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@fangs-and-fortune
(Cristin Milioti/198/ciswoman she/her) Chiara Charity Rose has been in Eden Ros for 198 years. She is “38” 198 years old and works as the Head of Ducayne & Owner of the Mercury. Rumor has it, she’s a Vampire associated with Ducayne. She is Clever and Ambitious, but also Greedy and Cutthroat.
About - Bio - Visuals - Headcanons - Wanted Connections
Allie breathes a sigh of relief that struggles to get out, half strangled in a throat that isn't so willing to relax, yet. " Oh, yay. " It's a flat little sound that she can't quite get to sound any more enthusiastic, but she means it to be, handing over the roses and the little velvet bag to Chiara. " I guessed. The roses, I mean. But I think they fit in, it is really beautiful, here. It's just ... " None of this feels like my Grannie at all. I miss her. She'd have the right answer. " ... a surprise, I guess.
With no reason to refuse her, Allie's easily goaded into the lobby couch. She's appreciative of the guiding hand, actually, even more of a fish out of water than the ones in that great big tank, over there. Allie feels a little bad for them. Chiara's hotel is lovely, but she can't imagine what it must be like to be stuck behind a glass, watching a world, helplessly, that you can't understand- living only a fraction of the life that you were meant to. A frown finds her mouth, settling atop plush pink petals that had been a smile only moments before.
Though, her head turns back towards the sound of Chiara's voice, too strong to ignore. She bites back the It's okay. that threatens to slip from her mouth. The fairy girl nods, " I'm Allie. Juniper's my sister, she's older. "
" Um, I'm sorry, I- I know that you didn't ... talk to her much, but, did you- ? ... How did you know her?" She does know about the council, but only from Grannie's side.
The roses were a nice touch. It was a tad obvious with her last name, but nominative determinism did work in this case of making them her favorite flower. She turned her head, looking at the fish tank that Allie had frowned at. “Do you like them? Most of them have such short lives, out in nature.”
“It’s a shame, what can happen when something so delicate is left to its own devices. Here, they’re cared for. Properly.” She waved down one of the passing workers, looking back to Allie. “Would you like something to drink? My treat, of course, for coming all this way.”
“I didn’t know your grandmother very well, I’m afraid. We spoke a few times, but we ran in entirely different circles.” One was in the room where important discussions happen, and the other was outside of the room, seething and trying to get in. “She spent a lot of time trying to fight for a place on the Chamber, that was the main way we interacted.”
The Mercury.
Ohhhhhhh. Okay, this really was someone she should’ve recognized on sight. Even if she wasn’t totally involved in supernatural politics, it was pretty bare-minimum to know the local clan leaders.
“A sweet name for a sweet dog,” Vidya said. Buttercup, finished with her ill-gotten food, looked up at the woman, sniffing. “I’m Vidya,” she said; with just a breath of hesitation, she added, “Telluraves. Greenhouse owner and local produce provider!” There was never a guarantee that the surname would mean anything, but if they were aware of her father, it was enough sometimes to signal that she wasn’t just some human.
The girl’s last name rang a bell. “Telluraves... that’s the owner of that restaurant on the East side, is it not? I believe I made your father a very generous offer to work in my hotel, a few years ago. A shame he couldn’t be persuaded.”
It was standard for her to reach out to some of the new Killoves in town when they moved in, to see if any were able to be bought away from their previous loyalties. The man’s denial of such a generous offer was rude enough for her to take his restaurant off of the Mercury’s list of recommended local dinner spots. With extreme prejudice.
It seemed this girl was in a position with Killove not too dissimilar to the one that she herself held with Ducayne, before her turning. It was a shame, seeing someone so clearly on the wrong path. “Tell me, Vidya, does your greenhouse partner with local kitchens? Locally-grown produce is always so nice to have at the hotel.”
"Oh!"
A hotel heiress. That was a new one for Morgan. The stranger looked younger than she was, but looks could be deceiving. Especially when you had money. Morgan didn't want to start being paranoid and finding unnatural explanations for everything, but she just couldn't shake the discomfort of seeing these two people at her beck and call, only really reacting when she had an order to give.
Surely she didn't pay that well, with all this talk of haggling going on.
"Wow. I guess you might have. I wouldn't remember, though, I'm sorry," she said, both a little embarrassed and nervous about the woman's insistence. Did she want to be there at the same time as Morgan? Did she want to confirm that she had indeed met her once before? Still, the human woman offered a smile that came naturally to her. "From everything I do remember, it was a lovely visit. My husband and I were charmed by our entire trip to Scotland -- actually, he had some distant relatives out here, and I've got family in Ireland."
She debated with herself whether this woman was worth giving the truth to, the precious memories of Bradley. No doubt she'd try to argue the value down.
"My husband passed recently and I... I wanted to go back to somewhere from happier times. And to give my daughter a chance to see the world."
“Oh, that’s so sad.” She said, a little disingenuously. She could not, for the life of her, summon real sympathy about a husband’s death. Husbands were baggage that she had, thankfully, managed to avoid in her human life, and had little pressure to find in her undead life. Children, too, but at least she could see more potential in them as something for people to care about.
“Still, Eden Ros is a beautiful town. I’d know, I’ve lived here my entire life.” That was more genuine. This was her city, one she’d seen grow from a little nothing place to somewhere she was refusing to leave, even on threats of death. It was always a little bit reassuring to hear someone say something nice about it. “I’ve had the privilege of having some sway over it in these past few decades, I really wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
"What kind of thrill are you expecting for fifty pounds?" Maybe her expectations were too high? Maybe she was looking for something different entirely? "I find that trinkets like this are the clearest in dreams. It's fifty pounds now, but once memories and emotions are associated with them, they become priceless."
A crystal the size of a pebble in the shape of a crescent moon caught his eye. Its price is less than what Chiara had been eyeing; it had fewer details, it was simple, and that suited him.
"You are fortunate in the weather and attendants then. I must confess I'm envious of the idea of bringing a parasol." It wasn't that he disliked the sun; he just much preferred the shade. "Well, like you have attendants, I have apprentices. And it is my honour to collect the first-hand account of events to add to our records."
“Hmph.” She never did particularly bother herself with the plight of the lower classes, but she did know how much they were paid, considering she was the one who did the playing. She could still so clearly remember a time when £50 was an incredibly generous yearly pay for her employees.
She’d worked hard to adapt to times changing, to continue participating in the economic landscape of the city, but it was still a little annoying whenever she managed to remind herself just how much things had changed. “Nothing is priceless, Keeper.”
“Including a parasol. I’m sure that 50 pounds could be much better spent on one of those, instead of something too small to function as a paperweight.” She picked up another little trinket, holding it up to make it catch the light. “It’s good that you brought up your records, though. I did want to ask if there was a chance for me to gain access to some of them. I have a personal project of great importance to me, and reason to believe there might be information in your archives.”
As a small businessowner, Morgan disagreed. It wasn't as though she expected people to give her money for nothing, but... Why come to a farmer's market to argue with the farmers? "Hm," was all she could say in response.
Morgan was fixated on the sight of the woman's two assistants, who seemed fairly... Lifeless. Alive, sure. Responsive, even. But it made her wonder what type of person she was dealing with, assuming this woman was one of the standard types of person in Eden Ros. Not something... more. You didn't have to lack a pulse to be rich and out of touch. And heartless.
"Hotel? Huh." Morgan was worried about engaging this woman too long -- she feared her earnestness would be chewed up and spat out at her. Especially if she pointed out the fact that running a hotel ('my guests' was a dead giveaway) was literally requiring other people to help you make a living. As all business was.
"I don't think we have. I've only been living here a year now," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, I did visit Scotland for my honeymoon and we stayed in a few places, but that was about... 20 years ago. And you were probably a lot younger. I know I was." A pause.
"Our hotel in Eden Ros was the... Mercy. No, the Mercury."
“Yes, the Mercury Hotel. It’s mine.” A previous guest, that would explain it. She didn’t get to see everyone who stayed in the hotel, but if it was twenty years ago, fresh off of so much of the drama that came with the turn of the century in Ducayne? She would have been spending most of her days in the office overlooking the lobby, just waiting for whatever new vampire would be sent to give her a message about breaking the laws of her clan. She’d been committing as many faces to memory as she could, back then, just in case one came back wielding a stake.
This woman was clearly no vampire, from the way she stood out in the sun for this conversation without so much as a half-step towards the shade. As much as Chiara delighted in being as brazen as she could be with her vampirism whenever she knew she would be able to avoid the consequences of hunters, she didn’t want to lean too far into it with individual humans.
“It was a family business. I grew up in the hotel, I might have even been there when you were honeymooning.” There. It wasn’t even a lie. “What brought you back to the city? Did you enjoy your stay in the Mercury that much?”
Immediately, the lines on Kore's forehead smoothed out when they recognized who was stopping by their booth, and the blank expression was replaced with a genuine smile. They swiftly unlocked the case and carefully pulled out the earrings that Chiara pointed out, setting them on a velvet-lined tray for the vampire to look at more closely. It wasn't as though a Council representative would commit petty larceny in public.
"It's nice to see you out and about," Kore greeted her. "And as always, your eye is spectacular. Titanium setting and the stones are antique Caingorm quartz, dating to the 19th century. Should outlive... most people," they added with a cheeky twitch of their lips. "And I am always happy to discuss a custom piece for one of my best customers." Kore nodded at the jewelry. "Would you care to try them on?"
“I would.” She brushed her hair back behind one ear, lifting the earring gingerly and holding it up so she could see in the mirror. She turned her head slightly, letting the stone catch the weak sunlight and letting out a satisfied little “hm!” at the way it looked. It really was a shame that they’d not see the sun again, they did look so nice in it...
“These would go nicely with a titanium set, engraved with the same sort of design on the metalwork, don’t you think?” She asked, turning her head again to get them back to being completely shaded, focusing more on how they looked with her eyes. “I’ll take them. And the customs, when you have time next week. If you call ahead, I might clear up some of my schedule for you to deliver them in person.”
“Only if you call, though. I’m a busy woman.” The offer was clear enough. She lowered the earrings, holding them out for Kore to package them up properly. “Has your stand gotten much attention from the tourists today?”
" Well, I ... I think it's a present. Like, a nice one. " It had felt pretty, and heavy in Allie's hands has she'd felt the red velvet bag around in her hands- careful. It's strange, how such a big place can feel so delicate. Or, maybe, Allie's the small frail thing, about to be crushed by that huge chandelier. Though, she can't imagine what she has to be afraid of, only that anxiety buzzes underneath her skin, anyways.
She hasn't done anything wrong yet, she thinks. Maybe, she hadn’t done anything right, either. Allie wouldn’t know- she doesn’t know anything about this, and she can’t stop wishing that she did. It’s pointless, which is why she’s brought to roses. Classically beautiful, intertwined with the innocence of baby’s breath that’s sweet white color is stark against the dark hue of the petals. Like a stained pair of lips. Flowers, she knows. “ It’s for Chiara Rose, ” She corrects, gently. “ Are you, her? You seem important. Everyone’s looking at you like you are. ”
Allie blinks, then- “ Oh! Right. Isla Kane, that’s my grandmother. ” It wouldn’t have helped her to know what kind of fae Allie is, as Grannie sent her misfit, misplaced granddaughter, instead of the right one. Allie’s heart mourns her absence, bleeding out through every pores where her body can’t contain all that she feels. She wears it, easily, on her skin. She’s never asked Grannie the right questions that might help her know what to do, next. “ But, um, she sent me, ‘cause she’s kinda’ … ” Dead.
You seem important. Everyone’s looking at you like you are. She was perceptive enough, at least. And with flowers and a delivery that was hopefully not terrible, the girl was doing a lot of work to get on her good side. She’d think it was deliberate, if she hadn’t also looked so absolutely clueless. “Yes, that’s me.”
Isla Kane, that wildling fae who was constantly attempting to force her way into chamber meetings, pushing some agenda or another without much real support. She didn’t know much for the why on the wildlings not having a seat in the Chamber, something happening in the fae courts that she had no true insight on, but the Kane woman was a constant reminder of the exclusion.
She had no idea why she might have left her something. A political move? Some last little bit of sentimentality for someone who had done nothing to earn it?
“Isla Kane... we never spoke much, but I’m sorry to hear she’s passed.” She placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, guiding her over to one of the couches in the lobby, somewhere a little more private. “Then you must be.... the younger of her granddaughters? What is your name?”
Aldora had been watching the trio linger by the entrance of her tented booth out of the corner of her eye from the moment they arrived, regarding them with mild interest as she gently polished an antique hand mirror a previous guest had left fingerprints on. It was subtle, especially from a distance, but Aldora had been alive well long enough to recognize the glazed, glassy look in the eyes of the two attendants. Compelled. Human, probably. The woman, though... something about her stirred a foggy memory in the back of Aldora's mind. She was another vampire, clearly, but beyond that... she moved with the smooth confidence of a spoiled cat who knew it wouldn't be scolded. Clearly someone with power.
She couldn't help the way the corner of her mouth twitched upward in mild amusement as the woman spoke aloud about the price of an antique brooch—one Aldora had bought on a whim in France... was it a century ago? Almost two? It was hard to remember. Sometime during the Victorian era. Those years were a bit of a blur.
The woman was subtly balking at the price, clearly seeking a reaction. Everyone had their own forms of entertainment, she supposed. Sure, she'd bite. Why not? It was a little slow right now, and a conversation was a conversation.
"That one in particular has genuine pearl and amethyst—nineteenth century—but perhaps that is not the piece that calls to you," she began, not turning her head but angling the mirror she had been cleaning toward the woman, watching her reflection. "Why don't you step a little further inside, dear? There is plenty to peruse, and..." She smiled, deliberately showing just a hint of fang as she finally looked at her directly. "I'm sure the shade would feel nice, no?"
Hm. Another vampire, one who decided to brave the daytime to be out and about. Not Ducayne, considering it was common practice for travelling members of the clan to check in with local branches and introduce themselves, especially in Eden Ros where the most likely place for them to be staying would be the hotel. A Killove, she assumed, would be far more hostile, which left her as possibly one of those Albedos, or a free agent (not that there was much of a difference, from what she’d seen of the clan’s hierarchy. Absolutely ridiculous).“I think I will.” She nodded graciously, stepping into the shade of the booth. The attendants remained outside, parasol ready for when she decided she was bored of this place.
“A sharp eye. No, I don’t think that it would suit me.” She held out the brooch for Aldora to take back. “I haven’t seen this booth before, are you new in town? I’m Chiara Rose, I own the Mercury Hotel uptown.”
Morgan had mostly packed some lunch things for herself and the kids, hoping to save money (which she still referred to as bucks, which drew very Scottish sneers on occasion). But still, there was a lot to see and do and snack on here. She'd given Charlie a small allowance -- Kevin was on his own, he got a salary. But there was still a sandwich with his name on it if he wanted at any point.
In the meantime, Morgan was walking Star through the stalls, Charlie a few booths ahead but always in sight. She apparently had some ideas for props for another short film she wanted to make (unrelated to the beach footage, more than likely). Her mother begged her to have less expensive ideas. Morgan was meanwhile looking at more practical things (or so she liked to tell herself). Honeys, tea blends, even some cookies for before or after picnic things. A woman flanked by two other people was kind of taking up all the space in front of one particular table. Star sniffed under a totally different booth while Morgan tried to take a peek.
"I dunno. Everyone here needs to make a living, don't they?" Sure, some of the stuff here was definitely touristy, but it was a festival! It was in the spirit of the season, even if summer in Scotland wasn't the same as Santa Cruz. Morgan bit her tongue, resisting the urge to remark that this stranger didn't exactly seem like she needed to worry about prices. Not with two... retainers? Lackeys? at her side.
“I’m sure.” Chiara said, casting a sidelong glance at the newcomer over the rim of her sunglasses. “But that doesn’t mean I need to make it for them, hm?”
This woman was familiar. Chiara had a very long memory when it came to faces, one she prided herself on, and even if she could not remember where exactly she’d run into her, she could tell that she had. She held up the box of tea she’d been looking at, turning her attention back to reading what was printed on it as she wracked her brain for where she might have seen her before.
“I’m not a big fan of tea, myself, although my guests at the hotel seem to enjoy it well enough. I suppose that’s worth paying for a sample...” She glanced up at the shopkeeper, sure to make eye contact, compulsion as easy as breathing. “Half off? Fantastic.”
She snapped for one of her attendants to hand the vendor the money, the other one taking the box of tea as she turned back to the woman. “Have we met before?”
Even with the importance of this little mission sitting heavy on her chest, Allie still finds a way to get distracted. She's never been to any hotel this fancy, and while enchanting, she doesn't find it any more comforting than their own little B&B. She's always been drawn to crystalline, iridescent things, even with her arms full of flowers and a prettily sealed package that she has no idea what's inside. It's gnawed on her all the way here, to look inside- to see. But ... this had been her grandmother's dying wish, hadn't it? Allie's heart quivers to think that she's holding a piece of her that she'll never get back.
It might be the only time that her heart isn't loud enough to stop her from doing this, but Allie's not sure if she's thinking with her head, either- considering how lost she finds herself once she steps through the front door. Luckily, they don't let her wander, for long. Allie blinks her wide, blue eyes at the sound of a throat clearing, though her features soften, as if it's relieving to see someone actually there. " Yes, well ... I think I'm always kinda' lost. I don't really mind, though ... " Allie trails off, though she quickly remembers her purpose. " But, like, not this time, really, 'cause I know I'm supposed to be here. "
" I have a ... delivery, I guess, from my grandmother. "
“A delivery?” Chiara asked, cocking her head slightly, as if a shift in angle might reveal some hidden layer to the girl in front of her. It was always a migraine-inducing endeavor to try to focus through a fae’s glamour, but she still found herself attempting it.
“For me?” It occurred to her, in that moment, that it would be ridiculously easy to trojan horse this whole establishment. She did so enjoy having new things, and it was rare for her to get a gift so horrible it was an insult. Even then, it usually served its purpose in being heavy enough that getting hurled at the giver’s head sent a clear enough message. “Your grandmother? And who would that be?”
She wracked her mind for any older fae she might know. The runes didn’t tell her what kind of fae the girl was, which made it more difficult. The wildling woman who had been bothering the Chamber since even before her own birth had grandchildren, didn’t she?
"If you're sure..."
Well, if the food was on the ground, it was fair game. Seeing nothing of concern about it, she let Buttercup move back to the dropped meal to scarf it down. "That's your lunch," she told the dog. She looked back up to the woman. "Her name is Buttercup," she said. "She's trained, but clearly we need to work on our restraint around food."
While she was connected to her father's clan, Vidya wasn't exactly in-the-know about all things vampire politics. Still, something about this woman was setting off alarm bells in her head. She didn't need Buttercup to tip her off. The umbrella, the cloudy-eyed attendants, everything about this woman screamed vampire. "You look so familiar," she said, sliding money across the food truck counter for her lunch. "You're, uh..."
Think, think, think.
"...the hotel, right? The really fancy one, up-town?" If that really was her... oh boy. Her grip tightened on Buttercup's leash.
“Yes, I own the Mercury uptown.” She said, smiling. It was a safe enough bet, if the girl recognized her face, that she had at least been in the hotel before, considering how little Chiara left it. The girl’s accent was strange, and distinctly not Scottish. A tourist, or perhaps a transplant to the city who briefly stayed in the hotel?
“Buttercup. How sweet.” She knelt down a little bit, enough to get a better look at the dog without having to touch it, her attendant leaning with the parasol to keep her in the shade. She looked back up at Vidya. “And do you have a name? I’m afraid you know a little bit more about me than I do about you, and that’s not very fair.”
Oneiroi kept a detailed account of the chamber members, for history of course. He knew exactly who she was Chiara Rose, Head of Ducayne. He wouldn't mistake her for anyone else.
"Isn't that the smart business choice to make? Many fortunes have been made off similar opportunism." Its happened many times if records are to be believed. The ingenuity of humanity to thrive intrigued him. "When I have time to spare." which wasn't as often as he would like. "I can say I hadn't expected you to make an appearance in the lighter hours."
“Well, yes, hurrah for the free market and all, but still.” She said, holding up the little trinket. It was an ugly little thing, some sort of crystal figuring of a mouse or some such little woodland creature, wearing a little straw hat. She scoffed. “50 pounds? For this? Am I supposed to be thrilled?”
She set it down with the rest of its little set. She supposed, if she really had to think about it, that it was at least a little nicer looking as a group. Not £50 nice, but it wasn’t too horrible.
“It’s overcast enough to chance a visit, and I have my attendants if the weather clears. I do love to see what passes for a market these days.” She said, letting her gaze sweep over the other baubles sitting in the display. “I’m surprised to see you out and about in the daytime, as well. A slow day in the Dusk Court?”
Who: @darklingdaughter
When: June, well before the Solstice Festival
Chiara was a lot of things, but an inattentive host was not one of them. In her time as the owner of the Mercury, she had given many personal guests long-term stays, perks, access to amenities and command of staff, all to ensure that when they left the hotel, they wouldn’t have a single complaint.
She had, she would confess, not done that with Eleanor.
It wasn’t her fault, of course. Very little was, and in this case the woman had been offered that same sort of deal. The luxury, the comfort, even an incredibly generous paycheck, so long as she relocated to the city and worked full-time on the project that her skillset was so vital for, but no. She had to be difficult. And difficult meant that Eleanor’s room was not the sort of nice, spacious suites that would be set aside for special guests. It meant that she was in a staff room for what little sleep she decided she needed now that she was finally adapting to her new vampirism, and her access to the rest of the hotel was so limited that she basically split all of her time between her room and the laboratory in the basement.
It was that laboratory that Chiara checked first, in her search for the scientist, and where she’d found her, sitting at one of the tables, looking over some samples.
“Am I interrupting?” She asked, as if Eleanor’s answer would have any impact at all, crossing the room to lean on the table, peering at her work. The science itself was lost on her, but she had seen enough of the reports to know that these reflected little progress.
Oneiroi had no plans of meeting others today, the one person he would have likely arranged to meet was half a world away as far as he knew. Though he wouldn't make himself a hermit, he had seen the ramifications of that with his mother. It was healthy to move, to keep looking forwards, that while history guides them it could also be their trappings.
He used celebrations like this as an excuse to be out of the fae realm, away from the library he tended. Oneiroi also used it as a change to seek a gift for his mothers growing bedside collection. The Keipar of Time kept himself small while scanning the stalls. His eyes taken away from the array of crystal ornaments when a familiar voice spoke "I heard it is due to the economic of the world at the moment that these prices raised."
She knew that face. That was the Keipar of... Time, perhaps? A Dusk Court official who didn’t hold the chamber seat, but still had no small amount of power in his own domain.
It was always a little bit funny to hear other long-lived supernaturals discuss the economy. Especially, like was so often the case, the ones who lived in their own little communities, able to limit their transactions with humanity to little baubles and knick-nacks, things that took their fancy with no real attention paid to the why of things being labeled with their assigned worth.
“It’s nearly double what it should be. For the tourists, I would assume.” Tourists, in this case, meaning more than just the humans who come to see the city. She had no doubt that a good amount of the people running these stalls knew, on some level, how much a mer or a fae might spend when they’re in human territory for the first time in a couple of decades, and gatherings like this always drew out that type. "Do you come to these sorts of things often?"
Who: @dawnlings When: A few days before the Solstice Festival
It was fantastic, what a ridiculous amount of money and easy access to witches could do for a business. The Mercury Hotel, for example, had been at half-operation for a full month a few decades ago, getting runes artfully carved into every external entrance and exit, each one collecting a little bit of information on all of the guests who pass through them.
A fae wandering in, not booking a room, and lingering in the lobby was hardly a concern for the hotel’s owner, but Chiara still enjoyed keeping a close eye on things like that, in case something did happen. Not that she had anything against the fae, but... with some of her more recent snide comments about the Dawn Court, she could always stand to be more careful. Besides, she liked to be kept aware about any odd little thing like this.
The young woman was still in the lobby when her workers contacted her, staring up at the crystal chandelier with a look of absolute wonder on her face. Chiara cleared her throat. “May I help you, darling? Are you lost?”
who: open! where: the solstice festival at bheagain beach when: midday, around lunchtime
Swimming in the morning was an activity best left to those entirely out of their minds, Vidya had determined. And for those that didn't tend to plants for a living. By the time she'd finished her morning check-in at the greenhouse, it was nearly ten. Oh well. Guess it's too late for a freezing cold swim.
Buttercup was more than delighted to take a car ride down to the beach, and their first order of business upon arrival ended up being a good, long beach run. She'd gotten her morning walk, of course, but after a few hours cooped up in the greenhouse, the dog was eager to stretch her legs. Vidya just did her best to keep up as the dobermann ducked and weaved between beachgoers.
Now, though, they had both worked up an appetite. After a short water break, Vidya hooked her leash onto her collar and walked the dog up to the market area, looking for something to eat. The food trucks didn't disappoint - it was tough to choose what sounded best when it all sounded so good. They stepped into line, and soon enough she was at the window to order her lunch, and something pup-friendly enough for Buttercup to enjoy.
That was just enough of a gap for Buttercup to get into some trouble, of course. Vidya heard an exclamation, just off to her right, and whipped her head around to see Buttercup trying to reach for someone else's momentarily unattended food.
"Hey!" She gently tugged on the leash, recalling the dog back to her side. "You are so impatient, I'm literally getting you lunch right now!"
Buttercup let out a woof! and sat down at her side.
Vidya sighed, and looked over at the victim of her dog's appetite. "I am so sorry about that. I swear I feed her!" She shifted her hands along Buttercup's leash. "Did she get into it? I can get you a replacement."
It was a good thing she didn’t have to eat human food, or the dog might have gone for her. Instead, it had jumped onto one of her attendants, the one not holding her parasol, making the poor thing drop his food.
“It’s nothing, darling. He’ll find himself another meal.” She snapped her fingers, getting the attention of the attendant. “Clean yourself up, get yourself another meal.”
She could survive off of one person holding all of her things for a couple of minutes. It was better than letting them go hungry, considering they were going to be her dinner after she was finished here. It was always risky, making humans bleed off of empty stomachs. The man turned, walking away immediately with the glassy-eyed tell of a person compelled, disappearing into the crowd, and she returned her attention to the young woman, pointing towards the unruly dog. “Does she have a name?”
Dogs were... messy. She’d kept a few of her own over the years, competition dogs she’d spoiled absolutely rotten, but she would never take them out on the town like this young woman had.
