in her skull, time slowing to a crawl as the realization of what this unexpected arrival meant for her. That voice... I know that voice. It wasn't just her blind friend that had a penchant for recognizing voices. As the eldest Weiss, raised since birth for the slaughter, there was a learned hypervigilance that had been methodically hardwired into the heiress's every last sense. When she entered an unfamiliar room, she scanned for potential threats and nearby exits. When she took a sip from a drink, she made note of any peculiar smells or tastes. And when she met new people, she took notice of the cadence of their voices, little quirks in their inflection that might become tells down the line. In this city, a Weiss could never let their guard down. Today was just the latest example of that.

Vyvyan... someone that Cass had been foolish enough to befriend not as herself, but as the alter ego she used for anonymity, for the chance to trapse around the city she called home without the baggage of her family name wrapped around her ankle like an anchor (or her father catching on to her antics). How Vyvyan ended up at the Weiss wedding was a horrible twist of fate, a reminder to the eldest Weiss that there was no escaping her fate, try as she might to forge an identity away from her lineage. Addie was more free spirited and unencumbered than Cassandra would ever be. Addie could behave however she pleased out on the town, could make friends with anyone that piqued her curiosity. But no matter what name she assumed, no matter what disguise she donned, she would always be Cassandra Weiss to her very core. Any attempts to break free were futile at best, it seemed.

Once the two of them had been on odds, rivals in the truest of sense for high school children. Because they had been children. Gemma had studied till deep in the night just so she could beat Cassandra at a test, just to be a little bit smarter or a little bit brighter. She had hated her guts, deeply, deadly, would lay awake at night and image all the things that could happen to Cass. How she might meet her end. But that had never been about Cassandra, but simply to make the contest stop. Because even if she won some times, she didn't win all the time.

There wasn't a moment of total annihilation.

And while Gemma had kept that energy, Cass had lost it. And there was some softness to the Capo now, for this creature who had once been her greatest advisary. Because she wanted to keep on fighting, to keep on competing, no matter how tired it had made her. She wanted Cass to succeed because else her victory didn't feel well-earned.

So she placed a hand gently on Cass' shoulder and gave her a nod back towards the party. "Too much drama, you'd need buckets of air to recover from that."

At the realization that her unexpected company was (most unfortunately) her college rival, the blonde just barely resisted the urge to unleash a beleaguered sigh from the depths of her soul and do away with her near-constant facade of perfect composure, slumping against the stony exterior of her childhood home in defeat. Of course she would find me like this, struggling to get through a party, of all things. But her posture remained pin straight, a hard habit to break in Gemma's presence, used to being on high alert around the other. There was once a time in Cassandra's life where their academic rivalry was a constant fueling drive, propelling the eldest Weiss forward in her quest for excellence and power, never satisfied with herself unless she could definitively prove she was the best. But these days, she barely had enough energy to enter a room full of people and allow herself to be perceived by prying eyes, let alone go toe-to-toe with her old rival, exchanging witty remarks just for old time's sake. The red-hot flame within her to succeed at all costs had nearly been extinguished on the night of her private breakdown, replaced instead with what passed for a flicker of fading light.

Meeting Gemma's feather-light touch on her shoulder with a tentative glance in her direction, Cass nodded in greeting. "Too much drama for a whole lifetime, I'd say," she agreed, sharp green eyes darting up at the night sky above them, as if the heavens could offer up some reprieve from her perpetual exhaustion with life as a Weiss. "Honestly, I don't know how they have the energy for it. It's incredible, really." Though there was once a time that Cassandra was just as bullish and passionate as her father and sisters, these days, the only things that inspired any fervor in her was the promise of a quiet life of solitude in her home, lost in her books. At least it was safer up there.

"What about you? How's life in the family business been treating you?" Cassandra wanted to ask Gemma if she was sick of it yet, if perhaps she'd grown just as disillusioned with the whole operation as the former golden child had. But maybe that was just wishful thinking. After all, Gemma never gave up the fight the way that Cass did. She was still toiling away, hard at work to prove herself, while the blonde was content to simply... let life pass her by. How far the mighty have fallen. She wondered if Gemma had come out here to gloat.

He found, instead, one of the very people he was meant to be guarding. He tilted his head in slight greeting, choosing to keep a respectable distance from her. "You don't have to apologize to me, ma'am," he reassured. He leaned against the doorframe, taking her up on the offer of air by taking a deep breath of his own. He shoveled a little bit of salad into his mouth before gesturing noncommitally to the air. "What do you think is going to break first - the weather, or one of your family members' sanity?"

Perpetually rigid posture relaxing at the realization that her unexpected company was a familiar face, Cassandra returned his nod with one of her own and managed an easy-going grin (or, at least, whatever passed for easy-going for the famously blunt and severe eldest Weiss daughter). "At ease, Raph. You can enjoy your dinner in peace out here. I'm not going to give you any trouble tonight, I promise." It was rare for Cassandra to find true allies among her father's legion of loyal soldiers. Over the years spent under his regime, she'd learned quickly that their true allegiance tended to lie with the patriarch of the family. After all, until one of his successors took over officially, he was still the one calling the shots. Even when she'd been in training to take the crown from him, not all of his followers were as convinced that she had what it took to be the new head of the family. And it only hurt her pride a little a lot that they were right in the end. Still, there were a select few in the Weiss organization that the heiress got along easily with, feeling a degree of comfort in their presence that allowed her to drop her mask of perfection (if only for a few moments at a time). More than simply enjoying their company, she tentatively trusted them.

Raphael Barnes was among that handful.

A wisp of a chuckle escaping her lips at his quip, she hummed thoughtfully, considering the rhetorical question with all of the sober sincerity that Cassandra had long been known for, never one to take anything lightly. "Well, considering our history, I'd say my family's sanity. You'd have much better odds counting on one of us to break down than the weather turning for the worse. The real question is: which one of us will be the one to break first?" A flicker of amusement briefly lighting up her gaze, Cass braced her hands on either side of her, the rough stone of the bench lightly scratching against her palms. "Have you gotten to know the new arrivals at all? I've talked to Elias, he seems alright. But Cherry is still a mystery... haven't gotten much time with her yet," she confessed, comfortable enough to admit what she considered a minute weakness on her part, an oversight to collect information that her father would've surely berated her for.

You should know better, Cassie. Knowledge is power.

Romi was dead fucking tired after a stupidly long shift and she was ready to go home and fall into bed. Like everything else, this job was chipping away at her soul and it was getting harder to stomach as the dreary days lagged by. Especially over the past few days, she'd found herself growing jealous of the Vitelli family--their patriarch was dead and in the ground now. The Weiss’ could only be so lucky. Some might not understand why she vied so much for her father’s approval—hell, sometimes, she didn’t even get it. But she was hopeful that at some point, all of her hard work would pay off; though as time went by, she was doubting that outcome more and more.

She was in the kitchen, cleaning up. She’d dismissed the others. She preferred the tranquility that came from solitude after a long, busy day—it helped her to decompress. So when she first heard the familiar voice, she froze before composing herself and making her way out to dining room. She wasn’t sure why Cassie was here and for a second, she worried that something might be wrong. But her eldest sister seemed collected, though maybe a little nervous.

The tension in her spine loosening at the confirmation that Romi's hackles weren't up, Cassandra wondered vaguely if that was a feeling she'd ever be able to fully shake: the instinct to always be prepared for a confrontation around members of her family. In that moment, she felt a tremendous sadness swell in her chest, aching somewhere behind her ribcage. Cassie wondered if Romi ever mourned the idea of an unconditionally loving and supportive father figure the way she often did, a deep-seated jealousy at the pit of her stomach for people that got to experience that growing up. Instead, the Weiss sisters had been raised on emotional scraps, each vying for what little attention and approval their father decided to dole out on any given day. It wouldn't have been enough to sustain one of them, much less all three girls. But it was all they knew.

Meeting her sister's tentative grin with a small one of her own, the blonde paused, waiting for Romi to finish her thought. She couldn't be the only sister fighting against every natural instinct in that moment, uncertain how to go about doing something as natural for most people as checking in with their loved ones. Nodding curtly at the directive, the heiress allowed herself to take a full breath since entering the restaurant. "Yeah, sure. I can... sit." The words scrambled out of her mouth in a clumsy heap, a heat pricking at the back of her neck the way it did during university, when she would get flustered in the middle of an in-class debate. The fact that the simple act of sitting cordially with her baby sister elicited a similar response in her didn't bode well. She'd have to work on that. "Some water would be nice, actually," Cass remarked, hoping that it would remedy the sudden case of dry mouth she was fighting through, crossing her legs primly beneath her as she took a seat across from her sister.

The veterinarian grinned when she called him out on his bullshit. He couldn't help the genuine laugh that followed. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," but his tone made it clear that he did, and that he was lying. He didn't try to sell it, he was bantering.

"That blasted insomnia, right? No matter how hard we try, it just keeps on being around." Not that he tried, certainly not hard. He didn't mind it, he ran on fumes sometimes, but he felt light and full of energy. Could be the caffeine. He thought it was the dogs.

He gave her his puppy dog look, though he figured it was failing. "I'll settle for a few sips, if you cannot be convinced," he said, faking asasperation.

"Oh, I am!" He kept on leaning on the counter. "I will write you down some references, but trust me, I'm wonderful. I'm funny, British, and I know a lot about dogs. Also other animals, but mostly dogs."

Cassandra wondered if there was a version of herself hidden beneath the surface that could interact with the world as freely as Matevos seemed to. After all, her entire existence as the heir to the Weiss family throne hinged on this simple reality: that she was expected to play whatever role was required of her. The rest, she had to keep to herself. It was simply how the blonde had been conditioned to view the social circles she existed in as a Weiss, only ever offering up pieces of herself, convinced that if she showed the messier parts of herself to anyone, that she would lose their respect in an instant.

She couldn't imagine Matevos worrying about something like that.

Offering a disbelieving smirk at his unconvincing rebuttal, Cass shook her head, not at all surprised by the biker's audacity to attempt to keep the ruse up. As if they were strangers to each other. Deciding to let it go, the heiress heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can do much about the insomnia. It seems determined to stick around, even though I want nothing to do with them. Can't seem to take a hint, that one. And that's coming from me," she remarked dryly, her clumsy attempt at a joke. At this point, Cassandra had grown accustomed to running on just a couple of hours of sleep each night. It was better than the fitful sleep that awaited her when she closed her eyes.

Raising a brow at his puppy dog look, Cass felt an echo of warmth somewhere in the depths of her stomach, though her expression remained carefully neutral. "You can leech off of my drink, but you've proven that you can't be trusted with your own. We wouldn't want your heart to up and give out from a caffeine overdose, of all things, now would we?"

A genuine flicker of amusement settling on her features, Cassandra continued to play along with the idea that they had never met before this very moment. "Hmm, funny and British? Sounds promising. Dogs are good company, but I'm more of a cat person myself." As if he didn't know. As if he'd never met her white fluffball himself. "Is that a problem? Do you only consort with other dog people?"

LARGE AND ROUNDED SUNGLASSES COVERED a good portion of Meera's face, no concern for protection from sunlight on an overcast winter day, but rather in an attempt to shield herself from any recognition as it had practically been her first venture outside in weeks after retreating into the safety of her penthouse suite after a police interrogation that she never thought she would see herself in the starring role of. Still, her fingertips buzzed with tension at facing the shredded shambles of what was left of her public image after years of the careful caution that had been put into crafting it into all it was, every decision she made or word spoken all torn down in the last few weeks. Her spot on the charity board hadn't been removed, though she had feigned sick from attending any recent meetings, and she supposed she should have called her personal driver but instead decided on plans of trying to hail a cab. Any person she had personal connections to had been kept at an arm's length away, or rather, any person besides the lovely room service waiters she had been tipping heavily was kept a distance away. The street of central Strip was probably not the ideal location for a previous murder suspect who was riddled with unease, proven by how she practically jumped out of her own skin and dark jacket at the mere presence of someone close, a practiced, "I have no comment," leaving her lips thoughtlessly as the idea of being hounded by press, especially after the televised Vitelli event, at the forefront of her mind. "I apologize, I hope I didn't jostle you." Distracted, eyes from behind her glasses peered around. "Did you also see camera flashes just now?"

If there was an area of expertise that the eldest Weiss sister considered herself a savant about, it was the art of disappearing. So much so, that it was almost difficult for Cassandra to reconcile the reality that a mere decade ago, the blonde could command a room into silence with just a few words. But ever since her breakdown and subsequent fall from grace, the heiress now operated in the shadows, at the fringe of the shady dealings that went on in her childhood home. Rooms no longer quieted in her presence—business continued as usual when she entered a room. It served her well as of late. After all, it was much easier to roam the underbelly of Sin City in disguise and privately question her loyalty to her father in the comfort afforded to her by the luxury of obscurity. Though Cass had once worn the Weiss family name as a badge of honor in her teens and twenties, the expectations and pre-conceived notions that came along with it felt suffocating in present day. She couldn't help but wonder if Meera was struggling with a similar feeling, especially with the news coverage and whispered rumors.

But before her best attempt at a cordial greeting could leave her painted brown lips, the blonde jumped back, startled by the Vitelli girl's frantic reaction to a figure in her peripheral vision. Managing her best attempt at an inviting smile, lips quirking up at the edges ever so slightly, Cass put her meticulously manicured hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry, I'm not here to hound you. I come in peace." Though the Weiss daughter had befriended a couple of the Vitelli children and associates on her own time, not to mention the widely known fact that Cassandra no longer operated on behalf of her father or his empire, she felt the need to make it clear that her intentions were pure. There was too much bad blood between their families—it felt safer to make her motivations as clear as possible. Looking around for good measure, the blonde shook her head. "No, no camera flashes. And trust me, I would know. I've been dodging reporters for years," she confessed, hoping it would operate as an olive branch of sorts. "I just saw you and... I figured you might want some help getting out of here. You know, discreetly. I can pass along my tips and tricks for getting around this city virtually undetected and unbothered. Where are you headed?"

What was between them was mostly in the past, the kind of fling that Matevos wasn't really famous for - he tended to fall harder than that - but that had been nice regardless. When it came to those he had been casual with, they were usually his direct opposite, so of course... of course one of them was Cass.

"It is never too late to be on a caffeine high," he stated. "I always sleep well regardless," he added. Which was a complete lie. And she probably knew that well enough. He leaned his chin on his hand. "Hmm, what if you order a coffee, and just leave it on the counter, and we'll both pretend it never happened. I promise I'll make it worth your while. I am great company," he said, as if they didn't know each other at all.

There was a certain way that Matevos let things roll off his back that had always intrigued Cassandra, her faint smile growing for just a moment at his easy peel of laughter. The heiress was the kind of person that had long been accused of being too serious, accustomed from childhood to the feeling of the world sitting atop her shoulders. She had always been obsessive and intense, even as a child. It was the only way she felt even remotely comfortable navigating such a deeply confounding world: sticking to her routines and comforts. Not Matevos, though. He could just... laugh things off and recover so swiftly, when any uneasy conversation was enough to make Cassandra feel like she'd been thrown to the wolves socially.

For that reason, the blonde wasn't usually the type to indulge in casual hookups. She found the idea of chatting up new people perilous on a good day, so the thought of trying to pick up a perfect stranger set her teeth on edge. There were too many variables, too many subtle signs she could misread. Matevos had been different, though. He wasn't an unsolvable puzzle in the way Cassandra was. He was intriguing, sure, but not hard to read. He didn't put on airs around her like the bootlickers that made up her father's empire. And he spoke with a kind of openness that she found refreshing.

The only complication was the company he kept, the fact that the head of his gang was one of her closest friends, Stella (who didn't know her as Cassandra at all, but as her alter ego, Addie). But that was fine. As long as she kept things casual between them, which she had. Now, with everything seemingly crumbling in her life, she welcomed his unexpected company.

"Sleep well?" she echoed incredulously, a slightly louder exhale punctuating her skeptical remark as she glanced over at him. "Bullshit. I bet you're still just as bad of an insomniac as I am. I'm sure the consistent caffeine highs aren't helping your problem, either." Sure, it had been ages since their light-hearted fling, but if there was anything that her time in social exile had taught her it was that change took time. Not everyone was capable of it.

Keeping her features neutral as he rested his chin on his palm, she raised a manicured brow. Giving a small hum as she pretended to consider his proposal, she countered, "Or, I can order that espresso martini I was going to get for myself and, if you're nice, I'll let you have a few sips." Playing along with the ruse, as if they were strangers just meeting, she rested both arms atop the bar, leaning forward on her elbows. "Are you really? Do you have any references I can call to verify that?" she mused. "What makes you good company, anyways? Enlighten me."

CASSANDRA HAD BEEN A MYSTERY TO PETRA. She had always been Peter's heir and perfect daughter, a fate that Petra was never entitled to due to her second-place birth order. The girl had the world at her fingertips, was the closest to earning their father's love (if such a thing were possible), and yet she threw it all away. It baffled her, as all she longed for was power and the recognition she never received as a child.

Though her feelings for her eldest sister weren't as volatile as they were for her youngest sibling, resentment still built up inside of her. She was the daughter Petra grew up being compared to. She was the one who didn't save her the night Romi and she fought. In her mind, she was just as guilty of Petra's fate as the one who ended her life.

And perhaps that's why she decided to finally pay her dear sister a visit. She wasn't planning on killing her or anything (at least not right away-- that would be no fun), but thought it was time for a good, old family reunion. So she slipped into her sister's apartment, settled down on her couch, and waited for the blonde to come home.

When she finally spotted the door unlocking, she grinned and waited for the show to start. The slightest glimpse of blonde hair made her sit up, hand stroking the girl's cat as she called out, "Sister." The word was taunting, not full of affection like it might've been years ago. "About time you arrived."

Among the Weiss sisters, there was no shortage of ambition. Between the three of them, there was enough calculating intelligence and drive to propel them to any lot in life they so desired. But the pull of familial expectations, not to mention the long looming shadow of their father, proved an inescapable force. The family business had always been the center of gravity that they orbited, taught from an early age to claw at each other in order to win their father's favor. They'd been trained well, craved into the ideal foot soldiers. It was the only way to earn a place at the table.

And for the longest time, it seemed like Cassandra was primed to be the victor of that game, destined to take over the Weiss criminal organization and earn her rightful place as the head of the family. In her youth, nothing would've been sweeter. After all, her academic achievements had always been the most certain way to earn acceptance and acknowledgement from her father. He demanded perfection from his children, but especially from his heir. There was no room for her to be particular and odd, no room to express discomfort or uncertainty of any kind. So, she spent the majority of her childhood and young adulthood tamping down any feelings that didn't align with the master plan, any peculiarities unbecoming of the leader she had to be.

But the brighter her star glowed, the faster she hurtled towards her own implosion, wax wings already beginning to melt as she approached that fateful night, when the final string keeping her tethered to her predestined future snapped for good: witnessing her mother's supposed execution. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed a way out, any way out.

The only problem was that without the promise of inheriting the family business, she didn't know what to do with herself anymore. Especially now that their mother, her sole reason for keeping her shit even remotely together in the years since her mental breakdown and suicide attempt, had left town. Now, she was truly alone.

So, the sight of her middle sister wasn't an entirely unwelcome one. Though, the way she jumped at the unexpected sight of her, lounging on her pristine white couch without a care in the world, said otherwise.

"Petra," she blurted by way of a greeting, clutching at her chest. "You can't call first, like a normal person?" she remarked, her rapidly pounding heartbeat rising to meet her fingers. Taking a moment to settle her already frayed nerves, she steeled herself, shoulders squaring as she more fully entered the room and dropped her purse on a nearby end table. "Yeah, I don't really get out much. You caught me on a bad day," she fired back dryly, unable to admit that the social isolation was getting to her. She'd gone out with no agenda for the day, for Christ's sake. "What do you want?" The question burst out of her bluntly, but that had always been the way Cass communicated: straightforward and direct, no patience to beat around the bush.

Matevos prided himself at being a member of the Cactus Cats. He had been for years now, had known a lot of trouble and even some good years. He didn’t think himself a key part, but he was rather memorable. Tall as a giant, always talking about dogs - if he could spin the conversation that direction -, and a constant smile plastered on his face, as if he’d already won the game.

“Junior, no way the coffee machine is broken, I saw someone receive a steaming mug of something a few minutes ago!” He exclaimed. “You are just cutting me off! I promise I am not jittery yet!” He held up his hand to show it was steady. “Give me the caffeine, Junior!” The bartender backed away from him and he turned to the patron next to him. “Can I convince you to order me a coffee? I’ll buy whatever you’re having. Good deal?” His British accent was crisp on account of the caffeine already toiling through his system.

It was a rare sight for Cassandra to venture out of her ivory tower purely on her own accord. Usually, it was at the behest of her father, whenever she was ordered to make an appearance at Weiss family events, though she was smart enough to know that those outings were purely for the sake of his political optics: presenting the facade of a family united. But this evening was different. For once, the blonde actually felt... compelled to leave the safety of her apartment. Despite herself, a small part of the heiress actually missed being among the masses, reminded of her days as a high-achieving student back in university, when she would bustle around Las Vegas like she owned the whole city. Back then, no one could convince her she didn't.

It certainly helped to see a familiar face at the bar, the faintest of grins pulling at the corners of her lips at the sight of Matevos talking the bartender's ear off. Taking the seat next to him, the eldest Weiss allowed a puff of air to escape her nostrils—what passed for a laugh with Cass these days. "Isn't it a little late in the day to be so wired on caffeine?" she questioned bluntly, primly crossing her legs at the knees. "And go against the bartender? Yeah, I don't think so," she chided with a shake of her head, but there was no real venom in her voice, just her trademark dryness. "I was thinking of ordering an espresso martini for myself, but if you're jonesing over there, then I'd better not. I can't in good conscience enable your jitters," she remarked, her best attempt at humor.