Dream a Little Dream of Me - Locked to Cesare (Late September)

[greenevoices]

Imogen's been offered a job, and she thinks she'll take it. Not that she particularly wants to spend her days teaching magical teenagers how to sightread--as someone who's only barely in her twenties herself, she thinks that's far below her--but because the pay is decent and, combined with her weekly performances at the Angelo, it means she might even be able to move out of her aunt and uncle's house. Or at least start paying rent.

Two days after her meeting with Sylvia Redbright, Imogen is back under the spotlight at the Angelo. She's "gifted," whatever that means. Something about her voice is magical. It should be earth-shattering news, but somehow it makes sense as much as anything in a world that is suddenly peopled by witches and vampires in addition to regular humans makes sense. It seems right.

Halfway through her set, another person walks into the lounge. Imogen is too much of a professional to register her surprise, but it's actually the first time that Cesare Borgia, her mysterious employer and benefactor, has come to see her sing. She smiles to herself. Gifted, huh?

Between songs, she whispers something in the ear of the pianist, and he signals to the rest of the band. They're going to change things up a bit.

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[longterm]

It is as he carries out her commands instinctively that it clicks as to what is going on. Fae magic. He hadn't guarded himself against it, hadn't even thought to with her, this bright eyed ingenue who was still learning about the fantastical world. But this is unmistakable and he pulls himself away with a struggle, gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists.

"Fuck!!" he yells before half-stomping, half-running to the bathroom and locking himself in there so that he can recover. He leans over the sink, his breathing heavy and looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are black, the telltale sign of fae, while blood drips down his chin and neck. He runs the tap and immediately starts trying to wash the blood off.

[greenevoices]

...what on earth?

One minute Imogen had been in the middle of the most mind-blowing sex of her comparatively short existence, the next she’s crouched alone on the bed as Cesare flees from her.

The spell is broken and whatever power she had held over him is gone. Weakly, she claps a hand over the still-bleeding wound on her neck and realizes how lightheaded from blood loss she is. What was that?

She staggers over to the bathroom door, only to realize it’s locked. “Cesare,” she calls faintly. The world is starting to go black at the corners. How much did he drink? “What...? What’s wrong?” She’s not a bright-eyed ingenue any more, that’s for sure. Now she’s back to being the scared girl Cesare had rescued from the streets a few weeks before.

[longterm]

"You need to go," Cesare yells through the door, scrubbing at his neck. "I'll have one of the housekeepers give you a room somewhere." Somewhere that he doesn't know so that he isn't tempted to finish his drink. The less he knows about where Imogen is the better.

His brain tries to figure out what happened or why but he's too high right now to think about it. He just needs her out of here, away from her clutches, while he has some time to calm down and sober up.

[greenevoices]

“But...” Another wave of dizziness hits Imogen and she slides down to the floor, not trusting herself to stay upright. “What are you talking about?” she asks weakly, through the door. “What did I do?”

The Cesare barricading himself in the bathroom doesn’t sound at all like the Cesare she has grown used to dealing with.

[longterm]

"You fucking know," he spits with a roll of his eyes. Really, how could she even pretend she doesn't after that displya? He can't believe he was stupid enough to fall for her facade. Honestly, normally he was better than that.

"I'm telling you to get out, Imogen," he says more forcefully, seriously, his tone darkening a little. "This isn't a polite request that you have a choice about. Get your clothes on and and wait outside."

[greenevoices]

There isn’t much that Imogen can do, clothing wise. Her dress is ruined and she hadn’t worn anything underneath but her flimsy, lacy panties. Fighting the dizziness that threatens to overtake her, she puts those on and wraps herself in a blanket. She still doesn’t know what’s going on. She wants to keep fighting him, to figure out why this has happened, but she also doesn’t want to be killed by an angry vampire.

So she does what he says. She finds an armchair outside the bedroom and curls up on it, feeling miserable and utterly alone.

And that is where Cesare will find her hours later, fast asleep.

[longterm]

Cesare is in the bathroom for a while, waiting until he sobers up. Eventually, once he thinks he's decent enough, he clambers up from his space where he was sitting on the tiled floor and heads back into his room.

He's is surprised to see Imogen for a couple of reasons. For one thing, he had expected her to be gone. For another, he hadn't expected her to look like that, semi-dressed and lying on his bed covered in blood. She looks good. He freezes for a moment, trying not to let himself think about the temptation.

"Get up." he commands, using his vampiric powers of persuasion. Two can play at that game.

[greenevoices]

Imogen rises involuntarily, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders. She's covered in blood, yes, but the wound in her neck is gone, replaced only by a small bruise.

She's never been on the receiving end of magic before; her mind feels foggy, unfocused. Imogen blinks slowly at Cesare, ready to be commanded.

[longterm]

Normally when Cesare uses his powers, his voice is smooth and appealing, like honey running down your neck. But this time it's a bellow that scrapes against Imogen's ears.

"Metahuman? Like hell you are," he seethes. "Who sent you?" Because obviously someone must have. Redbright perhaps? Would Eames have bothered to do it? His minds races as he tries to figure it out.

[greenevoices]

Imogen flinches, but she is compelled to answer anyway, despite her confusion and terror. "That's what Sylvia Redbright said. She said there is power in my voice. No one sent me. You asked me to be there."

[longterm]

Cesare's brow furrows. He knows she can't lie but he still doesn't trust her. There's something going on. There has to be. He grits his teeth.

"Don't fucking equivocate with me, Imogen," he growls. "I do not have time for that. What is your real name?" If he finds that out then he can trace her, have his people figure out what happened and why. Or more importantly who ordered it.

[greenevoices]

"Imogen Reed," comes the answer. She does't know her real name. Not yet. And once she learns it she will never share it with the likes of him. But that's far off yet. For now, she's answering as she knows.

[longterm]

Cesare rolls his eyes and laughs slightly. Oh, wow. So they're doing this the hard way. Ok then. He can do that.

"Take a seat," he commands, gesturing towards the chair at a dressing table and slowly making his way towards her, rolling up his sleeves.

"Why did you come to his room, Imogen?"

[greenevoices]

Imogen frowns against the compulsion, though she still does as she's told and sits. "You invited me," she says, slowly. "I was trying out my...voice powers--" she still hasn't got a good name for what she can do "--and you wanted to sleep with me."

[longterm]

Oh, Imogen. You are an absolute fool. Had she merely given it enough time and seemed open to it, Cesare would have wanted to sleep with her anyway. Now she was pinned to a chair while Cesare seethes at her. He crosses his arms.

"And why did you do that?" Because she wanted him to drink and get hooked on fae, have his reputation ruined and his presidency marred, obviously. But he wants to hear it from her.

[greenevoices]

“I wanted you to notice me,” she says softly. “I fancied you.” Imogen blushes slightly at the admission, one she would never make it not for the compulsion working its way past her defenses.

[longterm]

"That doesn't fucking matter," Cesare barks, entirely ignoring the flattery of it all. He has other things to focus than her trying to play coy and cute. Her crushing could be true but it's still pointless.

"We can do this the hard way if you want to, Imogen..." he says warningly. "Tell me the truth that matters."

[greenevoices]

Imogen blinks. “I am telling you the truth. Sylvia Redbright said that my singing had magic in it. I saw you and experimented with it.”

[longterm]

Cesare blinks right back with a frown. "Yes," he says with gritted teeth. "But to what end?" He's getting tired of this, and confused to be honest. Normally a person would break by now.

[greenevoices]

“So that you would notice me, and to make your girlfriend jealous.”

Imogen has never been able to lie, and with the magic working its way through her it’s impossible to even bend the truth as she is normally accustomed to doing.

[longterm]

Cesare's nose wrinkles. Now he's even more confused.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he says in a tone that sounds almost offended. If he had a girlfriend would he be sleeping with other women like that? No. And that is one of the precise reasons why he refuses to have a girlfriend.

[greenevoices]

Imogen’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and she looked up at Cesare, her vacant green eyes widening. “But that red haired girl said...”

[longterm]

"Oh, so you believe everything some redheaded girl tells you?" Cesare huffs. It only dawns on him a second later that she means Lydia. He grimaces.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he repeats. "Not her. Not anyone."

[greenevoices]

Imogen looks down at her lap, a faint blush on her cheeks. She’s beginning to fight the mind control, and shame is the first thing she feels.

“...oh. May I leave now?”

[longterm]

Cesare scowls but eventually nods, turning his back on her to grab himself a drink. He needs one.

"But you'll stay in the hotel. You won't leave. We'll keep you fed and comfortable until we talk again, is that clear?" He needs to sort this out, after all.