A Scripta

Dimitri had outworn his welcome.

Some cities, such as this one, would allow a vampire to wander its streets and take as needed, provided they were just passing through. Sometimes there was a time limit for a vampire to "pass through" a city.

Dimitri had overstayed.

He hadn't realized it until one night, when three Gangrel appeared out of the shadows in Kings Row. Dimiri had seen them before they walked out; they were young vampires and easily noted. He had no idea why the Gangrel appeared, only that they were in front of him, looking threatening.

"Prince Lafayette says you're not allowed here," growled one.

"Is there a Blood Hunt out on me?" He'd outrun those before. This would be no different, except he still had things to do here. He could wait centuries to come back, but how long would that Greek be alive?

"Not really," said another. "Your reputation preceeds you."

"Prince Lafayette thinks it's just an oversight on your part, Sherrif," continued the first. "You need to come with us."

Dimitri shrugged, and fell into step with them. They brought him to Founders Falls, to a nightclub that was lavish and absolutely full of blood dolls. As he expected, the Prince was set off to the side, holding court in a private room. Vampires waited in line to approach and kiss his ring, then present their petitions. Dimitri had been with his Prince in Phoenix long enough to know the rituals. He was patient when he needed to be.

Prince Lafayette turned jade eyes in Dimitri's direction. "Ah," he said, and inclined his head to Dimitri.

Dimitri walked forward and kissed the ring, then looked up at the Prince. Dimitiri was older than him, but, then Paragon was full of young vampires. When he left Phoenix, he thought the prince was named Jolyn, but things changed quickly in Paragon. "Prince Lafayette."

"I understand you're visiting our fair city."

"I didn't realize I had stayed so long without asking. Have there been any complaints?"

"No, no," said Lafayette with the patronizing tone of a new Prince. Dimitri kept his anger under control - he hated new Princes. "I merely wanted to know why you're here."

"I'm looking for a man."

"We have people for that."

"I would rather find him myself."

The Prince regarded him. "Ah, personal. You do have to ask permission to create childer." Again, that patronizing tone.

No shit, asshole. "That isn't the reason."

The Prince seemed to be waiting. Dimitri looked at him blankly. "Speak with Mimette over there to discuss your hunting grounds in the Row." The Prince gave him the smallest of shrugs in dismissal and motioned vaguely to the other side of the room.

Dimitri turned from him with military precision and looked at his Gangrel escort. "Who's Mimette?"

"Over there." He waved at the other side of the room like the Prince did.

"Where," Dimitri snarled. He was losing patience, and it was worse since he hadn't fed yet.

"I'll show you," said a red-haired young woman who took Dimitri's arm. She smelled mortal, and already had marks on her, so he couldn't feed from her. "Nobody here is helpful to new people," she said offhandedly.

"I've dealt with worse," he replied, letting her lead him through the kindred and kine to a dark-haired beauty dressed in black lace and gossamer, with a hunk of a mortal lying half-naked at her feet. She had her stilletto heels on his chest, and looked immensely bored.

"You are Mimette?" Dimitri asked.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him languidly. "You're the one's who's been eating all the Skulls."

"I am not damaging the Masquerade, am I?"

"No," she sighed. "The Circle of Thorns are mine. Everything else is up for grabs, within reason. You haven't fed yet."

"No, I haven't."

"Do you prefer men or women?"

"Either." Though he actually perferred men, he didn't want to disclose that here.

Mimette dug her heel into the mortal, who moaned under her. "Get up and feed him."

"Yes, mistress," the mortal said, pulling himself out from underneath her and then standing up. He tilted his head to the side, offering the pulsing vein.

Dimitri's fangs dropped instinctively and he took the young man in his arms. He was laced with compliance drugs, but Dimitri's blood was far more powerful and could easily offset them. He finished, hardly satiated, but it had taken the edge off. He would feed more later.

Mimette lifted her feet as the young man resumed his position. "How long will you be staying?"

"Until I speak to a man."

"Hard to find a mere mortal in the daytime."

"I know how."

Mimette shrugged. "Get one of the dogs to help you if you need it. They're always looking to prove themselves."

"I'll be fine. If you'll excuse me..."

She waved her hand away, and she watched him leave the nightclub. "Man of few words," she muttered, and kicked her doll.