somanyadjectives | fifty shades of stefan } { tonight the (whoo!) will hit the fan [1922]

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fifty shades of stefan } { tonight the (whoo!) will hit the fan [1922]

[Continued from here.]

The thing that Stefan loved about the twenties is that everything is an indulgence. Even the simplest thing, like taking the girl that he and Rebekah were sharing earlier out and finishing the job is treated like something rare and delicious. The entire atmosphere just screamed luxury and the seductive taste of the forbidden. It's the simple pleasures that have kept driving him forward since Damon left him reeling and bloody, rather than drowning in the guilt and self-loathing that makes him want to stab a stake through his chest.

This? This is infinitely more fun.

His voice is a low, seductive purr as he pushes Maria - Maria Walsh, from Oklahoma City - up against the wall and let his lips tease over her skin. She gives a soft, breathy giggle as he does, not making any move to push him away, but for the sake of propriety needing to put up some kind of protest. "Oh, Mr. Salvatore. What would your girl say?"

He gives a soft chuckle against her skin, taking in the scent of her blood with a deep breath, before murmuring. "I don't think she'll mind."

And with that he'll sink his fangs into her neck and start drinking her dry. Her blood tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, that delightful combination that goes right to his head in a way that no high ever could. God, he loves this decade. He hopes it never ends.

[Continued here.]

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When things went wrong these days, they always went wrong in the most spectacular of ways. Fortunately, Diana was good at improvising. Actually, since setting out on her own, she'd learned that she was extraordinarily good. The times made it easier too. A little flash of garter from the slit in her dress and she could pretty much get anything she wanted.

Which was exactly how she ended up on the stage that night. It was meant to be a diversion. She was setting herself up as bait. The Abel out in the open. Meanwhile, Christine and Denise were going to get the three kids they'd picked up out of Chicago for good.

Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Lily of the Valley!

The glaring light reflected off of her sequins, dazzling the eye as she stepped out in front of the audience. She was wearing a fine wig, with dark brunette hair styled in a severe pageboy cut that brought out her cheekbones.

With a bold confidence that screamed sexuality, she strutted over to the microphone. And in a sensual purr, she began to sing:

No one to talk with, all by myself
No one to walk with, I'm happy on the shelf babe
Ain't misbehavin', savin' my love for you

She instantly had them eating out of the palm of her hand. Silent as could be. Which made it all that much easier to heighten her own senses. She was listening for Christine and Denise. She had to know when they cleared the scene. The last thing in the world she expected was to pick up the word 'Salvatore.'

It was coming from outside.

He could hear the music starting from inside the club, very faintly, but what he was mostly focused on at the moment, was the thump-thump, thump-thump of Maria's heartbeat as he drained her of her blood. He and Rebekah both had fed on her before, compelling her to stay calm so even as he started to drink more than he usually did. He listened as she started to go weak in his arms arms starting to droop slowly.

Thump-thump.

Thump ... thump.

Thump .......... thump.

Thump ...

Once she's dead he drops her unceremoniously to the ground, reaching up to wipe the hints of blood from the corners of his mouth and he makes his way back inside, adjusting his jacket as he does. When he makes his way in, hitting the top of the stairs, he catches sight of who's on stage and ... smirks.

He's not happy to see her, not in this instance, because he's pretty sure she's going to try and kill his fun the way he just killed poor Maria, but he is amused all the same. It is about that time, isn't it?

Ten years, just like clockwork.

Diana's eyes were already on the door. Wondering. Searching. Hoping. As soon as she saw him walk in though, they lit up. Although she'd thought of Stefan from time to time, since that horrible incident back in California, she hadn't imagined running into him. Certainly not here, of all places.

She was delighted.

I know for certain the one I love
I'm through with flirtin'
It's just you I'm thinkin' of
Ain't misbehavin' I'm savin' my love for you

Oh, yes. All of her attention was directed at him now. It wasn't like she knew about the blond.

No, it isn't. But the blond isn't necessarily pleased with that either. She's watching this with sharp eyes from the booth and her jealousy is almost as bad as her temper. Her lips move on her side of the club, not loud enough that anyone with normal hearing would be able to pick up on it, but Stefan certainly would.

"Stefan! Stop making eyes at the singer, and get back here."

His eyes turn at the sound of her voice and he holds his hands up in an apology that isn't really one, because the ripper in him doesn't really apologize for anything. He then continues with the saunter down the stairs, making his way back over to their booth.

Well, she heard that. But from her place on the stage, she couldn't quite see into the booth.

But she could see the booth.

Diana finished her song, playing to the rest of the crowd. The final note was lost under a barrage of catcalls and whistles. In the last ten years, Diana had learned a lot about herself. Among other things, she had attractive legs. Her sexuality had become an instrument, a tool as finely practiced and tuned as her voice.

And she had to admit, she liked the attention.

At the moment, however, she was far more interested in Stefan. And since it seemed the trap she'd baited with herself hadn't sprung, she stepped off the stage and made her way over to where she'd last seen him, waving off the attention of more than one admirer.

By the time she tracks him down, Stefan is settled back in his booth with Rebekah, arm slung around her shoulders and whispering in her ear. It's Rebekah who notices her first, eyeing the woman with a kind of cool indifference, though she's clearly concerned about her presence.

"Can I help you?"

Diana always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Liking a stranger was more or less her default.

But that didn't mean she was stupid.

Years as apprentice to a countess had given her enough training and experience among the aristocratic to recognize when someone was looking down their nose at her. What she couldn't quite see, at the moment, was what Stefan Salvatore would be doing with someone like that.

High-hats didn't seem like his style. But then, it had been ten years. Who knew what he'd been up to?

"Everything is jake," she said, smiling blithely. "I just wasn't expecting to see this daddy in this joint, of all places." She turned the smile to Stefan.

Rebekah is a snob, absolutely, but she's had a thousand years to become one, and Stefan doesn't really think that's something she can change about her. Not that he'd really want to. He loves watching her put younger vampires in their place - including him, on occasion. His eyebrows go up a bit at the statement, curious and amused all the same.

"What? I can't enjoy a good party?" He smiles a bit. "Besides, Rebekah loves to dance. It tends to be better if I oblige her." There's a beat. "Oh, forgive me. Rebekah, this is Diana. Diana, Rebekah."

It was a bit odd, but Diana felt the strangest sense of relief, as soon as Stefan told her that this blond wasn't Lexi. Somehow, she'd built up a certain picture in her head. And Rebekah decidedly didn't live up to it.

Well. It was academic. Or moot. One of the two. She could never keep them straight.

It was a little disappointing to get the sense that the two of them were...lovers...or something. But Stefan was a grown man. Free to make his own choices. She attempted a smile at Rebekah. "He's a great hoofer."

"He is." Rebekah's eyes sharply study her for a moment, before turning back to Stefan with a small smile. "Stefan, darling, why don't you go get us some drinks. Maybe you can figure out where my brother wandered off to."

Stefan glances between the two of them for a moment, before he decided he didn't want to be caught in this crossfire. Like the smart man he is, he gets to his feet and makes his way over to the bar. "I'll be right back."

So much for a warm reception.

Diana stepped off to one side, so Stefan could pass. She didn't want to seem like she was jealous or on her guard. Desperately, she wished she could warn him that there was danger, that there was a trap waiting to be sprung. But she saw no good way to do that without looking suspicious.

And she'd been so happy to see him.

Her smile wavered just slightly.

Rebekah waits until Stefan disappears around the corner towards the bar, before moving to the side in the booth and gesturing for the other woman to sit. "Please. Sit. I've met so few of Stefan's friends, but ... I suppose that's because we haven't known each other that long."

Ruth's lessons began to kick in. Diana smiled a courtier's smile, easily taking a seat in the booth. She pulled her legs up onto the bench, neatly arranging the fringe of her dress around them. Like a cat of some kind. She set her elbow against the back of the booth, resting her chin in her fingertips. Easy and comfortable. Casual.

Not at all afraid of what was clearly a superior predator.

Diana didn't need to look at the woman's aura to know that she was something powerful. She could feel it.

"How long have you two been together?"

"A few months. My brother and I relocated here from New Orleans, and Stefan has been so generous with helping us. He really is ... quite the gentleman." The look on her face turns a little devious at that. "At least when he wants to be."

Diana was starting to feel a chill down the back of her spine. Something was wrong. Beyond the fact that she didn't like Stefan's dame.

Something was very, very wrong.

"You don't have to sell me on Stefan," she said lightly. "We've been friends for years."

Probably best not to mention that one night in the park...

"Have you?"

How interesting. Rebekah doesn't seem all that impressed, because she knows Stefan has friends. It's simply a matter of whether or not she's one of the friends who are also friends with Katherine. This Lexi he's avoiding certainly isn't, but Diana remains to be seen.

"He's relatively young, for one of us. Are we talking a few years or a few decades?"

As far as Cainites went, Diana was relatively young. Hardly a neonate. More like an ancilla. She wasn't sure how much leverage that would give her, but she'd use everything in her arsenal.

"I met Stefan when he was just a baby," she said. "Must have been around 1864. I don't know. I'm not great with dates." A lie. But it made her sound older. "Back in Virginia."

Her fingers ran along the fringe of her wig. And for a second, she heightened her senses again. Somewhere out back, she could hear Denise and Christine talking in hushed tones. No sign of trouble yet. That was good.

But Diana caught a whiff of blood, suddenly.

So a long time then. Still not a threat, as Stefan clearly is not in love with her - he's impulsive enough that if he was he certainly would have made a move by now - but still something to be wary of all the same.

"Then you must know his brother, Damon? Or his sire, Katherine?"

"Only by reputation," she said, shaking her head. And neither reputation was exactly sterling.

Then again, neither was hers. In some circles.

She smiled absently again, pressing her fingertips to the back of her ear. "I've been to New Orleans. A long, long time ago." Her niece had been kind enough to help burn part of it down. "Charming place."

Her face flickers for a moment, something that's almost akin to sadness. She misses her home in New Orleans, more than she can say. She knows that she's ruined that for her and her family, and it is her cross that she must bear, but she still misses the life she used to have.

"It is. My family has lived there for many years."

Diana caught the flicker. And for the first time, she didn't feel like a cat, ready to bear her claws at this woman. Or, probably more appropriately, she didn't feel like she was ready to pounce at her.

She switched flawlessly over to French.

"It sometimes reminds me of Paris," she said, smiling sadly. "All of the gaiety and the life, busting out of the seams. I miss it sometimes."

But only sometimes. She hadn't been in the best of places back then.

The touch of French makes her smile, a bit more pleased than sad memories of New Orleans in the past and she nods, responding in kind. "As do I. I haven't been back to Europe in a very long time, let alone Paris."

But she loves the United States as well. They're a brash, industrious melting pot of people. It's quite amazing to see.

"Me neither," Diana said, warming up by the second. She'd been unfair, she supposed. She might be just as defensive, if she saw a beautiful woman eying her latest beau. "But I would love to go back, someday."

Paris in particular. So many memories. On the other hand, they were all wrapped up in Joseph.

Idly, her fingers played with the engagement ring she still wore.

"You know what I miss the most about Paris? The way the air smells."

Rebekah considers for a moment as she tries to remember. It had been so long ago, and odds are they haven't left on the best of terms. She's tried to forget the things she loved there, if for no other reason than protect her own heart for the things she missed. Even the things she shouldn't.

"I can't say for sure. It's been centuries now."

Centuries. That was frightening.

Diana shrugged, trying to remain calm. "It's the bees knees," she replied mildly. "Not like the air here."

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