OOM - New Orleans

[onceaviking]

The car is comfortable, the chauffeur's driving smooth. The car stereo is playing an aria.
"Tell me, Eric - May I call you Eric?" the King asks.
"Certainly," Eric replies.

They are getting somewhere.

"What exactly is your relationship with Miss Stackhouse?" Edgington asks and Eric says, "Well, her lover, Bill Compton, is, um, was a constituent of mine." That seems like a innocent enough answer.
"I'd keep an eye on that because I knew she was of interest to my queen."

"So no personal attachments?" Edgington asks with a small, wry smile.
"I do not get attached to humans," Eric replies. Dismissively.

"Still, you have to admit, she is quite delectable." Edgington counters, looking almost a little hungry.
And Eric takes the chance and leans in to say, "My tastes lie elsewhere," giving the King a meaningful look.

Then he leans back, as Edgington. Chuckles a little. Joining in.

"Lorena thinks you killed one of my werewolves," the King continues.

"I killed a werewolf," Eric replies, aiming for casually unconcerned.
"I was not aware it belonged to you."

"To save Sookie?" the King asks, curiously.
"To save myself," Eric says.
"Only a very young and very foolish vampire could be killed by a werewolf. You are neither." The King does not sound convinced.

"Only a vampire with no self-respect would allow a werewolf who attacked him to remain alive. They are base, primitive creatures, and I will freely admit that I despise them. You're the first vampire I met who didn't feel the same way."
He cannot pretend to have no problem with weres. So he doesn't. Edgington would never buy that.

"Of course I do," the King scoffs. "They're more dog than man. Stupider than dogs, actually. But it seems beneficial to me to use them rather than destroy them."

"How exactly do you use them?" Eric asks. As if he doesn't already know the answer. The answer Russell then gives him with no hesitation. "I give them the blood," he says and then he scoffs again, this time at the look on Eric's face. "Oh, come, now. I know that you yourself have been dealing, so don't pretend to be a vampire fundamentalist."

He's moving onto one of his favorite topics. You can tell by the way the words seem to tear their way out of him.

"If all the supernaturals would stop squabbling among themselves and unite, we could conquer humans in a matter of days."

"This is your plan?" Eric asks.
Of course it is. Egomaniacal little fucker.

"I prefer to call it my dream," Russell replies and Eric nods. "Well, I like this dream."

"Throughout history," Russell continues, clearly delighted with the sound of his own voice. "I have aligned myself with or destroyed those humans in power, hoping to make a dent in mankind's race to oblivion.What other creature actively destroys its own habitat?"
"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Eric says, partly just to make him shut up. Keeping up this charade is really taking its toll.

"I mean, do you remember how the air used to smell? How humans used to smell? How they used to taste?" the King asks, and Eric replies, "I remember everything." Intense, but for so many other reasons than Russell might think.

"Preening little fool that he was, Adolf was right about one thing. There is a master race. It's just not the human race." Russell says, laughing a little. And Eric joins in. Until he sees the exit rush past.

"Shouldn't we have taken the I-12 exit?" he says, turning a little, and Edgington replies, breezily, "Oh, we're not going to Shreveport," adding, "Don't worry. We'll deal with your Magister problem in time," when he sees the look on Eric's face.

The rest of the trip is uneventful and Eric spends the most if his mental energy keeping up his unobtrusive attentiveness. And clamp down on his rage.

They arrive at the Queen's home and Russell asks Eric if he'd be willing to deal with the guards.
Oh, is he ever.

Comments

[onceaviking]

"You, my darling Sophie-Ann," he says, as he reveals that the secret behind his back is a red, long stemmed rose.

He holds it out to her - and gets down on one knee.

Never let it be said, that Russell Edgington does not do these things properly.

"I want you," he says, solemnly, "to accept my proposal of marriage."
He even emphasizes his seriousness by resting his free hand on his heart.

How could she refuse?

[dobadthings]

She makes a face at the rose as if it were a smelly old sock.

...Seriously?

Seriously?

This is like the weird geeky boy asking the head cheerleader to the prom.

"I've turned you down countless times," she says, confused and exasperated at this whole show. "Why would I accept now?"

[onceaviking]

She does make a pretty picture, standing there bedecked with pearls and with a mouth like a chicken's asshole.

But such is the faith of those in power. Marriages are work, just like everything else.

"Because in addition to never touching you,-"
And that is a solemn promise.
"I will settle all your debts."

Now, how could she possibly refuse that?

[dobadthings]

She may be bankrupt but she still has her self-respect.

Most of it.

Some of it.

Okay, enough left to refuse Russell, basically.

So she responds with a lot of huffy and haughty sighs and eye-rolling, because it's not like she was just sitting on the floor shouting Jackpot! every time she scratched off five bucks.

[onceaviking]

"Oh, come on," he says, still patient and smiling.
She can be coy if she likes. As long as she stops before he grows tired of their game.

"The Magister will eventually determine it was you who was selling our blood."

He is all about the rational and reasonable arguments.

[dobadthings]

That gets her attention somewhat, only because honestly, why is that even still an issue?

"I've already pinned it on Eric Northman."

Duh.

"Is that really all you've got?" she scoffs.

[onceaviking]

In the hallway, Eric fights down a growl, the blood of Sophie-Ann's guards still dripping slowly from his mouth and chin.

I've already pinned it on Eric Northman.

"Well, " Russell says, "ooh, there's the IRS. The American Vampire League will let them put you in prison, make an example of you, assuage the right wing's fears about vampires running Wall Street."

Raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

[dobadthings]

Her pinched expression may indicate that Russell might actually be making a logical case. Still, she avoids his beady little eyes and picks at her fingernails, unwilling to accept what could become of her.

"They have no dominion over me," she insists stubbornly.

"I'm a queen."

She only just stops herself from stamping her foot like a spoiled baby vamp.

[onceaviking]

Russell bursts out laughing.
Genuinely amused.

"Oh, please," he says. "I have known some of the finest queens who've ever lived. You, my dear girl, are no queen."

Such a little huffy bitch.
It's almost endearing.
Almost.

[dobadthings]

How dare he.

How fucking dare he!

She scowls at him, her blood boiling, her lips twitching, fangs itching to come down.

"Go fuck yourself!"

[onceaviking]

Russell has already gotten to his feet. And dropped the rose.
Now he just lifts his eyebrows, hums, and turns his back on her.

And then Eric is on top of her, one large hand around her neck. Fangs bared, face dripping with blood.

(He's gotten some on his sweater too. Pam will be displeased. Pam).

"No, sweetheart" he says, his fangs huge and white and deadly.
"You go fuck yourself."

[dobadthings]

She barely has time to scream when her throat is in Eric's grip and her back hits the floor.

Her eyes are wide with panic, but she doesn't struggle, knowing it would be useless.

Instead she defiantly bares her fangs at him and hisses.

[onceaviking]

He chuckles.
"Oh, I am older and stronger than you," he says, his hand tightening a little around her neck.

"I only submitted to you in the past because of respect. But you framed me."

His upper lip trembles from the strain of not tearing into her. His whole body is rigid with anger.

Rigid from the struggle of doing what he does. Saying what he says next. And making it sound heartfelt.

"So I renounce any and all allegiance to you."
Severing the ties that prevent him from killing her. That prevent him from testifying against her.

And then, because he needs Edgington to trust him, to keep him close, he adds, "I am his now," which isn't really necessary. Not when the matter is fealty.

And it makes him feel sick. But the faint tremble in his voice could easily be mistaken for anger at her and nothing more.

Russell is watching the spectacle with faint amusement. And some appreciation. While he prefers a certain level of civility, he must admit that Eric is quite - convincing. The passion is a nice touch.

And the angle is giving him an excellent standpoint from which to judge his Gluteus Maximus.
It is approved.

[dobadthings]

When Eric squeezes, the pressure is enough to remind her that he is indeed twice her age.

And really fucking pissed off.

She's cornered. She can no longer deny that she had anything to do with selling V; she can no longer have the lifestyle she's lived for centuries; she can no longer pay her fucking taxes.

But she will damn well cling to what scraps of power she has left.

"I refuse to grant you--"

[onceaviking]

He cuts her off, snarling, "I will tear your head off and throw it in the pool. And I will have fun doing it."

He is furious. And he has just about had it with holding back.

Russell smirks a little.
Primitive perhaps. But quite entertaining.

"Huh?" Eric says, managing to not scream at her. "Your call."

[dobadthings]

She shrinks back, squirming a little as he tightens his grip even more.

She hisses at him again, angry, panicked, and delusional in the possibility that he just might be bluffing.

[onceaviking]

"Very well then," he growls, moving his hand to make room for the other so he can wring her neck like that of a chicken. But Russell stops him with a slightly raised finger and a calm, "Eric."

For a moment he just stop, as if paused, ready to continue - and then he grins and lets go of her neck, smoothly getting up from the floor and returning to Edgington's side. Or rather, half a step behind him.
Deferentially.

Staring at the fallen Queen. Smirking. But ready to pounce again.

Russell says, with a sigh, "So, yes or no?"
Fun as it has been, he has other things he'd rather be doing.

[dobadthings]

Eric shifts his hands and she makes a noise between shriek and a No!--

--and suddenly he stops, at Russell's command.

She lies absolutely still. As soon as Eric gets off of her, she clutches at her throat with a gasp, her numerous strings of pearls rattling as she writhes a little in relief. Taking a moment to collect herself, she then gets straight to her feet, ignoring the amused, self-satisfied looks on Russell's and Eric's faces.

So that's what Northman is now, is he? The little troll's personal attack dog? Losing Bill Compton to Russell was a waste of her efforts, but he was a total bore. However, she kind of liked having the Viking under her thumb. Who wouldn't?

She hesitates giving any sort of answer. She's too frustrated at her own situation, too pissed off at things not going her way.

Without looking at Russell she spits, "Goddammit...!"

The Queen of Louisiana has conceded. She hopes he's fucking happy and loses his dick in a painful accident.

[onceaviking]

Russell puts a hand to his ear as if to make sure that he isn't missing out on any of the delightful notes of bitchiness, smiling. "Oh, splendid," he says and then he considers their options, looking at her.

He wants the ceremony to take place as soon as possible. And for a royal wedding you really need a public servant with a certain level of standing. Such as a Magister. Hmm.

"Sun will be up soon. We'll spend the day here," he decides, rather mindful of the large, blood dripping presence next to him. He really does cut an imposing figure. The Viking.

"We'll stop by Fangtasia on our way back to Jackson."

Eric replies with a simple, "As you wish," and then he adds, a little hesitantly, I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries just now." Managing to look a little embarrassed.

The King shakes his head a little and says, in a confidential tone, "I - uh I quite enjoyed that.
Thank you."

It had been quite a show.

"It is my honor and my duty," Eric says, seriously and intently. Towering over Edgington. Standing close. And then he runs the back of his fingers along the lapel of Edgington's coat, saying "My king." And then he removes his hand and looks away. As if suddenly shy. Or unsure.

It's a contrast to the way his body looks. And the way he normally moves.
Sometimes, that works.
And he wants it to work. Because it will be his way in. And that is the only thought that can make this something he can stomach.

That and getting to do this.

He walks briskly over to Sophie-Ann and says, "I'll make sure your betrothed is properly restrained," grabbing hold of her and lifting her into his arms.

She's short.
As is Edgington.

And perhaps that is a similarity the King ponders, just a little, as he picks up his discarded rose and breathes deeply of it's scent.

[dobadthings]

There is no amount of sulking, scowling, pouting, eyerolling, and bitchfacing that Sophie-Ann can do to convey her complete and utter displeasure at basically everything right now.

She can barely stomach it. Eric's a fucking kiss-ass now. What the hell? How did Russell manage that? Eric never kissed her ass like that, what does he have that she didn't?

Oh, whatever, fuck them both.

She stands there with her arms folded, giving them dirty looks with every ounce of her being.

And then suddenly Eric picks her up like a sack of potatoes and she shrieks.

"Hadley!" she screams over his shoulder as he carries her off. "I want my Hadley! Hadley!"

[onceaviking]

"I'll find your Hadley," he says, coldly, as he slings her over his shoulder as they are through the door and away from Edgington's eyes.

"Let's see what we can come up with." He looks around in the corridor. It seems almost dark compared to the artificial brightness of Sophie-Ann's sun room.

"Ah. There. That will do nicely."
That being a huge ornamental birdcage.
He grabs it with his free hand and drags it back to the sun room. It's a little unwieldy, but not too heavy.

The King has already left and so Eric unceremoniously stuffs the Queen into the cage and slams the door. Aggressively.

Not talking to her.
Not looking at her.

Only going to go get her little human, because she obviously cares about her. Which means that Hadley will be very well suited to get her to talk.
Besides, he is hungry.