The Black Dragon - Black Dragon R3 - The Show Must Go On

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Description: After her show of the musical "Cats" by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Felicia is approached by the Patriarch of the House of Podiebrad, who plumbs her for information about the mysterious Shadow Council... and who was on it.

Felicia's broadway and stage career had worse times, that was for sure. She'd been keeping up a steady employment with her revival of a certain broadway musical starring felines, which had a very awful movie adaptation overloaded with computer generated effects--which she'd been able to subvert and draw in a pretty healthy audience that wanted to see the 'real' show. And you know, also the young nad old alike that didn't want to be horrified.

She'd already changed out of her more humanoid-esque forms for her usual Catwoman shape, and was currently lounging around backstage, her feet up on her vanity/makeup table, pretty much out of costume and character, and not bothering to wear clothes as she had a fan blowing directly on her as she yakked on the phone with her agent, her 5 white furred toys cracking knuckles and her right big toe curling half around the hair-drier cord that was still plugged in, her long white tail curling around beneath the reclining office chair she sat in.

"Uh huh, yeah, totally--oh yeah, you know those types, always getting nervous when they hear someone like me is involved... uh huh--yeah..."

Around her shoulders and head of course was that big poofy blue mane of hair of hers, the bangs of which were being tossed about in the wind from the fan.


The words ahem can mean a lot. It was a subtle way to catch attention. Quiet. Quick. Sometimes polite. Backstage, though, it can be a dangerous way to announce yourself. Especially when there is no sound, no smell, no other evidence until this moment. The announcement comes from a shortish man with white hair, his face is cut sharp, long and stony with a distant, aloof facade. He wears a headdress of black feathers around his hair, and has hazel eyes that almost seem to change color in the light. His hair is stylized in bangs in the front, with a long ponytail behind him over his cloak. He is deathly pale, and is on the shorter and skinnier side. He walks upon a pair of stiletto heeled gold-plated purple boots, increasing his height by a number of inches...

But just short of Felicia's sitting height in the chair.

He is garbed in ornate robes of purple and rose. His raised collar meets with purple and red striped pauldrons sit upon his shoulders, setting a mantle for his flowing purple cloak. A ornamental plate of gold-pressed leaf is set over his robes, setting against his legs, arms, and abdomen. Each section is embossed with the feathered scale pattern. Silver earrings, golden bracelets, electrum bangles, and a ring for each finger adorn him, with not a single gemstone amongst his jewelry. A silver and gold circlet sits upon his forehead, above his eyes. His hands are exposed, and his long fingernails are painted beetle shell gold and silver, shining with every movement. It must be another actor of some kind. He is holding a hand mirror, looking at himself with a golden comb in his hand. His back is turned to Felicia, as he looks at himself in the mirror.

"Do you need a moment to be decent?" He says with hardly the air of someone who was decent himself.

Felicia's green eyes were narrower in the light of the vanity, slowly roving over to the strangely cloaked and black garbed man with white hair who was... woah, hold the phone. Literally.

"Ahh, something just came up Jack, I'll have to call ya back," she pressed the hangup button on her old-style Nokia flip-phone and snapped it closed like a makeup compact, idly tossing it over her shoulder onto one of the sofas behind her as a grin spread across her features.

"Well well well, I'd say the audition for the new drag cabaret show is down the street, but, somethin' tells me you're not here for that," she considers. "And I'm pretty much never 'decent', but," the chair rocked and groaned lightly under her wait as she got up, large furred and padded feet thumping against the dressing room floor as she got up, throwing on a white button up shirt and loosely doing a few buttons up front.

"If it makes you feel any better, Bowie, here," she arched her back and crik'd it a little, releasing a soft sigh.

"Something I can do for you, goldfinger? did you need to hire someone for a party?" her eyes darted over him up and down, before returning to his face. "Bar Mitzvah, Birthday? Bachelor's?" she grinned.

The stranger doesn't waste time with theatrics, at least verbally.

At the comment about his success auditioning for RuPaul was greeted with haughty laughter. Not enough to keep him from looking at the gold mirror, but enough to shift the it's silvery reflection. He's looking at her now, through it. She asks what he is here for. "I am here about a party, actually, a... rather personal one." He gives a close mouth chuckle, before shifting the mirror back to himself.

"A Shadow Council, actually."

"Tell Felicia, don't be shy now..." the Catwoman's soft cooing voice rises up as she looks over the man's shoulder in the mirror. He can see her raise a brow and suddenly furrow both brows for a moment when that 'shadow council' bit comes out.

"Oh yeah? Well, what about it?" she was relaxed, still--though the coquettish trill from her voice was a bit more subdued now. She had personally met Vega twice, once in the shadow council--and another when he'd wanted her help in getting hold of Lee. She'd tried to work with him, of course--and actually still had strong ties to a lot of the criminal underworld and the various whackjob supervillain outfits around the globe. Keep your enemies close, one might say--but it was more like no one ever really protested her presence, either. Felicia had a silvery way with people like that.

"There something I can do for ya, in that area?"

"You were one of Lee Chaolan's Violet Girls."

The stranger states calmly, letting the golden reflections cast across the backstage. "A little kitty for his lap. You've broken up with him, I assume." Or him with her. "Lee Chaolan was neck deep in many things, naturally. His ties to Darkstalkers and Gears were so fascinating, as well as his... experiments. But the poor man's dreams have been dashed, and his little V-Gage toys have been spread around. He was at the Shadow Council." He muses with a sing-song voice.

"Who else was there."

"A lot of people, are you just trying to get information on something in particular? If you knew it took place, then you should have a good idea, I reckon," Felicia looked at the man soberly, giving him a decidedly more serious and professional expression than she'd just been wearing.

"And what about Lee? You want to find him too? My information on where he was post-Mishima takeover is a little limited, I'm afraid," her tail curled around behind her curiously.

"And yes, I was one of his Violet Girls, still am, technically--though the company is inactive," she grinned a little.

"Find him?"

The stranger turns the mirror back to himself, and gives a smirk on those painted lips. That is what it takes to finally make him turn, moving in a swaying, almost dancing motion, hips shaking as he strides upon his heels to Felicia's side. "Found him." He coos, tracing his comb at the edge of his lips. "It sounds like there are still a few lingering feelings. Oh, but who is at the council is a mystery still. He is... tight lipped on his secrets, it seems. At least he is with the temptations I offer to him." He gestures his comb at her mane, looking at her in the mirror.

"May I?"

"Perhaps," it was stated with a little nod, as she let the man sidle up to her with that comb. She wasn't beyond letting someone touch her that she just met, if it was just combing her hair like that. She said it simply, without any coy guile, not like an Eartha Kitt's 'purrrrhaps', or anything. This was a more serious matter to her.

"It was an abusive relationship, to be fair," she cleared her throat, watching him comb her hair in the mirror, settling more in view of it.

"I wouldn't mind running into him again though, necessarily--least I could give him my regards personally... Maybe we can cut a deal for what you want, then," she nods.

The stranger begins the combing.

He styles the hair little, focusing on the tangles first, then the art of creation. "I'd imagine it would be; boss and employee relations inevitably become master and servant. Still, it can be good to return to an old lover... if only to remind him how much good he has squandered." He sighs, shaking his head as he finds a snarl. Struggling with it, the comb seems to bend a bit, as the stranger gives a huff. "As for a deal, name your price. I'm well open for negotiations." He leans over to Felicia's ear, whispering as he works the tangle.

"Tell me if this hurts; I won't push this any further than I have to~"

"Something like that," Felicia's right eye winced slightly as the man ran into a small knot, which quickly gave way. She did use a good shampoo and conditioner, which while not perfect was enough to make washing her hair not take any longer than a normal person.

"Well, if you can give me a good lead on where Chaolan went, I can possibly jog my memory on who was at that party of ours, potentially," she does feel the tingliness. This is the Podiebrad ASMR, apparently.

"And what did you say your name was?" She looked back at the man, leaning into him as he combed her hair.

"Bela von Podiebrad."

He states proudly, finally conquering Felicia's knottiness. He continues to comb down, smoothing down her pelt diligently. "A fair bargain. Broadly, he's been working the streets of Southtown, as you might be well aware. His current public employment has been delivering food for a local Restaurant in Chinatown; unfortunately it is the Genhanten. The owner is a ruthless assassin, and it has made Lee Chaolan... difficult to approach on the work hours. As for his unofficial employment... well, if you are a wealthy old heiress, and are willing to operate through the host bar, you'll find that he is unrivaled in providing the boyfriend experience, in spite of his age." He whispers an aside.

"Also, what are you using for your hair? It's as soft as rabbit's hair; what's your secret?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Felicia is suddenly grinning quite cheerily again, and it's not just due to that grooming she was receiving.

"Are you serious? Lee's working as a gigolo? Oh, my god," Felicia is grinning even wider now, almost squeeing with delight here, her hands forming excited fists.

"Ohhhh this is the best thing ever, ahhh--get rekt Lee~" her chest was already heaving with laughter, trying hard to contain herself. She did, deep down, seriously miss Lee Chaolan. She knew somehow he did have a genuine (yet twisted) affection for her, and she for him. And another even more obscure part of her probably really wanted things to go back to how they had been when she was one of her Violet Girls.

Hearing that Lee was putting out to wealthy old grandmas now though, ooooh boy. This was too funny, and awesome, and also was a lot like the experiences Felicia herself had faced in the past. She had worked at clubs before he'd helped her make it big. Exotic or adult or otherwise. Now Lee was getting to know all about it. Ahh... she still loved 'em, though. Even if he /had/ pulled the whole brainwashing her into his willing servant thing. She felt a dirty little thrill just thinking about that--and everything else.

"Well then, guess it's time for your information then, huh sexy? Anyplace you wanna go to hear it, or...?" she turned her head back to Bela, reaching over to gently cup his chin and cheek in her white-furred, five-fingered hand gingerly, with a smirk on her lips.

Certainly, it was.

Bela may be embellishing the details, slightly. But lying would be unforgivable. But no, the Patriarch pulls his strings, and guides the young catlady to where she ought to go. And then, she makes a sudden swerve. An invitation? Certainly, it was as easy as it was. And Aurel always encouraged a certain fraternization with your prey. The man considers briefly, bringing a hand to her paw.

But ultimately, he shakes his head.

"You saucy feline!" He objects, looking at her in the vanity mirror, as he eases her finger off his chin. "I've come for business, not pleasure. A proper Patriarch never mingles the two." He corrects sternly, twirling a curl into her mane. "We will discuss it here. If time is of your essence, well, then I can help you." He leans in with another whisper, less sensual than before.

"I just need the names of who is there..."

"Ouch, don't want to consort with my 'type', eh honey? That's fine, I get that a lot," Felicia keeps her cool, she isn't really offended. She did raise a brow at him at him however.

"You say that like I was offering you something saucy," Felicia rolled her eyes a bit.

"That was just me being friendly, if you wanted saucy you might have to work at it," she shook her head a little, looking back at him in the mirror.

"You told me where Lee was, now I can go bother his sorry grandma-servicing ass, and you want more names in return, lets see..." she made it seem like she needed time to remember.

"There was that fellow from the Southtown Syndicate, real nasty type," she nodded.

"Syndicate are pretty much scumbags--so, eh--not a big deal for me. Duke," she looked back at him in the mirror. "Does that help you? if you're just trying to wring me out for names, well, it should," she tilted her head.

Bela rubs his finger tip on the comb for a moment.

The catty remarks were not surprising; but when Felicia mentions Duke, that actually gives Bela pause. "The art dealer? No, I thought those were only ill-heeded rumors." Bela states coyly, trying to conceal his surprise. "Yes, yes though, Duke Burkoff. How fascinating. How very, very fascinating." The Patriarch hrms, distracted at the context of it. He suddenly snaps out of it, giving a distant response.

"I'm sorry, please go on."

"What, did you not expect that? I've been at this a little longer than you, dear--I've been hounded all my life, pardon the turn of phrase--cat here--but sometimes when you're forced to you make some... strange bedfellows," that however was an obviously intentional turn of phrase, with the Catwoman winking at the man in the mirror.

"Some of these people can crush you and me like bugs, so I'm going to be careful with what I say, you'll just have to understand that, but that crazy Volkov bitch was there too, I don't want anything to do with her, so," Felicia shrugs.

"Are you... satisfied now? I sure hope so," Felicia briefly wrapped her long white-furred tail around the man's waist, before letting go.

"I take it that's all you showed up for, so if you'll excuse me--I should get ready to get on stage..." she moved to de-couple from the man, as much as she enjoyed the petting and hair-brushing.

"In a moment, my dear."

Bela's movements were slow and swaying; and yet, he was already intervening in a flash. His hand mirror was gone; a new bracelet was jingling. His expression was stern and serious, though his tone was light. The noble arrogance was pouring forth now. "I have reason to believe the council had more..." He tilts his head up at the much larger catlady. It was difficult to impose on her when she was standing up.

"Are you sure there wasn't anyone else?"

"Mostly, I've given you a lot, you've given me a little," Felciia grins a little, amused at her own private joke. She wouldn't necessarily call Lee 'little', but...

"As fun as finding my old boss again is, those two I mentioned are pretty horrible, and I don't have any business with them, so," Felicia shrugs.

"You might be barking up the wrong tree if you want me to completely burn everything and everyone I know, I'm a Darkstalker, we don't have a lot--but what we do have we'll fight to the death for it," Felicia sighs and stands in her large vanity mirror again, checking her eyelashes. Of course, she also gives him a fabulous view of her ass in the process.

"I wouldn't push my luck."

For a moment, Bela considers it more practical for less personal methods of information gathering.

But the moment passes; he felt humane tonight. The sting of the rejection was much to bear; the Patriarch instinctively covers his face, his face a mask of the depth of insult. His words conceal it. "Yes, well. The fate of many of Darkstalker is to be useful, or to be dead. And dear Felicia..." He removes his hand, staring at the figure of the catwoman. "... You have been useful. Thank you." Bela gives a flourished bow, and then, sweeping his cape around, turns to leave. He would not allow the creature to drive him to murderous intents.

But he would not forget this defiance.

"I'm even more useful when you need a performance--do let me know if anyone needs to hire one!" she gave the man a friendly wave and wink as he left, still not turning away from her mirror. He looked great, if a little on the effeminate side--and also seemed to have a lot of charm... but he was bad candy, she could feel it. She wasn't getting herself involved with something like that again. Not if she didn't have to. Lee was sort of the exception, and speaking of--she was going to double check that information and see if the poor old thing really was playing man-whore somewhere downtown, as amusing as that was--she really was ocncerned for his well-being, after everything.

She had some phonecalls to make.

Log created on 15:34:25 05/04/2020 by Daniel, and last modified on 16:21:24 05/05/2020.