The Underworld:

Posted at tenebrae_nostro

The night seemed to ramble on and on. It was made worse because none of her Death Dealers could tell her where Selene was now. She should have been there, leading the Alpha team against those...things. Instead Amelia and the others came home, bloodied but alive, to hear a very unpleasant story. "This vexes me. You do not care to see me vexed, do you my child?" The knight shook his head curtly as his eyes reminded forward, glued to the wall so that he would not have to see her disappointment. "I suggest that you walk out of this door and look for her again. After all, Matayas, it is not like she is set of car keys that you just misplaced, now is she?" She has been unfair to him. Cruel even. But it was not entirely undeserved. After all, she did assign him to follow Selene and make certain that she was alright. He failed her. Miserably. For all of Amelia's indirect but scathing words, no one punished himself more than he, especially considering that Selene was not just another Death Dealer to him. Is that not right?

"You have served my purposes very well Ambassadors. One might say that I am indebted to you for your information and kind suggestions. I will take them to heart and be forever grateful for your time." Forever is a very long time. Amelia smiled warmly, remembering how it is that mortals need to feel that soft touch of heartfelt warmth that somehow was supposed to reassure them that she wasn't a threat. Oh, they did deserve it. Her smile was a prize itself and not handed out very often this century, it seemed. Let us not be fooled, however, she does, in fact, enjoy the company of these fine men. Despite their weak bodies, mortal countenance and short sighted minds that could not see beyond a decade, they were worthy of her time.

"Lady Amelia, it was our humble pleasure to dine with you. As always, you are a most gracious host." Ah, yes. Ambassador Dalton. His old world charm and mannerisms made her nearly yearn for times that the grains of sand had long run out on. Nearing his fiftieth birthday, he was a new born to her despite his slightly graying hair and the slight sag of his skin just along the jawline. No matter, his was an art far greater and more useful to her than his visage. However, as she looked at him through brown eyes that seemed mysteriously flecked by a light green glow, she could not help to think, I knew your family name when it was originally D'Alton and the third member of your tribe was sent to Lancashire. They had not always been diplomats, but the family was always gifted with great intellect. Amelia cultivated talent. Watched as generations of affluent families grew up and died. Sometimes, on nights like this, she would pluck them like flowers in full bloom of their talents and preserve them for eternity.

"Well, we will have to do this again gentleman, is that not right?" She asked directly to a young man shy of his thirty-fifth birthday and dying of cancer. He had but a month left to live, yet told no one of his dire fate. Of course, she knew the predicament he was in well. He smiled tightly, a gleam of a man not ready to die glimmering in his eyes. Why should he be? After all he had worked so hard to build his financial empire. He has no even lived long enough to enjoy it.

Amelia gasped lightly as if she had committed some great wrong.

"General Maléter, may I convey my sincerest expression of sorrow at your resignation from the Honvédség? I must say that I was deeply disappointed to learn of your choice to resign." It was not a choice. Not even in the slightest. A woman like Amelia has many connections and a few well placed phone calls spiraled into his bitter descent from power. It was a disgrace to a family name that whose ancestor lead the Hungarian revolution. "I have expressed my disappointment to the Ministry itself, as you know, my family has a long history with the nobility...well, you might as well call it the aristocracy nowadays, and the military establishment, but they would not hear a word of it from me."

The general looked kindly upon Amelia's fresh young face. How a young person has been propelled to such greatness in her youth was not only a produce of good upbringing and family influence, but tenacity and intellect, he thought. Her eyes alone made her seem wiser, as if her soul was old.

"My dear girl, it was time. Simply that. Although I am humbled by your words." He replied in shaky English, his Hungarian accent making the consonants harder, much like his heart was now for the establishment which fired him.

"Simply time." Amelia repeated slowly as if digesting the words.

"Oh? Might I inquire into this history, Lady Amelia? You know so much about us, it seems, but we have yet to hear your history." Surely, that was expected from the curious American entrepreneur, who knew her only as the CEO of Zyodex. What he did not know about Zyodex would not hurt him either. His presence here was unexpected as he was the guest of Lady Rowen Belmuth. He could not tell his soup spoon from his dessert spoon, but Amelia entertained him just as well.

"Gentleman, for those of you who remain my guests there will be plenty of time to time to tell you about my background. I assure you that it is quite intricate and some of what I say will even be true." Watch them as they chuckle and laugh at her joke. Watch her as she so easily and with a lovely crystalline tone, laughs back lightly and does not skip a beat to their rhyme and reason. Their is no lull in conversation, no uncomfortable silences, no faux-pas and, for the most part, no pretense. Amelia was, however, keeping up appearances. The performance started hours ago and her humble guests of honour are the audience and active participants. The second act is about the begin and the lady excuses herself for a moment, but not before leaving her excellent company to Nicholas.

Strolling into the hallway, Amelia steps in time with Matayas who was already waiting for her. Taking her arm, they walk silently for a few moments while the lady thinks strategically.

"It is time, Mátayás. However, I have changed my mind about Lady Rowen Belmuth. Please escort her to main ballroom to join the other guests."
"Of course. And what of her guest?"
Amelia scoffed haughtily as she shook her head. The mortals dim witted jokes and lack of table etiquette grated on her nerves. There was nothing exceptional about him at all. He was a snag in an otherwise fine evening. "What is the saying, Mátayás? Another aging rocker with literary pretensions? No, absolutely not. He simply does not suit the covens needs."
"Very well. It will please you to know that we have chosen potential Death Dealers for your consideration. We wanted to wait for Selene, as you asked, but she has not visited the penthouse in nights." Amelia's brows knitted in between her  eyes as the corners of her mouth tugged down in momentary consideration. "Alright. Bring them to me later in the evening. Do find out what Selene is doing, will you? I will not have the future of this coven wallowing away for all eternity. It is simply not healthy." She added under her breath, before the doors to the ballroom open and she plastered on a charming yet, now, forced smile. Amelia greeted her very mortal guests , while Mátayás went into the dining room to escort some of the rejected potentials to the lounge or ballroom. After a round of pleasantries, she walked back to the dining room. The doors have been closed behind her like a curtain across a stage. The audience anxiously awaits for her to deliver her next lines to the notes of the Aria Da Capo playing softly from the nimble hands of the pianist across the the room.

"Gentlemen, allow me be quite forward regarding you futures."