Opera Wine | Rosalie Hale [1]

six

White silk gloves and a pretty pink parasol were all that she need to keep herself hidden from the sun's rays and the sparkling affect it caused to her skin.

She had perfected the art of dancing out of direct sunlight, of living among the human even in the bright locations that would traditionally be bared to her. She was thankful that the parasol was in fashion, that it was a tool she could use to bat away the attempts to keep her locked away in her home until the sky changed to pinks and golds, purples and oranges. Marion enjoyed seeing the people as they went about their days, it was something she did not see often while still human - the elite staying in their homes and moving from one acquaintances estate to another.

In 18th century France, Marion didn't get the chance to see both common and rich folk alike as her parents forbade her from visiting the large cities that had the poor 'crawling about like filth.' Edgar was much kinder, her late husband would take her by shopping districts and allow her to spend her allowance - watching her do so with a soft smile and gifts in his hands.

He would never allow their servants to carry the things he bought her.

It had always been so from the moment he began to court her, always so attentive.

Now Marion was forced to pay for her things to be delivered in order to keep up appearances as no self-respecting lady would journey home alone weighed down by bags of apparel.

And she had bought many things as she had spent the better part of the day going from one shop to another - Estelle leaving her halfway through their excursion after finding nothing of interest.

So with only the impromptu purchase of a bouquet in hand, Marion ventured into the bank a week after her little party. Topaz eyes flit around the room, searching as her nose worked carefully over the scent she was desperately seeking and avoiding.

Oh how dearly she wished to see Rosalie despite how badly it would harm her in the end.

The vampire had spent the week listening carefully for word of the King family, the ones that owned the bank. Rich, they were treated like literal Kings of Rochestor and acted as such.

Marion wondered how much wealthier she was to them, her old money family only growing as she worked and added to the fund that was sparsely touched. The fortune of both the Dupuis family and that of her husband's had fallen to them quite easily as they had shown themselves at the bank and withdrawn all that was theres. Their estate was fortunately in the name of Estelle as well, and which ever name she claimed for herself each time she 'passed on.'

They were truly well off, as it had allowed them to continue on living among the humans without having to resort to nomadic tendencies. Of this she was thankful as she had found herself dependent on the monotonies of life to keep her from loosing her sanity.

There have been many stories of vampires going on mad killing sprees just to ward of the boredom, though Marion supposed that running from the Volturi for the rest of your supposedly short existence was quite a thrill.

It was easy to catch the eye of many men and women alike as her supernatural appearance was meant to draw in the attention of others, to lure away her prey - though she hardly needed it, speed was good enough for feeding.

Her beauty aided her this time around as she sought out her prey, the man drawing to her like a fly to honey.

Royce King was much the same as he had been the week before. Just as handsome and well-dressed, just as charming and sweet-talking.

He was leaned over the desk of a pretty, young redhead with chery painted lips, whispering low and alluringly hidden innuendos as he gestered to the work he wanted her to do.