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The Bellevue Hotel is large, fancy, and relatively quiet on this Tuesday evening. The instructions Mel had been given were to go to the front desk and ask for Sora Kan. There's a party obviously gathering for a graduation party in the lobby, now that school is out--a group of teenage girls from well-to-do families, and a businessman in a charcoal grey suit bitching out the concierge over some dinner reservation he'd failed to get.
Mel is dressed normally for them, which means crisply pressed black trousers and a button up white shirt. Which means they actually fit in pretty well with the adults for the graduation party - if it weren't for the tension in their shoulders and the wary look in their eyes. They make a beeline for the front desk, and nod once. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Sora Kan?"
"Oh! One moment." The girl at the front desk is maybe in her early twenties, with frizzy curls that she's attempted to tame into a bun, and she straightens noticeably at hearing Kan's name, picking up her phone for a brief conversation.
"Miss Kan, there's a guest downstairs--oh! Yes, of course." The phone is hung up. "She'll be right with you, please wait over here."
"Thank you" Mel says in what's very obviously a professionally polite voice. They wait where they're told to, standing very still. Very, very still - the only part of them that's really moving is their eyes, constantly looking around. They're not sure what to expect. Maybe they should have brought someone else to guard their back. Or taken up one of the offers for armor. Then again, wearing armor in the middle of a fancy hotel would probably look really weird.
Wearing armor in the middle of a fancy hotel would look weird. But the woman who approaches Mel wears her well-tailored white blouse and grey pencil skirt and high-heeled shoes as if they are armor, carrying herself with dignity. She's short and slender, her long dark hair hanging straight in a curtain down her back and brown eyes raking over Mel quietly before she offers a polite bow in greeting. Japanese-style bow, not something more European and chivalrous.
"Mel Joyner? I'm Sora Kan, and I will be escorting you to your meeting. Please follow me."
Well, if obvious sizing up is going to be the order of the day, Mel's quite willing to reciprocate. They give the woman a piercing look, trying to decide if the woman is herself a vampire, or just one of their thralls. Then again, does it matter? This isn't who they're here to see.
They nod once. "Yes, thank you." they say, and follow the woman.
For what it's worth, she's blinking and appears to be breathing. But who knows how good an indicator either of those are? Sora Kan leads Mel to an elevator, and up to the second floor, down a hallway to a meeting room on the very end. "The Sakima is within."
Mel hesitates, hand halfway to the door handle. Though their mien isn't visible to these people (probably), their feathers are fluffed up in tension. This is the point of no return. Well, they can escape, probably, if the need arises, but still. They take a deep breath and give their escort another polite nod. And then push open the door.
There are a few things to notice in the meeting room. Like the sound of a grandfather clock against one wall ticking. Like the bland paintings (flowers in watercolor. Irises, perhaps) on the wall of the conference room. Like how plush and comfortable the chairs are.
And how much the short woman sitting at the head of the table looks like, if not a corpse, someone in the end stages of a wasting disease, dark skin tugged taut over desiccated flesh giving her a near-skeletal appearance. She's wearing a dark short-sleeved dress with a broach at the neckline. "You must be Mel," the woman says. "Come have a seat."
Mel takes in the blandness of the room in a glance. It... isn't what they would expect a vampire's lair to look like, but then again, this probably isn't the creature's actual lair. Mel takes a seat, though they perch on the edge more than allow themself to actually relax into it, no matter how comfy it looks.
"I am," Mel says, in their best professionally polite voice. "Thank you for meeting with me ma'am."
Sora Kan shuts the door, leaving Mel and the Sakima alone. "I'd like to hear, in your own words, why it is you've asked for this meeting." While Saagochque doesn't stare, quite, it's clear her attention is focused on them tightly.
Well, if the vampire isn't going to make any attempt to act human, Mel sees no reason to either. They also don't stare, but they blink way less than a normal person would. "I have a sister. The only family I have left. And while I will admit I do not have direct proof, I have strong suspicion that she's... involved with..." For all that they're very still, their right hand begins to move, clenching into a fist and then relaxing. They take an obvious deep breath, before saying the rest slowly, and carefully. "I am worried that she is under some sort of vampire... influence."
"What makes you think this?" Patient, she seems to be trying to get the complete picture of the matter, leaning forward slightly in her seat.
The fact that the woman doesn't immediately get defensive or try to deny anything makes Mel relax, if only a fractional amount. "She was acting... odd. Like on a TV show when someone has a drug problem, but they don't want to tell anyone, but the show needs to make sure the audience knows there's a problem." The words come out in a bit of a rush. It's not the best metaphor, but cut Mel some slack - they missed out on a chunk of normal growing up. "So, since I didn't want her to get in the same sort of trouble that, well, I got into I... followed her. And she met up with some people that I thought seemed kinda weird, and I ended up following one of them, and I..." They look away for a moment, then snap their gaze back to the Skaima. "I saw him feed. Not from my sister - no offense but I'd probably have killed him for that. "
"No offense taken." She nods slightly, seeming to consider her words before speaking. "It is a law within my city that People are People. That none shall be treated as property. If your sister came into her relationship with our kind unwillingly, that will be dealt with, as a breach of that law. I don't allow people to be enslaved, by blood or otherwise."
Again, Mel relaxes another hair. "That is essentially what Marjorie said" Mel admits, slightly reluctantly. Like they're loath to admit that any vampire might not be a clear-cut monster. "If you know anything of... my people, you can understand why that is... an upsetting idea. And I have done some research, and there are rumors that such things are possible so..." They shrug. They might have jumped to a conclusion, but it's hardly an unreasonable one. "I've tried to talk to her - my sister - but she's been really cagey. Just says it's a social thing. A... club or group or something."
"It is possible. It is also not something I allow to be done without reason in my domain. I have an understanding of slavery, born from my own experience. I do not allow people to become property."
She levels Mel with a calm look. "There are circumstances in which it could be consented to or allowed: to extend the life of one with a terminal illness. As an alternative to death for one who would expose our existence. But I am not in the habit of making exceptions 'just because'. If your sister has been forced into a blood bond of any sort, the problem will be dealt with. If not, that will be a matter for you to work out with her. If you give me her name, I can look into the matter further."
Mel looks confused for a moment because being a changeling doesn't make one immune to white privilege sometimes. Then it hits them and their eyes go wide and they nod, far more vigorously than before. "Oh, right, of course." They don't quite stumble over their words, but it's a close thing. Then they take a deep breath and collect themself. "I don't think she's ill, and I don't know about the other. But..." They are quiet for a long moment, obviously thinking and weighing options. "Her name is Emily. Emily Joyner. I would... appreciate any help you can give." The tension is back.
"Emily Joyner." She nods, committing the name to memory. "Would you like me to contact you through the Court system, if I learn anything, or would you prefer to hear from me directly?"
Mel looks about to say something in immediate response, but they stop themself and hesitate. They want to know anything, everything as soon as possible. And the Sakima has done a lot to put their immediate fears if not to rest at least on the back burner. But that doesn't mean Mel trusts her. The Winter Crown might, but... well, one only had to look at the current situation to have it hammered home that sometimes, the Crown could be wrong.
"Through the Court" they say finally. "It's probably safer." For whom is left up in the air.
"I understand." The Sakima nods, either not noticing or politely ignoring the moment of indecision. "Is there anything else that you had wanted to discuss with me?"
A look flashes across Mel's face, like a million and one questions all slam through their head at once. But they promised they would be polite, and none of the questions currently jabbering for attention are even remotely polite. So they shut their mouth firmly before anything untoward comes out and just shake their head. "No, I... I think I've imposed on you enough."
"Then I hope the rest of your night is pleasant." That has the tone of a clear dismissal, and comes paired with a firm little nod.
Mel returns the nod and stands. This has not been anything like they expected - far too polite and formal. Creepy, yes. But not in the ways they'd prepared themselves for. They don't quite flee the room, but there is much on their mind and little of it comfortable.
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