Fortuna.

The monthly masquerade of Earl Kirkum was always amongst one of the most awaited events among the higher nobility in Venice.

But never had it been more popular than after the rumors of Lady Fortuna's scandal with marquis Nimportequi, whom she had recently been in an affair with.

The man in question had apparently crushed the lady's heart by walking out on her after an extremely long and intimate relationship by choosing to return to his homeland France after proposing to her many times.

All of Venice's creme de la creme were eager to see how badly hurt the young lady was. It was the inevitable part of human in them showing: seeing the ones they envied bloody, broken and bruised, because Chiara Fortuna possessed many treats the aristocracy lacked.

The self-proclaimed aristocrat had an air of unnatural grace around her, she was always best informed of the doings on the streets of Venice and the soul of every party she was invited to. Her beauty attracted a lot of men of all ages and the dislike of women.

She was probably the most loved and most hated person at the same time.

So on the night of the ball,  Lady Fortuna was not hard to find at all, for a flock of suitors appeared right at her side when she stepped into the ballroom.

In time, the flock grew in numbers, but the content of it changed occasionally, for some of those men had brought their own ladies whom to tend to from time to time. Those who had attended the ball alone, were constantly around her, hoping she would take interest in them.

One of the suitors was lucky: the light blonde lady allowed him half of her dances, kept him always in her conversations with other nobilities and seemed to take an interest in him.

It was well past after midnight when Lady Fortuna asked him to accompany her to see the Earl's many riches.

The rooms of the Earl's house were filled with paintings, furniture of previous eras and various antiques, making it quite the display during day time.

At night time however, most of the riches were hidden in the shadows, very few of all the curious objects showing occasionally in the moon light.

Lady Fortuna lead the young man into one of the biggest rooms, which had only been furnished with a piano and a few vases filled with plants. The suitor, who had been silent until now, started declaring his undying love for her.

He continued on like that for about five minutes, without noticing that the young woman grew more and more irritated with every passing word.

"Ah, I can not even begin to describe your beauty, my fair lady! Your hair shines in the moonlight so brightly, its silver hue making it seem snow-white! And your eyes..." His eyes widened as the words on his lips died down as he realized his mistake.

It was not the moon light colouring her hair white. Her hair was white and her eyes glowed with a crimson red.

The young woman smiled at him and with a quick snap of the neck, he collapsed dead on the floor, his head twisting at an odd angle.

Lady Fortuna turned around and started looking for two glasses she had hidden in the room earlier, when the  gentle rustle of clothing sounded. She smiled, but didn't turn to look.

"You're early, Scip." She stated, pulling out two glass goblets. Chiara knew the figure behind her must have scowled, but it wouldn't show under the big dark hood he was wearing.

"Don't call me that." The voice was ice cold, but Chiara simply stuck out her tongue while handing him one of the goblets. "Would you prefer Scipio then?" She asked and she was sure the scowl had deepened, but once again, the hood was hiding everything.

"How about calling me by my name for once?" He sounded irritated and Chiara's face expressed confusion.

"But it doesn't suit you at all!" She exclaimed. He let out what seemed like a sigh and started massaging his temples. Chiara watched the long pale fingers disappear under the thick cloth with amusement.

After calming himself down, he finally took the goblet the young girl had offered her.

"Let's just get this over with." Chiara threw him a look that expressed mock sadness for his obvious dislike directed towards her. But then again, he had all reason to, she mused.

How could Death possibly like an immortal like her?

Meanwhile, the cloaked figure was busy with the body. He crouched down next to it and extended one hand hand. He stuffed his hand down the throat of the once so lively young man and when he pulled it out, a small, golden egg rested on his palm.

Death stood up once again and Chiara examined the egg. At her nod of approval, Death cracked the egg with the edge of the goblet. Splitting it in half, he handed one part to Chiara and unceremoniously dumped his half into the goblet.

Something white and something black twisted into the bottom of the glass. It was neither liquid nor gas: it was a state of liquid smoke, the black and the white trying to mingle, yet keeping away from each other as to not get mixed.

"Hmm, 65 to 35 for white. You rarely get people as pure as this these days." She commented before taking a sip of her 'drink'. A smile of glee spread on her face, showing how much she enjoyed it.

"You should stop hunting for pure ones. If you hunt anymore than that, then they're going to become extinct." The scowl in his voice was evident as he raised the goblet into his hood as well.

Chiara didn't seem to be that much concerned with it.

 "Who cares? I mean, I'd rather gather them now, while there still are some than wait for humanity to chase them out of society." Death seemed irritated again, but chose to be silent.

They quietly finished their drinks, Death thinking of nothing at all, while Chiara pondered on the deal she had made with Death so many years ago.

She could barely remember it, the only thing she seemed to remember that it had happened on a full moon night such as this was.

After their ritual was finished, Death nodded to the immortal slightly, who only answered with a sly smile, before returning back to the mortals' realm, where a ball was still taking place.