2703/Queen and Princess

Queen and Princess
Date of Scene:	04 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Satana, Madelyne Pryor

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Satana has posed:
Satana has been circulating around the Club for a few hours and has, largely, become bored. She fed quickly, finding a lustful and urgent young man with too much money and too little caution. He remained in the cloakroom, drained but alive, likely to sleep the night away under a pile of expensive coats. Perhaps he would awaken before dawn. But not particularly likely. Satana had been hungry.

She has a table to herself, wearing a sinful latex mini-dress heavy on decolletage and flashes of thigh, her knee-high booted with six inch stilleto heels that could pierce a throat with a kick. An oversized cocktail sits at her side, the rim lined with salt, amber colored and sweet, as she drums her long, manicured nails along the tabletop in bemusement.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    Thus...it's probably a suprise to you when you realize...someone is sitting across from you. You didn't realize she was there somehow, until right now as she leans back in her chair, crossing her legs as she regards you with emerald green eyes, a faint smile teasing her lips. You didn't even notice the chair was drawn out, come to think of it. Two of her fingers are idly teasing a loose strand of crimson hair that dangles in front of her ear absently as she waits for you to notice her.

Satana has posed:
Satana has an enormously effective poker face. Her pupils dilate for a moment, absorbing the sudden presence of the woman across from her. She perhaps sits just a little straighter. But there's no recoil, no dramatic reaction, no mouth agape. She's too controlled for that, she's had to be in order to tame the unholy forces dwelling within her.

"And who might you be?" she says, casually dragging some of the salt from the rim of her drink and scooping it under her nail before placing it on her tongue, savoring the shock of the sodium.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    "I am an emissary." the redhead says smoothly, in a vaguely husky voice. "You may call me Madelyne." She doesn't look to be more than a teen...an older one, definitely, approaching full adulthood from the look of her, with that flush of youth that hasn't quite faded. "I've been looking for you. You pick interesting places to...hunt." She tucks the red strands of hair back over her ear absently.

Satana has posed:
Satana lifts her glass by the stem, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow sip before she answers. She meets the young woman's gaze directly, not fooled by any appearance of youth. People in her circles tended to be able to look as they pleased. It was useful to be pretty and attractive, it's how the spiders drew in the flies.

"Madelyne. A sweet enough name," she says. "It seems you already know mine. If I'm your quarry, then it seems you're the huntress tonight. And just why am I in your sights?"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    "I do. I can use it, if you'd like...but I didn't want to be rude, if you were using a different one for tonight.' Her green eyes slit lazily. "Your actual name does stand out, after all.' A waitress steps by, almost distractedly setting a cocktail down in front of Madelyne as she walks past the table, not even acknowledging the redhead or you as she continues to another table. "You have unique talents...but you are alone. Is that a preference? Or a necessity as a solo predator?"

Satana has posed:
Satana smiles, "I don't see any particular reason to be coy," she says. "I'm not ashamed of who and what I am. I am my father's daughter, after all," she says.

She brushes a finger along the arm of the waitress, sending a shivering impulse down her spine, the kind that will leave her doing something she'll regret later in the night. She enjoys planting little gifts in random strangers. "Sometimes I don't play with others. I'm selfish by nature," she says with a slight purr. "But I like groups, sometimes, provided they know what they're doing."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    Madelyne arches a brow, then tilts her head, before she reaches up and with two fingers pulls out a small envelope from her top. "Well then...my lord believes you might fit quite well into the group he's assembling." she says, setting the card lightly on the table, then flipping it over before she slides it to you. On the back is the seal of Latveria....of Doom.

Satana has posed:
Satana raises an eyebrow, "Your lord. How very medieval of you. Lords and I usually don't get along terribly well. I have a tendency to take their names in vain and defy their petty edicts," she says.

"But I'm listening, at the very least," she says, taking the card and rolling it over her knuckles. "I'm familiar with your patron's reputation, at least."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    "In this case, it's a term of respect and accurate, considering his absolute authority. It would be disingeous to claim to be a president or prime minister, and beneath him." Madelyne says easily, before sipping from her cocktail curiously, and apparently approving of it after a moment. "And his edicts are anything but petty, as you no doubt know if you know his reputation." She watches you thoughfully. "My lord proposes an organization to unify those of us who seek to gain power in the world, through wealth, or power, or knowledge, and are unrestrained by the pettier limitations of those of weaker minds." Such as laws. "Working together, we could accomplish great things...beyond what you could no doubt accomplish on your own."

Satana has posed:
Satana raises an eyebrow, "If I play along with this particular organization, will I have to lick his asshole the way you do? Are you his PR agent, darling? Or is he listening in? Did he make you wear a wire? Show me where the bad man touched you, sweetie," she says with a smirk.

"I don't dislike the idea of working with like minded individuals, provided the goals align with mine and the company isn't boring. But if he wants sycophants, I am most definitely the wrong tree."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    And like a switch is flipped, those eyes narrow...and you feel the fist of a giant tighten around you as a massive telekinetic force forms around you, pinning you in place as she goes from playful to an intense, smoldering anger. "My -father- does not deign to suffer bootlickers." she says, almost cheerfully, before her voice lowers into a harsher purr, her eyes hard, arrogant now. "And I dislike people who attempt to belittle me." She reaches out to take her cocktail up against her, sipping as the force squeeeeeezes against you slowly. "My loyalty is legitimate and born of my knowledge of what Doom can do...even if he were not my father." She watches you thoughfully. "He expects respect...as do I. Does that explain -everything- to your satisfaction?"

Satana has posed:
Satana laughs wickedly, taking the pain and arching her back a bit, "Yes, I see. YOu try to earn respect the same way as your 'father' does - by force. You think if you yell loudly enough and stomp your feet, the world will think you're worthwhile and important. Consider me officially unimpressed, darling. You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," she says.

"If he expects respect, he's certainly shouldn't be looking towards me. I'm a devil, darling. I am disrespect. I am obscenity. I am foul-mouthed, unashamed, perverted, broken-down, fallen as fuck and I don't give a good gods-damn about your precious father and his mask and his tiny little backwater of a country. If he wants my help, he can pay for it and make a deal, just like any other soul. It won't be the first deal he's made with a devil, from what I'm given to understand."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    "Power is respect, Satana." Madelyne says smoothly, her eyes still flashing dangerously. "You are unaware of mine, apparently...treat me like a child and I shall remind you of it, just as my father will not tolerate...public...disrespect." She gestures absently as the telekinetic force vanishes. "Or would you act so to your father? I imagine he would find it entertaining only to a point, before he moved on to reminding you why it is unwise. Who would respect a powerful leader who allowed someone to belittle him, after all?" Her eyes slit. "He would be seen as weak. So if you prefer to test simply because you can, well...I do not see things ending well for you. There are much worse things he can do than hurt you physically." And just like that she's back to her cheerful, more perky persona. "But of course you know that. I fail to see what he would get from such a deal that could compare to what his favor and support would give to you, but if you insist, I can bring your answer to him as that."

Satana has posed:
Satana shrugs, "Do as you like. It hardly matters to me," she says. She doesn't answer questions in regard to her father. His nature is ethereal and secretive, unknown to most. She sees no reason to penetrate that veil for a stranger. "The confusion of respect and power, however, is one of the reasons why your father -is- so often disrespected. They aren't the same and you both continuing to confuse them is part of the reason you likely see so little of the latter," she says.

She finishes her drink with a single gulp. "Clearly, you can find me if you like. If you feel inclined to approach me with an offer more than simple bullying, I might listen. If you're nice," she says. And then she casts her own magicks, dark illusion wrapping around her and slipping her, hellborn, into the spaces between worlds and away from this place.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    Madelyne narrows her eyes as the half-demoness vanishes, tapping a finger against her cocktail, then shrugging, as she finishes it, then stands, before she walks back out of the club...people moving aside without realizing she's there, until she vanishes out the door. She suspects that her father will be less than interested in someone who would so easily insult him. Then again...he might simply choose to summon and bind her instead? Hmmph. It's no concern of hers.