say what you mean , owen

[anastasia rose fairbanks]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] You're guaranteed to run this town Woah, Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown He senses something, call it desperation Another dollar, another day And if she had the proper words to say, ( She would tell him But she'd have nothing left to sell him --------------- ! ) An interview with a journalist? For a moment she didn’t believe her familiar when she was told the information, but after several days of what Anastasia would call harassment, she agreed to meet with the young man and give him his interview. She made sure that her familiars did their homework, digging up information on this Owen Dawson. Twenty-five, journalist, and a younger sister at that. Anastasia didn’t know the name of the girl nor did it seem to matter. All that mattered was letting this man have his interview then getting on with her immortal life. The club was alive as normal, the back rooms all preoccupied as her customers divulged in their desires and temptations. Music made the walls vibrate, the lights dim within the interior. Although her security stood outside she knew it wasn’t going to stop people from coming in who were willing to pay the price. But the journalist... Now Anastasia wasn’t about to let him walk through the front door and see just what the Underground was all about. No, she was going to make sure that he was brought in through the back door and that everything would be hidden from his view. Not everyone needed to know about the Underground, nor did they need to know what vampires were capable of. Anastasia was going to make sure that he remained oblivious to the Underground. However, should this journalist prove to be interesting and worth the time she would spend with him, Anastasia might allow him to get hints of the Underground. At her discretion of course. Anastasia took slow strides around the club, making sure that her customers were satisfied with their service and had everything they wanted. Once she was sure that things were under control she headed to her office. Her heels clicked against the floor as the door opened before her. Inside her familiars waited, and she waived them off to leave her alone. They knew what they were supposed to do. Taking a seat at her desk she reached for the glass of what someone might think to be wine. It was blood of course, the only that satiated her palate. She swirled for a moment before taking a sip. She let the warm liquid flow down her tongue and throat, savoring the taste of the blood. Her eyes closed as she licked her lips. Upon hearing a knock at her door she opened her dark eyes, a smile across her features. So, he was here. Her eyes darted to the nearby clock. Right on time. “Enter.” She called out, the door suddenly swinging open. Anastasia let her gaze fall on the journalist, the smile still on her face. “Hello Mr. Dawson. Please, take a seat and we’ll get started.” She motioned towards the chair in front of her desk, allowing her eyes to take in his features. ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY PANIC AT THE DISCO

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[owen isaac dawson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] too many dreamers, LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST

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It had been no easy feat but the ever so determined Owen Dawson had managed to finally get an answer from the owner of the crowd-pleasing club called Temptation. It had been several months ago that he had discovered it and found that he did not have very easy access to it. For some reason he often felt wary eyes on him the first time he had seen it on a trip to Rome to attend an art show. Temptation had been discovered from word of mouth and despite its apparent popularity Owen had some difficulty even finding the place. But once he had it was not something that he would easily forget. Everything about it had seemed so strange and alluring and the stories surrounding it even more so. A few people who he had heard discussing it agreed that it was the absolute best place to indulge in some lusted activity. Owen had been to some clubs in his time but never had heard such grand things about them. So he had to find a way to learn more about it and what better way than with an interview from the woman who owned the place? Her name was Anastasia Fairbanks and the woman was said to hold a good deal of money in her purse. Go figure with a place like this under her belt.

After a few years on the job it wasn’t so difficult for Owen to go into these sorts of situations; interview, that is. He’d jot down a few of his ideas of questions and points he’d want to bring up with the person of interest and usually just go with the flow from there. He was something of a natural when it came to the flow of conversation, never stuttering and his nerves hardly ever gave him a problem. Every so often he found himself having to be a bit pushy but he’d let off fast if he knew that the questioning was pointless. It was something that he rarely worried about considering he had rarely gotten complaints about his work. Maybe the first few articles he had submitted were sort of pathetic but with practice came polishing to the skill and as intimidating as Anastasia Fairbanks could be made out to be he wasn’t the least bit concerned with it.

Arriving at the club he was ushered in through the back. It was a real disappointment but he decided not to make any complaints about it. It had been hard enough scoring the interview here. He would just have to see what happened and pray that he managed to get to see more of the place than the back and the offices. How was he to write up something appealing if he didn’t get a grand tour, after all?

On the bright side, Owen had been taken straight to the office of Anastasia Fairbanks without any kind of wait. He gave the assistant a thank you and a grin before being let into the office after the owner called to them. Stepping in his eyes quickly found the renowned figure of Anastasia. He locked his pale eyes with her dark ones and allowed a sweeping grin to come across his lips. So this was the woman he had heard about and been nagging for several months? There was something to her that let him know she would be a formidable woman to cross despite the elegant beauty she obviously possessed. He nodded as he heard his name and took a seat in the chair at the other side of her desk. As he sat he placed his things in his lap and reached a hand forward to her. “Miss Anastasia Fairbanks, I’m so glad you’ll have me,” he told her, his voice amplifying his sincerity. “Shall we get started? Or is there anything you’d like to let me know beforehand?”

TAGGED: ANASTASIA WORD COUNT: 649 NOTES: FIRST POST

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[anastasia rose fairbanks]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] You're guaranteed to run this town Woah, Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown He senses something, call it desperation Another dollar, another day And if she had the proper words to say, ( She would tell him But she'd have nothing left to sell him --------------- ! ) Her eyes locked with his for a moment, letting him know that she was a force unlike any others that Owen Dawson might have interviewed. Anastasia allowed her eyes to move over his features. He face was flushed more than hers, letting her know that he was in fact alive. A human in her presence. It had been some time since she had conversed with a human that wasn’t her donor or familiar. No doubt that Owen would have made a wonderful little donor, but for now she was going to let him keep his job as a journalist. Unless he asked, Anastasia wasn’t about to show Owen the front area of her club. It would have been quite a shock to some to see vampires drinking from humans instead of a glass. It was just the two of them in the office now. Anastasia had shooed away her familiars and donors just for this occasion. Of course she didn’t go anywhere without her entourage, but if Owen were to see her donors and the marks across their skin, it would raise questions. The last thing Anastasia wanted were questions about the Underground. It was apparent that Owen had no knowledge of the city beneath cities. It was better to keep it that way. If he were to grow curious enough Anastasia might take the young writer under her wing and show him around the darkness he was oblivious to, maybe even use him to keep updates on what her fellow club owners were doing to keep people coming in the door. However, that was only if this interview would go well and if Owen managed to keep her attention. So far so good. As he reached towards her she extended her hand, taking it firmly but gently as to not crush. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. Oh, and do call me Anastasia.” She pulled her hand away to take another sip of the liquid in her glass, giving Owen a soft smile. It seemed he was genuinely pleased to be interviewing her, then again who wouldn’t be? Had he been aware of her blood status he would have been more persistent in getting this interview. He was quite determined to begin with, but again another topic for later discussion. She allowed him to get comfortable before he spoke again. Taking a moment she thought, oh there was plenty for him to learn about but Anastasia was going to keep those little secrets to herself for now. “I believe there is nothing else that you need to know that you probably won’t find out from your questions. With that being said, let me hear your first question and we’ll get this rolling along.” ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY PANIC AT THE DISCO

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[owen isaac dawson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] too many dreamers, LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST

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After shaking the woman’s hand Owen settled back into chair he had been shown to. Briefly he broke the stare that he was holding with her but only to stare down at his notes and pull a pen from the pocket of his jeans. He clicked the ballpoint pen into action, making a few swirls of black ink at the top of his paper. Once he was sure that there would be no sudden shortage in the ink his eyes went back up to find Anastasia’s dark stare. He returned her grin, his pen still pressed to the paper without the need of his eyes to guide it if anywhere words sprung to his mind or came out of Anastasia’s mouth. Of course, only the interesting thoughts and chatter would be scribbled atop the blue lines.

The first thing he had wanted to inquire, just at the top of his head, was why she had made him come in through the back way. He could only make a few guesses regarding it but still wasn’t certain why it was important for him to be brought in that way. The only guesses that he could make was that she was either hiding something or simply did not want him to come in with biased opinions. It was really a shame though since he would have liked to get a feel of the place before he had started asking her anything. However, he was willing to go with what he was given and improvise as much as possible if he had to. Eventually he was sure he would be allowed to look around and if she did not offer it then he would simply come back on a latter day and look around on his own. When life gave him obstacles he was more than able to find a solution to get around them… whether Anastasia Fairbanks wanted him to or not.

“How long have you been running Temptation?” he asked her. His pleasant grin faded away into a look of simple curiosity while his pen started scribbling out random patterns again. His eyes were still trained on her though, keeping in mind her actions while asking questions. “It seems like a very well established place, I mean, I didn’t even have to come this far into Italy to hear about it. Did you, maybe, inherit it from a parent, friend… or another family member?”

By the looks of her, Owen wouldn’t have guessed Anastasia to be even out of her early to mid twenties. Yet, here she was, comfortably (it seemed) living in the profits of a club that already had many loyal patrons. Not so many people could call themselves that lucky. But he tried to keep an open mind, reminding himself that he knew very little about business and what it took to catch the interest of the public when it came to this kind of nightlife. He could tell you what he would find interesting in places like this but he was sure he varied from a lot of different people. What exactly was it that drew the customers here in? What did she have to offer that was so unique and special to the other places in Rome?

TAGGED: ANASTASIA WORD COUNT: 541 NOTES: SECOND POST

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[anastasia rose fairbanks]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] You're guaranteed to run this town Woah, Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown He senses something, call it desperation Another dollar, another day And if she had the proper words to say, ( She would tell him But she'd have nothing left to sell him --------------- ! ) Comfortable in her chair Anastasia sipped the blood in her glass, pretending it to be wine. Normally she would drink from her donors, but such a sight was to remain hidden from human eyes oblivious to the Underground. Should Owen manage to keep Anastasia interested long enough she might show him what’s lurking in the shadows. For now though the Underground would have to stay a secret and she needed to focus on the questions that were about her come her way. It had been some time since her last interview, but surely Owen couldn’t have any different questions than other journals that had stopped in. Ah. The first question. His eyes never left her when he asked the question, like he was looking for some false answer from her. Although Anastasia was going to have to tell a few white lies, she wasn’t about to falter her gaze and give anything away to Owen. Keeping her dark eyes on him she smiled. “Temptation has been open since the late 90’s. I wasn’t the original owner of course. My parents started the business, and when they didn’t want to run the club anymore they gave it to me. I’ve been running it for the last three years.” Again, it was a lie. In reality temptation had been open much longer than that. True her parents were the first ones to start the club, Anastasia had been running it for the last two hundred years. A pleasant smile shaped her lips, not once leaving Owen’s fair eyes. She was dying to pry Owen’s mind, to know what he thought of her and her establishment. “I must admit,” she spoke nonchalantly, “I don’t know what I would be doing with my life if I wasn’t given this club. I can’t really see me doing something else.” The smile remained on her face as she swirled her glass before taking another sip. “Oh I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” she spoke suddenly remember her manners, “Would you like something to drink? Glass of wine, cocktail, water?” What a rude host she had been. Anastasia knew better, but she had been so distracted in keeping the idea of her club secret she forgot her manners. It was different when she had clients come in that were aware of the Underground. They knew what she did and it was easy for her to move past formalities and get straight to hosting those that mattered. “Whatever you want I’ll get you, or if you don’t want anything we can just jump right back into the interview.” ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY PANIC AT THE DISCO

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[owen isaac dawson]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-color:#E3E3E3; border-left: 3px solid #331E13; border-right: 3px solid #331E13;] too many dreamers, LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST

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Rarely did Owen’s eyes break the stare that he and Anastasia shared. While she spoke to him he watched her quietly and attentively, his eyes only falling away every so often to be sure that his quick handwriting had not fallen off of the page and as still readable. By now, however, Owen was quite fond of what one may consider chicken scratch. His mind calculated the numbers that she had given him without must effort and almost without him thinking of it completely. The conclusion was somewhat surprising but nothing that made him jump back with excitement since it sounded very possible. If the club had opened in the early nineties then that meant it was around sixty or so years old. Assuming that the Fairbanks family had a good deal of wealth and some really strong ambitious goals they wanted to conquer then he could believe that the family had opened the club in their late twenties or earlier thirties. And Anastasia claimed to have been running the club for three years which left Owen to assume that her parents were at least in their seventies or eighties when they handed the club over to her. You see, completely possible but surprising. “Your parents must have the key to longevity,” the journalist commented offhandedly, his hand still scribbling out his chicken scratch.

Anastasia’s experience would make sense to him now and she could say what she had. Usually he might look up to someone suspiciously if they had claimed to have only run it three years. Usually it was hard jumping on the wagon. But not for a place like this as he was finding out. This club had been around for around sixty years and was still going strong. It was a well established place that even a foreigner like himself could hear about. Not to mention the Fairbanks seemed quite driven and Anastasia had more than likely grown up with plenty of knowledge of running the place falling right into her lap. If it did not then she would have been very shelter. Somehow, Owen really doubted this.

He wasn’t surprised at what she had to tell him next. He put his hand up, pen still clasped between his fingers, and gesture at the room they were sitting in. “Well, this must have been all you’ve known. It would be difficult to think anything else,” he remarked, speaking openly hoping that she would fill in any gaps. “Had your parents always planned on giving the place to you?” It would confirm his assumptions regarding her knowledge of running the place if they had. His expression hardly changed when she asked him if he was interested in a drink. He was concentrating on the story and had to force himself to remember his manners. A smile forced its way onto his lips and he shook his head at her. “No thanks,” was his simple reply. If he had he said yes then the drink would have just sat at her desk and gotten warm.

It was probably obvious what he wanted to do. Owen wanted a story. It was his work and having some cash come his way was always a good thing. Not to mention his general curiosity of things kept him eager to continue what he did.

“How do you keep them coming?” he asked her, his chin resting in one of his palms. “Your guests, I mean. Has the club gone through any changes over the years or do you just think you have something so unique that people don’t want to miss it?”

TAGGED: ANASTASIA WORD COUNT: 600 NOTES: POST POST

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i love brooklyn from caution !!!

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[anastasia rose fairbanks]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] You're guaranteed to run this town Woah, Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown He senses something, call it desperation Another dollar, another day And if she had the proper words to say, ( She would tell him But she'd have nothing left to sell him --------------- ! ) Anastasia had planned this stories since the club first opened. Every few years or so she would modify the story to fit a story that would allow her to convince whoever was interviewing her that she had been the owner for only a few years. In truth, she started this club and opened it from the money she had earned. For instance, she was sure that Owen must have been doing a calculation in his mind to make sure her story added up. Journalists were always looking for loopholes to create some kind of drama for those with money. Luckily, vampires weren’t as naive as humans seemed to be. Being immortal allowed them to develop tricks of their own. She chuckled at his comment. Longevity. That was a laugh. So many would give up their mortal lives to taste the waters of immortality. “I suppose you could say that.” Setting her glass on her desk she gently began to trace the rim, the smile still on her lips. She respected his decision for opting out of the drink, knowing that no everyone wanted a drink. The club had been all she known. Her life had been nothing but parties and going out with other nobles. The life of luxury and entertainment was what Anastasia had grown up with. “I don’t think they had always planned on giving it to me, but I was the one that knew it the best and what the customers wanted so I think I was the only that they could trust such a business to. I came in constantly to visit, chat with customers, and learn from the workers.” More and more questions kept coming her way. Anastasia took each one on with ease, keeping her smile casual and her gaze on Owen. “My customers are loyal. There are some that have been coming here for years and they spread the word for me.” Anastasia was debating on just how much she should reveal to Owen. It wasn’t everyday that a journalist stopped by wanting to know the perks of her club. She wasn’t about to reveal that her club catered to vampires and humans, allowing them to divulge in sins of flesh, blood, and drink. And they didn’t get in trouble for it. Everyone here was a willing participant. After all, she was a vampire and had her own temptations that she had to give into. “As far as changes go, the only things that change are probably the design of the building. It’s gone through a renovations about ten years ago. The customers were beginning to become so numerous that my parents decided to expand the club. Things were moved around, but people seemed to be glad that the club expanded. I must say though, the number of customers is growing again. I may have to consider expanding the club for a second time.” She smiled sweetly at the journalist. As far as people missing her club, they didn’t. Many wanted to look for jobs, becoming familiars and donors, while others were looking to give into temptation. Something that all could agree on. “I can tell you one thing, most have never been to a club like mine before.” ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY PANIC AT THE DISCO

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