RP:Of Cakes And Khats

Summary: Rachelle and Khitti meet...and it gets weird. Super weird.

Kelay

Rachelle was perfection incarnate. Well, she thought so, anyway, and so did anyone whose opinion was worth her heeding. The privileged life of an affluent merchant’s daughter allowed her a degree of separation from the harsher elements of the world, including exposure to those who’d be quite chuffed to inform her that she was, really, extraordinarily average. With curly, mousy brown hair that stretched just beneath her shoulders, a face more fit for a milkmaid than a model, and no notable intellect or skill beyond a knack for enchantments, no one was likely to even give her so much as a double-take. Well, except today. Today, Rachelle was causing quite the fuss in an alleyway just off the main street of Kelay, furiously beating her cherry red parasol against the noggin of some would-be purse thief. Said bandit was clinging desperately to the ends of her bag, half-crumpled beneath her and yelping with each crash of the umbrella to his cranium, too concussed to fight her off and too dazed to flee. Rachelle, for her part, was shrieking as loud and as long as her lungs and windpipe would allow, a string of words and curses that had long since devolved from anything halfway intelligible.

Thankfully for that damsel in distress, there just so happened to be a vampire near by. Wait...is that really a good thing? Well. Anyway. Khitti, yes that Khitti, was feeling quite stir crazy after being kept in a jar for so long. And...she was hungry. What's better to eat than criminals? Plus, they get frightened so quickly and it made them taste all the better. The thing is that Khitti still wasn't entirely herself. Delusions of grandeur and superheroics ran rampant in her brain thanks to way too many dreams because of her sister. The vampiress had been the hero she always wanted to be! But now, that's bled over into real life. How unfortunate for anyone that might cross paths with her. Dominic and Brand probably should've kept her on a leash. Dressed all in black from head to toe, Khitti had the hood of her tattered duster pulled up over her head and a strip of cloth tied over her eyes, with holes cut out for her to see. All in all, she blended in pretty well with the darkness of the alleyway, using it to her advantage. A blur darts past Rachelle, quickly grabbing up the thief with a snarl. There's a flash of red as blood spurts from the mugger's throat, coating the wall of the building next to Rachelle's rescuer and the black-clad figure's prey. Khitti'd feed from him in quite the vicious manner. Criminals deserved no mercy, you know.

Rachelle let loose an astonished, "Oh?" as the brigand was whisked away from her, only to carry on in short order with more screaming as she realized the nature of her so-called hero. As soon as she was able to recover her linguistic capabilities, she shrilled, "V-v-v-vampire!" and a clacking of boots on pavement announced her approach behind said creature. Now Khitti was the target of her fear and her walloping, if she did nothing to move out of the way of that parasol. "Enough, fiend! Unhand that man or I, Rachelle Fournier, greatest and only daughter of Mathias Fournier and baker of the best cakes in all the land, shall singlehandedly bring you to justice!" If this was a contest of delusions, it'd be difficult to say who was winning.

Khitti finished her meal and soon became keen on acquiring another as Rachelle starting batting away at her head with that damned umbrella. "Vhat zhe hell are you doing, you damned cow?!" She lets out another snarl and gnashed her teeth in brown haired girl's direction. Wait a second. What the hell did she just say? The redhead swats at the umbrella angrily, knocking it out of Rachelle's hand before shoving her up against that blood-soaked wall. "Did you...just say...zhat you're zhe baker of zhe best cakes in all zhe land?" The masked female gets right up in Rachelle's face as she pins her to the wall by her wrists, her voice low and her breath a little chilly compared to most. "Do you know who I am, girl?" She's Batman. No? Well, damn. Alright. There's definitely a dramatic pause in here somewhere. "I'm your worst nightmare." Ah yes. There we go. Scary Khitti is scary. Maybe?

"My worst nightmare?" Rachelle's voice adopted an even higher pitch than before, and her eyes widened more than one might expect to be possible. Khitti was given a once-over as well as the woman could manage from her limited vantage point, then her gaze narrowed and her lips drew into a displeased line. "You're right. You're skinnier than I am," she stated matter-of-factly. She seemed to have forgotten to be afraid, to feel her life threatened by the hold the vampiress had on her. Appearance was a far more important concern. "Probably prettier under that mask, too. And I bet you can eat as much cake as you want without gaining a pound, can't you?!" Suddenly, Rachelle was tearing up, hiccuping sobs at her own misfortune. "I make the best cakes in the world and I don't even get to eat them, and now a vampire is prettier than me..." Rachelle, my dear, you've got issues.

"You're right. I am all of zhose zhings. And, I'm stronger, faster, and have zhe ability to drain you dry of zhat precious blood coursing around in your veins." The unfortunate breaking of Khitti's mind in that jar had made her a bit more feral, just as Dominic had been warned and this was proved true by Khitti's fangs nearly running across Rachelle's throat as she spoke, and even when she didn't. "I've never eaten one so vain before. I vonder vhat you taste like. Maybe like all of zhose cakes you claim you bake? I don't believe you, by zhe vay. I do eat a lot of cake. More zhan you can imagine. I've eaten cakelog made by zhe royal chefs of Queen Hildegarde. I've dined in Mrs. Mallard's bakery in Cenril. Nibbled on zhe lady fingers of Vailkrin. So many places I've tasted cakes, cookies, and pies...and yet...not of it vas yours. You zhink so highly of yourself yet zhe one person in all of Lithrydel zhat might have heard of you has not."

Rachelle felt those fangs on her flesh and her sobs became wails. It was a wonder at this point that no one had come this way to investigate. Just her rotten luck. "P-please don't eat me! I'm sure that -- that brigand is much tastier than I'd be! I take it back, you can have him! Please!" The poor girl flailed helplessly until she remembered her back was to a bloodied wall. She was only going to soil her clothes further; there was no escaping that grip and the vampiress wasn't looking particularly impressed with her using the unconscious thief as a bargaining chip. Time for a different tactic. "M-maybe... maybe I could bake something for you and prove my claims as fact? I could make anything you like, I swear!" Oh dear. Was she really resorting to inviting a creature of darkness into her home? She'd have to disable all the protective spells, all forty-six of them, just to get the wretched thing past the front door. But if it meant she could remain among the living and maybe even make it home in time to spare her garments from a lasting stain, well... Rachelle swallowed hard and plastered a winning smile across her face. She even batted her eyes for good measure. One never knew for sure the subjects of a person's baser inclinations these days, after all. Maybe it was a lesbian.

Khitti wasn't quite a lesbian, but she also never had time to dwell on such a subject. And now really wasn't the time either, unless Rachelle had specifically brought it up. She was indifferent to the girl's eye batting, dark green eyes watching her with careful scrutiny as she pleaded her case and offered to do what she supposedly did best. Khitti stared at her, fingers tightening every so often around Rachelle's wrists. And then, the vampiress did something. Something weird. She got all sorts of close and into Rachelle's business and...licked her. On the cheek? The act was long and drawn out, reaching from cheek to almost Rachelle's temple. What the hell, Khitti. Better than a kiss maybe? The brown haired girl would be released soon after, but her 'savior' kept close, giving her the most innocent of grins. No. That definitely wasn't innocent. Whatever it was, Khitti'd pick up the parasol, offer it over to Rachelle with a "Where?" and then silence. Once the vain girl would respond, Khitti'd scoop her up into her arms without warning and would take off towards their destination with such speed and agility befitting an anime character, with a few leaps and bounds here and there.

Rachelle yelped anew, but it quickly gave way to mere whimpers when she realized she wasn’t being bitten, only… licked. Licked? Why, though? This was not in any of the vampire stories she’d consumed. What an odd creature. And she couldn’t even wipe the unwanted saliva away, bound as she was -- wait, no, she… she was letting her go? It worked?! Rachelle pinned her parasol under an arm and gingerly peeled off a glove so that she could rub at her cheek, eyes on her captor. The vampiress’ stare was positively unnerving, but she was trying not to let it show. “Um. It’s… it’s on the corner of North Sage and Painter’s Way, the blue hou--” And before she could even finish her sentence she was being swept off her feet and found cause to shriek once more. Khitti was not at all the dashing man in armor she might’ve hoped would carry her off in such a way. Not even a little.

They'd come to a halt finally right at Rachelle's doorstep, the strangely overconfident female placed on the ground again. Khitti crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for Rachelle to deal with the door as she glances about. The last time she'd been in Sage Forest was before...-her-. Her being Raiez, of course. The vampiress stares absently at nothing in particular as she waits, brows furrowed and a frown finding her pale features. What the hell was she doing out here? If Rachelle managed to say anything, it'd take her a few moments before she'd react at all to it as Khitti's mind was certainly elsewhere. In a cave.

Rachelle hadn’t even had time to warn her, as they passed over the black iron gate and into the meticulously landscaped yard, that the vampiress would trigger a number of defenses just by stepping onto the grounds. Nothing out here would kill or permanently disfigure -- that would just be brutish and uncouth! Hmm, like those evil wizards in her stories who hoarded powerful tomes and trinkets behind trap after murderous trap, only for the brave hero to vanquish them all in the end and rescue the treasured heirloom of the beautiful maiden. Maybe her strange guest would -- oh, fiddlesticks, the enchantments! By the time Rachelle collected her wits enough to begin disarming her incantations, Khitti would already feel a biting freeze clawing its way up her legs, rooting her to the spot or at the very least significantly slowing her movement. Rachelle hesitated just a moment longer -- maybe she could escape inside and leave the godsforsaken monster here? But no, now it knew where she lived and could strike again. Exhaling in frustration, the young woman tapped the tip of her parasol against the off-white bricks in the pathway: one tap here, three taps there, two nearer and one further again. Abruptly, the chill would vanish; warning chimes from inside would fall silent shortly thereafter, as Rachelle followed the rhythm up with another few raps along the doorframe. “Ahem. One can never be too careful this far on the outskirts of Kelay!” The exclamation was punctuated by a too-broad, nervous smile before she wheeled and rattled her key in the door. Seconds later, it yawned open, revealing a foyer lit by a gaudy crystalline chandelier and a massive, carpeted staircase along the left wall. On the right stood a large clock cased in decorative ivory and a number of rooms whose contents were, at the moment, obscured behind a series of oaken doors. A hallway trailed forward and eventually hooked under the staircase, revealing a sitting room with a grand piano and a kitchen with picture windows that overlooked a robust herb garden. “Have a seat anywhere you’d like,” said Rachelle almost cheerfully, years of hosting practice and etiquette lessons governing her tone by sheer force of habit. “Make yourself comfortable. Though, please, I ask that you remove the hood and mask.” Inviting a vampire into her home under duress was one thing, but she’d not suffer it to look like a hooligan while it was here. “Do you drink tea?”

Khitti somehow managed to miss the majority of the traps, the few that she failed against leaving her with a few cuts and scrapes and dooming her already ragged duster to tattered madness. The chill that clung to her leg roused her from her dragon-induced introspection, though the feeling the magic left on her was more sensory than actual pain. Then Rachelle's words drew her attention back to the younger and very much living female. "Indeed" is given in response about the traps and as she started to consider whether or not the woman had gone overboard with it, the inside of the house was now the focus of her mind. It'd been too long since she'd been in a home that wasn't an inn. Once again, Rachelle would pull her from her thoughts and Khitti frowned at the demand to remove that which concealed her identity. After a considerable amount of hesitation, she does as she's asked, allowing that mane of dark red hair to fall against her back and her face to be shown. Quite the opposite of what the baker girl had exclaimed in despair, Khitti really wasn't all that attractive. At least in the vampiress' opinion anyway. She was clearly older than Rachelle and would likely be considered much too thin by most, and once the request was acknowledged, she didn't look in Rachelle's direction. Even more hesitation occurred with the vampiress as she stood in the doorway of the house, contemplating taking her leave without cake. What if it was another trap? What if she were to be captured again so soon after the last time? Neither Brand nor Dominic knew where she was and now her worry resurfaced, bringing her back to the old Khitti, if even for a short time.

Rachelle had just turned the corner when she realized her ‘guest’ wasn’t following along behind her. She peeked back around the wall only enough to reveal curious eyes and her hair cascading underneath her tilted head. “Well? Whatever is the matter? Have you gotten cold feet?” She chuckled mildly at her own joke and took a step back into the hallway, fidgeting with the lace hem of one glove. “Don’t leave the door ajar; you’ll let pests in and I’ll have to call upon Gregor and his cats again to be rid of them. Gorgeous creatures, but they shed -everywhere-. Such a pain.” Rachelle spoke as if assuming the vampiress would know something of keeping a home in order, of Gregor and his many cats. A voracious reader though she may be, she had little real point of reference for any other sort of life than her own.

Pests. Cats. Gregor? The more Rachelle talked the more out of sorts Khitti became. She was rich. Filthy, stinking rich. Well, compared to Khitti anyway. This was definitely one of those typical country girl-rich girl meetings. Well. With vampires and magic and stuff. The vampiress was still hesitant for a few minutes more, trying to push away the overwhelming urge to flee. Rachelle likely would've been okay with that anyway. The girl was attempting to be a good hostess though, so with an audible sigh, Khitti presses on into the house, emerald eyes fixed on the floor, the door shutting behind her. She stuffs her mask away into an inner pocket of her duster and sits on the nearest piece of furniture that was built for such an action. The redhead doesn't speak the entire time, fighting her anxiety that just so happened to bubble up. She was incredibly uncomfortable here and it was starting to show. Why the hell did Rachelle have to ask her to take her hood and mask off?!

Well. She still hadn’t gotten an answer regarding the tea. Taking it for apathy, Rachelle removed her gloves, set the kettle upon the stove, and picked out her own preferred strain of tea leaves. As it heated, she hovered around the countertop overlooking the rest of the kitchen, and the recamier nearest the hallway that Khitti was seated on. From that vantage point, she contemplated Khitti in silence, a slight pout upon her lips. Finally the kettle came to boil, and with a faint ‘hmph,’ Rachelle pivoted to tend to it. A moment later an elegant teacup was held out expectantly to the redhead; it smelled of citrus and chamomile. “Milk or honey? And what kind of cake? And…” Here Rachelle hesitated, pondering if she actually wanted the answer to the question on the tip of her tongue. “...you have a name, yes? If you’re to be my houseguest I shall at least have that much from you.” Vampires… -did- have names, didn’t they? Or was it only the ones in the stories?

The smell of the tea eased Khitti somewhat. There was only one thing that drink reminded her of. Or, rather, only one person. The thought of Dominic brings a faint smile to the vampiress' face, her hands still wringing one another nervously, but things weren't as bad as before. "Hm?" was offered as Rachelle inquired as to how Khitti took her tea. "Oh. Honey, please." She blinks a few times, realizing there were more questions. So many questions. It was starting to remind her of the inquisition that took place every so often in her homeland to root out witches. Khitti shivers at the thought, then shakes her head, looking to Rachelle again, "Carrot, if you have it. Otherwise, vhatever is available is fine. I'm not really all zhat picky." Another pause. Should she give her name? She could always lie. Then again, why did she care? A sigh escapes the redhead, and then finally, "Khitti."

Khitti’s choice of condiment was given, and once again Rachelle extended the teacup to her guest. She set about clanging and banging in the kitchen the moment carrot cake was mentioned; bowls, ingredients and all manners of utensils were placed upon the counter as she began her baking preparations. Khitti’s name brought about a pause of her own, her hand freezing in midair halfway to cracking an egg as an inquisitive gaze lingered on the vampiress once again. “Oh. Khitti, like a cat? Is that a name you picked out, or is it one you had from before…” Rachelle gestured as if to say ‘before you were turned to this pitiable undead state.’ Clearly, she really didn’t know very much of vampires. There was a moment where she fell silent again, and only the sounds of egg shells being broken and things being whisked together punctuated the one-sided awkwardness. Trying to pry open her guest was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. And the creature might still try to eat her after the cake was done, Rachelle reasoned; making herself too friendly a host to kill therefore seemed to be a logical defense. “I can’t help but notice your lovely accent,” she commented through a smile that attempted to be disarming, “but I’ve never heard it before. Do you live around here? Or perhaps you are simply passing through on your way to somewhere else?” Maybe her name was more common wherever she hailed from. It was… an odd one, in her opinion.

The vampiress took the tea from Rachelle, allowing the female to go about her business. Ugh. More questions? Why was she prying? Why did she care? Or maybe she didn't? "You ask a lot of questions," Khitti said flatly before sipping her tea. It was definitely good and she wondered if Dominic had tried this kind before. In her mind, he was quite the tea connoisseur. Khitti sighs again, but ultimately acquiesces with Rachelle's inquiring. "Yes, like zhe cat, but not spelled zhe same. It's short for Khatherine. No, I didn't choose it after my turning. It's zhe same name I've always had. No, I'm not from around here, but I do live in Frostmaw now." Was that it? Did she answer all of them? Khitti frowns a little, then resumes her drinking of the tea.

Rachelle awarded Khitti a rather tense smile. My, but she was making this hostessing thing difficult. “Well of -course-, Miss Khitti! I should be at least marginally acquainted with those whom I invite into my home, yes?” The whisking went a bit faster now. And then, abruptly, she stopped, clattered the mixing bowl onto the counter, and moved on to grating carrots. Surely this much noise wasn’t actually necessary in the course of baking a cake…? “Frostmaw, hmm? I’ve never been. Too cold.” The scraping of carrots on metal filled the pause. “Though I suppose there’s always winter fashion to consider. I have a positively lovely fur-lined red coat I almost never get to wear...” Rachelle got a far-off look on her face. Khitti might actually be able to attain a few seconds of blessed relief from the small talk if she never responded… the human woman looked hypnotized by visions of scarves, cardigans and hooded winter cloaks dancing in her head.

Khitti side-eyed Rachelle as things got fairly noisy in the kitchen. She raises an eyebrow and a smirk finds home to her pale lips, "It vasn't exactly a heartfelt invitation, Miss Fournier. You vere so afraid I vas going to eat you, and I'm quite certain zhat zhought still remains. It's likely zhe only reason vhy you're -tolerating- me. Zhere's still a touch of fear in zhe air about you. You give yourself away." She doesn't drone on for long though as she notices that Rachelle is quite in her own apparel-filled world and Khitti took the opportunity to finish off her tea. A certain sort of disdain for the baker girl begins to form in the vampiress' thoughts, that smirk remaining, if only faintly.

Rachelle froze, lips pressed tightly together. One blink, then two, and she regained some sense of her prior demeanor. “Well. You -did- threaten to. And I note that you haven’t rescinded that threat.” The carrot bits were stirred into the bowl, and she was in the process of pouring the batter into a pan before she spoke again. “What’s it like, anyway? Being a vampire, I mean.” She clearly hadn’t considered the question might be invasive or uncomfortable. Her face was curiosity -- and yes, a little fear.

"You hit me vith your parasol. Repeatedly. It's enough to make anyone a little bitey. I'd no real intention to do so, however. I only feed from zhose zhat deserve it. I vas mainly trying to scare you." The teacup is set on the nearest table, that disdainful look still fixed towards Rachelle. "It's..." It was what? How could she explain it? She didn't necessarily enjoy being a vampire. While the added agility was nice at times, she longed for her former life. Not this unlife. Unsatisfied with her thoughts, she shifts her position enough to lean back comfortably against the wall, her right hand moving in front of her face. "Vhen I properly figure zhat out, I vill let you know." There's slow, small flicks of her wrist, back and forth, a tiny spark of shadowflame. Flame on. Flame off. Flame on. Flame off. She could see why Brand liked doing it. It was a nice distraction. Fire. No fire. Fire. Khitti'd snuff it out not long after, a shake of her head and another glance towards Rachelle following suit. "Vhy do you like living in zhis house?" An odd question to be sure, but large houses like these never sat well with Khitti. Though, it could likely be because she'd never had one of her own.

“To scare me? Well, you certainly succeeded in that,” Rachelle retorted with a huff. The vampiress seemed to have adopted a bare minimum of amiable disposition now, but who knew if she could go back to being… ‘bitey’ at the drop of a hat. And the bit of flame she produced was definitely taken note of as well, though the woman did her best not to outwardly show any further fear and instead busied herself with the final touches needed before sticking the cake pan into the oven. “It’s Father’s house,” she said, when that was done. She’d taken to leaning over the counter again, forearms braced against it, delicate fingers with painted nails hanging over the edge nearest Khitti. “I was born here, raised here, and I shall likely inherit the house when he one day passes. I help Father with his business, but my brothers… well.” Another huff. “They’re nary a step above useless, is what they are.”

Khitti decided to play along with Rachelle's happy homemaker hostess thing. The mention of her family actually brings a genuine smile to her features, albeit a faint one. She didn't know anything of having brothers, so she inquires about the head of the household. "Is your father a good man?" She thought about her own as she shifted her attention away from Rachelle, looking about the room again that she sat in. The idly playing with her shadowflames begins anew. Flame on. Flame off. Flame on. It was such a tiny flame, barely all she could muster at the moment. Despite finally being a full-fledged mage, the amount of power she had was still a bit much for her. Something she'd get used to in time, but nevertheless she wasn't going to try to do much more. The middle of the flame was as black as night, the color lightening to a dark purple, shadows resonating around it.

Rachelle gave the vampiress a strange look, eyebrows furrowed and perked upwards. What sort of person questions their parents? “A good man...? Why, yes, of course. He’s always worked hard to provide for us. And even when he couldn’t be around, there was always Ambre.” Who was that? She didn’t say. It was like she assumed Khitti would know who that was just by the name. Rachelle fell into a thoughtful silence again, broken seconds later by a sudden realization -- she’d almost forgotten how soiled her clothes were. How very unlike her. She shuddered at the thought now that she was conscious of it, but she was almost… -enjoying- talking to this creature, even as confounding as she was. This… vampire… woman, with the strange black fire. Hosting her was certainly a different sort of domestic challenge than she was used to. “Oh! I’ll return in a flash. I ought to change out of these and give them to Ambre to be washed before the blood settles in any further.” So… Ambre was a maid, or a nanny of some sort? Rich girl, indeed.

What sort of alternate universe was this? Could Khitti actually be enjoying the conversation with Rachelle too? Ew. No way. She'd never admit it. She ponders on Rachelle's words, her line of sight fixed on her flames. Hm. What a strange girl. A strange, rich, vain girl. A side glance is cast towards the fleeing human, an eyebrow raised in her direction. "Ok--" Nope. She was gone. No point in shouting. Khitti shrugs, pushing herself up off the spot she claimed as her seat and moved into the kitchen. She'd peer down the hallway that Rachelle had wandered down, then quickly went to work. The proper ingredients and utensils were found, and thanks to that bit of vampiric speed, she managed to whip up the batter for a chocolate cakelog. You'd think she would've tired of it in the cave. That was clearly not the case as the vampiress finished up her task by popping the batter into a pan, and then into the oven before hiding the evidence of her actions.

The clacking of wedged sandals on a wood floor heralded Rachelle’s return. She’d… she’d changed her entire outfit?! Gone were the heeled boots, the parasol, the dress and gloves and scarf and barrette she’d been wearing before. Her current manner of dress was a little more sensible for the home, even if it still reeked of money. A gold chain belt accented a loose, vibrant green floor-length dress patterned with roses and white lilies. Her hair was half loose and half tied back; a different barrette, black with inlaid emeralds, perched itself at the base of the tail. “Pardon my absence,” she requested to an empty recamier, before registering that Khitti had moved from her prior position. “Oh! Hmm, was there something else you needed? More tea, perhaps?” No, she hadn’t noticed anything in the kitchen to be amiss. There was a near imperceptible narrowing of her eyes, a slight suspicion, but it wouldn’t do at all to interrogate a guest. Not without evidence, at the least.

Khitti blinked a few times at the human's brand new outfit. Apparently she liked to dress to impress...and might be trying a little too hard at it. "Mhm" was given in response to her apology, as well as a "No. I vas just looking around." Then, she just happened to look away from Rachelle and spy a tiny bit of chocolate on the counter. A moment is taken to glare at it and then she's moving to the counter itself, leaning against it, hiding that small amount of evidence that she'd done something. The first second that Rachelle looks away, she's scoop it up with her index finger and pop it into her mouth and act completely normal. Yes. Totally normal.

“Hmm.” Rachelle moved to collect her own teacup, as of yet untouched. With that in hand, she glided to a couch in the sitting room just adjacent to the kitchen, making sure the skirt of her dress was properly tucked under her as she settled in and that her legs were daintily crossed at the ankles. It was as involuntary as her beating heart, the result of many a childhood etiquette class. Khitti remained in her line of sight, visible just around the wide frame that separated one room from the next. “Come, Khitti, it’s cooler in here and we can still hear when the timer has chimed for the oven. And in the meantime, the piano plays itself.” She smirked. That particular enchantment was her doing, -obviously-.

"Vhether or not a place is cooler does not matter to me. I feel it, but it doesn't affect me zhe same vay it does you," Khitti pointed out, though she did still move into the sitting room with the human. She watched the way Rachelle sat down, a slight tilt to her head like a dog in a confused state. Boy, if only Rachelle saw the way Khitti ran around like a wild child in a dress. Poor thing would likely fall over dead from embarassment. She'd find herself another seat, a bit away from the human, her line of sight shifting towards the piano. "Is -everything- here enchanted?" It might as well have been that way for she seemed to do very little by herself.

Rachelle laughed lightly before flicking her wrist towards the piano, which immediately set itself to playing some almost obnoxiously cheerful ditty in the background of their conversation. “Well, not -everything-. Quite a lot of it is, however. This is, hm… more or less my workshop, I suppose you could say. I help my father enchant the goods he sells, and then have my own business on the side as others have need for it. When I’m not doing that, I am often practicing here, or tinkering on something a bit more… experimental.” Rachelle sighed and brought the teacup to her lips, eyeing the piano thoughtfully until she’d had her fill for the moment. “The piano, for instance -- I’ve yet to figure out how to enchant it to play anything I’m not able to, myself. If I could somehow get it to read from sheet music, or even compose intelligently on its own… well.” She shook her head, smiling with just a hint of bitterness. “It would be the talk of the town, for one thing. And I’d never have to hire a pianist for any parties ever again.”

Khitti leaned back into her seat, arms crossed behind her head as she stretches a bit. "Or you could just teach yourself more songs in zhe meantime. I don't know anything about pianos, but I imagine it's not zhat hard." She side-eyes the enchanted instrument as the song infiltrates her ears. If it was possible for something to be -too- cheery, it was definitely this piano. "I don't really know much about magic in general, to be honest, besides vhat I've read as zhe library of zhe mages guild. Reading and doing are two different zhings."

“Musical performance isn’t really my focus,” Rachelle said, dismissing Khitti’s idea with half a shrug. “The mage’s library, though -- I truly shall have to make my way out that far one of these days, I suppose. This house has a rather sizeable library of its own, but of course one can never have -everything-, alas.” She released the sort of refined chuckle of someone who very nearly -did- possess everything, or at least was likely able to purchase whatever she desired if she did not. “And what of you? By what trade do you make your way in the world? Vampires… still must make a living like everyone else, yes?” She looked like she very much would have believed Khitti if she’d replied insisting she did something as abhorrent as robbing graves of buried trinkets for her gold.

"Oh. I kill people for money." Khitti'd stare at Rachelle for what'd seem like forever, the expression on her face one of utter seriousness. Whether she'd achieved scaring her or not, the vampiress would only grin innocently at Rachelle and bat her eyes before shrugging and laying her head back to peer up at the ceiling. "I vork for zhe Queen, actually. She offered me a job before zhe var. I just...haven't started it yet." Please don't ask why. Please don't ask why. "It may be a little vhile before I do, actually." A pause. "And, it's not killing people." Might as well throw that in there.

Rachelle froze much as she had before, blinking at her strange new acquaintance with her teacup hovering halfway to her lips. “...Oh. A joke. Yes. I see.” She didn’t laugh. She did, however, shift her weight uncomfortably. “The Queen… Queen Hildegarde? What sort of job did she have for you? That sounds like it would be quite an honor.” Subtext: what sort of job would one entrust to a vampire, anyway? And why -hadn’t- she started it yet?

"Zhere's a lot of spirits in zhe forbidden city to zhe vest of Frostmaw. Likely a bit of other undead too. She tasked me to get rid of zhem." She didn't touch on the 'why' that was written all over Rachelle's features. The vampiress dwells on it a moment, lips pursing in thought, before backpedaling to something Rachelle had said, or rather, the way she had said it. "Also, I don't know if you realize zhis, but vampires are just as much people as humans, elves, or anyone else for zhat matter. You seem to be very misguided on how ve function in society. Not all of us are rampaging killers, zhough I have met at least one." A pause. "Some vere forced into zhis life, others had a choice, and some..." Khitti pauses again, "...vas given zhe choice, but it vas either zhis or true death. Do not presume zhat because I am zhis zhing instead of zhe human I once vas, zhat I cannot go and have a normal life." She frowns a bit. "I have not been presented vith zhe opportunity yet."

Well, of all the gall… rather than directly respond to the accusation of intolerance, Rachelle shot back with another question. “And which are you?” She let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “I must admit, you haven’t quite struck me as the type to have gone into vampirism eagerly. I suspect those sorts I’d likely not get on with at all. And you seem…” Here she paused, searching for the right word by scrutinizing Khitti’s appearance over the top of her tea. “...I don’t want to say ‘harmless.’ Certainly, that man you left in the alley wouldn’t be able to say so.” She smiled faintly at her own joke, morbid though it was. “But… respectable?” Another pause. Rachelle let the feel of the word roll around on her tongue. It felt strange there, being used to describe… someone with her condition. “As if, perhaps, I might have grown up around someone like you under different circumstances.” Oh, Rachelle. You don’t even begin to realize how different your stories are.

Khitti didn't answer the human's question right away, instead allowing her to talk for what seemed like forever to the poor vampiress. The obvious racism was starting to get on her nerves. Khitti started to wonder if Rachelle did this to anyone that wasn't human. "No. Stop. Just stop." Her irritation was crystal clear in her words and remained until she finished speaking. "First of all, you and I....ve're nothing alike. You vith your enchantments, your servants, your money, and your huge house. Don't patronize me, Rachelle. You and I both know you're only being polite because you have to be." Uncomfortably angry now, Khitti pushes herself up off the chair she'd sat in, pacing somewhat as she continued. "I'm not harmless. Nor am I a good person." Liar. "I did get a choice, but it vas either life or death. Unlife. Vhatever. Do -not- begin to zhink you know vhat zhat's like." She was very Brand-esque right now with her seething anger that grew the more she thought about the way Rachelle had been refering to her; her fingers twitched at her sides a bit, eager to spark up that newfound magic of hers. Probably not a good idea to set the house on fire right now, Khitti. That wouldn't be very -respectable-.

How rude. Rachelle had half a mind to enchant the vampiress right now. Maybe she’d hex her mouth shut until the cake was done. It would serve her right. Rachelle leisurely set her tea back onto the table before leaning back in her seat, every movement measured and devoid of any betrayal of her inner thoughts. She laced her fingers together and set them to rest upon her knees, reminiscent of a school teacher who’d had to admonish a child so many times that she was really quite bored of their disruptiveness by now. “If that were true, I would have sent you on your way once you’d admitted you weren’t going to eat me.” Rachelle paused, entirely for effect. “You’re correct that I don’t know what it’s like to be undead. But that’s why I ask questions! Now, I think you’re being rather emotional about all of this, don’t you? You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to -- I was simply making conversation.”

"E-emotional?" Oh good job, Rachelle. You poked the bear. The very bitey, possibly bloodthirsty bear. Khitti pivots on her boot heels until she's facing Rachelle, her brows furrowed with quite the piercing glare to accompany it. "It's hard not to be -emotional- vhen your hostess is being an aggravating, offensive b--." She bites her tongue, turns away, and the lights flicker. The lights flickered? Yes. Yes they did. Khitti resisted the urge to light that shadowflame again. How the hell did Brand do it? How did he manage to not set -everyone- on fire? "Look. I get it. You're a sheltered little girl and you don't quite understand zhe outside vorld apart from your happy little home and your enchantments and you baked goods. Zhere are people different zhan you. People zhat don't get to sit on zheir arses all day and do nothing but bake cakes and make inanimate objects do zhings for zhem. Some of zhem aren't human. Some of zhem used to be. It doesn't matter regardless. Just because you don't understand doesn't mean you need to have zhat tone like your better zhan anyone. You're not. You're just spoiled and assume everyone's going to bend to your vill. Sorry, peach, but zhat isn't me and I don't tolerate zhat kind of talk at all." Ew. Did she just say 'peach'? Gods damn it, Brand. Khitti makes a face at herself for using that nickname, but ultimately just shrugs it off. She'd punch him later for using it so much.

Rachelle opened her mouth and closed it again, her own countenance one of barely contained rage. How dare she? Speaking poorly of her in her own house, and -- and half those things weren’t even true, to boot. She did so much more than sit around and bake cakes. She helped with her father’s business. She had her -own- business on the side. How -dare- she insinuate -- and then the bell for the cakes chimed, interrupting her tornado of thoughts. Rachelle stood with a disdainful sniff before treading back towards the kitchen. “I may have a nice home,” she called over her shoulder, her voice already absent of the anger that had shown in her face but a moment ago, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t do work to maintain it. These things cost money, you know. This house, and this food, and these clothes. They didn’t come free. It’s my labor every bit as much as my father’s that allows me to live this way.” Two plates were pulled from the cabinets, delicately handpainted ceramic. More quietly now, she added, “There’s no need for you to act in jealousy. My life is not so easy as you assume.”

That was about all Khitti could take. Jealousy? Seriously? Rachelle really was delusional. As the younger female wandered off to get the cakes, Khitti glared in her direction, that bit of shadowfire flickering to life on her fingertips. Shadows danced around the room, a chill eating away at whatever heat was left in the room. It'd be so easy. So damned easy. She could just set the house aflame and wander off back to Frostmaw. But...she didn't and her newfound magic died off again. Instead, she shot another glance towards Rachelle then made her way towards the door. Once she reached it, with her hand on the door handle, she hesitated, considering the things she'd said and how she said it. The redhead hadn't really been much better than Rachelle in terms of treating people nicely. But, she also started to wonder how much she cared right now.

“Khitti…?” Rachelle’s voice trailed from the kitchen and down the hallway. “This pan in here -- did you do this...?” It seemed that while Khitti was getting ready to leave in a huff, Rachelle was discovering the cake that the vampiress had secretly whipped up.

Oh. Right. She had made that cakelog, hadn't she? The vampiress lets out a heavy sigh, let go of the door and turned around. "It's cakelog. I got zhe recipe from Hildegarde's chef." A pause. "It's chocolate." There was a bit of an inner struggle, but she eventually took a few steps towards the threshold that separated the sitting room and the kitchen. Khitti didn't say much else, carefully eyeing the female as she dealt with the baked goods in the oven.

“How? Wh-when?” Rachelle was completely flummoxed by this development. Had she magicked it into the oven? She’d not spent long enough changing clothes that she could have -- ? She didn’t have much time to think on it or interrogate Khitti, however, for it was then that a slow pounding of footsteps began descending down the stairs. Rachelle looked panicked and reached for a third plate before grabbing the frosting she’d made earlier and slathering it hurriedly onto the top of her carrot cake.

Khitti heard those footsteps moments before Rachelle did. She was like a deer in headlights, staring first at the stairs and then at girl in the kitchen as she tended to the cake. Rachelle would be given her answer in the form of Khitti disappearing, a blur rushing past, and the vampiress appearing behind her to duck down and hide. "Who zhe hell is zhat?!"

Rachelle blinked down at her vampiric acquaintance. “Oh, for Arkhen’s sake, Khitti,” she hissed, attempting to pull Khitti up by her arm. “Were you raised in a barn? Do at least try to look like you have manners.” Regardless of if she was successful or not, those footsteps continued until a man with near as much girth as he had height stood in the doorway. The hair he lacked on his head was more than made up for by a sizeable chestnut-colored mustache, a mustache he was absentmindedly stroking one side of as he lingered there. Large brass buttons decorated the front of his shirt, a rather formal-looking attire in a ghastly shade of red. “Hello, Father,” said Rachelle too cheerily, as she cut her first slices into the cakes and began doling them out. Just her luck that he’d be around the one time she had a guest over of… questionable origin.

Welp, Khitti was screwed. There was no way she was going to be able to leave now. She -could- burn down the entire house and everything inside along with it. Yes. Burn it all. Leave no survivors. No witnesses. Nothing. No, Khitti. You probably shouldn't do that. Not this close to town anyway. Instead, Khitti did as she was instructed and stood, attempting to act normal. What -was- normal for Khitti anyway? Oh, yes. Stammering like an idiot around new people and staring at them like they had something terrifying stuck to their face. Yes. This is good. "Zhis is your father?", Khitti said in a hushed whisper as she nervously shifted her line of sight back and forth between Rachelle and the male that had just approached.

Perhaps luckily for Khitti and Rachelle both, the man didn’t seem to remotely take notice of the odd behavior of the vampiress. In fact, he seemed as if half asleep as he took lumbering steps forward into the kitchen. “Evening, poppet,” he murmured to Rachelle, and took the plate nearest him without so much as a thank you. Rachelle seemed unfazed by his lack of manners, however. “Evening, Father. I -- I didn’t realize you were home so soon. I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow?” The man had already been shuffling his way back to the hallway, but at her words he turned, laboriously, just enough to catch her in his peripheral. “I’ve sold the last of that batch already,” he replied, through a mouthful of cakelog, “and besides, Francis wants a meeting in the morning to discuss developing a partnership.” He turned a little further their way and his eyes, sunken deep into the wrinkles of his leathery skin, finally fixed on Khitti. “Pretty young friend you have there. Back in my day…” Wherever he was going with that was left up to interpretation, though he accompanied it with a wink. Rachelle, meanwhile, looked as if maybe Khitti had chosen to drain all the blood from her after all.

Khitti would almost certainly look as pale as Rachelle right now if she...well...already didn't look as white as death itself. Did he seriously just hit on her? There was a massive amount of internal screaming at this point. She glanced towards Rachelle with a 'Did he really just do that?' look on her face, then looked back at the girl's father. The poor vampiress musters up the best, most polite smile she can and then grabs her slice of cake, tending to its gloriously carroty goodness while Rachelle -hopefully- gets rid of him.

Rachelle had been holding her breath, face fixed into that same deeply uncomfortable grin she’d given Khitti after her traps had almost gotten her killed. But her father was apparently not the most observant of men, for he merely chuckled at his own statements and was gone again, a slow thundering up the stairs confirming his departure. Only now did Rachelle release that gulp of air, picking up her own (depressingly thin) slices of cake and returning with them to her teacup in the sitting room. For once, she didn’t even seem to have anything to say to Khitti; her wide-eyed, almost apologetic glance betrayed everything she wasn’t able to find words for.

Khitti's plate is set on the counter calmly as she stares at Rachelle. No sooner did that happen did she collapse on the ground like a ragdoll and roll over onto her back, her limbs laying where they may. The look on her face was quite the odd sight. It'd shift back and forth between silent hysterical laughing and the worst kind of ugly crying anyone's ever seen. If her time in that cave hadn't broken her brain, this situation certainly did. No more saving damsels in distress. She'd leave that up to Lionel and Brand from now on.

Rachelle leaned over from her spot on the couch to peer over at the vampiress. “Khitti, do you… need help?” Her tone and her expression suggested she wasn’t sure if she ought to be offended or not. “What in the world has gotten into you?” Even as odd as Rachelle already thought her, this was a whole new level of strange.

"Oh. I'm fine. Just trying to get over zhe shock of zhe fact zhat a rich girl's dad just hit on me like I'm some common street trash. It's all right. I'll be done twitching and vrithing in agony soon. Don't vorry." Khitti soon stops, lets out a pained whine, then pushes herself up off the floor. "Yep. Zhat vas awkward as hell." She clears her throat, grabs her plate, then finds a seat near where Rachelle was at. "Let us never do zhat again, m'kay?"

“Oh. Ahem.” With that clearing of her throat, Rachelle looked almost warm and conspiratorial. As if Khitti surviving an encounter with her father made her almost a friend, in a strange sort of way. She was trying to reel back in the smile that was creeping up on her face, and mostly failing at it. “...Agreed.”

Khitti took a bite of cake, side-eyeing Rachelle as she chewed the baked good thoughtfully. She studied that smile of hers for a bit, and soon after, her own started form. It continued to do so til it was almost quite cheshire cat-like, but then it was soon hidden as the rest of the cake was stuffed in her face. The vampiress let out a soft, awkward cough as she acted like nothing out of the unusual had just happened at all.

Rachelle exhaled the last of the tension she’d been holding onto since her father had made his appearance and took a few dainty bites of her own cake slices. “He does that to everyone,” she murmured between those tiny mouthfuls. “It’s quite mortifying in the moment, but I’m sure he means nothing by it.” She’d set her fork down while talking, picked up her teacup, and twisted slightly to observe the outdoors. The recessed windows of the sitting room each overlooked rows of carefully manicured flower pots, flowers that were receiving some needed watering from the drizzle that had begun to pick up outside. “My mum died in childbirth. I only recall what little I’ve been told about her, but he’s never so much as dated anyone else since.” So she -could- have empathy, for someone.

"Mhmm," said Khitti as she nodded in understanding, her own line of sight shifting towards the window Rachelle was looking through, eyeing the rain as it came down outside. Well, that was going to be a lovely walk home. "You're lucky to have him, zhough." The vampiress leaves it at that for the time being as she gets up and takes her plate to the kitchen. Returning to the sitting room, she doesn't reclaim her spot just yet, her attention falling to the rain again.

Rachelle only barely indicated her agreement. She’d fallen off into her own imagination, it seemed. Hardly did she even notice Khitti leaving and then reentering the room. When she stirred she almost jumped, as if she’d startled herself out of her own daydreams. “Oh! Er. So, what did you think of the cake?” The best cake. The one cake to rule them all. Though she supposed Khitti’s cakelog wasn’t bad, either.

The redhead cast a side glance at Rachelle, managing a smile for her, "It vas good." While the word she used to describe was likely less than desirable in Rachelle's eyes, there was genuine appreciation for it written on Khitti's features. She eyes the rain outside again, then pulls up the hood on her coat, turning her head to be able to look at the girl from beneath it, "I should probably go. Don't vant your father to come downstairs again and ve have another awkward situation on our hands."

Well, that was hardly the highest praise in the land, but it would have to do. At least she wasn’t the one getting eaten. Today, anyway. “I shall walk you to the door, of course. And -- oh! Just a moment.” Rachelle scurried away, heels on wood announcing her location as she moved about. Soon enough she was back with yet another umbrella -- not the parasol she’d brandished against Khitti, but a plainer thing in a cheery cerulean. “That weather’s lovely to look at, but rather dreadful to walk in. I’m afraid it doesn’t really fit the rest of your attire, but you may borrow one of my spares. And I’ll be sure to deactivate the wards on the house before you return it.” Smirking slightly, she changed her grip to offer the umbrella to Khitti, whittled songbird-shaped handle first. Generosity was the first requirement of a good hostess, after all. Even when hosting a complete oddball of a vampire.

Khitti raised a brow at the offered umbrella; she really hadn't expected that from Rachelle. Taking it in her right hand, she inspects the craftsmanship a bit, then grins at the baker girl, "I zhought you knew a zhing or two about fashion, but clearly not! Black goes vith everything, m'dear. And plus, I like zhe color of zhis one." Heading towards the door with Rachelle likely on her heels, she spins about once she reaches it, giving the younger female an odd salute, a wink, and another mischievous grin. "Stay out of trouble. I'm sure you'd rather me not swoop in and save you again."

Rachelle just sort of made a face at her. One of those, “I’m gonna open my mouth to say something and then promptly realize I don’t know how in blazes to respond to that” faces. Yeah, that one. Instead, she simply peeled the door open and held it as Khitti departed, careful not to keep it so wide that the rain would get in. “Take care,” she said faintly, shocked to realize she almost meant it.

The vampiress would bat her eyes innocently at Rachelle on her way out the door. Once outside, she'd pop open the umbrella and head off down the street, stopping once briefly to cast a side-eyed glance towards Rachelle and her house before continuing on towards Xalious. Did she just somehow manage in an abstract sort of way to make a friend? No way. Couldn't be. Not Khitti.