Micah moves through the barn-come-residence, looking for Tallulah. The shift from day to night hasn't lessened the heat and humidity, and his head has little beads of sweat threatening to run down the sides at any moment. He looks irritated, but he has been searching the grounds for Tallulah for the last twenty minutes, and none of these parasite fey are even trying to help him out. He curls his lip in some degree of disgust. Ungrateful pigs.

As he crosses through the barn to the other side, yet again not seeing the silvery gray-haired newest pet of the house, his irritation only grows. Stopping a couple of the pointed ear fey to ask if they've seen her gets him nowhere. He even asks one with a mohawk of small ridge bones from forehead to spine. He's about to lose his temper when, by chance, he sees the aged faerie walking along the interior perimeter fence and watching the dogs as they lazily traverse the grounds on the other side. Muttering to himself, he picks up his pace and moves to catch up with her.

As he draws closer to her, he doesn't bother to mask the sounds of his boots crunching over the sculpted gravel so she knows someone is walking up to her. Tallulah turns, hearing the approach of another, and her eyes momentarily give just enough of a tell to show that she's disappointed in who is coming up to her. This irritates Micah more, but he wills himself to bite it down and swallow it.

"Miss Tallulah?"

"Hello, yes. Micah, was it?"

"That's right."

"How are you tonight, Micah? What can I help you with?"

"Just fine, thank you. I'm to show you to your new room and get you sorted with your new stylist and tailor."

"My what and what?"

Micah smiles, but Tallulah can see it's not a genuine smile, just a polite one. This is the most Micah has talked with Tallulah, and she can tell he's annoyed–or perhaps disappointed–about having to do this.

"Well, the house is certainly not going to have you walking around and being around others of our kind looking like, well, that."

Tallulah looks down at her clothing, which has been washed since the faeries were found in the forest and brought back to the homestead's grounds. It's typical wear for her people in the Wilds–a generic t-shirt and jeans she traded for earlier in the year–but she understands it's not the fashionable trends that those inside the house seem to adhere to.

"Okay, but I didn't ask for my own room."

"They're not going to have you continue sleeping in a barn. They've already expended some resources to prepare a room for you, and people are waiting for you to get started. Will you accompany me?"

The stilted manner of Micah's speech seems forced as if he's trying to sound older and more important than he is. Tallulah's thoughts drift back to what Elijah told her the first night she talked to anyone: Micah is up for review to become a vampire, so he will be a stickler for the rules. She understands and decides she'll not make an issue of it; instead, she'll pose her questions to Kofi when they chat next.

"Okay, sure. Sorry, I wasn't trying to be difficult."

"It's alright. Follow me, please."

Micah turns, leading the pair of them but surprisingly not towards the side entrance that comes from the house and leads towards the stables. Instead, Micah takes her directly around the front of the grounds so that she gets to see the homestead mansion in its front-facing glory. The moon overhead is full and glints off the glass, perfectly placed in the stone and wooden structure. Tallulah gazes up at the moon as they draw around to the front of the place, momentarily soaking in its ascendance as she was while walking the grounds before Micah's interruption.

Her attention quickly drifts to the change in the front of the home. There is an extensive line-up of mostly expensive vehicles, all carefully parked in and along the drive that leads down the side of the mountainous rise the homestead is on. There are easily twenty vehicles of all shapes and sizes, some of which have non-discrete individuals–clearly chauffeurs–standing or leaning outside the driver or passenger sides.

"Something going on tonight?"

"Yes. It's the full moon."

Puzzled and still looking for more information, Tallulah presses Micah a little more for some scraps of information.

"I know; I was enjoying its radiance before you found me. But what does that have to do with the amount of cars here?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Micah quickly responds in his cryptic and clipped manner, and Tallulah momentarily wonders if she should interpret that ominously. Instead, she drops the matter entirely and follows him in further silence.

They make their way up the engraved and sweeping stairs to the front of the homestead, and unlike the other night, four large individuals are carefully spaced directly at the open, front double doors leading inside. Micah inclines his head to the quartet before passing by, and the four study Tallulah as she quickly moves to follow him. Bouncers? Bodyguards? This is just weird, Tallulah rolls over in her mind.

Into the beautiful home they go, passing by the sweeping staircase that leads to the second floor. Instead of going up, they head down a separate wing, completely to the opposite side of where the stables are. There is a much greater host of guards patrolling the hallways and stationed at points inside; even though they're trying to be invisible, to her, they stick out with their all-black attire and solemn countenances. Some of them even wear balaclava masks underneath their hats so that all that can be seen of them is their eyes. Tallulah considers that they may be invisible to the vampires while also being available at any moment.

Tallulah–still in thought and taking in all of the changes of the night–continues to move after Micah's lead through a large parlor and gathering area, which has a few well-dressed people standing with less well-dressed ones. Pale or pallid in their skin tones, Tallulah realizes there are even more vampires here than the other nights. With what Micah said, the number of cars, and simply the number of these creatures, it's clear that some special gathering must be happening. Her eyes pass over one of the vampires–with his old-looking jeans, ill-fitting t-shirt, and devil-may-care bedhead hairstyle–she wonders if he's the black sheep of the family, who hasn't "figured out" how-to-vampire yet or something. The vampire she was trying to judge based on his garments stares with dark eyes back at her–it feels like he is looking her over as if she were a piece of meat–causing Tallulah to break eye contact shortly after that.

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Finally passing through the large parlor, they make their way to what is a residential wing. Most–if not almost all–of the doors are closed. They each have obvious security system points on each door, and Tallulah supposes there's more security hidden from view. Micah finally slows to a stop next to an open door, directly next to a small parlor with its own wet bar, lounge area, and television. No one is inside that parlor, but the large suite room they stopped at seems to have a couple of people inside. Tallulah starts to head inside the room, but Micah stops her.

"One moment, Miss Tallulah. We need to scan your print and eye into the security system so you can be given the access you're supposed to have."

"Alright, sure. If that's what we need to do, let's go ahead and do it."

Micah waves over one of the people from inside the room to where he and Tallulah are waiting outside. Micah doesn't have to explain much and steps back when the young man moves forward next to Tallulah. He's still alive, evidenced by how much he fidgets, and Tallulah supposes it makes sense. Why would vampires be bothered to do the grunt work when they have an army of people wanting to earn vampirism who will do it for them? The man walks Tallulah through scanning her hand print and then a retinal scan, using his computer gadgets–she doesn't know what they are and doesn't bother inquiring. It only takes about five minutes to get it all squared away, if that, and to test, he has Tallulah scan her handprint on a small panel on the hallway wall. They all hear the door make a noise like it would be unlocked, and so the man announces that it works, gathers his things, and leaves without fanfare as though he has other just as essential appointments to get to.

"Okay then. That was easy."

"Yes, we have highly skilled individuals on hand to maintain our security here. They're paid well, but most aren't doing it for a paycheck. Let's go ahead and get you settled inside."

With that, Micah gestures her inside of the suite. It's larger than her entire home in the village back in the Wilds, with sweeping stone, wood, and steel designs. There's even a tiny jacuzzi tub nestled into a corner next to–Tallulah denotes with some amusement–an electric fireplace. There are plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows, and Tallulah isn't foolish to think they aren't just as secure as the rest of the home. Indeed, she doesn't see any latches to open or close them from the inside. To his credit, Micah allows Tallulah to drift through the room uninterrupted while ignoring the other two people standing patiently inside to check out her new living space.

"This is pretty amazing. This isn't a bedroom; it's like a palace's suite."

"It was chosen for you. Are you pleased with the selection?"

"Hmm, yeah, this is–who in their right mind wouldn't be pleased with it?"

"In this world, to people of whom money is no object, overlooked minor details can ruin entire expansive projects."

Tallulah "hmms" at that, thinking it over, before she dips her head to Micah in understanding.

"The gentleman and the lady here are your tailor and stylist, respectively. I'll leave you in their capable hands for now. I'll be back for you in a couple of hours unless you'd like to be accompanied by someone else?"

"Er, no, you're fine?"

For some reason, Micah's phrasing seemed a little like a trap, so Tallulah just tried to give the most obvious response. Micah purses his lips a fraction, making Tallulah think she might have made the wrong choice, but nothing comes of it. He excuses himself and makes his way out into the hall and away. Tallulah reaches up with her hands and rubs them momentarily on each side of her mouth and chin, then exhales outwardly and a little noisily. Finally, she turns to look at the two left inside.

"Hello. So, what's the plan?"

Big smiles greet her–fake or not is hard to tell–and a whirlwind of fabrics, colors, measurements, and off-the-cuff jokes about her bosom fill the air for the next hour. Tallulah feels like a visitor to her body, being turned this way and that, probed and prodded, arms turned and legs readjusted. At the same time, they measure, make notes, and ask her about four hundred times which of this or that color or texture she prefers–even if they look or feel identical to her senses.

The two are nice enough, though she's not foolish enough to think they're not just putting on a front so that Tallulah doesn't think of them as anything but perfect members of the household. By the time they, not Tallulah, settle on her attire for this evening–an emerald green affair with gold trimming that the stylist insists on–Tallulah is rightfully knackered. The tailor has a list of planned clothing for Tallulah now and says it will take a few days to get through. He adds that he'll be back in half an hour with her gown for the night, and the stylist says she'll have makeup at the same time.

The pair leaves, closing the door to the room with an audible hiss, and Tallulah immediately goes over to flop down on one of the sitting areas' sofas with an oomph of air rushing out of her lungs. Closing her eyes for a few minutes, she leans back and rests, trying to figure out how–or why–she decided to agree to this madness. Mulling it over in her mind, she comes to the same answer each time: she found Kofi charming, disarming, and inviting. Ultimately, no matter what face she presented to her people, in her heart, she wanted something new, something different from her life in the Wilds.

Tallulah mulls over that realization of herself for a time. Is it selfish to want for herself after a lifetime of being a good member of their Wilder village? If she wanted something more, why didn't she join another tribe of fey? Is it just because this is such an unheard-of event–with an unexpected turn of dealing with vampires–that she's making such a dramatic change in her life? Is she greedy or finally deciding to do something for herself?

So many questions spin through her mind that she tries to force them to stop. If she had some smoking leaf, she could easily calm her mind and relax, but they don't have any that came with them through the seam, and she's fairly certain vampires wouldn't have access to something like that grown in the Wilds. She knows they have things here in the human world, but it's not the same as what's cultivated in the Wilds. She sighs, realizing that might be one of the few things she will miss unless she can figure out how to access it through a fey trader or something.

Tallulah opens her eyes and looks upwards at the ceiling. She suddenly laughs, openly and loudly, seeing the mural that's been added overhead. It's a very large recreation–done well–of Theodor von Holst's The Fairy Lovers according to a little placard. Clearly, that's been added in the last few nights for her benefit, as maybe some weird version of vampire humor again. She laughs again at the absurdity of it all. She went from living simply and being happy to being pulled to an unfamiliar and somewhat hostile land, getting punched in the jaw, watching associates get slain, wooed by a vampire, and now sitting in some almost-palatial suite waiting on some tailor and stylist to come and gussy her up for something later tonight. It truly is preposterous when she thinks about it in that way.

She will completely understand when the inevitable dark looks start to come from her people still resting outside in the stables-turned-residence. Tallulah sighs, suddenly feeling a bit deflated. How is she going to explain this to them? Some might understand that she's doing it so they can be returned safely to their village and homes, but others will accuse her of losing her way or being manipulated against her good sense.

Maybe it doesn't matter what they think at all, Tallulah muses. It's not like they stepped forward when those vampires advanced with guns and fangs. It's not like they got cold-clocked for trying to stop violence. What were they doing? Crying? Hiding? So what if a few of them think she's doing all this now for herself? Maybe part of her is, and Tallulah realizes with some growing degree of acceptance that perhaps she's fine with it. She earned her right to change, and she's put in her time and life.

Tallulah is fine with trying something new.