Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Luskonios

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Alara

5 years ago...

Baron's lungs burned with the heat of his exertion as he barreled through the city, and his tongue lolled from his panting jaws as he closed in on the sound of gunfire in the distance.

He had picked up Jason's scent a few blocks ago, and the sound of gunshots had spurred him on even as shouts of surprise followed in his wake. Werewolves where a normal enough part of the city, but most of them kept to Vargeras, and having one come tearing through Luskonios was something that they didn't see every day.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins but his heart sank as the gunfire fell silent, but he pushed on towards where he had last heard the shots. His sprint slowed to a lope when he cut down a side street as he caught sight of a staggering figure moved towards him, and as he drew closer Baron's steps fell to a walk and his lips curled into a low growl as the stench of blood filled his nostrils.

Baron's fur rippled and receded as he shed his wolfish form, and a few minutes later a man was crouched in the street.

He stood and closed the distance between him and Jason, and as the boy faltered and caught himself against a dumpster, leaving a long spear of crimson behind as he sank to the pavement to lean back against it.

He knelt a moment, and his eyes roamed the gunshot wounds that seeped crimson rivulets of blood and his expression was pained as he closed his eyes a moment to maintain his hardened demeanor. When he opened them again, there was regret within his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Jason gaped through bloodied lips, as his chest rose and fell with each gasp of breath.

"It's alright, it's not your fault," Baron told him.

"The Ardelean..."

Baron gripped one of Jason's bloodied hands in his own while holding the back of the lad's neck with his other hand. "Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be alright," he said as he rested his forehead against Jason's.

The boy's breathing was wet and labored, and Baron knew well the folly of taking him to a hospital at this point. Even if he pulled through this, it wouldn't cure the insanity that would slowly grip him until there was nothing left of his humanity.

"Just get some rest. Everything will be fine," Baron reassured him.

It didn't take long for the boy to draw his final breath. As the life passed from Jason's eyes, and his chest fell a still, Baron felt his disgust rising within him.

"The Ardelean are butchers," he growled. "You didn't choose this."

A few more moments passed before he hoisted the boy up over his shoulders and stood back up with a grunt. The kid hadn't had any family when Baron had first found him, and he was intent on taking him back to the only family he had known these past few months. The sounds of the sirens grew in the distance, but Baron was long gone before anyone happened upon the location.
 
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as written by Tiko

A few minutes later Desmond pulled up alongside her and reached over to pop the passenger side door open for her. He turned the radio down which had been blaring on an old classic rock channel.

"'ey, you're lookin' better," he told her. "Though I don't know why you didn't just let me pick you up at your office. Everythin' okay?"

He seemed in a pleasant enough mood and he had one arm propped up in the open window with a half-finished cigarette in hand.
 
as written by Knosis

She smiled slightly as she heard Desmond's voice and turned around. She had more sleep and seemed better relaxed than she had when she last saw him. But her face was still thinner than it should have been, and her skin was still pale. Still, she seemed in slightly better spirits.

"I'll explain on the way.." She said quietly. She walked over to the other side of the truck, looking around once more before hopping in on the passenger side.
 
as written by Tiko and Knosis

"Sounds good. But first, what do you wan't to do today?" he asked.

It likely wasn't the question she had expected to hear. While he waited for an answer he put the car into gear and it rolled forward bumpily as he pulled back out onto the road. The shock absorbers on the rust bucket of a vehicle seemed nearly non-existent.

____

It honestly took her by surprise. "I.." She blinked. "I'm not sure. I want to learn I suppose.." She said sheepishly. She buckled up and slumped in the seat.

____

"Well, far as I can tell, what you need most is a friend. So let's just 'ang out today, and get to know each other a bit first, aye? There'll be time for everythin' else later."

He threw a sidelong glance that was mildly amused that his simple inquiry into what she wanted to do had left her dumbstruck. For them to make any real headway though, he needed her to trust him. And that would take time.

"You don't get out much, do you?" he asked. "Recreationally speakin'."

Far as he could tell she was world wise enough, and well traveled. But she seemed guarded too.

____

Chloe gave him a strange look. "Sure." She said.

His next question, though, she seemed a bit ashamed to answer. "No.. Don't get out often at all... In fact, I don't think I have gotten out at all. The day I attacked you.. I wanted to head to the bar I had heard about.. Baron's bar, come to find out..." She smiled sheepishly.

"Otherwise.. I don't trust myself to go out often.."

____

"Why don't we head over that way?" he suggested. "I can't think of a safer place in the city for you, an' you can get to know some of me pack mates."

He glanced over at her, assessing her physical reaction to the recommendation as much as her verbal.

____

She winced slightly. "You think your pack mates would allow me in there..?" She asked, though the hint of hope in her voice. She truly needed a drink. "You know.. I'm not on the best of terms with them... I don't want to step on toes... And I don't want make them dislike me more.." She frowned.

"You know what.. Let's go for a drink."

____

"There, that's the spirit," Desmond answered. "An' don't worry about me pack mates none. They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're not so bad once you get to know them," he reassured her as he drove them to The Den.
 
as written by Tiko, Knosis, and barney_fife

Desmond had had more than a few drinks in him before they had departed the Den, but his fast metabolism meant that he wasn't a complete menace on the road, and he drove them back without any incident, and he seemed somewhat sober by the time they arrived. He hadn't said anything for the whole drive, but when he pulled up alongside the shoulder of the road a block away from the building, he put the car into park. He sat a time before he finally spoke.

"I think you should see Cornell this week," he told her finally. "Might be he can get a better idea of what's goin' on with you physically."

Chloe had remained just as silent as Desmond on the way home. The lack of response in her right hand had sobered her, and she worked at her hand until she could move her fingers and the joints in her hand properly again. Afterwards, she just sat there with it clenched in her lap until Desmond spoke.

"I'll be fine, Desmond.." She muttered, her tone sounding as though she had told this to someone before a few times already.

"Chloe, whatever is goin' on with you doesn't just affect you. It affects everyone around you. Or 'ave you forgotten," Desmond chastized playfully. "Denial an' ignorin' problems won't keep anyone safe. Now I'm supposed to be 'el"It might not be, an' it might not even be related," Desmond seconded. "But you should still go just in case. 'tis probably nothin', but on the chance it's not... better if we know now that there's a link, rather than movin' forward blindly, aye? I can go with you if you want."

She turned to look sideways at Desmond, her eyes bright as if catching a light at a weird angle. "We can go if you'd like.. But I have a pretty good guess at what's going on.."

She grew very quiet and looked away. "Either way, if I'm correct.." She never finished her sentence. Her voice had gone flat, emotionless. It was almost as if she was at peace with what she had concluded. "Tonight was fun though." She changed the subject. "Just sorry it ended so abruptly." She turned back, a sheepish grin on her lips. "I still think I would have won."

"Go on then. You 'ave me number," Desmond told her. "Just give me a call when you want to go. Ah, an' 'tis a full moon this weekend. I told Baron I didn't think you where ready for a run yet, but 'tis up to you. Either way, you should swin' by The Den Saturday night."

pin' you, an' I can't do that unless you want to 'elp yourself. An' you can't 'elp yourself unless you know what's goin' on so you you can make informed decisions, and I can't 'elp you unless you tell me what's goin' on. You follow?"

Chloe's jaw clenched slightly. He was right none the less, but she didn't want to admit to it. Her right hand started to tingle slightly and she released the death grip to let the blood flow through her fingers again.

"This isn't the first time this has happened.." She admitted. "But this hasn't happened in years.. Its just recently started up again.." She sighed. "I was going to tell you about it before Snow came along.. Figured it wasn't important enough to bring up afterward.." She murmured.

As the car had been making it's way through the city, with the orange glow of the sunset casting long shadows over the streets. Everything seemed to be quite picturesque for their little drive. That was until menacing clouds began to gather above them, even as they stopped. The angry clouds arced with colorful light, like rainbow lightning as the clouds swirled around above them.

There was a thunderclap, and the occasional flash of light as the clouds continued to gather, and swirl with intensity directly above them.

The clouds continued to swirl, lowering ever so slightly as they arced with violent and brilliant bolts of rainbow colored lightning, until finally, a vortex encapsulating a massive bolt of multicolored light descended in front of them, culminating into a deafening thunderclap and a brilliant multicolored flash.

And in an instant, everything dissipated, leaving only a single familiar figure in a cleanly pressed Imperial Military uniform standing in the middle of the road, staring directly at Desmond, his hand resting on a Disruptor RCW Slung across his chest. The man had a determined look, like he wanted to settle a score.

Desmond frowned. "Stay in 'ere," he told Chloe as he pulled open the door to his car and stepped out. He closed the door behind him and started to walk towards Raphael.

Chloe narrowed her brows at the sight of the man. The hairs on her neck rose and unbidden a throaty growl rang softly in the car. At Desmond's command, she snorted. "Like hell I will.." She muttered. Suddenly, she was glad she had made the split decision to carry her weapon with her on the way out this afternoon.

She slid out of the car, but stayed beside it. She figured if she needed to take aim and fire, it was best from back here.

"It seems my friend; we meet again." Raphael said, briefly bringing his eyes to Chloe, and then he grinned as he brought the point of the rifle to bear at Desmond, and the car.

"I promise it'll work this time though... Oh and I have your friend." He said, chuckling, and taking a step forward. "Don't worry, she's safe... for now." He said, taking another step forward.

"But you and I... we have a score to settle." He said, racking the weapon, this time the whine was present, a high pitched whine culminating to silence as the weapon was armed.

"Sorry, friend. I don't understan' a word you're sayin'," Desmond said in the local tongue as he stopped a few paces from Raphael with his hands held up in a non-threatening display.

He seemed calm and nonchalant about the whole matter, but he didn't need to understand the common tongue to know that Raphael intended to use the gun in hand.

He moved swiftly to grapple the gun before Raphael might realize Desmond was planning to make a move for it.

Everything seemed to happen in scant seconds. Desmond lunged towards Raphael to grapple for the gun, while Raphael's precognition granted him a split second more to react.

Desmond moved in and Raphael fired the weapon, a short burst that caused the weapon to discharge as Desmond grabbed the rifle, sending several brilliant bolts of green light outwards.

One struck a traffic light, liquefying the metal in a shower of sparks, the second bolt screamed out towards the car, impacting the hood and causing a brilliant flash and plume of smoke, the hood itself had melted in a circular fashion, and the engine block began to smoke, the third bolt careened out and impacted a wall, sending stone, sparks, and molten material out.

Raphael fell backwards, now shifting his grip to accommodate for Desmond, the two of them would go to the ground rolling backwards, while Raphael tried to free his weapon.

"You're going to die today!" He shouted, this time in the local language.

As soon as the gun was racked, Chloe reached underneath her jacket slowly and unbuttoned the holster of her weapon. This was not good. Not good at all.

It wasn't until Desmond lunged for Raphael that she actually pulled her weapon, aiming it down at the ground as she couldn't aim a proper shot at Raphael without risk hitting Desmond. She yelped as soon as the weapon fired and hit the car beside her.

"That.. Is not good.." She grumbled, ducking and trying to take cover behind another vehicle before the weapon was fired again. Surprisingly, she was oddly calm about the encounter so far. Her only fear was that Desmond would actually get hurt or worse.

Chloe wasn't the only one with that fear as Desmond wrestled with Raphael for control of the gun.

He hadn't truly understood the depth of the situation in the Den the night prior, not until Raphael already had the gun to his head, but he had no illusions about the fact that he was fighting for his life in this moment.

It added a strength to his grip and a there was something feral edging into his eyes.

Fortunately close as they where, the rifle had been rendered all but an ineffective weapon as anything more than a blunt object. It was for that reason that he dared not move back to give Chloe a clear shot. Instead he bore down on the rifle, putting his weight behind trying to press the length of it down upon Raphael's throat.

The struggle continued, several more shots firing off as Desmond and Raphael struggled over the Disruptor rifle. The man was already formulating his next strategy, both of Desmonds hands were on the rifle, thus pre-occupied. Raphael acted quickly, feigning his arms giving out and letting Desmond press the full weight of himself and the rifle onto Raphael's neck.

It was one swift movement as Raphael's now freed hands moved towards the sheathed Ka-bar down towards his thigh, swiftly reaching down to pull it, he brought it out and down towards Desmond's back, near the Kidney area, aiming to drive the blade deep into the man's flesh. It was a swift movement, to hopefully dispatch Desmond quickly so he could address the woman with the gun and escape; however in the ensuing struggle, the small Key-fob shaped Bifrost node had fallen from Raphael's pocket, and the distant rumble of thunder and the gathering of clouds once more signalled that perhaps the remote had been triggered.

As Raphael reached for the knife, Desmond shoved forward in a roll but not before the blade cut deep. Rather than sinking in fully though, the knife raked down the length of Desmond's back in a long, deep gash. The blinding stab of pain staggered him as he rolled free, and he stumbled to one knee and caught himself on a news stand as he tried to regain his footing. He grit his teeth into a grimace of a growl against the pain, and there was a rapidly blossoming crimson stain seeping into the torn shirt where the knife had struck.

Before he could try and turn the rifle on Raphael though, the bifrost opened up atop the pair.

Now that Desmond was off of the top of Raphael, he was able to quickly get back to his feet, even as the rumbling sounds of thunder grew louder and more violent with every passing moment. As Desmond propped himself against the newsstand, Raphael reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, but it wasn't quick enough.

The swirling clouds culminated into a violent vortex that engulfed the pair, sucking them upwards into the sky in a column of multicolored light and violent wind currents.

No matter how much Desmond would resist, it would be futile as the ground gave way to stars, which violently whizzed past the pair. Raphael was not far behind, pulled like a ragdoll in the Bifrost's violent eddies

“Fuck this.” She growled, her eyes glowing with primal light. She didn’t know this Raphael or what Desmond did to upset him so. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let him take the first friend she’s had in a very long time without a fight. She wasted no time to think about what was ahead, dashing towards the vortex and diving into the mercy of whatever this thing was and where it would be taking her.
 
as written by Ronin and Patcharoo

Night time in Lutetia, chilly and still. Small flurries of snow trailed the air and painted the sidewalk with frost.

He walked beneath the wane-green light of overhanging gas lamps, collar popped, head low, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his overcoat. His hair was black and wavy, locks curling over his forehead and disappearing into the shadow of his face. Not much could be said about him. Not much could be seen. He was dark - from his head to his leather boots, his color was black. His mannerisms lingered in a decided limbo of personality that couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be pronounced or not - every step bold but not proud, his posture confident but not dignified. He was a strange man to look at from a distance, until one remembered that he was, ultimately, forgettable. Utterly forgettable.

His boots clicked to a slow halt outside a courtyard of ice and stone. 'LUSKONIOS CEMETERY' the sign overhead said. His chin lifted to regard it before setting itself straight into the graveyard, eyes misting into the cold darkness. Yes. Here, perhaps, he would find what he was looking for.

He passed under the sign and entered, not for the first time, the realm of the dead.

____

The realm of the dead was tended to by a boy in his late-teen years, known by very few as Sunny, short for Sunshine. He was a lopsided boy thanks to his right clubfoot which forced him to hobble about with a shovel as his crutch, which was convenient since he used it to dig the graves.

Yes Sunshine was a gravedigger by trade. He enjoyed the peace of the graveyard, the solitary nature of the work and how he could be free to hide from society in his little shack. It left him with a sheltered and idyllic view of the world. But one other benefit of living and working in a graveyard was the company.

Sunny had the gift of necromancy and that meant he could talk to those who hadn't passed on. It was a gift he kept in secret mostly due to the nature of the city. It wasn't difficult to keep secret, mostly because no one paid mind to gravedigger who acted odd.

At the time he was talking to a lost spirit, giving directions to their own grave. This particular one just hadn't realized it was dead yet, and Sunny was just helping out. He stretched out a hand to direct it away. A normal person would have just seen him pointing ominously to the grave of a recently deceased, however those attuned to the dead might realize something more going on.

____

He watched the gravedigger direct the confused spirit to its proper resting place.

"That was a very kind thing you did," the man stepped forward into the light.

He looked about mid-thirties, handsome but tired, dark circles rimming his eyes and a light scruff foresting his jaw. Long black hair waved over his eyes before he swept it back over his head. His eyes were gray - a very light shade of grey, so that the pupil and sclera almost seemed to blend together. His features, all in all, looked sharp and cold.

His smile, however was honest and warm.

"You are the caretaker of this garden?"

____

Sunny turned on the spot, pushing off the shovel to pivot with a startled expression crossing his face, then a smile. "Didn' do anythin'," he answered in a harmless friendly tone that lacked the sarcasm or cheek of someone his age. It was a good answer, both dismissive at the notion anything had happened and humble at his own actions. "But that's me. I'm Sunshine the gravedigger. What can I do for you? Lookin' for someone famous or a past relative? If yuh family's lived here for a long time I can maybe find your grandpa and his grandpa."

The was a small stir of pride in his voice at the chance to show off his knowledge.

____

"Sunshine," the man smiled, "how ... curious." He extended his own hand, garbed in black fingerless gloves. "Call me Corso, Sunshine. Whether you're modest or just particularly clever, I wish you to feel comfortable around me in exercising your abilities. Your powers are a gift - one I share proudly." He held up his left hand and hiked up his glove, revealing a black symbol etched below his knuckles.

"You've probably never seen this sign before," Corso admitted to himself, "once, a thousand years ago, it meant something important." His hand dropped. "But yes. Perhaps you can help me, Sunshine. I'm looking for the grave of an old friend." He reached into his jacket and procured a small note. "More of a tomb, actually. Used to be a very nice flower in this garden ... if the Ravens haven't torn it down yet." He handed the note to Sunshine. 'GAROUK CERTORIX'.

"Can you help me find him?"

____

Sunny leaned forward, tucking the shovel under his armpit so he could lean over and shake the mans hand. It was only polite, after all. "Uh, nope, don't know it sorry," he answered, eyeing up the symbol curiously, then he reached to take the note. His eyes scanned slowly across it for a moment until his eyes recognized the symbols. Well, words. But he didn't exactly have an education.

"Ah, yeh, I think I know the one," he said, turning about. He held the paper in his good hand so he could hobble about on the shovel, which chuffed along the ground with each step. "Tombs up the back with all the others. How'd your friend die?" he asked with a harmless smile. He carefully chose not to mention his gifts at this time. Best to just ignore it and hope the guy forgot.

____

"Define 'die'," Corso answered, falling into step alongside Sunny. His pace slowed to match the gravedigger's hobble. "If you mean, 'how did his heart stop beating and his brain ceased to have command over the functioning of his body', I would tell you that it was on the 4rth of Maris, Year of Felling, when Monastic paladins shot him four times in the chest and ran a blade through his throat." He looked over his shoulder as they passed a particularly noisy grave, grumbling something terrible against the mistress who presumably was the cause of his predicament. Sunny might have known that the Year of Felling was roughly 800 years ago.

"Now," Corso continued, "if you mean, 'how did the energy of his consciousness dissipate from his body altogether and find rest in the Black Beyond the Stars..." He smiled. "...I would tell you, I don't know. I'm hoping it hasn't. That's why I'm here today ... to see if there's anything left of my friend worth salvaging."
 
as written by Sentry

"And the same to you. I hope you'll report to the office about anything you might find... if there is anything to find," said Jeanne in farewell, making it to her car in a hurry.

The bodies- not only that, the area- was rife with magic. Overflowing. It was a green and nefarious energy that fluidly drained down the street, like a stream, and disappeared... over a corner.

There was a trail. Not scent, not something physical, but it was there.
 
as written by Patcharoo and Ronin

Sunny let out a low impressed whistle as they continued down the dirt path to the back of the graveyard, occasionally cobbled from years before. The crypts slowly passed them by, the newest proudly sporting the names of who was buried within in finely chiseled stone or marble, but the older looking well weathered and damaged. The teenager would stop every now and again, looking at the paper then looking at a tomb before moving on.

"Yeah mighty messy business tha'," he said, "Paladin's ain't the sort to get involved with. They jus' don't get along with the folks around here. Bu' y'mean heaven, right? Tha black beyond stars? Ah there it is." His hand rose up to point for the crypt just a dozen steps away with a few letters worn down to the point they almost couldn't be read. Sunny looked down at the paper one last time to confirm, then offered it back to Corso.

____

"'Heaven'," Corso smiled, "that's a cute name for it."

He walked ahead as Sunny returned the note, comparing the scribbles to the faded characters etched into the cracked stone. It was a rectangular entrance, large, though not quite as impressive or ostentatious as some of the other surrounding crypts. The intricate carvings in the monument suggested that it was once a thing of great beauty. But time had taken its toll, and the once immaculate artwork and curious-looking runes that scrawled the stone had been edged and smoothed into dull, formless shapes. Even the stone itself was on the brink of collapse, cracked in a hundred different places and crumbling in the rest. It strained to support even the boughs of snow that blanketed its top.

Corso seemed delighted. "Perfect. Well done, Sunshine." He ran his hand over the massive wheel blocking the entrance. "Do me one more favor? Keep watch for a moment. I wouldn't like anyone else to see this next part."

Reaching into his coat, Corso retrieved a small blue vial of liquid. He uncorked it and downed the contents like a shot of whiskey, then closed his eyes and breathed slowly for half a minute. Opening them, he turned to the crypt and gently rolled the 1000 lb stone wheel away from the tomb's entrance.

The smell that gushed out of the crypt wasn't foul or rancid, but in some strange way, unbearably unpleasant. It was a warm, leathery scent - subtle but strong - an aroma that didn't smell bad but stung the nostrils and left a strange taste on the back of one's tongue.

Corso breathed deep of it. "Hm. That's a good sign." He turned to Sunny. "Would you like to come in with me, Sunshine?"

____

Such behaviour as opening up tombs wasn't exactly in the gravediggers guidebook for appropriate graveyard, nor was being able to heft a thousand pounds of stone. "Uh, 'scuse me," Sunshine said, leaning on his shovel a little heavily, "Yer not 'spose to open up graves once they've been closed. It's not nice to the dead. I dun like calling the militia, but I really don't like you opening tombs either," he said, though he pronounced it 'ee-ther' and not 'eye-ther'.

Of course, being clubfooted, Sunny couldn't outrun anyone and he didn't have a fighting bone in his body. Even if he did he was scrawny. He let out a small sigh and looked over his shoulder, then back to Carso. "I'm gonna take it in good faith that ya not a graverobber 'cause you dun look like one. So jus' do whatcha doin' and please put the tomb back like its meant ta be."

____

"Ah, forgive me," Corso stepped back towards Sunny, hand on his chest, "I thought I explained myself properly. I'm not robbing this grave. I'm here to talk to my friend." He gestured towards the opened crypt. "If he's not dead yet." He looked back to Sunshine. "As I said, you're welcome to join me. You might learn a thing or two ... " He smiled. "...and you would be able to keep an eye on me. I admire your principles and commitment to your profession, truly."

His eyes, formerly light gray, were now crystal blue - the same color as the potion he'd just consumed.

____

"I think he might be dead," Sunny said with an awkward smile, "'E's been in there a long time without food or water. We uh, we don't feed our residents." But truth of the matter was, he was awkward about going in and talking to the dead. Oh sure, he talked to them all the time, but there was trepidation in his movements. On the one hand it was a chance to see necromancy up close and personal, but on the other hand Sunny didn't exactly actively practice it, so it was kind of scary! He just thought of it as more of an innate gift.

Nevertheless, he hovered closer to the man, about as well as a teen using a shovel of a crutch could hover.

____

"It's as I told you, Sunny," Corso smiled, "'dead' is a loosely-defined term." He turned and walked slowly to the crypt.

"If you don't wish to follow, that's perfectly alright," he nodded, "but I certainly hope you do. You have a gift, Sunny. Maybe you don't quite know what it is exatly or how to use it yet." He stopped at the entrance and looked over his shoulder. "Maybe you just need the right teacher."

He turned back and walked down into the darkness of the tomb.

____

Sunshine would wait for Corso to wander into the darkness, staring after him for several moments. His mind swam with different questions and was plagued with doubt. He had heard talk of necromancers and the things they did, but he never fully understood, but was it such a far cry from talking to spirits to raising the dead. And even if he did have the gift, would he even be tempted to use it? Such a talent couldn't be used for good, right?

No this was nonsense. He had to turn around right now and go call the militia. They'd want to know about folks rifling through tombs. He turned and started chuffing away with his shovel-crutch, but didn't make it five steps before he stopped. Lining the path before him were tombs. Some had spirits he had talked to, others he had heard up all day and night wailing their agonies. He tried to do what he could, but with a bung foot and being still just a boy it just wasn't enough. A pang of guilt struck in his chest as he glanced back over his shoulder.

And with that, it was decided.

Sunshine turned back for the tomb and walked down the path of darkness.

____

Down the cracked stone steps into shadow, Sunny would follow Corso into complete darkness. A single wane light flickered in the black - a lone match held between Corso's fingers. It bobbed across the room to the sound of his fingers trailing the walls. Something wooden thumped against his hand. The flame darted forward. A torch took flame.

The room lit up, and Sunny would find himself standing in a pentagonal crypt. A large stone tomb stood in the center, engraved in a thousand faded runes and dusted with cobwebs. Taking up the torch, Corso offered it to Sunny. He was smiling.

"I am glad you followed," he nodded. "I would have been disappointed if you didn't." He moved towards the tomb, kneeling and running his hands along the carvings in the stone.

"You've talked to spirits, Sunny," Corso continued, still moving his hands along the stone. His eyes were focused, his brows furrowed. "But have you ever seen a revenir? An animated corpse?"

____

Sunny shielded his eyes from the sudden light so they could adjust before he claimed the torch. His eyes drifted around the room, taking in the sights. For all of his work, he'd never seen the inside of a tomb! He just dug peasant graves up the front or way out the back. "A what now?" he asked, shuffling on the spot, then he lowered the torch down to middle-height. "Wait, you're not gonna do no raising, are you?"

Nerves were staring to rise in his voice, a weak objection to what was going on. "I don't wanna be involved in no dead-raisin'. I'm jus' an honest gravedigger who wants to help dead people move on. Nonna that bad stuff that gets folks taken away in the night." He cleared his throat, looking off to the side and stated; "No, ain't never seen no dead people walkin' around."

____

"Calm yourself, child. I am raising revexi, not inmortuae. There is an enormous difference." His thumb pressed into one of the runes. A click escaped from beneath the lid of the tomb.

"Inmortuae, or as you may call them, zombies..." he continued, "...are mindless things, imbued with the will of the one who raised them. Puppets. Sacks of meat without consciousness." He put his hands on the lid of the tomb and began to push. "Revenants..." he grunted quietly, the stone sliding back. A cloud of dust fumed from the opened tomb. "...do have consciousness. Some, at least. It depends largely on the corpse' state of decomposition and brain damage prior to animation." The stone slid off the tomb to the ground. Corso rounded the opened grave, glancing up at Sunny and motioning him to bring the torch closer. "A corpse with a damaged hippocampus, for example, will have no memory of his past life. A marred pre-frontal cortex could mean he'll be unable to speak or think coherently." He reached into the dank tomb and removed a crumbling skull wrapped in tattered gauze. The man's head looked like it had been bashed in with a hammer. What had once been a brain was now merely pulpy dust.

Corso smiled. "How much do you think old Garouk can tell us in his current state, Sunny?"

____

"If'n its the same to you, mister, I'd rather call 'em what they are; dead." But despite his somewhat blunt response, he was curious. He shuffled over to the tomb and stared down into it at the corpse, then turned his head away from the wash of stench that rushed from the casket. "I think he's not gonna tell nobody nuthin'. You'd be better off hoping he's a ghost."

All of this was a lot to learn, but it sent the gears in his head working away. Revexi, immortuae. Funny words, but they sorta sounded like they made sense. But then a thought struck him. "Hold on, are you gonna fix his brain?" The statement made sense to him, but he realized there was a leap in logic he had to explain. "I mean... You want t' talk to his corpse, but you said he's no good without his brain. So is you gonna fix it?"

____

Corso looked at Sunny with surprise. Goodness. He was quick. Perhaps it was his poor grammar, but Corso hadn't expected the boy to figure out how necromancy worked so easily. He was smarter than he seemed.

"Very good, Sunny," he nodded, "that's what we'll do." He looked down at the fractured skull and winced. "Well. It's what we would do, if it were anything else but the brain. The brain is an extremely complicated organ - very difficult to repair." He held the head close, carefully examining the mouth. "Even if we could reconstruct Garouk's mind neuron by neuron, the new brain would lack the chemical properties that made up his personality and memories. He would be like a newborn child. No, when the brain is destroyed ... the person is destroyed as well. Most we could do is animate him as a zombie." He shook his head, turning the skull over in his hands. "Looks like the ravens got here first. Smashed his cranium in so I wouldn't be able to bring him back."

But Corso grinned. "Luckily. This is not Garouk." He fingered the teeth near his jawbone. "The skull and corpse is roughly the same size, but look here." He angled the skull towards Sunny and tapped on a tooth. "Garouk didn't have a left third molar. This skull does." He chuckled. "Clever bastard. Must have thought the church would have tried to desecrate his corpse. Had a decoy body of a similar build and wounds put in this tomb instead."

He placed the skull back in the tomb and hefted the stone slab over the opening. Huffing he scanned the walls. "Garouk's real corpse must be somewhere in the walls. A trick door, most likely." His eyes narrowed at a collection of runes near the corner. "Bring the torch over here, Sunny."

____

"Don't look like the work of ravens..." Sunshine mumbled to himself, glancing from the corpse to Corso. He hobbled a little closer, raising the torch up. "D'you really think his brain'll be any good anyways? I mean... If its been this long, won't his brain have rotted away?" All this talk of the church was starting to make him wholly uncomfortable. What if someone found out he was down here? He was meant to be up in the graveyard keeping an eye out for robbers. Not that he could particularly fend them off...

____

"Good question," Corso nodded, walking to the corner and running his fingers along the runes inscribed in the stone, "most of the time, there wouldn't be anything we could do. After about a week or so, an exposed corpse becomes so decayed that the brain is all but a pile of mush. Animare would only raise them as a zombie." His thumb clicked into a rune. His index found another. An entire panel of stone slid back from the wall, revealing a large, marble coffin.

Corso smiled. "Luckily, if a body is preserved properly..." He grabbed the coffin by the bottom and once again hefted what looked like an enormously heavy block of wood with relative ease. Corso placed the coffin down on the lid of the tomb and slowly opened it...

It was a much different image from the first corpse. Rather than a mangled, decomposed mess, this body was meticulously mummified and protected. Blocks of what looked like crystal glass encased its chest, neck and skull. Brass tubes drilled through the casing into the skull, connected to dusted box filled with a clear, blue liquid.

"This," Corso said, "is Garouk - preserved for nearly 800 years for this moment."

Removing a series of small black disks from his belt, Corso placed them over the blocks of glass. A low hissing erupted from the casings after a moment as they can began to melt. He turned to Sunny.

"So, pupil," a wry smile stretched over Corso's jaw, "let us assume the corpse's brain is completely intact. Assuming we are going to animate him for the purpose of asking him questions, what other parts of his body must we make sure are intact?"
 
as written by Patcharoo and Ronin

Sunny stared at the corpse in dull surprise. That looked like something more than a little bit special, but in a moment the casing was going. Then, suddenly a chuckle. "Well I'll be damned, the church sure did miss somethin' special," he said with a smile. He was just happy that he was getting to see a wonder like this. "Oh gosh no, I ain't nobodies pupil," he insisted, "That's somethin' for those fancy folk. I'm jus' watchin'."

But then again... The question was there and he was kind of curious. The cogs in his mind worked away as a fresh light of understanding grew in his eyes. "Well, I mean... Y'don't need the heart cause he's dead anyways. So you need all the talkin' parts. The lungs and stuff." 'And stuff' included all the parts Sunshine didn't know about, like vocal chords.

____

Corso smiled. "Very good. To be precise, we must ensure the condition of Garouk's lungs, mouth, larynx, epiglottus, esophagus..." His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing as he realized that the young gravedigger likely had no idea what he was saying. This wasn't some haughty necromantic apprentice with three-plus years of medical training under his belt - the boy probably just barely knew how to read.

In a way, Corso liked this better. He saw the wonder in Sunny's eyes - saw the genuine curiosity and intellect surfacing beneath his innocence and frailty. The road to education - especially an education as dark as necromancy - was potholed with traps of apathy and selfishness. Every student Corso had every taught had been jaded in one way or another, their minds already warped by greed and lust for power. But this boy? This humble, honest little gravedigger? Had he ever wished for power or wealth or glory? Had the dark learning of the world broken the fragile human light flickering in his soul as it had so many before him? No. Not yet. And perhaps, Corso believed, perhaps never. He just needed the right education...

"Here, come and look," he gestured to the corpse, "no need to hold your breath. Garouk has not rotted, there is no stench." The crystal had now melted and Corso peeled back layers of wrapping to reveal the cadaver's chest. Removing a small and sharp knife, Corso made several incisions around the pectorals and alongside the pillar of his neck, peeling back the skin in flaps and revealing the machinery beneath.

"Here is the larynx," he pointed with his knife, "it begins here, at the trachea, and ends up here, at the epiglottis. This houses the vocal chords - twin infolding membranes that open and close and vibrate to produce sound." He made a little motion with his hands, palms clasping together and folding in and out of one another. "They open like this when you're breathing. Abduction." The gap in his hands become triangular. "And they sit parallel, like this, when you're speaking or singing." His hands mimicked. "And when you hold your breath, they close."

Corso looked down at the larynx. "Luckily, it appears completely unharmed and totally preserved. The blade that ran him through the throat was a few inches shy of his esophagus. The lungs, however..." he winced as he opened the flaps at the corpse's pectoral. One rib was missing and a jagged tear ripped open the right organ. "Looks like the damage from the gunshot wounds was never completely healed. We'll need to repair it before we animate him." He reached down to his belt and begin fiddling with something.

"Do you have any questions so far, Sunny?"

____

Sunshine shuffled towards the corpse and leaned over as Corso worked, trying to get a good look with the torch held up over their heads to shine light down on the body. "Uh, yeah a couple," he said, glancing up at him, "Like, can y'repeat that?" It all mostly went over his head. He could understand things, even complex things, but he wasn't about to learn human anatomy. In fact, while watching the body open up, his cheeks had slowly drained of colour until he looked more pale than normal, and a little ill despite the lack of smell.

He shuffled a little away to lean against the nearest solid structure, but still offered out the torch to light the proceedings. "So do Revenants need all them parts to work? What about the heart?" He rubbed his now-free hand through his hair. "If... Well I mean its kinda like bringin' someone back, ain't it? Yu'v gotta get everything workin' or it'll die again."

____

"We don't need to," Corso explained. He took a small pouch from his belt and removed what looked like white putty. He began molding it. "Necromancy is the science of re-animation. It is imbuing dead things with life and sustaining them." He looked at Sunny. "That's important. It's two things, not one." He held up two fingers. "It sparks existence back into exhausted lumps of cells and tissues and then continually provides them with the energy and sustenance that their normal biological functions would usually give them." He reached into Garouk's chest and began working on something. At Sunny's distance he likely wouldn't be able to see what it was. "If I so desired, I could re-animate Garouk's brain at this very moment. Only his brain. There would be no bloodflow, no gas exchange ... yet it would be as alive as yours or mine. Of course, the moment I withdrew my power, it would die again." His brows furrowed. He whispered something under his breath. A brief light shone from the inside of Garouk's chest and the sound of sizzling flesh singed the air.

"Now, if I want to make a lasting revenant ... " Corso's finger was tracing something, "... you would be correct. I would need to fix everything. From the heart down to each tiny little capillary." He smiled, stepping back. "Of course, that would be an enormous project. But if I succeeded, all I would need to do is give the body that first little spark of life and it would begin functioning all on its own without anymore of my influence. It would be a new being."

He turned to face Sunny entirely. "Such things go by many names - Draugr. Nephilim. Gjenganger." His eyes suddenly became dark. "But they all have this in common, Sunny. They are forbidden to create. Listen carefully. The necromantic communities rarely agree on anything, but they agree on this - to create a new life, to imbue a functional body with that first new spark, is the worst kind of abomination imaginable."

He turned to Garouk. "Now, I think he's nearly ready, don't you?" He smiled. "Well, not quite yet. Let's show his handsome visage. to the world..." He unraveled the gauze above the chin, revealing a pale, bearded face with a flattened nose. "There we are. Let's begin the runecrafting." He took another knife from his belt and calmly pricked his finger. Stooping before the corpse, he began writing a series of intricate-looking runes on Garouk's unwrapped forehead in his blood, starting with the same rune that was tattooed on his hand.

"This is probably closer to the 'magic' part of necromancy," Corso nodded as he wrote, "the things priests and farmer's wives tell fairy tales about and murmur protective prayers against." He nearly chuckled. "But even this has a very intricate and careful science to it."

____

It was starting to reach an information overload for Sunny who could only stare in silence as Carso worked, letting out a nervous chuckle to alleviate the tension he felt was in the air, though maybe it was only from his end. He couldn't help it. There were things forbidden even amongst Necromancers? But they were the evillest folk around... "Why is it an abomination?" he asked cautiously. He would have thought renewing life was a miracle.

He watched on as the runes were marked around the fallen man in blood. It made him shuffle a little uncomfortably. Blood was a nasty sort of stuff that he didn't like to see much and watching it get smeared around didn't make him feel much better about it.

____

But Corso had stopped paying attention. His brows were low, his eyes half-lidded and unblinking. He was chanting beneath his breath, his finger scrawling blood across the dead man's forehead - rune after rune of dark litany finding purchase on eight hundred year-old skin. When he was finished, Garouk's entire face was smeared in sanguine.

Corso stepped back, breath quick and labored. He looked as if in a trance and did not speak or move for a long while, eyes glazed into the corpse of his friend with solemn weariness.

Then his lids flew up and he shook his head. His hands went up to his temples and he rubbed gingerly. "Gods. Sorry. Took longer than I would have liked." He leaned close and inspected his handywork. "Yes. That should do it. We're ready." He paused, looking over his shoulder at Sunny. "Well. I'm ready, at least. Are you, Sunny?"

____

There was definite hesitation from Sunny. No he wasn't ready to see what he assumed was a forbidden art performed on things he was meant to be keeping an eye on. He had even jumped when Corso looked at him. "You're gonna do it even if I'm not," he answered noncommittally. It was approval to go ahead without approval to go ahead. He steeled himself for what was about to unfold, shuffling as distant back he could without the torch being too far from seeing and clutch

____

And perhaps for the first time since they entered the tomb, Corso went still. His head turned slowly on his shoulders and he looked at the frightened boy with a cold and curious glare.

"Quite true, boy." He nodded with slow, somber thoughtfulness. "Quite true."

And then his eyes rolled back into his skull and the veins jutted black out of his skin.

There was a sound like stone cracking and a flesh squelching. A gust of wind shot out from the body that smelled like cooked leather and dried skin. The exposed chest of the corpse thrust into the air, skin crawling on its bones, a surge of sickly green shooting up lungs and into its throat ... before the body drew a deep, ragged breath.

"C-Co...Corsssooooo..." the revenant rasped in a gravelly, half-hollowed voice that sounded as if his vocal chords had been rubbed with sandpaper, "Coorss-s-soo you bastards..." The eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, his mouth gasping and moaning and wretching all at once. "If I had my h-hands I swear I w-would..."

"Calm, Salthe," Corso breathed. A layer of sweat mopped his forehead and he was paler than usual. The spell had taken some work. "You must forgive me. It took me a bit longer to find your grave than-"

"A bit?" the revenant growled-moaned, "a bit? I have w-waded in the colorless lines between voids for ... an ... eternity ... I am wr-wracked with agony and suffering and y-you-"

"Did all I could." His voice summoned an air of steely command. He looked into the corpse-man ublinkingly. "Your grave was not in Carseux, as you told me it would be, nor was it in Vludharrow. Lutetia is the last place I would looked ... so close to the enemy." He shook his head. "You're lucky I found you as soon as I did."

The revenant wheezed, his complaints silenced in his torn throat. His cracked eyeballs lolled in their sockets before resting on Sunny.

"Wh-who is he?"

Corso looked over his shoulder and nodded at the boy.
 
as written by Knosis and Alara

Chloe was quiet the entire walk, which was luckily, short. She led Desmond to a little hole in the wall joint named Roger’s, though no sign announced that it was there. It was one of those places you had to know it existed. Inside was quite homey with a few wooden tables and chairs, some of which were already occupied. The waitress, a rather short woman that barely topped 5’ and was as thin as a bean, walked up with a smile that seemed a little too eager to please. “Two.” Chloe said, holding up two fingers, and the waitress bobbed her head and picked up two menus, leading them to an empty table on the far end. Chloe sat with a sigh and opened the menu, still not looking up to Desmond. “Everything’s good here. So pick what you want. My treat.” She said quietly.

Desmond lay his own menu down on the table in front of him, while giving Chloe his attention instead.

"I would rather talk about what's on your mind," Desmond answered. "You can talk to me, you know."

“What’s on my mind is whether or not to have the biggest freakin’ burger they have or a salad.” Chloe murmured, attempting to use humor to avoid the topic. “What are you having?”

Desmond seemed amused at her response, but wasn't so easily diverted.

"I'm not blind, Chloe. You 'aven't been able to look straight at me since you saw me."

He was being pushier than normal, but he had the sense that if he let it go, she'd just as soon never talk to him about it.

He lowered his head to try and get a look at her eyes, despite her efforts to continue averting her gaze. There was nothing but concern in his own.

Chloe took in a long deep breath and let it out slowly, placing the menu down purposefully with a soft ‘tik’ sound. She finally looked up to Desmond.

“There seems to be something specific you’re after.. And I’m not sure what answer to give you.” She murmured. “But.. That’s with everything. I’m conflicted about everything now..” She looked down at a spot in the table. "And I can't make up my mind."

"Why not tell me about it?" Desmond offered. "You can trust me you know. An' sometimes puttin' words to our doubts can brin' clarity to them. 'alf the time we already 'ave the answer, an' just don't realize it yet."

“Because.. You’re part of the problem.” She stated. She nearly jumped when the tiny waitress returned with a notepad. “Whatcha wan’, ‘uney,” piped the little woman, looking to Desmond first. “Specials are all ‘ere.” She pointed out on the menu. “An’ must I say, Rog’s Devil Dogs are to die for since ‘ee changed the recipe for ‘is special sauce.”

Desmond seemed somewhat pensive and thoughtful at her response, and for the moment it was him who was grateful of the momentary interuption as the waitress returned.

"Surprise me," he told the waitress with a wink to make her blush as he passed his menu back.

The waitress did indeed blush, and smile a bit wider. She took his menu and tucked it under her arm, scribbling something down on her notepad. She then looked to Chloe. “An’ you, darlin’?” She asked, though the enthusiasm was a little less for her. “I think I’ll just take the special.” Chloe murmured. The waitress bobbed her head and rushed off with the orders, leaving the two alone once again.

"Tell you what," Desmond finally offered to Chloe, his mood seemingly a bit more his usual self. "We'll eat, and then let's get out of 'ere. Work can wait. Some fresh air 'ill do you good."

"Last time you said that," Chloe chimed in, "..we were kidnapped by a lunatic that blew up your car." She jested.

"'ey, at least we can't say that it was a borin' day, aye?" Desmond jested lightly.

"But sure." She smiled at his comment in response. "They've put me on a new assignment.. But I'm getting no where with it.."

"You can tell me about it on the way, maybe I can 'elp," he answered.

It was a little time later when the waitress returned with a plate of a burger and fries for Chloe and a glass of water, and a bigger plate with one of the biggest pieces of steak Chloe’d ever seen. “Rog’s made it up special for ya. Hope ya like it, ‘uney.” She winked at Desmond and nearly tossed Chloe her plate. Chloe frowned as the woman walked away. “Story of my life, right there..” She grumbled, tossing a fry into her mouth.

"Life is just the choices we make," he told her with a wink before sliding her plate towards himself, and replacing it with his own.

Chloe opened her mouth to complain, but decided there was no arguing with an Iverian.

She paid the check for the disgruntled waitress, who looked ready to cry as the two of them left. The look she gave Chloe would have killed her if looks could kill. Chloe made the mental note to check for spit the next time she decided to eat here.

She walked out with a sigh. “So where do you want to go?” She asked.

"Somewhere to clear your head," he answered as he waved a taxi down.
 
as written by Ronin

Corso turned away from Sunny after a moment. It was clear the boy was in no position to speak.

"He's a friend," he explained, "but let's not talk trivialities, my old friend. I have no wish to further your torment any longer than I already have." His brows furrowed. "The heart. Where is it?"

The corpse's eyeballs shifted nervously between Sunny and the Necromancer. His dead lips opened. "Lornaine... I buried it in the forest..."

Corso's eyes flashed. "Where."

"Under an oak... th-thirty paces from the stone we raised Horus on... I- A low, clotted wheezing sound escaped his throat. "...I marked the roots with crosses..."

"That's enough," Corso nodded, color flooding back into his cheeks. "I thank you, old friend. Again, forgive me for being so late." His fingers curled. "I'll waste no more time in sending you to your sleep."

"C-corso... wait." The corpse moaned, struggling for breath. His eyes crusted shut. When they opened, they were welled with a strange, agonized grief. "...E-...Emily..."

Corso's face hardened. "Garouk. Don't do this to yourself.

"Dammit Corso!" he seemed to gasp and scream at the same time. "Y-you owe me th-this. Now tell me! Tell me what happened to my wife!"

The necromancer was quiet for a long moment, brows furrowed as he contemplated Garouk's last request. The sound of the revenant's pitiful breathing filtrated the room. Every breath sounded like dying.

"It's been eight hundred years, Garouk," Corso replied slowly, finally. His voice held a slightly warmer tinge. "You had to know she was dead."

The corpse snarled. "Of c-course she's dead. But how?" He looked up at his friend, pleading mixing with frustration. "Was she... happy? After?"

"She found happiness, yes. She died old. In her sleep."

"Did she love again?"

Corso seemed to hesitate, but with one fierce glare from Garouk, he closed his eyes and relented. "Yes. She did. She married a nobleman from Lemeux."

Garouk fell silent. His cracked eyeballs glazed unmovingly into Corso's chest. When he inhaled to speak, the sound of it seemed wet and broken. "Was. Was he a good man?"

Corso smiled. "Yes. A very good man. He treated her well."

"And... was there... a family?"

He stroked Garouk's cheek. "Three beautiful children, brother. Their bloodline still runs strong, even today." He chuckled quietly. "The secondborn was a boy. She named him Salthe."

The corpse's face trembled. His lips shivered on his teeth and his eyelids fluttered halfway closed over his sclera. "G-. G." He could not cry. His tear ducts refused to work. "Good. Good. Good."

For a long while, no one spoke. The sound of Garouk's breathing was like an injured bird flapping against pavement.
 
as written by Ronin

After a time, Corso spoke.

"You have slept a bitter sleep, my friend. Let me put you to rest."

For a moment, the skull stiffened - ancient self-preservative neurons firing for the first time in a thousand years. Even now, in the shell of a corpse, the mind demanded to exist.

But then Garouk relaxed. He looked up at Corso with shaky nods. "Yes. Yes. Sleep.". His pupils widened as he remembered something. C-Corso. Corso wait. The slab of stone at my f-feet. I've got th-thirty coins down there."

Corso's brow raised. "Gold?"

"Solid. I want you to take it..." Breath grinded in his throat. "Take it and g-give to Emily's family. Whoever's left. Just leave it on their door. Say you'll do it. Promise me."

The necromancer smiled. "I promise."

"Good," the head settled back into its coffin, contented. Its eyes drifted into the darkness. "...and the ritual..."

"It will be done."

"He will rise..."

Corso smiled. "And none will rise against him." He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Garouk's brow. "Now. Sleep. And dream no more."

There was a flash of green. The tortured breathing stopped, and Corso once again lay over a cold, dead corpse. He reached forward and closed Garouk's eyelids, muttering something soft under his breath.

"Are you still with me, Sunny?"
 
as written by Cordeleann and Script

Corde stood confused for a moment. Then she turned and continued her way down the street fiddling with the flower as she walked. She had seemed so nice She thought. But he seemed genuine too. Her musing occupied her mind. Her brow was furrowed and while not frowning, there was no smile on her face. Her very first experience with someone far from the Light and she didn't know who it was. Her heart told her to trust people, but Father Abraham had encouraged her to only trust him and the Words of Elueu.
"For it is said, the Light of Elueu will illuminate the fallen. For those who are of the darkness scatter before the Wisdom of the Faithful." She was told that she was filled with the Light of Elueu, but she didn't feel very wise at the moment.

It was a long walk and Corde was feeling fairly tired as she approached the gate of Katherine's manor. She stood for a moment feeling unworthy to meet such a Faithful servant of Elueu. She decided that after her meeting with Kathrine she would have to stop at the church and spend considerable time in prayer. It wouldn't do for her to loose her way before she had even started.

____

The manor was a beautiful building, varying in height from two to three storeys and extremely well maintained despite its aged architecture. The grounds before it were large and sloped, decorated with an expertly chosen spread of flower-beds and sculpted hedges that followed the gravel driveway. The wrought iron gate before which Corde stood was elegantly designed, patterns in the style of the Church's imagery woven with the bars.

The rest of the property was ringed by a tall stone wall, topped with iron spikes and adorned with a large number of security cameras to discourage intruders. A conspicuous but unobtrusive sign warned to "beware of the dogs".

It wasn't long after Corde arrived in front of the manor that the intercom beside the gate crackled to life with a man's voice.

"State your name and business."

____

Timidly Corde approached the speaker. She put her mouth as close as she could without touching it and spoke into it. "Father Abe said I should visit Katherine. My name's Corde, What's yours?"

____

The intercom fell briefly silent before there was a loud metallic clang from the gate, announcing the lock releasing. It began to swing inwards as the speaker sounded again. "Proceed up the path to the front doors. Someone will meet you there," the voice said, seemingly ignoring Corde's question of a name. "Welcome to the estate."

The driveway of the manor wove through the grounds neatly, a series of gentle curves that passed by the best features that the garden had to offer - the beautiful fountain with a depiction of an Evequec saint upon it, a wide array of flower displays and a number of the sculpted hedges amongst them.

It led out onto a wider area clearly intended for parking cars. There were four present there now, two nondescript black cars with blacked out windows, one magnificent white luxury car with a beautiful angelic hood ornament, and one sleek midnight-blue sports car. Beyond the driveway, the front porch beckoned. One of the ornate oaken double-doors stood open, with a well dressed man in a butler's uniform stood waiting before it.

He smiled politely to Corde as she came into view, but otherwise his demeanour remained stiffly professional.

____

She tried to focus on the man but all the beautiful things around were distracting. She fought to keep herself walking as she admired all the flowers. Her small flower still held in her hand. She lightly touched the angelic hood ornament as she passed. The usual smile had returned to her face. She was reenergized and there was a distinct bounce to her step as she stepped up onto the porch. "Hi! This place is so pretty. Do you live here?"

____

"Indeed, ma'am. This way, if you will. The Lady Katherine is expecting you," the man said, turning to lead Corde inside. The main entrance hall was a high-ceilinged room with wood-panelled mahogany walls. At the back, a red-carpeted staircase led up to the second floor, winding around out of sight. A beautiful golden chandelier hung at the top of the room, casting a warm light over the chamber. A large patterned red-and-gold rug lay over the floorboards in the centre of the room, atop which was an elegant oaken table with a vase of flowers positioned atop it.

The butler led Corde through this room and straight for the stairs, which opened out onto a long hallway decorated with large paintings, some of which were of beautiful landscapes or cityscapes, whilst others appeared to be family portraits from varying years and of varying individuals.

The room to which Corde was led looked out over the street and the grounds to the front of the house. A large latticed window-box made up much of the wall on that side of the room, whilst a large and hearty fireplace burned in the adjacent wall. Several wingbacked chairs were arrayed around a number of small coffee tables near the fireplace, whilst a single larger chair was positioned near the window.

In this larger chair, a woman's figure was visible, though much of her was hidden by the back of the chair. Her head of long, wavy brown hair was brushed to perfection and adorned with a tasteful golden pin. She seemed to be wearing almost entirely black, a modest but clearly high-quality cardigan worn over a simple black dress.

"Sit," the woman said, gesturing for one of the chairs behind her without turning. "If you desire refreshments, inform Antoine and he will provide you with them post-haste." The butler nodded his head at this.

She seemed to be waiting for Corde to sit before she continued any further.

____

"Thank you. It has been a long walk. Um, do you have any lemonade? That would be so good. That poor woman or, I don't really know what was going on."
Corde sat her green dress flounced about her. Her hair was clearly wind blown from her walk across town, adding to her bewildered expression. Both hands fiddled with the flower which was starting to wilt.

"This place is so beaitiful. The monestary was nice but nothing like this. Oh!" She had bent the flower, breaking the head from the stem. She sat staring at it in shock, remembering the flower lady.

____

Katherine raised an eyebrow at Corde's words, but the girl wouldn't see it from her position. The High Inquisitor still had her back to her. The butler merely nodded his head and swept from the room.

"I'm glad you like it. It's my own view that the simple beauty of a monastery is easily the equal of more extravagant decor, but I am quite the fan of my creature comforts."

She took a sip from a glass of wine that was positioned on a small side-table beside her. "Corde is your name, is it not? Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Katherine Lessard. Father Abe has requested that I provide you with intelligence regarding the situation here in the city, so that you might better perform your assignment."

Katherine gestured over her shoulder towards the table to Corde's right, upon which lay a small folder. "On the table to your right you'll find documents with a dossier on each of the Garou packs within the city. My suggestion would be to attempt to place yourself with the ones who call themselves the Bloodstones. They are less likely to cast you out simply for being human."

____

Corde laid the broken flower gently on the table before she picked up the file. She held it in her hands for a long moment. With a sigh she lowered it to her lap.

"Can I ask you a question?" She continued without waiting for a response. She was having a hard with with the social protocol of talking to someone's back. She sounds like a child. Not whining, just quiet and timid. Questioning. "How do you tell when someone is lost?" She took a quick breath and continued speaking faster. "I mean, Father always told me I was filled with Elueu's Light, maybe, maybe it's like when the sun is so bright overhead it seems like there are no shadows. Maybe. I just-" sniffs, "the woman seemed so nice. I didn't see any darkness, any...taint. Yet he was so sure. I wanted to think evil of him but, I felt such honesty in him." She squeezed the edges of the file, the paper crinkled quietly.

She continued with more vigor. With the passion and tone of the adult she was becoming. "Why does anyone choose darkness to begin with? It is such a horrid way to live. Killing, hunting, fear. Elueu just wants to care for them, I just want to...why can't we save them? There must be way. There Must Be..."
She mumbles, "These people aren't like monks at all."

____

Katherine sighed quietly. After a moment, she rose to her feet, her hair draping down to the small of her back as she turned for the first time to face Corde. She was a beautiful woman, her features elegant and mature, yet aged with only the utmost grace to the point where she might have passed for a woman ten years her junior.

"Darkness is not always a choice, my dear child," Katherine said softly, her expression one of sadness. "The Garou and Nosferatu, and their kin, they are born to it. It is in their very nature to spurn the light as we embrace it. No matter their intent, all they do is tainted by what they are, the darkness in their beings."

She paced across the room, stepping past Corde and gazing up at a family portrait that hung on the wall above the fireplace. It depicted a well-dressed man and woman, their hands gently resting on the shoulders of two young sisters - twins. The twins clearly resembled Katherine. "All they touch, they defile. They bring death and torment in their wake without effort. This you must remember, child, for they are deceitful in their ways. Garou and Nosferatu both, they may present an outward façade of humanity, but it goes only skin deep."

Her voice lowered, tinged with a blend of sadness and anger as she went on. "No matter how they seem to act, no matter how convinced you might be of their pure intent, it is a lie. At times it is a lie even they believe. For a time comes when the part of them that is darkness grows to consume all else. And in those times, all who walk in the light must know fear."

Finally, she turned once more, stepping back to Corde. "Tell me. What happened to you on your way here?"

____

Corde set the papers on her lap so she could use her hands as she spoke. Her face reflects the feelings she experienced at each moment in her story. Her open and honest personality shined through in everything she said and did.
"First there was a beautiful dancer. She was very nice and their music was so different. Though, she did want me to pay her a penny but I didn't have any money. Then there was all the people on the street. So many different types of hair and clothes. Then the flower woman. She wanted me to buy some flowers, and they were nice." She picked up the head of the flower she had brought. "When I told her I couldn't she gave me one anyway. Then this guy, um, Isamov I think, he came and and, and shot her. She died." Corde set the flower top back on the table. "He said she was tainted. That she was choosing evil. He seemed to know, to be sure. But, well, she had given me a flower and he had killed someone so, I'm not sure myself. I need to pray more of that I am certain!"
She picked up the papers and hugged them to her chest. "And read these, I am certain your help will make the difference for me. You are so impressive."

____

"Isamov..." Katherine frowned faintly, "I'm not familiar with the name. I'll look into it."

Shaking her head, she dismissed that line of thought for the time being, turning her attention back to Corde with a smile. "I am merely a guide for your light, dear child. Remember, when you live amongst the Garou, you must endeavour not to speak of your past. They fear the light, and should yours show too brightly, they will fear you. And what they fear, they seek to destroy."

She stepped back across to her chair, resting her hands upon its back. "Their ways are not as our own. Read carefully, for you must learn their customs should you wish to walk amongst them without drawing undue attention, or ire." As she spoke, she moved around to sit once more, gazing out over the city.

"Do you have any further questions to ask? You are free to go otherwise. May you walk in the light, even when surrounded by shadow."

____

"Hmm. Okay. I had intended to find the church but from what you said I probably shouldn't go there. I'll head, uh, home, and read through all this." She stood and curtsied still holding the papers tight against her body. "Thank you for your help. I am so great full to be of help to Elueu and to you. May I ever be the hand the guides the sword of the church." She curtsied again before heading for the door, leaving the broken flower behind.

____

Upon emerging into the corridor, Corde would be met by Antoine, bearing a tray with a glass of lemonade upon it. "Ah, mademoiselle Corde. Your stay was short, then. Allow me to guide you to the exit."

He offered her the drink for the walk down, but should she decline, would set it aside before ringing a small bell to summon one of the housekeeping staff to clear it away. As he had led her in, he then led her out to the main entrance hall and the porch beyond. "Have a wonderful day, mademoiselle. Farewell."
 
as written by Script

"That was Father Abe's new 'agent'?" A man's incredulous voice came from behind Katherine, as a figure stepped into the room from a hidden doorway.

"An interesting choice, yes," Katherine replied, watching from the window as Corde proceeded down the driveway. "I can't claim to have full insight into my fellow High Inquisitor's intent."

"She won't last a week," Alistair muttered, shaking his head. "It's a suicide mission."

The corners of Katherine's mouth quirked upwards in a half-smile. "Perhaps. An innocent young human girl, new to the city, slain cruelly after venturing too close to werewolf 'territory'," she spoke the last word with acidic disdain. "A poster child for the public campaign against the Garou."

Alistair folded his arms, grimacing. "She's just a girl."

"She is armed with information. Her survival is in her own hands, now. But should she fail... there's no harm to trying to make the best of it." Katherine took a sip of her wine, drumming the fingers of her free hand on the arm rest thoughtfully. "Our other enterprise has yet to bear fruit, after all."

Alistair nodded, "We acquired another subject last night. He should have reached the facility this morning."

"Good. I am assured that progress is being made, but the shortage of subjects remains a priority. Oh, and Alistair? Find me this Isamov that the girl spoke of. I can find uses for a man willing to operate in such a manner in broad daylight." Katherine smiled. "I want a report on him by the end of the week."

"It will be done."

Nodding, Katherine waved a hand. "Go, then. You've more work to do than lurk in my shadow, as appreciative as I am of the ... concern." There was a hint of amusement to her voice.

Alistair frowned, but refrained from a reply. Wordlessly, he turned and swept from the room, cloak trailing behind him.

Katherine took another sip of her wine, eyes affixed to the window. It was not the grounds she gazed upon, however, but the reflection of the painting behind her. It wasn't till several more minutes had passed that she rose from her seat and made for the door. There were calls to be made.
 
as written by Cordeleann

She took the drink greatfully and finished it by the time they reached the door.
------------------

The yard was dull now, covered in shade. The sun had begun to set, there was no way she would make it home before dark now. She didn't fear the dark having grown up in comfort and security. She continued to hold the papers as she had before, arms across them held tight to her person. She hadn't brought a bag and it seemed the most comfortable way. By the time she reached the gate, the garden's beauty had sufficiently brightened her mood and she began to hum the tune the street performers had played earlier. She continued on quickly retracing her steps back to the apartment she had only today started calling home.
 
as written by Ronin

A black car pulled up to the gates and parked. From the driver's seat came a well-dressed chauffeur, who swiftly crossed the front of the vehicle and opened the back door.

"...don't see why you won't have any," a bored, slightly chiding voice came from the interior before a young man stepped out, pale and thin and dressed in the long, sweeping trenchcoat of an inquisitor. In his hands was a small plate of mostly-eaten yellow spongecake. He neatly forked the treat and brought another delicate bit to his lips. "It's delicious. I get these made at a bakery down in Bellefleur. Absolutely scrumptious." He paused as he stepped out into the sidewalk, laying eyes on Corde. Pale-blue eyes made a once-over of the girl before he nodded, a light smile touching his mouth.

"Good evening," he touched a finger to his lips.
 
as written by Lialore

“There is upset. I feel it.”

The words whispered from rosebud lips. Small, delicate things, set in a large, handsome face that held at least three chins. Her cheeks were huge, round and rogued. Those eyes, almost lost in the pale chubby surroundings shone bright – a blue so undeniable. Two small horns protruded from her forehead that somehow didn’t manage to take away from her royalty. She was dressed in black velvet. A modern-style dress, for they were very in date; it clung to every bump, every curve, every dent in the woman’s humongous body. Ms Roux then smiled at the figure who stood, leant against the wall to her right with his thick arms crossed.

Alexandre finally looked to his master. He’d been staring at the wall – something he did a lot – reminiscing about what this recent appearance meant. Mrs Roux, however, was far more in the now and her mind was tapping the whole city. The bloody deaths, both vampire and werewolf. She could taste the rising tension in the air. But Alexandre was fixed. His mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Come now” Mrs Roux purred in her strange, sensual way from her chair, – which was more like a throne – she looked to her favourite with a tilted head across the lushly decorated living space. “Surely you don’t believe the girl. You know what she’s like. She made it up. She caused that mess.”

But Alexandre knew better. Emily Salvage may have been a vampire of many talents, but she could not break through walls. Besides, that was definitely not her style. When she had returned, covered in blood and clearly still hungry, she had not said a word until it had been coaxed out of her. Alexandre himself had been away, and so Ms Roux’s clear vendetta against the girl had not been diluted by his sensible ways. She remained locked away, starving in the dark for the trouble that she had no doubt caused. And there was no reason for doubt, as the filtered stories came in the next day.

He was certain that he knew better. They were back. And he had a sore spot in his mind that still hadn’t healed. A growl attempted to push its way out of his throat.

He shouldn’t argue. He could already feel Ms Roux’s aura about him; stroking him, soothing him. It made him nauseous. Alexandre pushed away from the wall and bore those icy eyes with his own darkly serious ones.

“I’m still not sure” he said in that monotonous voice of his, empty of all the passion that he currently felt. “It doesn’t add up. I have expressed this already. May I not vouch? You understand that I have no love for the girl. But I do not think that she is lying.”

“Yet she has love for you” the woman’s tone grew patronising, and she laughed, an enormous sound that set her wobbling. After a pause and a sigh at Alexandre’s void expression, she continued. “Very well. I hope for both your sakes that you are right. But I trust you, Alexandre. You know that I always will. If what she tells us is true, then there is surely only more trouble ahead. We must position ourselves carefully. Let her out, let her feed, but do not let her out of your sight.”

There was no giveaway of triumph as Alexandre closed the space between them for that uncomfortable farewell kiss. He exited with inhuman speed, preparing himself for the wrongly adoring eyes of Emily.
 
as written by Script

The fading sunlight was warm on Valère’s skin through the window’s glass as he stood gazing over the grounds of their estate. A gentle breeze teased its way through the branches of the trees, shaking free a few leaves to dance whimsically to the ground below. He could hear the shower of the ensuite still running behind him. Alveré was showering in preparation for their evening out.

It wasn’t rare for the twins to be going out of an evening, but the circumstances of tonight were … unusual, to say the least. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

Arien. A stranger, by anyone’s definition, who had swept in out of nowhere and engaged them like none of their classmates had managed in a decade of schooling. Of course they’d had friends, here and there, but those relationships had been superficial at best. The only person he truly felt connected to was his brother, and that had always been enough. So why now did it feel like this boy had pierced that veil?

Idly, he drummed his fingers on the glass, keeping a slow rhythm to accompany his thoughts. Even now, thinking of Arien caused his heart to flutter slightly. It was unsettling, but at the same time, pleasant. It was a thrill he hadn’t felt before, somewhere between anticipation and desire. A crush? How very childish of him.

He breathed out heavily, closing his eyes. In the bathroom, the sound of the shower stopped, and he made out the footfalls of his brother moving around. He wondered what Alveré thought of all this. Was his twin as perplexed as he was? Or was he merely excited, brashly looking forward to something new and interesting? Valère suspected that the latter was more likely.

It wasn’t that he was suspicious of Arien’s intent. The boy had seemed very genuine in his desire to become acquainted with the pair of them, even if that desire was a little odd. Valère admired his confidence in approaching them out of the blue. No, his concern lay with himself and with his brother. This was new ground for both of them. There was no telling where precisely it would lead.

The door behind him opened, and Alveré paced across the room. He heard the footsteps stop, then alter course to draw close. He closed his eyes in time to feel his brother’s arms slip around his waist, and his chin come to rest upon his shoulder. He smelled of flowery shampoo and soap.

“What are you thinking about, that you’re staring out the window so sullenly over?” Alveré asked quietly, as a few droplets of water fell from his hair onto Valère’s neck.

“What happens,” he began, lacing his fingers through Alveré’s and giving his hands a squeeze, “if tonight goes well?”

“What do you mean?” His brother sounded confused.

“Things have been the same for a very long time. You and me, close. Everyone else, far away. If tonight goes well, what if it leads to that changing?”

Alveré was quiet, and the seconds dragged on with only the sound of their breathing to interrupt the silence. “I don’t know,” his twin finally said, “I hadn’t thought about it like that. But no matter what happens, we’ll still be just as close. I promise.”

It was Valère’s turn for silence. They gazed out the window at the evening sun, gleaming orange over the city. His mind wandered back to their conversation earlier in the day, just after Arien had gone.

The twins sat in slightly stunned silence, eyes still fixed on the archway through which Arien had slipped out of sight. Their fingers brushed together, and they turned to face one another.

“So... what did you think of him?” Alveré asked, hesitating to make eye contact.

“He was strange,” Valère replied, “But … interesting. He’s different from other people.”

“Good different?” Valère nodded in response, and Alveré frowned. “I thought so too,” he went on. “Isn’t that strange?”

“He knew a lot about us. Some of it wasn’t just gossip from magazines and blog posts. It was like he … knew us. The real us, just a little bit.” Valère didn’t vocalise how, if he was honest, that prospect scared him a little. Nobody had ever understood even that much of them so easily.

“Yeah …” Alveré bit his lip. “Should we go?”

“We said we would.”

“That’s never stopped us not doing before.”

“This is different. We weren’t just toying with him. If anything…” Valère hesitated.

“...it felt like he was toying with us.” Alveré finished for him, nodding. “I don’t know if I like that.”

“It’s certainly new. But we don’t know if he was. I think he’s different enough that we should go, even if just to see what happens next.”

Alveré nodded in agreement. “We’ll just go to see. He’ll probably be much less impressive when he doesn’t catch us by surprise.”

Alveré lightly squeezed him, bringing him back to the present. He could sense his twin’s concern at his silence. “You’re right,” he finally answered, smiling at Alveré through their reflection in the window. “I shouldn’t worry. We won’t let him come between us.”

Unless it’s literally.

Valère’s cheeks turned hot at the traitorous thought. That was too far. They were affectionate, but not … and with a stranger?

“Why are you blushing?” Alveré asked, his tone equal parts curious and devilish. “Did your mind just go where mine did?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I bet it did.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

His breath caught as his brother pressed more firmly against him, grinning wickedly. This was dangerous. There was a line, somewhere. It somehow seemed less clearly marked than before. What had changed? “We’ll just have to see what the night holds…” Alveré whispered, his breath hot against Valère’s ear.

Then he stepped away, and for an unthinking moment, Valère almost whimpered at the loss of contact. But the moment passed, and he regained control. He steadied his breathing.

What the night held indeed. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that they were playing with fire.

And Selene help him, part of him longed for nothing more than to burn.
 
as written by Emperor Jester, duramon and glmstr

As Rei, Nox and Aurelie sped away, doing fairly reckless turns and going well over the legal speed limit, Nox had a thought. Perhaps leading them to the house this early on was not such a good idea. Who knew how the night would go. They could potentially escape or betray his interests. The girl's thoughts practically reeked of justice and insurmountable will. Some sort of paragon of righteousness, or she would be.
Of course, that could be useful. The idea of throwing such a metaphorical stick into the wheel of destiny certainly had its appeal, especially to agents of chaos such as the Caeruleum lineage. Then again, who knew how she'd react to that. She might become an enemy, and break from his control. There certainly were methods for it, though they were rare and incredibly dangerous. "Change of plans." He called over the lazy sirens. "We're going to my loft instead. The house is under renovations right now, and I don't want to disturb anything at the moment. Hang a left two blocks down."

Rei nodded silently and took the directions, taking the corner as sharp as she could without risking the crew splattering across the sidewalk. She wasn't sure why the sudden change of plans, and needless to say the seeds of doubt began to spread again. She mentally counted her knives, and let the rising number slowly calm her.

In truth, it wasn't his loft at all, but the loft of some financial lawyer he'd happened to have liked. And eaten. The women's life and her families had ended tragically and messily one night, though Nox had taken a key, and convinced the neighbors he was a family friend, housesitting. And he'd done a good job of cleaning it to boot. "Its not much farther, maybe another six minutes or so." Six minutes and thirty seven seconds. The first thing he had done upon taking up semi-residence here was memorize the surrounding streets and buildings. "Then we can really get this party started."

"So, what's in mind for this party of yours?" Aurelie's words were half curiosity, the other half being an attempt to playfully tease the Caer. There was a pang of nervousness in her mind, a paranoia that this could all go horribly wrong. Then again, she just rationalized that if the Caer really wanted to hurt them, he already would have.

"Oh all sorts of things really. Whatever you want to happen." He'd tilt his head back slightly, giving his fellow undead another look over. No, outside the club in the proper streetlight of the night, she was quite fetching. He'd almost seem to purr, though it was impossible to hear over the rumble of the engine, his pupils reduced to slits beneath the visor of the helmet. "We can explore all kinds of boundaries tonight."

Rei grinned wide and revved the engine louder for a moment, playfully huffing at her hair as it whipped in the wind to keep it out of her eye. "Oh I've got a few things in mind~" She chimed playfully. Although what she meant was mostly the business on her agenda.

Aurelie was already pressed against Nox from the lack of space on the bike, but she sidled just a little closer. She could feel his purring, the thrumming vibration coursing through his icy body. It only served to make her grin wider behind her helmet at all of the possibilities the night was going to hold for the three of them.

A rather small but wide building sat on the upcoming corner, and Nox would tap Rei on the shoulder. "Right here. We're on the top floor, luxury lofts." There would be a somewhat mocking laugh from behind the helmet, deep and rich. "Of all the things to come along, people invent the idea of gentrification." Indeed, it did seem like a set of by-comparrison pearls when matched side by side with the opposing buildings. Modern architecture, bright colors, well lit, sleek curves and hard angles. "You can just park on the curb. They don't tow unless you sit there for half a day."

The girl pulled over at the curb and cut the engine, slipping off the bike and out of Malcolm's grip. She took a moment to take the building in and then shook her head, freeing whatever had stuck into her hair and pulling a brush out of her bag to fix it up, temporarily taking out the bobby pins from her fringe and holding them in her teeth while she worked. "Nice place, luxury is a nice change of pace." She mumbled jokingly with clenched teeth.

"This is quite impressive," Aurelie added, eyeing the building with glee. If Nox liked her as much as he seemed to, she might just get a chance to get some nice things. She wasn't particularly wealthy, and lived paycheck-to-paycheck based on whatever contracts she could get, be them from the Monastery or from individual clients. She was still coasting with money from the Crowley job, but she'd need either another job or a place to stay before long. She stepped off of the bike and slipped the bag off of her shoulders, placing it on the ground and stretching languidly.

Nox was next off the bike, only really having to stand up to easily step over. Being tall had its advantages sometimes. He'd walked them to the door, opening the door to the staircase and leading the two upwards to the top floor. He didn't bother to lock the door to the spacious apartments. They weren't his and unless they stole the bed, Nox didn't much care if the place was robbed. He'd already moved all the good furniture and plateware to his family's old manor.
Once inside, they would be greated by an electric fireplace, switched on by the Caer. The accountant had been good at their job, and the carpeting was soft and plush, a deep, light absorbing black that seemed to make the room grow more dim as your view was drawn downward, the flickering firelight from the hearth only helping exaggerate this feature. There was a white leather sectional couch and an open kitchen with a center island prep area and sink, and a small, semi-walled off dining room. There were two halls, one that led to the bathroom and one that led to the bedrooms, a master and a smaller one, which had belonged to the children that now belonged as spawn of Nox and the new Caer Empire. "Its not much, but I think it'll suite our needs fine..."

Rei tried to look playful as she came up and heard the Caer's words, but she was genuinely confused. Nobody had actually said what they were doing. Rei glanced at Aurelie giving her a sly-side look, questioning Now what?.

Aurelie noticed Rei's look of innocent confusion, giving her a mixture of disturbed and amused feelings. Does she really not understand what's about to happen?The vampire dismissed the thought for now, and found her way to the couch. She peeled off her coat, hanged it on a nearby rack and sat down, her body language inviting to say the least.

Once they were both inside, Nox would lock the door behind them, hanging his coat next to Aureilie's, kicking his expensive boots into a nearby corner and undoing his suit jacket and tie, taking off his belt as well. Now his movements weren't so restrictive, and soon the Caer would slide in next to his fellow undead, wrapping an arm around her waist, drawing her in, oh so very close. "So, what have you two been talking about behind my back all night, hmm?"

Rei cursed inwardly, but smiled at his question. "Hmmm~ Au was just letting me know I'd picked up a supernaturally attractive and powerful creature, and how lucky I was to have you all to myself. But I guess that's no longer the case hm?~" She said flatteringly, feeling like lying to the Caer wasn't the best choice at this point. "So I thought I'd get us out of there were we could talk juuust us. I've got a bit of a rebellious streak with the church after all." She explained casually.

Aurelie let out a small purr as the Caer drew her close, her fiery red eyes locking with Nox's icy gaze. "Rei's right. I was more than a little shocked to see you around after the incident, and I had to let the girl know that you were nothing like anything she's ever seen before, " the vampire finished with a playful giggle.

With a soft smile, Nox would snake a hand up Au's stomach, across her chest, and wrap his fine, pristine fingers around her throat, his nails gradually turning harder, longer, growing black, and developing a wickedly sharp hook. These hooks dug in a little bit to the Lacroix girl's neck, though the Caer would flood her room with overpowering pheramones, purring like a large jungle cat. "Now why would you ruin my surprise." The hooks would dig further in, sending ice cold spikes deep to her core. His eyes shifting to Rei, unmoving, eyes so dilated his pupils were invisible in the flickering dimly light room. Eyes like pure balls of cold, blue death, eyes like the cruel nature of winter, the purest, most unmoving blood. "Half of the fun is the surprise..."

Rei folded her arms across her chest and pouted. "Now now~ If I wasn't here to enjoy myself I wouldn't have driven away from a Paladin to the middle of nowhere hm?" She complained, seeming unconcerned by Aurelie's position and giving Nox a cold smile. She'd been well prepared for any form of monster in her mind, his appearance wasn't the issue. "I want to have some fun, and I have a plan for later I think we'll both get a kick out of~." She proposed, tossing her bag to the side and moving towards the monster slowly, holding out a hand to the Caer. "If you'll indulge a monster like me?" She chimed in half-jest.

"My apologies, I was just nervous that Rei might have gotten herself hurt if she didn't know," Aurelie frowned slightly, the cold daggers that were his nails had already pierced her neck, at the very least his icy grip seemed to dull the pain somewhat. "I didn't intend to ruin your fun, I'm not that stupid," The vampire grinned, gently pressing against his hand with one of her own, whilst the other rested on the Caer's knee, occasionally wandering farther up his leg. "Now, if you want to play rough like this, I'd be happy to take part~" she winked at Nox and pressed herself even more closely to him.

The Caer would think it over for a long while, never loosening his grip. Then, with a rather puffed-up sigh, his hold on her would end with a mild curse, flinging his tie across the room. "Ahhhhhh. See? This is what always happens when I play nice." With quick eyes, he'd glance between Aurelie and Rei, a thin, if somewhat annoyed grin slowly spreading across his lips. "I play nice for one night, and nothing goes according to plan. I swear, that little shitstain..." He'd mumble, casually taking the proselytes hand and guiding it towards his face. "You caught my eyes tonight, so my normal pattern dictates I should destroy you. I normally don't stray far from my pattern, so count yourself lucky. Now tell me about this...plan, Rei." Once more he was seeming to purr, thrumming out deep, vibrating bassy notes from somewhere inside his chest. "And you, Aurelie. Don't stop what you're doing."

Rei smiled and gently brushed her hand across his face "Thank you for your hospitality." She replied, sliding down to his other side and clicking her fingers three times, her bag dragging itself across the floor to her feet. She gave a small shrug and opened it up "I thought you might not trust me if I had a sealed bag in hand~" She explained, the girl reached in and fished out a vial of Bloodbane, very very carefully and slowly placing it away from them. "You're the strongest thing out there in the night...Malcolm, and the order only has one weapon. So here's a little fun fact, I'm currently given full access to the Bloodbane formula~ I get to experiment on it howeeever I want~ Which includes, making an anti-bane so to speak." She proposed, grinning and gesturing to the vial of Bloodbane.

"So I want to give you me~" She purred, pressing against him, running her hands down her chest playfully. "Any part of me you want, and in exchange for all this. I want you to give me the strength, and the supernatural presence, for us to stand side by side with whomever you wish at the top of Lutetia. A perfect Lutetia." She leaned back in her seating and smiled, taking a moment to let her proposal sink in before cosying back up to the Caer. "My plan, is to put house Caer at the top, playing the Order like a fiddle from within while you do your thing. But baby steps right? You surely don't trust a simple Proselyte hm?" She offered in finality, drapping an arm across him and gently kissing him on the cheek. Whatever it is he had planned for her body required sensual touch and playfulness, whatever she endured would be worth it.

"Don't worry about him, I like that you played nice tonight," Aurelie grinned when he finally released her neck, the holes he punctured already beginning to ever so slowly close themselves. His infectious purring resonated through her bones, she couldn't get enough of it.
She complied with Nox's request, sidling even closer to him and placing her other hand on his chest, allowing her thin, cold fingers to travel wherever they pleased.

"See? Was that so hard? Just a straightforward gamble for my favor and my assistance. And you even offer up a compelling incentive. You two know how to do business." With a hissing laugh, Nox began to finally relax, allowing his normal aura of sheer, death-like cold to fully radiate to its fullests, seeming to grow in size, as if somehow containing himself mentally had affected his physical body.
"Though you underestimated something, or at least didn't account for it." The giant undead would continue, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, almost too casually. "The first being that I might want your help, or need it. The second being that I couldn't just take what I wanted from the both of you at anytime I wanted. But, thats why gambling is fun. I actually prefer my prey to come to me, willingly." And then, like a snake, Nox would snap his fangs down on Rei's neck...without piercing her flesh. Only a light graze, just enough to draw the smallest trickle of blood.

Rei yelped loudly in surprise and distress, and flinched in reflex, expecting him to puncture her flesh. Instead she felt him stop with a mere graze, she gave him a confused and scared look. Then slowly it turned into a nervous smile, she wrapped her arms sheepishly around the monsters neck. "L-let's gamble then Caer~." She chimed anxiously, despite her bravado and mental blockades, she was still a teenager after all. "I don't underestimate my prey either, from here there are three things you should account for. One, that I may want you to take the plunge and turn me. Two, that as a genius given Bloodbane access, I haven't already advanced its potency to account for someone of your...strength, and plugged it in. Three, that as a corpse I'm nowhere near as fun~." She joked, shivering at his aura and feeling it edge at the doubts in her mind once more.

"I don't think you need my help Malcolm, but I know that I'll provide the kind of games you won't have seen for a life-time~" She cooed into his ear, still shivering and trying to keep perfectly still under his fangs. It wasn't like she had much to lose in this situation.

Aurelie's grin only widened as the conversation progressed. Rei, as a Caer? With access to Bloodbane? This I want to see. There was only one way this was going to go: horribly wrong for the Monastery.
"I wouldn't mind getting a taste of that power too," the vampire's grin grew wide enough that her fangs were clearly visible, "but I'm afraid I don't know if you could even turn me, or if you can, if it would work."

"I can't turn you. But I could enslave you. Steal you away from your sire and make you my thrall." He'd slowly trace a fingernail against the underside of Aurelie's chin, easing his fangs away from the Proselyte's fair skin, only to ginger place a kiss on where he'd made her bleed. Nox was growing...restless, so to say, though there was still business to discuss.
"Now then...You speak of Bloodbane. I assume you mean that vile poison that the church goers flood their veins with, in order to stop my kindred from feeding? Because I've always wanted to meet the man who invented that solution. Would you happen to know who that is?" Each sentence being punctuated by another tender kiss or half-bite.

Rei shivered again with each kiss, a new form of shiver. Yet another new experience for the night. Pleasure. "I-I don't know" She stuttered, out of embarassment more than fear. "But I could find out, pretend its part of my studies." She offered, wrapping her arms further around the back of his neck.

"I don't have a sire, or even a house to call my own, Caer," Aurelie gently raised her chin, purring as if a cat getting scratched by her owner. "I'm sorry, that seems so rude to just call you 'Caer'. Care to tell me your name?" The vampire licked her lips. "I would love to work with, or for, you. I'm not in much of a position to make requests, but could you humor me and at least consider making a compromise? I'd rather not become a thrall if I have any say in the matter, I'm willing to serve by choice."

"A vampire without a sire? So interesting, the both of you." Nox would turn his attention away from Rei for a moment, regarding Aurelie with cold eyes. "I could potentially use you then. You have no one you have to answer to, and can move about the city more subtly that I ever could. One of the advantages of being so small, I suppose." With ease, the Caer would move the both of them away from his person, standing up to finish removing his shirt and tie. "Join me in the bedroom when the two of you are ready. And you may address me as Nox for the night. Or Master." And then he'd leave the two of them alone to follow him.

"Rei, do you realize how lucky we are?" Aurelie grinned from ear to ear again, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to follow him," the vampire stood up and started towards the bedroom door.

Rei held her hand to her chin thoughtfully as Aurelie left "I'll be there in a minute~" She chimed. The girl reached down into her bag and pulled out a bundle of knives, sliding them evenly across the table top and spent a moment to make sure they were each perfectly aligned and spaced apart. Once that was done the Proselyte took in a deep breath and mentally recited a short code. To her it was a comforting ritual rammed into her mind to calm her, a reminder of her goal and a celebration of success. Deep inside her psyche, a single word triggered her mind. "Black", and it was no longer Rei within that body.

The Proselyte rolled up the set and put them back in her bag, following into the bedroom and beginning to shed clothing as soon as she passed the threshold.
 
as written by Faithy

Just about to hang up the phone and shove it back into his pocket to attempt the call later, a voice answered. He knew without even questioning it that he had woke up Arien and realized that it was still fairly early for those that had been at the rave the night before. If he hadn’t had class today –which he was skipping—Jimmy probably would have still been in bed too. His body’s aching was beginning to make him regret all this moving about. Returning his wandering mind back to the call, he bit on his inner cheek, not sure what he was doing.

“Oh, hey, Arien… it’s uhh… Jimmy from the rave last night. You know, the hotheaded jerk? Anyways, I got your number from Al and Val and I uhh…” Jimmy paused and squished the phone between his shoulder and ear in order to run his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit no doubt.

“Anyways, I wanted to apologize to you for being a dick and was wondering if you had another get together if I could come and act like how I normally am… you to, to really get to know you and the others? I guess I’m asking for a second chance.” Jimmy was fairly sure he wasn’t going to get that second chance and in truth, he wouldn’t deserve it, but maybe, just maybe Arien was into giving second chances.
 
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