Los Angeles - 6:45 PM - Tinsely Villa "This is...." Celeste took one step, her rage building as her deep blue gown fluttered around her feet, "Absolutely...." And another, closing the gap between herself and the third poor soul sent to fetch her that evening, "ABSURD." Finally, she begins to shriek. With no shame or care for the guests two stories below, Celeste was hellbent on letting the poor innocent maid know just how much she resented this arrangement. She had kept quiet and submissive on the matter for far too long, but finally, the seal had broken.
"I thought this was a JOKE. A rouse, something Daddy schemed up to make me play nice for a night or two, but to send me off, truly, to a stranger?!" Celeste shrieked again, causing the nameless maid to tremble in fear. Fangs barred, Celeste Tinsley was quite a vision in this state. Her ballgown was made of the finest materials, imported from Italy, her hair had taken 5 hours to finish, each curl delicately adorned with black pearls. She was a vision, and she was furious. Ignoring that she had months to prepare for this evening, it all seemed to hit the woman at once. She stomped across her bedroom, her brute strength causing the floors to creak, likely causing flakes of painted drywall to break and fall into the room below.
"Do they not acknowledge my freedoms? My artistic whims that cannot be confined by a MAN!" Celeste spoke passionately, gloved arms thrown about with each syllable. Her hair was everywhere, creating a manic halo around her head. The perfect vision was beginning to break. This was the perfect example of Celeste's notorious fits, and the impossible wrath held inside the vampyre woman.
"Mam, I just... I'm sorry but I'm just here to tell you that drinks are being served." The maid cowered in the corner, as close to the door as possible. Celeste did not bother to recall her name, at this point her emotions were pushed past their point of no return.
"DRINKS?!" With impressive speed, Celeste hurls herself across the room to her four post bed, rips down one of the posts, and uses it as a stake; launched from the far end of the room, the maid had just enough time to dive out of the way, slipping through the door and out into safety. The makeshift weapon lodged itself into the wall, and stuck out rather comically. "Argh!!" Celeste yells again, unsure if it's in triumph or agony.
Moments later, another knock falls upon her door. "I swear, the next weapon I throw will strike true!" Celeste growls, turning away from the door to throw herself onto her now destroyed bed. She hears the door creak open, but does not move to investigate. Alternatively, she curls into a ball of despair, regressing in age to about 100. Small, moody, vulnerable.
"My daughter.... what has gotten you into such a state?" A soft yet powerful voice called into the room. It was her father, Lord Groumond Tinsley. The only man that could tame her. She looked up, to see him in his finest suit. She shook her head, a nonverbal signifier between the two that she was too emotional to speak.
"Our guests are arriving, and your future husband is here, he's quite handsome, so the maids are saying. Join me downstairs." He coaxes her out of the bed, fixing her curled hair and straightening her dress. As the youngest daughter, Groumond always babied Celeste, even at 300 years old. "You know, I could hear you from my quarters, your wrath is not unlike your mother's..."
"Why must you make me do this?" She finally asks, putting on a childish pout, ignoring the commentary about her late mother. It was still too painful to address, their relationship had never been strong and her death came long before they were able to fix their relationship.
"You'll understand after the first 100 years or so, you'll even grow to love each other, I'm sure." Lord Groumond said with a knowing smile, eyes flashing as if he remembered something he could never mention.
"You can make me marry him, but you can't stop me from loathing him." She said defiantly, obviously defeated. Celeste finally stood, throwing a look into the mirror of her vanity nearby. Together they left, arm-in-arm, and made their way towards the dining room.