A return to... what? (lock please!)

A wild goose chase. That was all it had been.

Fiona growled low in her throat, annoyance warring briefly with centuries of proper behavior. Not surprisingly, the annoyance lost.

Her tongue flicked against a fang as she stared out the window of the suite at the Grand Piazza. Months lost for nothing. Why in the world she had been foolish enough to respond to that damned message was beyond reasoning. Oh, the time itself meant nothing to her - she knew full well that a few months were but a blink in time she could have on this earth. But to have lost whatever opportunities had passed...

Spinning away from the view over downtown Nachton she paced the room, trying to decide what to do. Pride warred with need. Her mind examined the problem from every angle, unwilling to admit that defeat was even an option. She had come here with a purpose. Truthfully, meeting Sorin had changed that, but the fact of the matter was that she had acted foolishly in the end. She doubted he was the type to forgive that easily.

So why in the name of all the gods that ever were was she back here?

Why else? Here was power, the kind of which she had only dreamed of.

Had she thrown it all away with a simple note?

Frowning, Fiona stared at her reflection in the glass. She still didn't know who had sent the damn thing. A few months in Paris had rewarded her with nothing but more questions. No answers. And she hated Paris, hated what it had become after the Revolution. Irritation flared again for a moment at the thought of what the unwashed masses had done to the beautiful city of her memories.

Shaking her head, she returned to her present quandary.

What to do now?

Her choices were somewhat limited. To gain what she truly wanted meant meeting with Sorin, a course she was unsure of. The alternative was meeting with Alfarinn, which only added to her irritation. To think that she might have to actually bow to that man was more than she could even begin to contemplate right now. Oh, she would, if forced to. But she had not been impressed upon first meeting him and doubted that a second meeting would change that impression. Sorin though.... That was a man worthy of bowing to, though she had no intention of letting him know that. At least not yet. That was one who understood power and it's possibilities. To share that game with him would be divine...

But to do so, would mean admitting to having acted rashly, which brought her back to her current problem.

To which she had no immediate answers. Damn.

Refusing to allow herself to wallow in anything remotely like self-pity, Fiona headed back into the bedroom to change into something more appropriate to public viewing. If nothing else, she needed to feed and Sorin had been kind enough to show her the perfect hunting ground. Opening the closet doors she ran her eyes over the clothing hanging within, finally settling on a tailored black silk pants suit, opting for a blood red, low cut lace blouse to wear under it. Her hair she twisted up into a French knot, oblivious to the irony of such. The white lock at her forehead seemed to blare in the light of the vanity, but she ignored it, expertly applying her makeup. The last touch was jewelry, though she kept is simple and elegant, nothing more than diamond studs and a matching solitaire necklace, hanging where it accented the v of her blouse. A last look in the mirror confirmed she had chosen well. Simple yet elegant. Perfect.

A wicked smile crossed her face as she headed for the door. The night was still young. Anything could happen on the streets of Nachton.