Dahlia La Bienville Longworth
My daddy can buy you.
Vehicles: Dahlia has two personal vehicles, one is a high end modern car purchased for her by her father.(You can pick… she wouldn’t have gotten a say in what it looked or drove like.) The other is a 1950’s style Pontiac LeMans that she purchased for herself. (I have been told that there is no experience that compares to driving one of these.) Her handyman/mechanic/full time guy takes care of them for her.
I chose names out of the phone book, or from what I know of the history of the area around New Orleans. I am willing to change any that you desire me to change.Important names: Bienville: Among the first French noble men to set foot on North America Lord Bienville was responsible for several wars, founded more than one city and was incredibly active in the slave trade. At the time it was common practice to capture Native American villagers and ship them to Africa. There they were traded for African slaves which were shipped to America. This was done to reduce the number of slaves who tried to escape, as escapees had no where to go. Eventually southern tribes started to accept any escaped slave who claimed mixed parentage. As their populations decreased the tribes would accept anyone who would stand with the against the French. they claim descent from the Merovingian line. Adelle La Bienville is Dahlia’s mother. Hatchi-hi: An escaped slave who was slaughtered along with his adoptive tribe when Bienville’s forces arrived to retrieve him and punish everyone associated with his escape. He is determined to eliminate the Bienville line. Frank Longfellow: A common American man who managed to make it big. Dahlia’s father. Olivia St. Claire: Dahlia’s Sire and Mentor. You know her better than I do. Vivienne Leigh: A few hundred years ago she would have been a chatelaine and a keeper of the keys. The job title is now personnel assistant, but the job hasn’t changed all that much. She is also Dahlia’s Retainer. Allen Reed: An ex boyfriend and a hunter. I was thinking about William Shatner’s cover of ‘Common People’ when I chose this flaw. Dahlia’s the girl he wants to fuck almost as much as he wants to stake and dismember. William Kipker: The property manager and handyman at Dahlia’s Grey Haven home. He lives in the apartment above her garage and is a member of her herd. Jack Phillips: A sub contractor who works for William a few days a week and another member of Dahlia’s herd. Raymond Suarez: A sub contractor who works for William a few days a week the final member of Dahlia’s herd. Anja Arroyo: A seamstress and clothing designer Dahlia frequents. “Let go of my arm.” Allen’s broad shoulders and strong hands had been among my primary reasons for dating him. The glower that marred his face now, his crazy superstitious talk and his controlling nature had been much greater motivators in the end. I’d dumped his ass weeks ago… so why exactly was he waiting outside my favorite designer’s shop to manhandle me? Had he turned into a stalker? I would have to have Vivienne start the process of getting me a restraining order against him. “You need to stop spending time with that St. Claire woman,” he told me sternly. He didn’t let go of my arm either. I always hated it when he ignored me. “She’s bad news.” and when he told me what to do or think. “If you don’t let go if me this instant Anja’s assistant will call the police,” I gestured with my free hand, the one holding my dresses, at the shop window where a young, brown-eyed woman was watching us nervously. “And I WILL press charges.” “Dahlia, you have to listen to me,” he said. “I don’t HAVE to do anything. The days when women Had to be subservient to their men are long gone… and you aren’t even my man We are over Allen. I thought I made that clear,” I said. “Damn it Dahlia, I’m trying to help you!” he snarled, but when he saw the shop girl pull out her cell phone he let go of me and took a step back. As soon as that little bit of space opened between us I made a mad dash for my car. I slid into the safe embrace of warm leather seats and pulled the door closed behind me. Allen Reed, ex-boyfriend and apparent stalker was now on the other side of a wall of steel and glass. The LeMans was my baby, and not nearly as frail as a modern car would be. I’d purchased it for the sheer joy of driving it and chose William as my property manager specifically because he had the skills necessary to maintain her. I situated my dresses in the back, then peeled out of my parking spot. The roar of the engine worked its usual magic on me, and my tension melted away. Here, dainty hands curled around the leather wrapped steering wheel, I was master of my own destiny. I made my own decisions, chose my own direction. Allen and those like him could suck my fumes. I was tempted to turn West, out of Grey Haven, and just drive along the coast for a few hours. I loved to drive the old country roads, outside of any city, where the other vehicles were few and far between. I’d spent all day yesterday driving like that, watching the sunlight skip along the waves of the gulf and shimmer along the hot asphalt of the road. I had thing to do today, however, and enough self-control to go do them. I turned East instead and headed home. Home was not the sharp edged modern condo that I had shared with Allen back when I thought he was the ONE… my father’s preferred type of home. Nor was it one of the country manors my mother favored… with no neighbors to complain or gossip about her odd activities. No, The Marigny was truly mine. Inherited from my Bienville grandparents when they died a mere week apart earlier this month. She’d once been amongst the finest homes in Grey Haven… a mere two hundred years ago. I’d cleaned her up and modernized her in a way my grandparents never had. The guest rooms on the second floor were now half as many comfortable suites. The family rooms on the third floor were now my master suite, complete with an airy sitting room that opened onto a balcony and a spacious dressing room. The servants quarters in the attic had been combined into a single apartment for my personal assistant, Vivienne. I had even left the hidden servant’s staircase alone for her. The dining Hall, Ball Room and parlor on the first floor I had restored but not changed in the slightest. There was no replicating the Old World feel of centuries old mahogany and Cypress with any modern building technique.I’d modernized the kitchen however. It was now up to the standards of the fine chefs that I preferred to employ. I’d even modernized William’s efficiency in teh old stable loft, now an apartment above the garage. The Marigny might be a bit small by the standards of the girls I had attended the Sorbonne with… but she was a grand old dame, and not something I owed to my father. The kitchen was a mad house and I paused for a moment to survey the hectic activity of caterers and wait staff before dodging up the old servants stair. I hit the buzzer to let Vivienne know I wanted her, and forgave her for not beating me to my room when I saw the lilies waiting on my table. They were perfect, exactly what I wanted. I wished that I could take them to Olivia immediately, but she wouldn’t be up and about until after dark. Vivienne clattered into my room a moment later. I sat quietly while she dusted my face with makeup and sculpted my hair into graceful waves. I stepped out of my dressing robe, letting the soft pale blue fabric puddle on the floor as I stepped into the silver silk sheath of my first dress of the evening. Vivi zipped me up, pulling the silk taunt across my curves. I slid my feet into a matching pair of heels and padded down the main stairs into my ball room. I had nibbled a bit on the first of the hors d’oeuvres and was sipping at my first glass of wine when my guests started to arrive. I had to admit that Vivienne had outdone herself. All my favorite foods and drink were carried around the room by luscious waiters who wouldn’t have looked out of place on a stage. I picked one to lure upstairs while my father gave his ‘presentation’. I already knew that it would be a much sanitized version of my grandparents lives and family history. There would be no mention of my grandfather’s strange outbursts, his bizarre demands or his eccentricities. Things like demanding that every female in the family have her eggs harvested and frozen would be glossed over as if the never happened, though I am certain that my father still pays the bill for that storage facility…or one of his accountants does I suppose. My grandmother’s religious manias, and ravings that a long dead slave who didn’t know his place were responsible for the family’s misfortunes would also be glossed over. Father would focus on Bienville’s shaping of the south, its ties to the Merovingians, and the shelter Grey Haven and Marigny had provided to the family during the French revolution. I cleaned up when I was done with the waiter, and Vivienne showed up exactly on time to zip me back up. I dallied in my room for a bit longer, standing on the balcony to watch the last rays of sunlight taint the sky. I toasted the last sunset I would ever see with the last wine I would ever enjoy then returned to the memorial that everyone below believed was for my grandparents. Not long after that I was sitting in my chair, the scent of Olivia’s favorite soap clinging to my freshly cleansed skin. Vivi did my hair and make-up again, and I stepped into another dress. Anja hadn’t created this one for me. She’d restored it, and she’d done so as beautifully as she did everything. I ran my hands along my body, enjoying the tiny hard curves of the pearls sliding along my palms. I paused in the garage on my way out, one hand caressing the dark silver exterior of my LeMans, trying to decide if I should drive it or the much more practical vehicle father had purchased me as a birthday gift. I ignored William’s minivan and Vivi’s Avalon. I housed them, but I would never actually consider driving one of them. Pearls rose and fell, glinting in the light with my every breath.the heady rich scent of lilies surrounded me. Olivia answered her door herself, and I shivered as the meaning behind that simple action sank in. We were completely alone, there was no one here but us. I offered her the lilies: red for blood, black for death, white for rebirth. She took them with a smile, cool hands brushing along my nervous and sweaty ones. She welcomed me into her home and I crossed the threshold eagerly. Tonight I would become Olivia’s daughter in every way that mattered. When those whose opinions counted compared me to my mother it would be Olivia’s standard I was held to. I welcomed the ecstasy and agony of her embrace, drown willingly in her midnight world and hoped that her blood would cleanse the impurities that haunted my own. I would have given anything to be made in her image rather than my birth mother’s… my humanity was little enough to sacrifice.