#jorah interacts

Jorah woke that day like the rest. Tired, sore and a ruminating headache. A bit of hot tea with one of those peppermints a temporary fix for such inconveniences. Charlotte graciously decided she fond of those and did not protest her mother’s intake of them. That, along with those cream drizzled cinnamon buns. Her pallet always cleansed after taking a bite of one of those sugary delights. The largest meal eaten most days were one of those treats she favored so much. 

Her first meal of the day scheduled soon. The clock fastened against the wall ticked as if so. It all the noise to be had in this quite abode. The sound of chirping birds now gone as the snow laid atop the dead greens. Flown south for warmer skies no doubt. Jorah wished she could do the very same. Winter had always been her least favored time of the year. All that with life seemed to shrivel up into mangled shells of what they once were. 

Color drained from the petals of flowers until they all but twigs left sticking out and waving in the air like an unwelcome friend. That all she saw when peering out the window from behind a flimsy curtain. The short time she had to see the grass and flora it not the most impressive. Yet, it had been something to gaze at with a distant fondness. Now, there nothing out there but barking and taunting wide land to run. A fog parted the glass when finger tips pressed against it. Ice from the corners had begun to spread further and further up.

In her ennui she watched how the pattern developed and molded over the past days. No snowflake like one another a rumor claimed. Rumors claimed many things however and so far Jorah only saw a growing prison on her one outlook to the world she lived outside of. Enough of that she had and soon stood in front of her mirror combing her hair orderly. Bristles swam through her locks and guided them into a ribbon to keep the majority of it from her face. The rest left to lay and curl at her back. Turned to the side Jorah assessed her work. Nothing a few tweaks could not fix. 

However, her eyes also focused a growing addition to her physic. Palm caressed the round and smooth service as if it made of brittle glass just waiting to be shattered apart. Charlotte showing more and more now. It made the expecting mother curl her lips in tender comfort. Strange it was to think this would only become more obvious. The trousers Jorah adored so much no longer fit comfortably. Added pressure that far too disagreeable to put up with. Custom made from the best Parisian tailors she would have but there no such luxury here. There not even a decent trouser Jorah could slip into in any store. Dresses it was then.  

And as soon as she heard the front door open from the downstairs Jorah was quick to grab onto her skirt as she made for the stairs. Eager and starry eyed, the one great thing about the day. One hand on the railing the other lifting up the skirt modestly as she walked down. What will they do today? Look at more of the baby clothes Jorah fawned over each day? Oh! Make something sweet to eat? Cookies sounded good today. Maybe with some peppermint in them. Hmm, now that’d be fun one!

As soon as her face lit up it soon grew dark. For it wasn’t Foley who waited for her at the stairs. No, this man looked not a thing like him. This one, this dog, had cocoa skin like those coffee seeds all ground up and turned into powder. Hair not a brown with a touch of fade to it but deep and dark oil. Oil that curled and frizzled into a grove like patch atop his head. It looked as soft as a bed of thorns and his eyes no different. Surrounded by puffy cloud like markings which curled out into a vertical double edged spiral. 

Tattoos? Paintings? Odd whatever it was. Matched the hue of his eyes that stared like two lidded moons. Jorah did not like this man nor did she like his face. A peculiar sense it had and Jorah not fond of such sense. One look at him up and then down, hands dropped to her side like limp dough. A deep breath in and out through her nostrils and Jorah decided it time for her to speak. -“You are not Mister Foley.”- A fantastic observation but Jorah did not say it to point out the obvious. 

-“Well.”- A click of her tongue. -“I guess you will settle then.”- No admiring soft and little socks. No mint cookies to munch on. Just this. -“Go on and do...whatever it is. I frankly do not care what you do as long it is done not to bother me. Sit, eat, play one of those weird board games or knit. Go on, go on.”- Jorah flicked her wrist, waving him off. -“There should be hot water in the kitchen for tea or coffee or whatever you drink. Again, I do not care what it is just drink what you fancy and so on and so forth.”- 

Jorah gave her temple a quick patting as she thumbed through page after page and book after book. An extensive library a lovely asset to have but when one was tired and looking for a very specific piece, it became a tad infuriating. Sleep not her best friend at the moment. The day one of tossing and turning, no more than forty minutes eye rest at a time. 

Then the moon and its stars arrived and it time for her to begin her routine. A routine that became more of a blur as time proceeded. It brought her the point of feeding became a chore. An appetite disappearing in favor of wallowing melancholy. It simply no longer fun, no longer rewarding. Laying around and staring at the plain wall seemed just a bit more fitting.

The sound of another entering barely registered. Another book pulled from the shelf and pages quickly flipped through. It not until she looked up from the bland pages did a strike of emotion ring through her, awaking all that rested. It stirred like a storm in the spring and Jorah knew not what to do. The shock evident through her eyes and so she brought them down to the book once more. She saw no words on the page, only his face. A face she didn’t wish to see anytime soon or again for that matter. 

“My apologies… things have been a little tense lately.” The Capo sighed as he eased up his grip and shook the others hand properly. The number of enemies he’d had to deal with lately was starting to get a little silly and he just wanted a break for just a moment at this point. “A pleasure to meet you but what can I do for you?”

Tense? Jorah wondered what the Capo meant by that. Trouble in paradise perhaps? No matter, that was not really her problem so why bother with it? Jorah’d heard plenty of praise regarding this faction. They could handle it and if they didn’t, well, it still wasn’t her problem. 

-“It is alright. Stress happens to us all.”- She waved the apology off behind a coy smile. -“Forgive me for not introducing myself first. Jorah Gothique, but please, call me Jorah.”- 

Time without a coven had been fun enough. Finally just some time for herself. No more work that she detested, no more superficial meetings about shipments of cattle and finally no more schedule to follow. A nice clean break from it all. A time for more freedom, a time for more fun. Her family’s coven used to be so amusing but that grew boring quickly. There were only so many shipment of cattle to collect until it all became horribly routine.

But that was then and this was now. Now, the freedom to move around, the freedom to indulge in nightly parties filled with riled excitement and devilish intentions were hers. Soon though, that became a bore too. It had been fun for awhile but there was something lacking. A lone vampire in a world of hunters was running on borrowed time. How much longer could she walk on ice? Those hunters should know their place. 

Humans pretending to be more than they were...how absolutely odd. Trained to hunt their hunters, did they fear the now superior life form? Whatever their reasons were, one less hunter in the world the better. Another chicken put back into its coop. Yet, there only so much to do on her own. Searching for a suitable coven took time. Though she spent a great deal researching this one. 

Fierce lavender eyes, as sharp as her fangs, examined her freshly painted nails. Must look presentable for such an...interview? Was that what this was? Or would it be more of a discussion? Either option sounded fun in their own way. It appeared the fun about to begin. 

Jorah heard someone enter and so her gaze slid over to investigate. Standing up she faced a man with eyes a shade not so far off from her own. Light hair styled neatly to match the decorated clothing he wore. It reminded her of older times, a place once familiar but now long gone. Those days, she hadn’t thought about them in many years. 

-“Greetings.”- Jorah greeted calm and smooth, a closed smile paired with it. -“Am I to assume you are the one I am meeting with? I apologize if the answer is obvious, I am not entirely familiar to how these instances are run.”- 

-“Valentino?”- Jorah whispered to him. In the beginning reviving memories by a completing a job together sounded promising. Just like how it’d been before. The start of everything Jorah came to love were those times spent in places like this. Exciting to know there was someone how enjoyed it, thrived from it, and excelled at it. Valentino’s presence invigorated the passion for thieving. How can I have fun with it Jorah’d often think to herself. Now fun was not something to be thought about. Flowed so naturally when he around. 

Or at least that is how it should be. Yet excitement mutated into concern. Jorah wanted this to work out, wanted this job to be like the others. But since the hotel where he had gotten hurt, well, Jorah didn’t want him to experience that level of pain again. 

The memory of such a place left a bitter and dry taste in her mouth. Each day another one farther away from it. This job, however, would be another jump away from it. Reassurance swept doubts away. That was then. This is now. Out of all the jobs they’ve pulled together, something good came out from each of them. This would be no different. 

-“I have majority of the building mapped out. There is plenty of places to use for cover if we are in a pinch. There is an easy way to get to the hard drive, quiet too. Get this done with minimal attention and that data can be taken right from under them.”- she shoved her concern away to instead once again discuss details.

-“There is an easy way in, just in the back--a window well. It leads to a room kept usually unoccupied by anyone. The room where the laptop should be is on the upper floor.”- Most likely hidden somewhere but Jorah had the sense both of the had a talent for finding hidden treasures. 

Slipping into his room had not been the destined plan for the night. Then again, her visits were never entirely planned. Strategic but not planned. Showing up when she pleased, when it would be of inconvenience to him or when she believed he’d need to take a bit of the edge off. 

Jorah craved the burning and branded punishment. Rough hands bruising hips and teeth bared hungrily as he laid his claim into her body over and over again. Her own lips curved upwards into wanton smiles, moans passing through them a song most natural. Such a fun little game they had started the day she met him in his office. The first time she and he united in sinful unity. A moment of fun, all she meant it to be, yet so quickly changed the night she snuck through the halls. Entering his private room like a cat in search for warm milk. Found more than this cat had bargained for. 

A war under dainty finger tips, a queen regent left to hide beneath crumbling walls, the howls of wolves and rabid hounds wailing ever closer. His pet, her master. Their iniquitous affair. A free adventure of blurred control. Or at least...that is what it should be. Now...now things may get complicated. No, No they will get complicated now. 

Sat on the side of the bed fully clothed and eyes trailed to a window, finger tapping against her cheek. Outward appearances paled in comparison to emotions stirring inside her. A night just like the rest, found her way into his unattended room. Yet no playful poses on the bed as she waited for the wolf to return to his den. Instead she quiet, still. Why, she wondered for a moment, why bother to even come here knowing that-- No, it just as he said. He’d find her. Send those hounds to drag her back...and if they dragged her back at the wrong time...Jorah tried not to think about that. 

In her thoughts a hand come to rest lightly atop her stomach, pressing gently into the fabric of her loose blouse. Just a slight trace...barely there yet there all the same.Hardly there to notice...perhaps not even there at all. Doubtful, one month missed not too much to worry about but two months...? Two months and the idle sicknesses that plagued random times of her day. Sometimes for minutes and others that felt like hours. The more the symptoms occurred the less frequent her visits became. Far more erratic than before. The first month she had tried to ignore what her body knew. Continuing their affair until the second month crept upon her . 

Jorah’d thought about not telling him at all. Simply continuing the role of his pet until what she feared became...too noticeable. He’d find her and their...Jorah took a deep breath and angled her neck to gaze at the ceiling. What was she to do? She briefly thought of France, of Paris and all she could taste was ash. Returning home..not when she--

The door handle turned, catching her attention. Eyes sluggish to move towards the figure in the doorway, no need to guess who it was. -“Good evening, Mr. President.”- she greeted curtly, her gaze returning to the window. -“Nice of you to finally come to bed. Hmm, it has been a bit has it not? Since I sat here in this bed waiting for you. Désolé.”- the last word a smirked chime. Yet no smile or tease rid the taste of rot upon her tongue. How...How could she have let this happen? 

Her days had been busy, the nights even more so. Constantly fulfilling the scouting for nightly contracts. Contracts given day after day. More than ever now. Yet, Jorah could hardly complain. Gave her the excuse she needed to keep her mind strictly on track. Filled her pockets with good money spent all too quickly. Yet, with all its benefits, the sleep she so desperately needed had been robbed right our from under her. The only time when she didn’t need to think, when everything could just go away, now slimmer and slimmer. 

So when the prospect of a large reward came upon her doorstep more than eager she was to accept it. A large sum of valuables promised in a location, set up by a trusted contact according to her source. A private collector they had called themselves, offering a piece of their collection to the young woman to pay tribute to a previous job. 

Even more refined than the pictures, she noted as she walked into the hotel. Not sure what to expect, Jorah looked around her surroundings. Not a soul in sight and awfully silent. Though, as a rendezvous point she supposed it was not too suspicious. Still, it was...unsettling to say the least. Being able to hear the smallest of pins dropping. -“Nevermind then...”- she spoke aloud, shaking her head and looking down at the key in her hand. Room number 411. The room right off the elevator. And so she headed up, standing still and quiet while awaiting the light on the elevator to go off. -“Hmm...maybe the other guests have already gone to bed?”- 

The door opened and here she was on the fourth floor. The room 411 right in front of her. She placed the key inside, her hand at the door. Yet, a moment of hesitation, like something was looking over her shoulder. A silent pair of eyes waiting for her next move. Jorah quick to whip her head over her shoulder only to see an empty hallway. She scoffed, the lack of sleep must really be getting to her. Not paying anymore mind to the peculiar feeling Jorah opened the door and was quick to enter it. 

Closing it behind her she looked forward, and all the air from her lungs left with the swing of a door. There, sitting there plain as day, was him. Looked just as she remembered him. Just as he had left her on that horrid day. The day she wished she could erase from memory. It was...mon rêve? No!!

Though the air might have been swept from her, the feelings she had tried so hard to bury resurfaced in the gaze of blue eyes. Panic rose, anger fired, grief rained down, and guilt swallowed her. Unable to speak, her mouth running dry and her face a deathly shock. She moved to take a step back, her hand reaching for the handle, but the would turn no more than she tried. Locked? But how? 

No..! No no no!! This...This is not real!! Why? Why is...? A cold took her then, freezing her and all her emotions in place in a winter storm’s grip. -“You..?”- started out as whisper but soon her venom coated her tone, -“You?! You are here? What are you...? Wait, it was you? You called me here?!”- 

Shaking her head Jorah bit her lip, -“What the fuck is the meaning of this?! Did...did you tell me to come here?! Is this some sort of cruel damned trick?! Have you not done enough of that?! What game are you playing at?! Bringing me here like this! Why are you here?!”- 

Their food served to them. Finally, she thought, not upset with the pace of chef or waiter but merely eager for Valentino to try his meal. She had watched him with bright eyes when his dish was plated for him. Shoulders shrugged up and eyes peering over him, the excitement lifted her. When her food given to her Jorah took a mindless bite out of the perfectly cooked fish. She knew it would taste divine, everything here did. But would he enjoy it? Already putting up with the simplicity of place, the rather drab presentation, Jorah hoped maybe Valentino could hold out for just one more offering. 

Another bite, just as fresh as the last, and she put her fork aside. -“What do you think? Does monkfish taste better than its appearance?”- a jesting comment followed by a quieted yet ringing laugh. -“The trout is good as well, would you like to try?”- An offering she did not wait an answer for. Quick to slice a piece of and gently lay it on his plate. -“If I keep this up I will serve you the entire menu by the end of the night. Need to save some room for a dessert...or two.”- 

Sending a smile his way, her gaze broke and attention turned towards her thoughts. Living with you changes everything. It really did. Knowing all the changes rather impossible. Some may be great and some may be horrid but their journey together would make it all worth it in the end. 

Yet the questions came swiftly. Would their journey lead them to Paris one day? Or would it lead them to Valentino’s mother? He mentioned wanting to write her a letter. Jorah’s chime about that cut off by the waiter returning to ask a question and before she knew it the words she wanted to give him then escaped her. Speaking to his mother in any form appeared important to him and Jorah understood why. 

-“...I think your mother would appreciate hearing from you again. She misses you, all mothers do. And maybe she will be angry at first but certainly she will be grateful to know that you are safe.”- Maybe then he and her would reunite and spend some much needed time catching up. -“So, yes, I believe that is for the best.