rage valley

With a look on her face that might as well have been an homage to McKayla Maroney, Mildred studied one of the first actual letters she had received in quite some time. The envelope was of standard size, but whatever paper was inside was causing it to feel fat and thick. There were more than a couple stamps on there, as well as processing ink from the various post offices it must have passed through. Really, she had a computer. She knew R. had to have some sort of access to the internet. Why he would go to all this trouble every time he wanted to contact her was beyond her. He was just stubborn, really, and he felt that technology, though it was a big part of his success, was mostly frivolous. Sighing, she pulled it open, making a point to tear his name and business address as she tore the envelope apart.

The beginning was the usual. It gave her a short run down of how he had felt recently or whatever politician he was hanging out with, as well as well-wishes to Ordo Dracul that she was supposed to pass on but never did. She knew he kept in better contact with them than he did with her anyway. It was a frivolous gesture mostly meant to put her in the company of sophisticated, older vampires that she very much did not care very much for. Sure, she held a certain nostalgic fondness for their stuffyness, but she wanted them as far from her day-to-day as possible while still being loyal to them. She paid her dues, but no more than what she was required.

It was the body of the letter she was interested in. Something about becoming a true Woman of the World... Was he going senile? It was stupid, but she supposed it worked out for her in the end. What it boiled down to was her "allowance" increasing, to put it in terms that he would have despised. Still, this was overly generous of him... Her expression darkened. No doubt he had some young little flower of a vampire on his arm, or worse, a Sleeper. He was always into naivete, after all. He dug the whole 'eternal virgin' deal, but it only ever lasted for so long. She felt old and discarded, like a dusty lighter or gas station tampon.

Her mood significantly darker than when she had originally gotten home, she dropped the letter onto her desk and plopped onto the comfy armchair she had squeezed into the apartment. Who would have thought news of a bigger allowance would piss her off so much? She already had plans to overspend, just to irk him, or perhaps not to spend at all. Then again, he'd think that she'd found someone else to take care of her, or even worse, found some sort of independence. She snorted, extremely unladlylike in the quiet of her apartment. That would get him over hear in a heartbeat. He hated that.

"Ugh." In other news, she had plenty of money to spend now.