Stormy sat at the antique, deep mahogany desk almost melancholy. Why was she so depressed? Had she forgotten something in her most important evening rituals upon arising this evening? Let’s see, drink Dracula's ashes in his blood? Check. Her mind murmured as she tried to think about why. Her almost-frenzy had taken a toll on her emotions, acting like a force inside of her that wasn't going to quit unless she saw some sort of resolution. A resolution was not going to come because nothing came of it but try telling that to a Malkavian's emotions. What effect has it had on her "princedom," she wondered, worried actually. Probably none, But she couldn’t be certain. After all, She was protecting her city and her friends, and that couldn’t be so bad. That was her Hail Mary. Caring too much wasn’t even a thing, was it? She didn’t think so. it hadn't been so far, and so far so good. that thought at least made her smile.
She wiped the pieces of eraser off of the sheets of paper there on her desk and tapped her pencil on her top hat in thought. She had been trying to get the “executive” end of some of her Prince work done. She was doing something that she had never done before: writing up notes of sorts. Communication; such a marvelous thing! Vampires usually don’t get headaches unless something really bad happens to them but writing was giving her a massive one. What would Black Jade do? In her day the former Toreador Prince had put pen to paper and almost magical things came out. This probably wouldn’t be magical but, hell, she was trying. That’s what counted, right? She could ask for help from her coterie but that would ruin the surprise. She’d think of something.
She got up and grabbed her Pod, turned up the tooth speaker, pulled up “200 Hours of Mardi Gras Music,” and hit Play. Sitting back down in her black leather chair, leaning back she closed her eyes in thought, tapping her boot to the music of her city. She would dance after while.
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