Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Merveilleux

as written by Emperor Jester

Pierette sat with Nox, keeping as much contact as possible. That disinterested sound had her hackles up, thinking that he was hiding something much worse under that monotone. But what could she do? The best way to keep a secret was to speak of it as little as possible, and while it might have soothed her lover's ego to have his praises on the lips of her relations, having them guess who, or what, he was would have been... bad.

Almost immediately after the three older kids went into the hallway, the girl came running back out, wailing incoherently about the boys not wanting to play with her. Marie ignored her mother and came barreling at Pierette to seek solace in her skinny arms.

"Ah, yes. She's been telling the truth about that much. I'm working with the city, to some extent, to preserve the historical significance of a certain family's home. They want to make sure it doesn't fall, so we don't forget what they did." A pause as the child came screaming over. However, instead of making it to his main, Nox would intercept, almost impossibly gentle, filling the child with calming feelings as he lifted her onto his lap, giving her the freedom to crawl to her aunt if need be or desired.

To the girl, Nox would not feel cold. He'd feel almost warm, and give off an air of safety, like a massive stuffed animal. The smile that graced the Caer's features were equal parts joy and worry.

Pierette was actually glad that Nox intercepted Marie, jumping up from the couch while the vampire was occupied with the very stunned little brunette child. She had some intercepting to do as well.

Liz saw Pierette coming and her eyes shot wide as she hurried into the kitchen and towards the high cabinet full of prescription bottles.

Pierette grabbed hold of her sister and hissed in her ear, "No! You've had too much already! Now you are going to go back in there and talk to our guest."

Liz snarled briefly, then the anger drained out of her face as if someone had just wiped it away. "But I need it. He scared me."

Meanwhile, Marie was sitting on Nox's knee and patting at his face wonderingly. With a huge smile and a dopey laugh, she'd take advantage of his attention, asking, "Why don't boys like to play with girls?"

Charlene almost choked at that, covering her mouth and coughing to disguise her laughter. She was also curious about how Dorian would respond, and not at all worried that he would be able to say anything that Liz wouldn't like for Marie to hear.

A patient smile as he soothed back Marie's hair, making sure not to touch her with his fingernails, which seemed manicured to the point of claws if the light caught them right. "Oh, that's easy, little one. Girl and boys just like to do different things. Guys like to be tough, girls like to be emotional. As you get older, you'll notice that some guys start to like the same things you do, or you'll start liking more and more of the things they enjoy. Or you won't change at all. Give them time. I'm sure they'll invite you eventually."

The most delicate of pats to her little head, and 'Dorian' would turn his eyes to Charlene, giving her a smouldering look. "I apologize if I make you uncomfortable. I've been told I have that effect on people, even by...Rette, as you all call her. I assure you, most of the time, it is unintentional."

"Oh, no. It's not-- Well, yes, a little. You almost knocked that door off its hinges and you aren't even winded." Charlene laughed merrily, tossing back her long blonde hair and making her feathered earrings sway with the way she moved her head. Her smile was almost coquettish as she added, "Just startled us is all."

Marie giggled and squirmed down from Nox's lap to go fetch one of her dolls... but then she came right back and held up her arms in an unspoken demand to be returned to her perch.

Pierette would get a glass of water into Liz's hand and send her back out to the living room. The dyed girl was hunting through cabinets and the fridge for something to make for everyone to eat, since she figured that getting something solid into Liz would improve matters greatly.

Liz hesitated at the entrance of the living room and gave her usual serene, empty smile, like she had turned off the personality behind her eyes. "May I offer you something to drink? I am afraid the selection is limited, as this is a child safe household."

The large guest would eagerly place the small girl back into his lap, giving a questioning look at the doll and another patient smile before returning his attention to the adults in the room. "Again, I do apologize for it. Sometimes, when you run the types of businesses I do, you run afoul of people, and they'll threaten to hurt the ones you...care for. Or those that work under you."

A dismissive wave of his hand. "Nothing criminal, I assure you. I'm merely a well off investor with perhaps one of the best accountants in the city. My money is clean." Another hand through the child's hair, a small bought of laughter.

"No, no drink is fine, though I appreciate the offer all the same."

The smile did not alter a bit, though perhaps there was a flash of disappointment there as Liz returned to her rocking chair.

Anna fussed a little, really too big for the play pen and ready to get out and go investigate the other toys that were laying around on the floor. After the noise and the cold, the baby had no interest in sleeping, and would be released from the captivity as soon as Liz had settled in her chair. The coloring book would soon be lifted by their pages and shook by the two-year-old, until she managed to get one page torn out of it.

Charlene gave a shrewd smile before she glanced at the kitchen doorway, and Pierette just out of line of sight. "Unusual business partner then." The blonde scooted closer to Dorian then, leaning in to whisper, "I'm perishing of curiosity. Who's house was it? Someone famous and scandalous, I'm sure, or else it wouldn't be a secret."

Marie seemed content to just sit in Dorian's lap and talk nonsense to her doll as she pulled off the dress it was wearing and put it back on the toy inside out. She would smile up at him when he played with her tangled, soft curls, and it was clear that Nox now had another admirer, though this one was pint-sized at most.

Nox would, every so often, bounce the child, enough to lift her into the air a bit on each bump. "I am afraid I am not allowed to say. The contract with the city government has a pretty binding, not to mention punishing, non-disclosure agreement. You'll hear about it on the news soon though. Now that I've found a contractor team or two, as well as a secretary who can keep track of it all. Among other things. Rette is very talented and probably..."

He'd say this a little louder, so that his maid could hear his praise. "...my favorite member of the team to work with."

"Higher!" Marie squealed when Dorian started bouncing her, laughing and clapping her chubby little hands. Yep. She was in love.

Charlene seemed a little baffled at Dorian's apparent affection for Pierette and scooted back a little to stare at him. Sure, it was nice. Really nice since a good portion of the money Pierette had convinced this fellow to spend on Remy was ending up in her own pocket. In a sense, because of this man, Jamie could go to a better school than either of his parents had graced. But... Rette? Really? Finally she admitted, "Rette is alot of fun, when she is in the mood."

Pierette gave Charlene a sharp look, catching that as she came back into the room and placing a tray with soup and a grilled cheese sandwich on it for Liz. Her look softened to amusement when it passed on to 'Dorian'. "Well, you are my favorite member of the team too, darling.". She jerked her thumb toward the kitchen for Charlene's benefit, "More soup and sandwiches on the stove, for when the little monsters get hungry. You too, if you don't mind chicken with stars."

Liz seemed depressed as she pulled her sandwich to pieces, but only ate reluctantly, what she didn't end up sharing with Anna.

"Well I'd hope so. The others who work with us are either scuttling bureaucrats, or your own family. Not that they haven't proven to be charming people so far." A nervous cough. "Again, if the door ends up being damaged, I'll pay for a new one. Had I known there were children here, I assure you, I would've been much more... subtle, I suppose is the best word."

Another high bounce, before lifting the girl into the air and tossing her, making sure she wouldn't bump her head against the ceiling. Despite being a child, and chubby to boot, Dorian seemed to handle her as if she was weightless. If it wasn't for his billowing coat and looser style of formal dress, he'd certainly look his frame. And judging from the door and the way he hefted what was essentially a sack of potatoes with a single hand, it was obvious that his size matched his physical ability.

"So tell me about yourselves. I'm eager to learn anything my companion hasn't told me already. But she is rather tight lipped about certain topics."

Liz gave him a smile, but made not comment. Her confidence in his sense of honor had already been expressed, and she didn't know how to make Dorian feel more comfortable.

Pierette watched with concern as the child went flying straight up, but then breathed a sigh of relief that Nox had gauged the variables correctly. She was pretty sure that he wouldn't deliberately hurt her niece, but the vampire was just so strong-- Well, she had ample evidence of the care he could take with a fragile human body.

Charlene gave a nervous giggle and shrugged, "Not much to tell. I went to school with Rette and Remy. We were in different circles though and if not for the bad boy mystique of her brother, we never would have spoken." Which was the polite way of saying that Pierette had been voted 'most likely to blow up a government building' and Charlene had been on the cheerleader squad. "I married Remy when I got pregnant. Big mistake for everyone concerned. He dumped me--"

Pierette interrupted, "You married Remy to piss off your folks. He divorced you when you stopped taking the pill and came up pregnant. He told you from the start that he didn't want kids."

Charlene gave Rette an evil look, but then shrugged, "Yeah, well, I didn't intend to forget. And I didn't stop taking them, it was just hard to remember every single day."

Some bad blood between the two. But not enough to lose all sense of civility. It was odd, really. Almost like he was sitting in a meeting with his Family. Nyx, his sister, had always been a mirror opposite of her brother, both in powers and personality, but they'd never gotten violent with each other. Families were the same no matter where you looked.

"At least you have a child now. They are precious." A pause to catch little Marie, and give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "I...almost had children once. Set to have twins, like myself, actually. The mother..."

Then, he'd let it drop, patting little Marie on the head. "Well, enough of that. Still, what about you...Liz, was it?"

Pierette was deeply surprised and was watching Dorian closely as she sat down next to him again. She was also a bit pale at the thought of twins. One child would be bad enough, but two? She shivered a bit and leaned against Nox's shoulder quietly.

Marie was delighted and laughing, and would try to pat Dorian on the head and give him big smacking kisses on his cheeks, standing on his lap. The doll had gone flying somewhere in the playtime, and was not missed.

Charlene nodded in agreement, "I was surprised how much having little Jamie changed things." She was all set to start talking more about herself when Dorian moved on to Liz, and the blonde folded her arms and sighed.

Liz looked up from baby Anna and blinked at Dorian. It seemed to take her a moment to process how he was enthroned between her relatives, with her older daughter on his lap. For some reason, it seemed to disturb her and there was another hesitation before she answered his question. "Yes. Liz is what I am called. Nothing to tell. My husband is a minor contractor with a landscaping firm. We have three children and I take care of them."

Pierette didn't lift her head, but added, "And you paint, Liz. Under a fake name, sure, but you have some success." which generally got spent on pills, but even 'Dorian' didn't need to know that.

With an encouraging, patient chuckle, he'd slowly sit the girl down on the floor. "That's enough play for now. More later, if you're not too tired."

It was as subtle as that. No wave of his hands, no shining of the eyes, no incantation, but Marie would sure enough soon grow very sleepy. Slowly, subtly. seemingly natural. An arm would lay across Pierette's shoulders, keeping her close.

"It sounds like you're a content woman. The both of you. At least from my perspective. I'd love to have a family. I grew up in a rather large one, but when I moved to the city, I had no one. It's been difficult going from seeing my thirteen siblings every day, but I've drowned myself in my work. Which is very...lucrative. And I do my best to look after those who need it most."

A pause to cross his legs, re-adjusting himself slightly. "Its not charity, if that's what you're thinking. Or pity. But I know what its like to need help, to need friends, or loved ones to count on. Dependable people you can count on for anything. So I try to foster those types of...open relationships."

Marie wasn't happy about being put on the floor, but after being rebuffed by Pierette's gentle refusal as well as Dorian's denial, she flopped down in her circle of dolls again. She struggled to stay awake... but would soon be quietly snoring on the floor.

Liz nodded in agreement, smiling peacefully. "Our family is large as well. There are five of us, and more in our mother's family in the city."

Charlene gave a bitter laugh and shook her head, "Content? Not me. I scramble and save and scrape every penny together because I want Jamie to have more opportunities than I had. If it were up to Remy, he would end up in public schools, just like us, and working these crappy jobs. Cooking in a diner, or risking his life in construction like his daddy."

Pierette gave a secret smile as she rested against Nox, though inside she was still reeling over how he had even Found her.

Nox himself would relax into the couch, listening to them talk. He'd planned to spend the entire night out on the town. Eating. Fucking. Drinking. Drugs. But this was proving much more soothing to his inner soul. A family night. Low key. Casual. Small talk. It was something he'd missed far more than anyone could realize.

"Well, if you ever get the urge, once the house opens up for hiring at least, I'll put in a good word, if you're comfortable with crowds and questions. It'll technically be government work, just working with my firm. Stable, easy work that pays well."

Build more bridges, see where they take you. Stop focusing on destruction, and work on creation. We need more children, son, and it is long past due for you to become a Father.

Tonight was proving difficult. A lot of memories which he'd thought he'd purge were coming back, slowly. As a result, his eyes would take on a frantic look periodically, or one of intense sadness, as 'Dorian' listened and spoke.

"Tour guide? I can do that." Charlene nodded thoughtfully, then grinned and bounced up from the couch to dance across the room, "That sounds a lot easier than food services too!"

The happy sounds got the attention from little boys though, and Adam and Jamie came pelting up the hall to find out what they were missing. They would get shunted to the kitchen though, since the boys probably did need to eat something before bed, and Charlene would follow them in to take care of that little detail.

Pierette sat up a bit and kissed Dorian's temple before getting up as well, moving to pick up Marie. With her back to Liz, she winked at Nox with a faint smile.

Liz was a little alarmed because it seemed like she was about to be left alone with the guest, except for the baby that had stolen half of her sandwich and most of her soup, and fallen asleep on her cushiony chest again.

Nox would lock eyes with Liz. His smile always soft. His pupil's narrowing slowly. He'd open his mouth to speak, giving a moment's blur of a shark like jaw. "You seem uneasy, Liz. Do I make you uncomfortable? I've been told I do that. But of course, I already told you that. Small talk is difficult for me. I'm trying to constantly figure out what to do. About a lot of things. I dedicate very little of my exput to socialization."

As he said those things, his mouth would close, but she'd still hear his words, his smile never faltering.

"I try not to be disturbed at anything." Liz answered finally, struggling to stand up without putting the baby down. There was no crib in the living room, of course, and now that the baby was thoroughly asleep, it was time to put her down. "I don't like being afraid, or angry, or upset. My therapist says it is a block, that I am afraid of being afraid, so I loop into nothing at all."

Pierette would not be gone long, but Charlene was going to be detained for a while, trying to make the boys sit still and eat their late second dinner.

That is unwise. Those are our most powerful emotions. The ones that drive ambition. You can take anything you want in this world, if you have the means. KILL OR BE KILLED.

The mental intrusion was strong, even before the man calling himself Dorian would rise to embrace a returning Perilous, with a small peck on the cheek. "I believe I should take my leave soon. I did not mean to intrude for so long."

Perilous held him tightly for a long moment, nuzzling against 'Dorian's' neck as she whispered, "I'll be home later, if you want me there, but I have been getting a bad feeling lately. Like we're being watched. Probably just my imagination, but... watch your back, please?"

The look on Liz's face as she watched them embrace was anything but neutral. Hungry, sad, jealous, and even angry, but not neutral. She had been struggling with her own particular set of problems for long enough that she did not increase her grip, and baby Anna continued to sleep as she moved past the two.

Liz had no idea that Perilous watched her go with a very similar expression, thirsting for motherhood just as Liz craved passion.

"You're always welcome in my home, Rette. Its a much better place than where you used to sleep." He'd run a hand through her hair and plant his lips on hers, a healthy amount of force and desire behind his action.

"It was good meeting you all. Once things begin to take off at the house, and I can give more of the work load to the people under me, I'll make sure to visit again. You have good children. And Marie is a real treat."

Charlene peeked out of the kitchen and gave a sultry pout, "You're leaving? Oh--!" she was startled to see Pierette being held by Dorian again, having somehow convinced herself that Pierette was the one that held on to him instead. Her pout faded to something more honest, a wry smile as the waitress gave a shrug, "Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. LeBeau. Hope you can stay longer next time. And soon!"

Liz did not answer, looking away from the pair as she emerged from the master bedroom, where the baby's crib was stowed. She was too conflicted, and turned instead to a small, quiet room at the end of the hallway, where a riot of colors were hung on an otherwise white wall, like inarticulate emotions given silent screams on canvas.

Perilous would nudge Nox towards the front door a bit sadly, since she already knew it was going to be a bad night for Liz... and that it was her fault, for not putting the purse away properly.
 
as written by Krysis

How did it happen? Babette wasn't sure. One moment she had been having a perfectly logical (though bizarre circumstanced) discussion with a young woman. The next moment, the girl was screeching and flopping like a fresh caught croaker.

Of course it had been no trouble for the wererabbit to load the young woman into her car. She had the strength to spare, and flexibility to handle the awkward parcel. When she pulled up to the hospital emergency room, it was wiser by far to let the orderlies take over the care of the unconscious girl.

Then there was paperwork. Forms to fill out. Documents and traces to leave. At least they let her wash her hands first, since the towelettes had left dirt and worse under her nails and in the creases of her knuckles.

A sense of duty had Babette telling the briefest tale to the police, about the girl that hadn't given her name being frantic to get back home, to a family that might have also been attacked. And armed. Couldn't forget the dagger. Finally, more than an hour later, the bunny could escape to go to her shop and try to salvage what she could of her fresh herbs.
 
as written by Peachy00Keen and Ronin

Pandora drew in a deep, conscious breath and coughed loudly. The air smelled fake, like chemicals, and the world around her was so very bright. She was lying on a bed, but it was bent up, almost like a chair. There were strange machines around her that beeped and hummed. Her head still ached. She reached up to touch it and felt gauze. Someone had bandaged her head. She looked down. Tubes were sticking out of her arms, putting strange liquids into her body.

Her heart began to race again. Tearful anger began to well up, creeping up her throat like a fireball. She roared out a frustrated sob as she tore the tubes from her arm and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor beneath her feet was cold and smooth, like ice. Someone had put her in a stupid-looking shift that was thin as paper and open in the back. She tore it off and threw it on the ground. Her clothes lie in a pile, folded neatly, on a nearby chair. She shimmied into them, sitting down to put her boots on.

When she stood back up, her head began to spin, and she plunked right back down on the edge of the bed. Pandora cradled her head in her hands and groaned. She looked up and blinked hard, attempting to will the world to stand still again. She shook her head slightly and things stood mostly still again. She still felt like she was floating, but she ignored the sensation.

A nearby end table was covered in papers tucked neatly into a manilla folder. She seized the papers and began rifling through them. She saw words, but they made next to no sense. Here and there she picked out phrases like "unnamed female" and "unstable condition." She saw a familiar sounding word -- "Babette."

"That little freak..." she muttered, throwing pages on the floor as she finished skimming them. "That little pale freak brought me to this chemical icebox and left me for dead. The next time I see her, I'm giving her a piece of my mind... or my hatchet..." Pandora gave up on the papers and threw them aside. They scattered across the floor like leaves. She went to the one window in the room and looked out to see a busy town with streets full of cars and people. "What is this place?"

Across the room, the door was left partly ajar. Pandora checked her weapons to make sure they were all there before tiptoeing over to peer out the crack. There was a hallway, empty save for a blonde woman in a white, pressed outfit, sitting behind a desk. She was facing a set of big metal doors. Pandora watched as someone came up to the doors and pressed a button nearby. One of the doors opened to a small room, into which the person stepped; the doors closed behind the person and they were gone. She went back to the window. There had been two buttons, each with an arrow painted on them, one pointing up and one pointing down. Her room was high above the street. She glanced around the small room. There was a small, empty glass vial on the table where the folder had been. Pandora picked it up and returned to the door. She looked at the lady behind the desk and looked at the vial in her hand. She smirked.

Carefully aiming, Pandora tossed the vial and knocked over a vase of flowers that was sitting on the near side of her desk, spilling water, glass, and blossoms all over the floor beside the lady in white. Pandora hid behind her door and listened as the lady, flustered, stood up from her chair and began picking up the pieces. She glanced back out to see the woman ducked behind her desk.

Crouched low and on tiptoe, Pandora quietly made her way to the metal doors and pressed the down button. Moments later the doors opened and she stepped inside. She pressed the button with a 1 on it and waited. The room began to move slowly downward. Thrilled with herself, she smiled wide. The room stopped moving and she took a deep breath. The doors opened and she quickly scanned the room -- all clear. She bounded for the big front doors to her freedom, which lay just beyond.

____

Pandora opened the doors of the hospital into the streets of Lutetia City.

It was midday, the high-noon sun filtering through gaps in the silver overcast and splotching the otherwise gray city with spots of warm yellow. People walked the streets - most of them moderately well dressed - talking to one another or speaking on cell phones. Cars scuttled down the roadways, the distant sounds of traffic filtering from a highway not far from where she was.

Dressed as she was, people stared. No one approached her or called out to her, but there were more than a few eyes (many of them male) that gave her looks as she walked out into the open.

____

She eyed back at several of the people who passed her on the street. She looked at signs above doors for an inn and she glanced up and down the streets for any sign of a market. Pandora wished she had taken a better look at things before she left her room. With options scarce, she took off from the hospital at a quick pace toward the only familiar building in sight -- a church. She walked as briskly as she could without making herself dizzy, though the great steeple that rose above the surrounding buildings just seemed to get farther away. The black haze began to set in at the corner of her vision again. She blinked it away and focused hard on getting to the church.

What felt like years later, the front door of the church was in sight. She couldn't have been more than a block away, but the distance between her and those steps stretched out almost as far as a grazing pasture and a half. She wasn't sure she could make it. Maybe if I make a run for it, I'll get there before I lose it again... she thought.

Pandora took off at a sprint, moving her legs as fast as she could. Everything felt sluggish. Time dragged by as the world passed her in slow motion. Eventually, she was at the steps of the great building, and her vision started tunneling to black again. Before she lost consciousness once again, she yelped, "Oh, Freya!"

____

"...collapsed outside..."

"...call the police..."

"...am the police..."

"...what do you..."

"...just let her..."

Voices filtered through the gaps in Pandora's slumber - one old and small, another rough but low. When the Northerner came to, she would find herself resting in a pew, a large red cloak tucked behind her head as a makeshift pillow. If she sat up, she would find herself at the front of a church. The walls were high and arched and dimly-lit lamps hung down from the vaulted ceiling. An altar stood before her, arrayed with a grand stone statue of a woman in full plate clasping a broken sword. Behind her, the sun filtered in through stained glass windows, filling the room with gold and crimson sunlight.

A man knelt at the altar in steel armor. His head was bowed, eyes closed as he murmured under his breath. A sheathed sword clung to one side of his hip, a massive pistol on the other.

____

Pandora groaned. Her head hurt worse than she remembered. The air around her now smelled musty, dusty, old. She tried to move an arm... then a leg... then a finger...? Every part of her body that she tried to move was heavy. She had drained herself with all of her sprinting and escaping and general gallivanting. It was all she could do to roll her head to one side and open her eyes. She saw wood. Confused, she turned her head to the other side and saw a steel-plated being, presumably a human, kneeling down apparently praying. What caught her attention more than the steel-clad figure or the building that held the two of them was the size of the weapons the figure had at his sides. Pandora felt helpless, for the second time in her life, the first being during her kidnapping. She was out-gunned (or bladed, as the case would be) and she could barely move.

She contemplated, for a while, the notion of pretending to still be unconscious until the figure went away, but she had no idea who else might help her or where else to turn. She didn't want to interrupt him, but the pounding in her head grew more and more persistent the longer she waited. Unsure of what else to do, she let out a loud groan and attempted to move again. Her limbs responded more quickly now, but no less heavily. As a result, Pandora slid off of the pew and onto the floor, landing with a grunt and a thud. At that point, she just decided to give up and lie there, hoping that was enough to get his attention. Her head felt like it was going to split in two -- for all she knew, it might have already. She squeezed her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears of shame that threatened to follow. Her throat tight, she let out a very high pitched whine before exhaling loudly and letting her body go completely limp.

She conceded to waiting.

____

The moment the groan escaped her lips, the man's eyes opened. He turned to look at her, eyes dark and brown and watchful set beneath furrowed brows. He watched as she rolled over, wincing as she tumbled off the pew onto the floor.

"You're awake," he nodded, "good." He stood up and walked towards her, armor clinking with each step. He was tall and broad shouldered with fair skin and scruffy black hair. Stubble forested his jaw and trailed down his thick neck. Though his jaw was well-defined, he was not particularly handsome. Something about his mannerisms. He seemed tired... spent.

The paladin knelt at her side. He saw the weakness in her body, the struggle she wore simply to raise and lower her limbs. He frowned.

"Let me help you up," he offered a hand, letting her use him as support to get her back into the pews. "I would lay down. Here, prop your head against my cloak." He poofed up the red cloth so that she could keep her head up while the rest of her body remained on the pew.

"Can you eat?" he knelt beside her and pulled a tray from beneath her pew. It was filled with bread, red meat, cheese and little cookies. "There's water, too. You should have some. He removed a fresh water bottle and cracked the cap open before extending it to her.

____

She took a few slow sips of water and coughed.

"You're not Freya," she grumbled, barely intelligible. Wit and jest were never her strong suits, but she really didn't have any outlets left to work with, so she figured there wasn't much to lose in trying. She tried on a weary smile to lighten the comment. She was bad a joking.

She reached out to take the try but almost dropped it. The man's reflexes were quicker than hers, at the moment, and he caught it without losing anything. He held it closer to her so she could reach its contents without much trouble.

Pandora felt like it took a day's worth of energy and concentration, not to mention time, to reach out for one of the cookies and bring it to her mouth. It was kind of strange, being tended to like this. Then again, there really wasn't any other option. She'd proven time and again that she was clearly incapable of getting up and walking off. She might as well try to make nice with the locals, even if they were kind of hard to understand. There were enough similarities between what she knew and what they seemed to speak that she could more or less piece together what they were saying. Spoken language was somehow easier than written language to understand.

Her questions came out very slowly:
"Who are you?"
"Where am I?"
"why does everything hurt?"
"Why do you sound strange?"

She hadn't meant to ask the last question, but she was already halfway through the sentence by the time she realized what she was saying. She stopped talking after that and focused on some bread.

____

"Easy," he replied, helping her with the bread. "Save your words. Eat." He snapped off a light from his belt and shone it into her pupils. "My name is Savien Durandet. You're in Lutetia City, in the Church of Our Lady Aphrodel, Merveilleux." He shut off the light and met her eyes with his own. "You are safe."

He reached into a leather strap lining his chestplate and removed a vial filled with blue liquid. "You 'hurt all over' because you ran away from the hospital that was administering you care." He looked up at her, a brow raised. "Not a smart move. Your body nutrition is severely depleted, and I suspect you've sustained physical trauma." He opened her water and tapped some of the liquid into the bottle before shaking it up. He held it up to her lips. "Drink. It will give you some energy."

"As for why I sound the way I do," Savien shrugged, a small smile briefly tugging at the corners of his lips. "I suppose that's just the way I talk."

____

For once in her life, she did as she was told. She ate and drank until her belly was fuller than she ever remembered it being. Sleep pulled at the edges of her consciousness again, this time, from actual fatigue. The headache had begun to subside, but the aching in her limbs were begging her to give in to sleep.

She swallowed her last tiny bite of food and looked at Savien. She smiled. "Thank you. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such care, but I thank you." She shifted with a grunt. "I don't know this place or how exactly I got here. I was abducted from my home while I was watching my family's herd of yaks, and then I was on horseback... and then I was here, in Lutet... Wherever I am now. I don't even know where home is, if it's still standing." She paused a moment, holding back tears once more. She wasn't one to cry, normally, but the exhaustion and the excitement had overwhelmed her system, so nothing was quite the way it should have been, normally.

"As for my name," she began again, but she trailed off. "My name is... Pandora..." She couldn't remember her last name. She thought quickly, back to the papers in the hospital. What are some words I could use... Not like I'd know how to say them... "...DeSangue. Pandora DeSangue." She sighed a private breath of relief.

She smiled and looked at the strange, worn-down, metal-plated man and smiled a tiny, weary smile. "Perhaps you can help me put other things together, but first, I do believe I must sleep." The last word was barely out of her mouth before her eyes closed and she drifted into a deep, much-needed slumber.

____

"Pandora," Savien nodded, "I'm pleased to-"

But she was already asleep. Smiling, Savien left and returned with another blanket. He lay it over her gently, wondering what must have happened that left her so displaced from her home and lifestyle. He'd been tempted to return her to the hospital, but had decided against it after he'd brought her into the church. Something had driven her away from there. He wasn't keen on taking her back to a place that she'd gone through great pains to escape. Besides, the bulk of her health concerns seemed to stem from malnutrition and exhaustion; nothing that couldn't be fixed with food and sleep. She would be better when she woke. Then they would talk.

Upon tucking her in, Savien turned and resumed kneeling at the altar. He began his prayers once more.

"Saint Selene," his voice was low and hushed, "in Eleue's name, in the Wick's name, watch over me." He touched a thumb to his forehead, then his lips. "By all the Saints, by the holy light, watch over this city." A pause. The paladin glanced over his pauldron at the girl sleeping soundly on the bench. He drew a breath and returned to his prayers.

"In your name, Selene," he said, "by the grace of your will, watch over her. Watch over Pandora."

____

The light filtering in through the church windows was low and orange by the time Pandora awoke. Her head had cleared some and the pain had begun to fade from her limbs. She glanced around. As she turned her head, it stirred up a strangely familiar aroma from the cloak that served as her pillow. It smelled like work, like the outdoors. It smelled like dust and wind and faith. In a way, it reminded her of home, like her father's hugs. She relaxed back into it and sighed.

Savien was nowhere in sight.

Pandora decided against making another escape attempt and settled back into the pew, which by now, was warmer than the air around her. She unrolled part of the cloak from under her head and wrapped it around her shoulders as she curled up into a ball and rocked herself back and forth, on her side, closed her eyes, and began humming a hymn to herself, pretending she was back home, wrapped up in one of her father's old work shirts after a long day on the mountainside.

____

"A pretty tune," an old, warm voice broke her music, tinged with a sharp-sounding accent that edged on the 'R's and 'O's. Pandora would open her eyes to an elderly man in long robes of gold, black and blue. His skin was white, his cheeks red, his graying hair flecked with black. He held a crate in his left hand filled with tall, plain candles.

"Northern hymn, if memory of such things serves me," he smiled. "Which I confess, is not what it used to be, rybenuhk." He turned back to the altar, waiving at her. "Go on. You must forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt you." He began blowing out the near-melted candles on the altar. "I change the noon candles, put the evening on." He removed the spent wick from its brass and replaced with a fresh pillar of wax. "These will last the night."
 
as written by Peachy00Keen and Ronin

Pandora sat up slowly, wrapping the warm cloak closer around her. She watched the old man curiously. "You sound different, too," she said, ponderously. "Why does everyone here sound funny?" She looked around again, then looked down at the cloak. "Where did the big metal one -- Savien? -- go?" She glanced at the fading light filtering in through the windows, once more. "Where am I to go? The day is fading fast, and I know not where I am or where I am to go."

She pulled her legs up to rest her head on her knees and let out a sigh as she pulled the cloak closer around her. "I have a feeling I'm much farther from home than I initially thought."

____

A low, warm chuckle. "If you sing the hymns of your people, rybenuhk, you are far indeed." He put two wicks on either side of the stone statue. "And if you think I sound funny, you are not alone. I am a native of Anaar. Country to the east of here. Lots of snow and tundra." He smiled at her as he lit a match, eyes twinkling above the flame. "Not unlike your home, perhaps?"

The candles lit, he moved to the next on a table near a wall. "Savien. Sir Durandet. 'Absolon', as I call him." He collected a line of molten sticks and meshed them into a wax ball with his hands. "He has gone back to Lupaix, and then to the Monastery, if I heard him right. Something about... eh.. 'following a lead', as he puts it." He chuckled, replacing the empty brass dishes. "He works all the time. Nonstop. No holiday, no vacation. It is why I call him 'Absolon', patron saint of suffering. Very stoic." Another match. He lit the candles one by one. "He said he would be back. Later tonight, to check on you."

He turned to face Pandora again. "As for where you shall go..." He shrugged. "...that is for you to choose. You are in a big city. If you have money, I would go to Lemeux. If you don't..." He drew a breath. "...you would be better off staying here, until you find work. Lutetia is a dangerous place, especially at night. Merveilleux is not the worst neighborhood, but..." His voice trailed. His eyes flickered to the far doubleset doors, darkening as the sunlight faded from the glass.

"...no. You should not go out at night."

____

Pandora felt her heart sink at his last words.

"Why shouldn't I go out at night?" She assessed the doors at the front of the church. They did not look special in any way -- just a plain set of wooden doors. She looked around the church. It was not a place she wanted to stay for much longer, something about it just didn't feel quite right, though not unsafe. "Where would I go if I were to leave here, anyway?"

____

"You could go center, try Lemeux and Luskionos," the priest continued, but his head was shaking. "Without money, you will not get far. Though at least the streets will be patrolled." He moved to the other wall and began the same ritual. "You could circle the outer neighborhoods. Lupaix. Vargeras. A pack war is brewing there, but you may find an inn or boarding home willing to put you up for work. There are also homeless shelters. Those streets, however, are not patrolled. You risk being attacked or mugged - a very likely outcome, all things considered."

The last of the candles lit, the priest turned and walked towards Pandora. He stood before her, a weary smile on his face. "Your last option, child, is to out of the city. Into the wildlands. Brave the forests of Lornaine, the cold of the night." He sighed heavily. "That would certainly be death. Even the paladins fear to travel at night - only the bravest leave the city limits at all, and that is almost always during the day."

____

"I guess I'll stay and help out around here. It'll help me learn the language a bit more before I try to go somewhere else. Besides," she said, standing up, "I still have Savien's cloak." She tied it around her shoulders. "Is there anything here I can do for a little pay? If I am to go elsewhere, I should probably save to get some more acceptable clothes. I received many strange looks from people in the street. Nobody else here seems to wear leather and beads, though I don't understand why. You wear metal and strange soft fabrics here. This is truly a bizarre place."

She bowed and approached the altar, coming to stand beside the kind old man whose name she did not know. "I may be unfamiliar with your gods and customs, but I trust they will get along with mine and together guide me to where I must be. In the meantime, I will be of whatever help I can, if for nothing else than to show my gratitude."

Pandora smiled, lost in her own racing thoughts, at the old man. She wasn't sure where she would go from here, but she hoped that Savien or someone would come for her soon. For now, the best thing she could do was take advice. The city was nothing like her home village, and as experience had taught her, trying to run against the grain and fight the city was only going to get her hurt of killed. She would have to learn how it worked before she could play that game with it.

____

"You seem to be doing a good job of picking up the language," the priest smiled, "better than most newcomers. You are a fast learner." He 'hmmmed' at the mention of money. "Here. If you sweep and mop the floor tonight, I'll pay you for it. Sound good?"

____

She bowed her head. "Thank you." Pandora gestured to the cloak; "When is he coming back?"

____

"Soon," the father nodded, retreating behind a corner and coming back with a broom and mop in a bucket. "For now..." he handed her the tools. "your work awaits.

---

An hour later, the sound of a grumbling engine approached the doors and died off. Boots rapped on the stone steps outside before one of the doors swung open. Savien Durandet stepped in from the chill. He was garbed as before, in full-plate, but a helmet adorned his head and obscured everything from the nose-up in a darkened temperglass visor.

"Miss DeSangue?" he called out as he entered, "Pandora?"

____

Pandora had finished her work surprisingly quickly, her speed fueled by a strange, constant stream of adrenaline as her heart leaped into her throat at every rumble, creak, thud, and rustle she heard. The shadows played tricks on her eyes, dancing in the low light. The floor was certainly clean, as promised, and the broom, mop, and bucket were tucked away in the back corner of the chapel. Pandora, however, felt it would be best for her to hide in the relative darkness provided by the cloak, which she had wrapped around her head. She sat behind the massive stone altar, her back pressed up against it. She had been quietly humming folk songs and hymns to herself to keep her mind off of the sounds around her. She had heard the shuffling and rumbling outside before the doors opened and curled into a smaller ball. The old man had warned about things being dangerous outside at night. She had begun to hum louder until she heard a familiar voice call out her name.

Trepidatiously, she peered around the corner of the altar to see a hulking suit of armor -- one she recognized immediately -- standing just inside the church. "Savien!" she shouted as she sprinted up the aisle from her hiding place, flinging herself at the suit of armor and the man inside it, her only friend and ally in this strange city. "The noises here are strange, roaring and creaking and skitting sounds from everywhere, inside and out." She realized what she was doing and pulled herself away from the man, brushing herself off as she tried to fight down the blood rising up to her cheeks. "I cleaned the floors," she announced, changing her tone to a more formal one. "The older man who changes the candles told me he would pay me for the service. I figure I could use some new clothes. I don't exactly blend in to the surroundings in this," she said dismissively as she gestured down at her favorite pair of beaded chaps.

A breeze passed between the two large doors and surrounded Pandora, giving her a chill. Something creaked in the back of the church. Impulsively, she picked up the edge of the massive cloak and started playing with a loose thread. She glanced around nervously, checking the shadows. Savien shifted slightly, his metal armor clanking softly. Pandora looked back at him briefly. She siddenly seemed to remember she was wearing his cloak and untied it from the horns on her shoulder plates. She folded it messily but tenderly and held it out to Sir Durandet, bowing her head. "Thank you for letting me borrow this. It's been more a comfort to me than I believe either of us imagined it would."

____

A brow perked as the girl bounded towards him. Though she checked her tone, Savien thought he heard a bit of pride in her voice as she announced her completed chores for the day.

"Father Feron," he said, "he's the head priest here. A good man." As she began to undo the cloak, he stopped her, resting a gaunleted hand on her fingers. "Please, keep it. It's all you have." Seeing her shiver, he closed the door behind him and walked with her into the warmth of the church. "I apologize for leaving you on your own, I had duties to see to." He looked her up and down, noting that that she was, in fact, on her feet. More than that, she seemed brimming with energy.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," he nodded. A small pause. "You are feeling better? No more exhaustion or pain?"

____

She graciously re-accepted the cloak and tied it back around her, picking up the ends that trailed on the floor and wrapped them around her, enjoying the soft fabric.

"My head feels better, but my body still aches. I must have taken a bit of a beating on the way here, though I don't really remember much of what happened." Pandora sat down on the pew where she had been sleeping and looked up at the statue of the woman with the broken sword before glancing back down at her own weapon, battered and slung at her waist. "I understand what you mean about duty. I should hope that I don't keep you from yours, as I was kept from mine. I was... careless, I suppose. My herd may be dead now, for all I know, perhaps my village, too. I was their only protector." She shook her head in disappointment; "If the wild animals realize the herd is unprotected, they will surely come back to hunt them in numbers. Who is to say they won't become more emboldened once the yaks are all eaten? Who is to say that whoever took me didn't travel in a larger group? Perhaps they took others, too..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes glazed over and she faded into a horrific daydream where her village was ablaze and its people screaming and running from their homes. Water began to fill her dark, sunken eyes.

____

A firm but warm hand lay on her shoulder, and Savien offered the girl a small smile. He understood her more than she knew.

"I see you now," he nodded, "you have people to protect. A family to care for." He nodded firmly. "We will get you back home, and you will be with them again." He drew a breath, the smile leaving his face. "...or at least, we will secure justice for you and your kin."

Father Feron stepped out from a hallway. "Absolon!" he laughed, "back so soon? You must have hurried."

Savien made a bow. "Good evening, father. Thank you for caring for Pandora-"

He waived dismissively. "No trouble, my son. She was a fine help." He looked down at the floor. "And a fine worker, too. Here you are, my child. Take this." He reached into his robes and offered her a single, crisp bill. "That should help you get some clothes."

Savien looked down at the bill, brows furrowing. "Father, I'm happy to-"

"Ah," Feron held up a finger, "the girl earned this, Savien. You will not deprive her of what she's worked for."

The knight drew a deep breath, eyes rolling. He decided not to push the issue. "Pandora, do you have a place to stay for the night?"

____

Pandora reluctantly left her hellish daydream and accepted the paper from Father Feron. Their currency was strange to her; she had no idea how much the paper was worth, but she took it gratefully and thank the old priest.

She turned her attention to Savien, shaking her head slightly, letting her emotions seep into her expression. She stammered a bit as she spoke: "Father Feron offered me solace in the church for the night..." something in the direction of the great doors creaked. She jumped and whirled her head in that direction, only to find the same flickering shadows as before. She returned her gaze to the men's faces, embarrassed and hot in the face. She furrowed her brow. "I would wish for someplace less... echoey, though that is not to say that this place is not suitable or enough. I suppose I am just... Perhaps it would be best if I..." she trailed off once again, at a loss for words.

Not sure what else to do, Pandora changed the subject after a moment of silence. "Tomorrow, can you take me someplace to get new clothing? My attire doesn't really suit the area well, and the Father suggested I check nearby towns." Remembering suddenly Savien's earlier suggestion, she quickly backtracked. "I mean, I do want to go home. I want to see my village and return to my herd..." she looked down at the bill in her hands, now wrinkled and damp with sweat from her palms. She began to hold it out to Father Feron, but a loud bang outside the church walls gave her such a start that she dropped it on the floor, halfway between the two of them. Pandora scrambled to pick it up.

She glanced from one man's face to the other and back, mind racing, heart pounding, and utterly torn between two commitments. Her mouth turned downward into something more akin to a pout than a frown.
 
as written by Ronin and Peachy00Keen

"It was kind of the father to offer you a place in the church," Savien nodded, "but I had a mind to take you back to the Monastery. Much more comfortable. Beds and the like."

Feron gave a confused look. "You can take her there?"

Savien nodded. "She can stay in one of the guest rooms near the infirmary. Non-monastics use them all the time on church business." He looked down to Pandora. "It will be a cold ride to Lemeux, but you'll find the find the quarters much cozier. When you wake up, we'll see what we can do about taking you around the city for some clothes."

The father stepped forward. "Come, rybenuhk. I will bless you." If Pandora permitted, the father would lay a hand on her head. His eyes shut. "May Selene protect you, Elueu guide you, and the Wick illuminate your path. Walk with the light." He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"As for you, Absolon-" he turned to the towering knight, a sly grin on his face, "-you take care of her. The Wick keep you. Don't work too hard, though I know you won't listen to me."

Savien drew another breath, but relented. "Thank you, father." He turned to Pandora. "Are you ready to go?"

____

Pandora stood and gathered the cloak around her again, nodding to Savien. She thanked the Father and promised she would visit again before long.

She and Sir Durandet began walking to the doors when she stopped. "I don't have a horse," she admitted. She made a hiccupping sound and shook her head. "Right, I forgot. Cars seem to be perfectly functional here. I'm just not used to this city way of doing things. Lead on, Sir."

____

"We won't be riding in a car," Savien said, opening the doors and leading her outside. Parked on the curb was a massive motorcycle, complete with police lights and speakers. Savien mounted it easily, motioning for Pandora to assume the seat behind him. "Wrap that cloak around you tight," he said. "And. Ah." He realized that he only had one helmet. Unfastening the clasps linking his headpiece to his armor, Savien offered it to the girl. "Strap that beneath your chin, then hold onto me."

He started the bike, the engine roaring awake with deep fury. The sound of it rumbled into Pandora's core like an overhyped base, filling her body and ears with a deep, grumbling thrum.

"Have you ever ridden one of these before?" Savien called out over the engine.

____

The big metal can of a helmet rattled on Pandora's tiny head as the rumbling of the bike beneath her made every cell in her body vibrate. She tried to shake her head no, but the helmet stayed in one place as her head moved. She lifted the visor and tried again, this time so Savien could see her head moving side to side within the metal helm.

She took the cloak and tied its diagonal corners in double knots across her back, as best she could, so her front was covered. The cloak was big enough that she could still move her arms, and she tucked the excess into the straps of her shoulder plates and arm braces. She had ridden double on a horse before when she was a child, but she had ridden in her father's lap, then. She took her best guess and, part out of fear, part out of desire to hold on to the one thing had left to lose beside her life, tried to wrap her arms around his chest, but came just short of reaching all the way around. She looked at his back. It only got narrower farther down. Grateful, finally, for the helmet that now covered most of her face, she slowly slid her arms down his torso until she could lace her fingers together, giving her an extra secure grip. Once she was settled (and undoubtedly quite red in the face), she gave a nod, lowering the visor, and rested her head against his back, taking deep breaths. The metal helmet clanked against his armor, now ringing and rattling with the vibrations of the bike. She may never have ridden on a motorcycle before, but she had a pretty good feeling it was going to be a lot faster than any horse she'd ever known. She shivered and tightened her grip, linking each hand to the opposite wrist and shrugging her shoulders.

____

A small smile touched Savien lips as he watched the girl try to respond from beneath the gargantuan helmet. A Northlander - a farm girl. This was probably a brand new experience for her. He would try to make it quick, the night was cold.

Kicking his bike into gear, Savien thundered into the night, quickly picking up speed as he and the girl blurred down the city streets. If Pandora kept her eyes open, she might see a bit of the city as it passed. Gas lamps lined the streets, setting alight stone buildings, cafes and stores. The further they went, the fancier their surroundings became. Pawn shops became jewelers, thrift stores became designer retailers. They were entering Saint Lemeux, and shortly found themselves at the gates of the Monastery.

____

When they first started moving, she thought she was going to fall off. The motorcycle peeled away from the curb with such speed and force, had she still had her fingers laced, she would have easily fallen off of the back of the bike and onto the road. Fortunately, her yelp of terror was lost in the roar of the engine and the sound of the tires.

For much of the ride, she was too terrified to open her eyes, imagining that they were moving faster than lightning, based on the icy bite of the wind against her exposed skin. Instinct told her to hold on to her seat more tightly with her knees. That may have helped on a horse, but the effort didn't offer much help on a motorcycle.

After a while, she peeped open one eye and saw lights blurring by. Enormous, lavish buildings streaked past -- beautiful and completely unlike anything she had seen before. She had no idea where she was now, though she assumed she was still somewhere in Lutetia. She watched the buildings pass for a while before the wind coming through the helmet began to sting her eyes. She shut them again and tried to focus on the hum of the bike as it traveled through her bones, imagining it warming her up from the inside. If nothing else, it was a comforting thought to hold on to; Savien had said it would be a long ride.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
as written by Ronin and Faithy

"Here we are."

The door opened, permitting Corso and Alyssa entry to a lavish Lutetian penthouse. The room was dark, though not uncomfortably so. Lamps stood on black tables tastefully decorated with green plants and small ivory sculptures. The place had a dark, musky scent, pleasant and subtle, like onyx given fragrance.

He led her into the kitchen and set his jacket on the bar. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, "the stuff at the club was all well and good, but I think my whiskey can top it."

____

Instead of leaving her helmet out on the bike, Alysa brought it with her, placing it down on a nearby table the minute they entered his dwelling. Once her hand was free, she slid both through her hair, fluffing the locks out before dropping her hands down to her side, glancing around at the fancy-smancy penthouse. It was something that was completely out of her league, but she figured might as well enjoy it while she could.

“Wow…” Muttering softly, Alysa followed him into the kitchen, though in truth, she could have spent a lot more time looking around his not-so humble abode.

“Sure, a drink would be great. Give me your best stuff. I can handle it.” Grinning, Alysa made a mental note of what she needed to keep focused on, knowing that she had a mission and getting knackered would impede that mission.

____

Corso opened a cupboard, retrieving a bottle, a sack, a shaker and a pair of glasses.

"This is a coastal Issune brew," he explained, "old. Very old. Made in a little town called 'Tranatix' in the days before the Queran landings." He uncorked the bottle and poured a measure of dark liquor into the shaker. "They drank it with crushed barley sprinkled into it. Believed the start and end product should be enjoyed together." He opened the sack to Alyssa, the scent of crushed, honeyed grain wafting out from the bag. He deposited a bit of the barley into the shaker, capped it, and shook.

"You may know the town today as 'Caranhall'," he continued, pouring out two measures into each glass. "Good town, quaint. Much of its former beauty remains, though much is lost." He offered her the drink, smiling as he lifted his own for a toast.

"To the gifts of the past," he nodded and lifted the glass to his lips, drinking.

____

Alysa leaned against the counter, watching as he pulled down the things necessary to make a drink. As he explained where the beverage came from as well as what was in the sack, the Scion found herself nodding in all the right spots, even leaning forward to inhale the barley. It smelled quite intriguing and she couldn’t wait to drink the brew. Despite not knowing anything about Caranhall, it didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the drink.

“Quite a story behind such a simple brew.” Picking up her own glass, she lifted it up for a toast, already imagining all the different places she was going to enjoy him.

“To new friends and fun experiences!” Alysa grinned, inhaling the scent of the brew before drinking the liquid down.

____

Corso finished his drink, smiling as he watched Alyssa down hers.

"Not too strong, I hope?" he perked an amused brow before rounding the bar and leaning against the counter next to her.

"What part of the city are you from, Alyssa?" he asked, "not from Merveilleux, I don't think. I know you ride a motorcycle..." His brows furrowed. "There's a big biker community down in Lupaix and Adrieu, isn't there?"

____

“It takes a lot more than that to knock me down. No, it wasn’t too strong.” Smiling, she sat the glass down on the counter before shifting in order to give him the proper attention he deserved. Flashing another brilliant smile, Alysa debated on how much to tell him, knowing that she couldn’t let him figure out what she was up to before she had a chance to do her dirty deed though she supposed it really wasn’t dirty, at least not in that sense.

“I’m from a little bit of everywhere, actually, Corso. I have hung out in Lupaix and Adrieu from time to time, but I wouldn’t really call any specific place home.” Shrugging a little, the Scion ran her fingers through her red hair, pushing the locks out of her emerald eyes.

“So, how’d you end up at the rave anyways?” She queried, wondering if he had an agenda too.

____

"I guess you could say I was looking for something," Corso smiled, "I've been so caught up with my work lately, I needed some time to... relax. Relieve some stress." An amused chuckle. "Truth be told, I'm a little worried I may have bitten off more than I can chew with you. It's like I said before, there's something wild about you." He stepped a bit closer, brows furrowed above pale grey eyes. "Something I can't control."

He bit his lower lip, gaze running up from her mouth to her piercing emerald irises. "Part of it scares me. Part of me likes it."

____

He was looking for something? Her brow arched for a minute and she played back the previous events, trying to remember if he went to anyone else before coming to sit beside her. Nothing came to mind and that made her highly suspicious. Then, she remembered that at parties, clubs, and bars, men often walked up to women to start conversations. Maybe that was what happened with the two of them. Making a mental note to be on her toes around him, Alysa just flashed a disarming smile, her emerald eyes twinkling when he stepped closer after his revelation. If only he knew that she was going to be the one biting him later, he would probably be a little more worried.

“Hmm, relaxation is always a good thing. Sometimes not being able to control something or someone is a freeing experience. There’s nothing wild about me, Corso, I’m just a free spirit and I enjoy driving a motorcycle.” Grinning, she watched as he bit on his bottom lip and the beast within her, the one that never got to come out and play surged against her, metaphorically speaking. The Scion stepped forward, closing the gap before going in for a kiss. “Let’s focus on the like then.”

____

Corso accepted her without hesitation, hands gliding easily over her hips as she leaned in for a kiss. He pulled her close, lips moving in passionate cadence with her own.

"Mm. You like control, huh?" he smiled as he broke, mouth inches from her own. He'd walked her against a nearby wall. His hands glided down her arms and found her wrists, pinning them above her head with surprising strength. A low, primal rumble loosed from his throat as he looked lustfully into her eyes, bright, lively green mingling with cool, confident grey.

"Do me one favor before we start?"

____

Finally. She was finally going to get laid after what felt like forever. His lips felt like silk against hers and Alysa couldn’t help but groan a little, her body growing warmer as the seconds tended to tick by. Of course she liked control, but she also liked losing it whenever she shifted. There was something that was just so invigorating about letting lose and becoming something else. Resisting the urge to rip off his clothing when her back was pressed against a nearby wall, the Scion couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out when he suddenly pinned her wrists above her. He was strong… but that was just a turn on for the female.

“Of course I like control, but I can give it up easily for the right individual or situation.” Her voice had grown a little husky and very sensual. Tilting her head a little at his request, Alysa bit on her bottom lip wondering what he wanted.

“A favor? What’s on your mind, Corso?”

____

Corso grinned. "This." He covered her lips with his mouth, drawing her close for another passionate embraced...

And as he did so, flicked out a needle from his sleeve with his free hand and calmly attempted to inject it directly into her neck - a potent neurotoxin designed to knock out even a werewolf. If it worked as intended, she would be unconscious almost instantly, falling into his arms.

____

A kiss? Alysa was confused, mentally wondering why he would call what he had already done a favor, but her body overrode that slight self-doubt, his actions priming her for what she hoped was to come next. Her hands being pinned meant she couldn’t rip of his clothing, which ultimately frustrated the Scion, but what he was doing with his mouth was slightly sidetracking, so it was a win-win situation.

“Mmm…” The female was so into what was going on that she didn’t even feel the needle being pushed into her neck. For a brief instance, she managed to rub herself up against him, wanting him to take her then and there. Then, before Alysa realized what was going on, she was slumping down, being held up only by his hand against her wrist as she fell unconscious.
 
as written by Ronin and Faithy

Alyssa awoke naked in his bed, silk sheets drawn just below her bare shoulders. Morning light filtered through the closed blinds, striping the room in swathes of gold and dark. She was alone.

A splitting headache afflicted her - she would feel it the moment she rose. The pounding resonated in her ears, her brain, accompanied by a frail weakness. She would be hungry, tired and generally exhausted, as if she hadn't slept a wink last night.

Memories. She retained some, mostly up to the point of the drink he offered her. After that, some kissing, growling... a push up against a wall, the trace of his fingers down her thigh... They must have had sex. Perhaps the liquor had simply affected her more than she'd thought.

His bedroom was much like the rest of the house, curious works of art and Issune culture displayed on dressers and tables. The door was open and the smell of cooking food wafted from the kitchen.

____

The room spun briefly the moment Alysa slid open her emerald orbs. Clenching them closed, the female couldn’t help but groan, feeling like absolute crap. It had been a very long time since she last felt terrible, but nothing in the past even halfway compared to the sensations running through her lithe frame today. The fact that she was naked beneath the sheets gave her high hopes that she had finally gotten laid, but the fact that she did not remember anything about it, irritated her immensely. Did she bite him last night? No… well, maybe. In truth, she probably would have remembered that and he would probably still be in bed with her. As it was, she was alone and that bothered her.

“Ughn… get up, Alysa and go finish what you started last night.” The Scion slid the blankets off her, stretching out with a huge yawn before finally managing to tug herself out of the bed. Her stomach roared angrily, it indicating that it needed to be fed, which wasn’t all that surprising. Ignoring the pain radiating from her head, the redhead looked around for her clothing before spotting a large shirt. Sliding it over her head, she fixed her hair a little and headed towards the open door, the food smelling delicious.

Bite first and then eat. Mentally reminding herself of what steps needed to be taken, Alysa headed out into the kitchen, stretching yet again.

____

Corso was at the stove turning omelettes in a pan. The succulent scent of cooking sausage and seasoned vegetables wafted on the smoke rising from the food.

"Good morning," he looked up at Alyssa, smiling, "you slept a while." He flipped the omelette. "Hungry, I bet. Have a seat at the bar, it's almost ready."

____

Screw that, food first then dessert. Alysa couldn’t help herself, not when it came to food. She was famished and hoped that the grub would bring back some of her strength that appeared to be zapped. Then, she would shift and bite down on him like she had done to Caitia previously. Once he was bitten, the Scion would kidnap him and take him back to Rowan’s place, presenting him and Cat as her gifts to hopefully appease him.

“Smells great, Corso.” Sitting down at the bar as requested, the redhead leaned forward, stretching out her back with a long and extremely deep yawn. “Did we uh… that is… last night is quite fuzzy. Did we end up having sex?” Her gaze shifted towards him, hoping he remembered more than she did.

____

"What you don't remember?" Corso grinned, "not sure if I should be insulted or if you just really had too much to drink last night." He reached into his cupboard and lay out two plates. "We had a good time last night, if you really can't remember. Best I've had in a while." He prepared the dishes with large stuffed omelette and sides of sausage. Pairing it with a set of cutlery and a napkin, he set it before Alyssa.

"I have a meeting in an hour or so, so I can't stay for too long," he turned to a pot of steaming coffee and began pouring out mugs. "But I can have some breakfast with you, at the least."

____

Alysa couldn’t help but frown at his words. She hadn’t had too much to drink, but something was blocking her memories. Then again, she was downing quite a few at the rave and maybe his concoction was stronger than she realized. Shrugging it off, she glanced down at the omelet and licked her lips, her stomach growling loudly for a second time. When she realized he would be leaving sooner than later, the Scion knew that she needed to eat quickly in order to pounce and bite on him before he left.

“Well, I guess we’d better do it again so that I remember it this time around, right?” Grinning, she shot him a wink, waiting for him to join her before eating, not wanting to be rude.

“I uhh, I have a favor to ask you once we’re finished eating. Nothing big, but I certainly would appreciate it.”

____

Corso poured them both cups of coffee. He slid Alysa a steaming mug and lay a small bowl of cream next to it before taking up the seat alongside her.

"We'll see..." he grinned as she requested another round, "like I said, I can't stay too long. You must be tired after last night." His brows furrowed as she requested something. "Hm? What is it you need?"

____

Picking up the cup of coffee, she inhaled it deeply, relaxing almost immediately. Taking a few careful sips to keep from burning herself, Alysa nodded due to the good taste before setting it back down in order to start eating. She wanted to bite him, but on the other hand, she really wanted a bout of sex she could remember. If she dilly dallied too long, Rowan might get cross with her and if she let him leave without biting her, then the male really would be pissed at her.

“Well, I think I’ve got enough energy to go again. I mean, it’s only proper, isn’t it? Wouldn’t even take an hour, honestly.” Alysa flashed him a smile, winking before resuming eating.

“How about it, stud?” She wished she had magical powers that would sway him to her bidding, but she only could rely on her flirting.

____

Corso gave her a curious look, hesitating for only a moment. His look was searching, questioning and curiously devoid of passion or emotion. It was gone in an instant, replaced with a warm, coy smile.

"Well I do need to take a shower..." he took a bite, "...maybe you could help me with that?" He brought up his mug for a slow sip, eyes never leaving Alyssa's.

____

A sly grin crossed her face the moment he mentioned helping him in the shower. She finished her plate, studying him for a moment while maintaining eye contact. The shower would be good, because he could easily be confined in the bathroom and after a little shower sex, she could shift while placing herself before him and the door and then pounce and bite him. It almost seemed to easy and Alysa found herself wondering if she was placing into Corso’s plans.

That’s stupid. Quit being so paranoid.

“I’d love to help you with making sure you’re nice and clean, Corso. I’m great with my hands.” Alysa winked, leaning in real close to him.

____

Corso grinned. "Show me."

He whisked her away to the shower.
 
as written by Ronin and Faithy

Corso staggered out of the bedroom, shirtless, clutching desperately at a wound in his shoulder. He was pale and breathing hard, and he steadied himself against his sofa, struggling not to collapse.

He looked at the blood on his fingers before glaring back into the bedroom.

"What have you done to me?"

____

The day was looking up for Alysa after all. Not only did she get some nookie, she managed to bite Corso. Adding him in with Caitia, she had two new members to bring to Rowan. This would most definitely make him a little less pissed at her, sort of… probably not. Shaking her head, having returned back to her human form, a feat that was going to leave her incredibly exhausted for a while, Alysa moved out of the bedroom after him.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking to do this when I saw you at the Rave, but my target left. As you have now witnessed, I’m a werewolf… a Scion to be exact and well, I had my orders. If you come with me, your questions can be answered by my leader.” She sighed softly, knowing this was hard for him, but it needed to be done.

“Basically, I bit you and there’s a chance you will turn too.”

____

"You infected me?" Corso's voice waivered between fear and anger. "What have you done? My life... Everything... It's ruined!" He glared at her, still trying to stop the bleeding from his shoulder. "Why have you done this? What did I do to you?"

____

“Well, when you put it that way, I am a horrible being, but believe me, your life is far from over! You’re going to have more power than you can imagine and sure, you turn furry, but imagine what all you can do now that you couldn’t before. Like I said, let me take you to my leader and he can explain it a lot better than me.” Alysa was hoping that he had the same reaction of Caitia, but that was obviously a special case. This man was angry and very accusing.

“It’s a means to an end, Corso. You didn’t do anything to me, you were just in the wrong place at the right time. There is a slim chance you won’t even get infected… Just, come with me.” She stepped closer to him, prepared to smack him over the head to make him come with her. They should have gone back to her place or rather, to where they took all new pack mates. Oh well, live and learn.

____

Panic seized Corso briefly and the man seemed poised to run or fight... but he forced himself into a relative calm, steadying his breathing and forcing himself to listen to her words.

"Your... your leader..." he took ragged breaths, "what is..." His eyes closed and he shook his head. "Look, just give me..." He looked at the blood dripping from his shoulder, "just give me a minute to clean this up, alright?"

____

“Go get cleaned up, Corso. Then, we’ll go to the Scion headquarters and my boss will explain it on. You’ll feel a bit better soon, I promise.” Alysa had a feeling he might try to escape and wished she would have checked around the place to make sure there wasn’t any other exits. Wouldn’t that be typical though? Then she’d have to hunt him down and who knows what would happen when she found him again.

“I promise this is not as bad as it seems.” She smiled softly, sliding her fingers through her hair.

____

"Thank you," Corso drew a relaxed breath, "I'll be just a moment." He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly drowning out all other noises.

Five minutes passed. Ten. The water continued to run. After the five minute mark, any questions Alyssa asked through the door went unanswered. If, after a time, she decided to force her way into the locked room, she would find it empty, the window above the shower open, and an overwhelming smell rising from the tile that immediately stunk in Alyssa's knowledge, severely inhibiting her sense of smell and likely inducing nausea.

____

Alysa just nodded, watching as he headed into the bathroom. Glancing around the room, she grabbed the food off his plate, what hadn’t been eaten and finished it off. Moving back to the bathroom door, she knocked on it, still hearing the water running.

“Corso…? We need to go. Come on.” Knocking on the door again, she swore under her breath and after checking to the door to find it locked, Alysa slammed her body into it in order to knock it open.

“Damn it!!!!” She snapped her gaze towards the window and swore even louder. She was absolutely stupid! She should have known better than to let him go in alone. Slamming her fist hard against the wall, it caving beneath the punch, the Scion started to turn before the smell hit her. Stumbling backwards, she groaned and shook her head, trying to clear her senses. Stumbling backwards, she moved quickly out of the bathroom.

“I am so fucked!” Slamming her fist into another wall, Alysa rushed outside and glanced around, knowing he was long gone. Jumping onto her bike, she inhaled deep to lessen the nauseous feeling. Once she knew she wasn’t going to throw up, the redhead slid on her helmet and started her bike, knowing she needed to find the fucker.
 
as written by Sentry and Peachy00Keen

Kids liked to hang out after school near a back alley of a well-worn gas station in Merveilleux. Most of them were unsupervised High School kids who's homes were well within walking distance of the popular bus stop. Here, they would play games, smoke, bribe homeless beggars to buy them beer, and every now and again, there would be a fight.

Today, there was a little something different. A young woman stood in the midst of a crowd of teenagers, twirling a thin golden staff. They marveled as the prop disappeared completely as she spun it behind her back, then pulled it out of someone's pocket. Everyone jumped back in amazement, and given the room, the girl was allowed to expand her dance, tossed the staff up in the air, where it continued to spin. It stayed there, hovering in the air. A dark cloud formed above it. Before anyone even realized there were sparks inside of the grey mass, the deafening boom of thunder shook the ground and scattered the teenagers in a panic.

The young woman stood in the middle, catching her staff, and doubled over in laughter. She stuck her hand in her pocket and dashed out a couple of black rings. "When you're all able to hear again, contact me when you wanna learn the dark arts and be as cool as me!"

____

Eris watched from the protective shadows of a nearby building as the young witch summoned the thundercloud and released its deafening boom of sound. The kids that had gathered around her scattered like raindrops on the hood of a freshly waxed car. She shook her head, scoffing. Parlor tricks. I've heard of your other mischievous deeds. Pray that you cooperate. You are so young...

She stood up straight, her armor clinking as it shifted into place, and she coolly emerged from the shadows. Keeping a casual eye on the girl, who seemed to be basking in her pride, Eris approached. She had scanned the surrounding area for possible egresses for the young sorceress, all of which were easily within a couple of long bounds. The mercenary was considerably taller than the girl, and it was likely a safe bet to say that she was more athletic than the young girl, as well.

Once she was easily within earshot and, more importantly, within a reasonable distance to cut off her escape, should she try to flee, Eris addressed the girl:

"Young practitioner. I have been sent here to find you, by word of a good citizen. Would you kindly come with me?" She demanded in a strong but non-aggressive tone.

____

The witch swiftly turned to face the woman who so bravely dared to call out to her. A hand on her hip, the girl smirked. "Or what? You gonna wag your finger at me? Give me a talking to?" Her fingers curled beneath her nose as she snorted. "Who are you, anyway? You don't really look like a paladin, and you're not a cop."

____

"Or I will be forced to kill you, child. Do not test my patience. I operate with the law only when it is convenient for me," she said in the same, flat, authoritative tone as before. She continued to walk forward until she stood about ten feet from the girl. "Now, would you care to come quietly to the police station," she placed a gauntleted hand upon her great sword, "or need I persuade you further?"

____

The girl's expression darkened. She held the golden staff out in front of her, thumping the end onto the ground. "Police station? Yeah, right. You'll be the one going to the cops if you kill a minor for a slight annoyance. Go home, lady. You'd be hard pressed killing a witch like me, anyway."

She backed away as the woman neared, but she never once took her eyes off of her. "Stay where you are, alright?"

____

Eris laughed a low, throaty laugh. "Child, you think I care about what the law thinks? I work with them to appease the general public. One little low-life pipsqueak like yourself going missing won't bother anyone. Hasn't before." She drew her sword and tensed her shield arm, walking slowly toward the girl. "Your list of offenses is longer than my sword. That's the lesser of my concerns;" she sighed a contented, if not bemused, sigh, "it's the monster that you may grow into someday that is my concern."

She halted. "Agree to come with me peacefully and I can take you to a place where you can be reformed to use your magic for good. Failing that, you can come to the station. Failing that also, I will simply kill you." Her steely eyes cold as stone, she grinned, perfect teeth gleaming. "Your choice, Cerise."

____

She snorted again. "You mean somewhere I'll be watched every second of the day. I really ain't about that, lady."

As soon as the woman drew up her shield and approached her, Cerise, as she'd been called, spun her staff swiftly and pushed a gust of air toward the knightly looker. "Get off my ass, damn!"

____

Eris raised her shield, ducking behind it and diverting the gust of wind. She chuckled, low and dark. "Adorable, sweetheart."

Once the gust had passed, Eris swiftly emerged from behind her shield and nimbly swung her sword toward the girl's golden staff, in an effort to knock it from her hands and out of reach.

____

The girl bent backwards as the sword swept at her, flattening the staff against the ground. Another wind swept her away from the mercenary on her back, burning the skin as she did so. Arching her feet upwards, the wind flipped her onto her feet. She winced, but knew this would be a battle she would lose. Without any further hesitation, she booked it.

"Later, asswipe!"

____

Eris took off after her at a full sprint, her armor clanking loudly as she ran. Her long legs and years of endurance training made catching up to the girl a breeze.

"Look," she said through keenly-times breaths, "kid, this doesn't have to end in a fight. I appreciate your talents and I want to help you." The two of them were neck-in-neck. "I know a guy, he's old but he knows what he's doing." She paused talking briefly to re-pace her breathing. "You wouldn't be trapped. It would be like going to school, but with magic and outdoors and stuff."

Eris slammed into the girl's shoulder, attempting to throw her off-balance and onto the grass. Talking would be a lot easier to do when standing still. "I'm not out to kill kids, Cerise. Let me help you. This guy can teach you to hone your skills and use them for good." She panted, "You take this offer, and I'll be off your case." Until you defect... she thought to herself.

____

"Yeah, okay. Believe the lady with the sword who's... trying to kill me. That makes sense. Listen... you just don't know anything!" She had to pant between breaths. Her stamina was great, but she was sprinting full force. She spun her staff again, to her side, and blasted herself toward one of the neat two story houses. Whipping out the staff, she wall-walked until she could hang from the roof, struggling to pull herself up.

____

"Oh, kid. Why did you have to go and make this difficult..."

Eris took off after the girl, producing from her hip holster a dart gun, primed with a set of tranquilizer darts. Once she was within range of aiming, firing, hitting, and catching the girl, she squeezed off a couple of shots -- the second one was for good luck; this girl was a slippery little bugger.

____

One hit Cerise's bodice, piercing the thin leather. The other whizzed passed her as she pushed off of the wall and rolled onto the roof. She slipped forward on the tin, her balance betraying her.

"Ah, fuck," she hissed, gripping at her staff. She never did research cleansing magic. This was her punishment. She took hold of the dart and pulled it out of the leather forcefully. The knight wouldn't be able to climb this high, right?

____

"Dammit." Eris watched as the girl collapsed onto the roof of the building. Eris scanned the area. The buildings were close together, and the one next door had a fire escape starting at the second floor. The stairs were folded up, but it was a doable jump if she could push herself off of the neighboring wall. It'll be a long-shot, but it'll have to do...

She jogged over to the fire escape, and it looked a bit rusted. She jumped for it but couldn't quite reach. She looked around and saw an overturned bucket nearby. She placed it under the fire escape and tried jumping again. No luck. Angrily, she picked up the wooden bucket and threw it at the fire escape. Flakes of rust drifted down onto the ground below. Eris swore under her breath. She looked at the distance between the two buildings again and groaned. Wall jumps in full armor were going to suck. "I love my job..." she lamented as she backed down the alley a little further to get a running start. It took her four tries, but she eventually was able to jump and get a grasp on the bars of the fire escape and pull herself up and over the railing. From there, she ran up the stairs to the roof, from which she could see the girl, quite unconscious, on the neighboring rooftop.

"Sweet Selene, give me wings..." she murmured as she backed up for another running start across the roof. Eris cleared the space between the buildings with room to spare, landing with a perfect slide on the opposite roof. From a pouch at her side, she produced a pair of handcuffs and secured the girl, sliding her staff into her belt beside her sword. She slung the girl over her shoulder and looked around. "There'd better be a," she found a passage about 15 feet away, "door!" She tried the knob, but it was locked. "Naturally." Standing to the side, she delivered four swift, focused kicks to the knob before the rested mechanism gave way and the door swung lazily open.

Eris descended the stairs quickly and quietly. Outside, a couple of blocks away, her motorcycle was parked. Fortunately, though unconscious, the girl was small and could fit in front of her on the seat. She took a length of rope and secured the girl to her body, sitting her on the bike. She checked the tranq gun to make sure it was loaded with another dart, just in case the serum hadn't all gone in. On second thought... She removed the dart and held it between her teeth, the pointed end facing out, toward the girl's neck. Easier and quicker access. She revved the engine and took off down the streets, headed for what was left of the Township of Carseau.
 
as written by Emperor Jester and Script

The safe house was a lavish thing on its upper floor. Rich carpeting, high-end furniture, a small but heavily stocked library, so many things that Nox not only needed, but wanted. There were no windows, and there was only a single, solitary door. Constructed of raw iron and every inch of it covered in strange, foreign runes, it didn't even seem to have a handle, a wheel, a knob, or any discernible way to open it. But those currently kept captive there didn't know about that.

One of the bookshelves, a weighty piece made of wood from the lignum vitae tree, was absurdly difficult to move for most people, for said tree produces some of the heaviest wood in the world, at least compared to its other non-magical counterparts. On top of that, it was ridiculously expensive and highly illegal to boot, as the tree had been considered endangered long before the former Caeruleum Patriarch had made the purchase so many years ago. Behind this very piece of seemingly normal furniture was a hallway.

A hallway kept in the most pitch of black. A hallway with several rooms, each with its own rustic door similar to the one that blocked the entrance, and exit, to the city proper. It was in one of these rooms windowless, barely ventilated rooms that Nathan Hart was kept. Kept with only a bed, a bucket, a small table, and funnily enough, an MP3 player of some sort if the prodigy had found it. One filled with all sorts of music and readings. But most importantly, it was here that the Caer's captive was ferreted away alone. Without his aide or his beloved dog. Not for the first time, some one would enter the room to bring the boy some food. Only this day, instead of one of the silent, scampering spawn, it was Nox himself.

It would be the first voice Nathan would hear since his capture, the same voice that had lulled him into trust an unknown amount of time ago. It would be full of a mocking arrogance the boy hadn't heard in all their meetings past. "How do you find your quarters, Young Master Hart? Is it all to your liking?" A mirthful, pitiless chuckle, like that of a snake hissing, would slip through his thin lips as he waited for a response.

____

Nathan didn't reply at first. He'd scarcely moved from the bed since he was brought to this prison. What was the point? He couldn't escape. He had scarcely mustered the energy to call out for more than ten minutes before he grew tired. He was weak, blind and helpless. Without Samson and Claire, he was as useless as a child. More useless.

It should have been obvious. The strange benefactor with the smooth voice taking such an unusual interest in him, waxing lyrical about inclusion, and then cures. Of course it had been bullshit. How gullible was he, to be even halfway convinced? Now he was going to die here, or worse, be ransomed. He'd be even more of a burden on his family. If Claire had been hurt because of him...

It would be better if he died.

Finally, he lifted his head in Nox's direction. His eyes were red-rimmed where he'd been crying, but at present they were dry. His expression was one of hatred, but it lacked passion. He was resigned to his fate, to his helplessness.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice quiet. "A ransom? It's been two days. I'm just going to die if you keep me here much longer. I know Claire doesn't keep more than a few days worth of medicine on her. So if you want money, you should just hurry up and make your demands... mother will pay. Not that I'm worth it, but she will."

He turned his eyes downwards. "And if you don't want a ransom, then..." he trailed off, shuddering slightly as his mind turned to other reasons he might have been taken, knowing that he would have no way to resist anything his captive wanted.

____

A short burst of laughter exploded from the nosferatu's mouth, barking in volume and cruel in its edge. "Ransom? You think I lack for money? Boy, my family existed long before this confounded city was built, and even after the wars, our treasury has never so much as wavered. Despite what the Order," He'd spit the word like it tasted foul in his mouth, "Took from my home, our secret stores and hoards remain stocked enough to last me centuries."

A sound of wood straining as Nox took a seat on the table, using it like a stool. "And the lack of your medicine is a passing worry at best. Still, something worries me. I know its silly to ask this, but do you actually have any clue who I might be? What it is that I intend to give you?" Although he had asked a question, he certainly wasn't given his captive a chance to answer. "I never once lied about what I promised. I do have a cure for you. I have a way to make you strong, to give you your eyes back, to get rid of that dying, useless heart."

He'd lick his lips then, as if the next words truly tasted delicious. "I can give you so much power, you'll never feel the way you do right now, ever again."

____

"No. I don't know who you are." Nathan hugged his knees to his chest. Despite the cruelty and venom in Nox's words, Nathan gave no sign of quivering in fear. Perhaps he was just so resigned to his fate that he couldn't muster the energy to do so. He was afraid, of that there was no doubt... but it was more of a deep-set dread than primal terror. Anticipation, as much as anything.

"You're a vampire. At least that's my guess. But beyond that..." he shrugged weakly. It probably wasn't what 'Dorian' wanted to hear, but there was no use lying, or guessing randomly. The only vampire family that saw any mention in general education was the Caeruleum, and they were supposedly all dead.

But then, so were all vampires. Supposedly.

Apparently not.

"I don't want power," he added after a moment, voice scarcely more than a whisper. "I just want to be normal. I just want to be able to function like a normal person and have a normal life..."

____

A disappointed click of the tongue. "Normal is boring and subjective. Everything you people hold onto as normal, as right, is fleeting and antiquated. If you want your body to stop troubling you, then you'll say yes." It was an illusion of a choice, but a choice none the less. It was the same his Father had given him. Of course, Nox had been conditioned his entire life to say yes. He hadn't even hesitated.

"You're right. I am a vampire. Or rather, what you people think of as one. You know that by now, so there is no use in hiding it." A pause. "My name is not Dorian. My real name is Nox Gelida Caeruleum. It is the name given to me by my deceased Father, the illustrious Nito Caer. I am proud of this name, and what it means, despite how much I am reviled for it." There was a purpose to the history lesson, to the questions, to everything he was saying. It was all a test.

"It is a lot to take it. An undead approaches you. Not just any undead, one of the most hated the city has ever known. He approaches you and offers to cure you. To give you sight. To make you faster, stronger, no longer reliant on others for help. He chooses you. I want you to think about why he would do that." Nox would cross his legs together, and then his arms. "Please, tell me why you think that is."

____

So he was a Caeruleum. What little he knew of the vampire House prompted a chill to run down Nathan's spine. The Caer skirmishes were recent enough history that they were afforded a significant amount of time in the classroom, though the focus was more on the long-term ramifications and the resultant shift in political climate than on what the Caer themselves had been able to do. Still, the stories of their massacring highly trained paladins...

Oddly, he didn't feel all that more afraid for it.

Immensely powerful Caer, or simple human. Either one could end Nathan easily. What difference did it make to him how easily?

"The only thing special about me is my music," Nathan answered, shaking his head. "So I don't know. I don't know what someone like you would want from me. Some sort of ... complex about fixing me? Proving that your kind are better because look, you can do what we can't. Or maybe you just like music. What do you want me to say? It's not like I can stop you doing anything you want to me."

____

Oh this boy was smart. He'd seen it so easily, the desire to collect, fix, and overall improve the helpless wrecks humanity created through stupid decisions, improper breeding, and sheer bad luck. Though, it was one thing to remind Nox of his obsession with mortals, and it was another to put it so bluntly. His smile would sour, and so would his words. "When you put it like that, its almost like your accusing me of being petty. But in a more tactful sense, you are correct. Technically."

The arms would come unfolded as he mused over what the boy had said. "But you're also wrong. You can stop me. Without even knowing it, you've grown so strong. Not physically of course, but most people diagnosed with what you have would just give up. But you...you're one of the most celebrated musicians this dump has ever known. True, that's what first drew me to you. Then I started to dig around. And I found myself enraptured by the amount of promise you have. I want to see what you're capable of, without all these limitations that Fate seemed to think you deserved."

Something would land on the bed, near Nathan's feet. "I may not be offering you normalcy. I may not be offering some miracle surgery. Hells below, given the circumstances you might even laugh at my next statement, but my dear child, I am the only one offering you something more than pills and false hope." A pause. "I said you could stop me. Be careful picking it up, but I just gave you the tool to your liberation. If you plunge that blade into your chest, then you're not only free of me, but of your fears as well. All your struggles and successes will come to their inevitable conclusion. If you reject the knife, if you kick it away or even try to kill me with it," There was an edge there, almost hopeful.

"Then it'll confirm what I already know. Despite your insecurities and doubts, self loathing and terror, you want this. Deep down you still want what I was offering."

He may be taking a serious gamble with this, but it wasn't like the situation wouldn't be salvageable either. Nox was doubtless quick enough to stop a serious suicide attempt from this distance, and then the boy would be another lost cause. A meal for later. No muss, no fuss.

____

Silence followed. Though he couldn't see it, Nathan could feel the weight of the knife pressing on the blanket. It felt heavy. So this was his alternative? He could either let this creature turn him into a monster, or die.

It wasn't like it would be the first time he'd contemplated suicide. Thoughts like that were never too far away on the bad days. The days when he could barely lift his hands, let alone move around unassisted. When he thought too hard on how much of a burden he was on his family. It would be easier for them if he was just... gone.

But he'd never done it. Never even attempted it. In part, he was a coward. But in reality, he didn't hate his life. He found solace in music, in the few friends he had. All things considered, it wasn't so bad. But even if he rejected the knife, that wouldn't be the life he went back to.

Was it worth it? He had no idea what Nox's 'gift' would make him into. Would he still be himself? Or would he become as much a monster as the Caer himself? Perhaps he could flee at the first opportunity, make a new life somewhere else, far from Nox's influence.

Either way, he would finally get to see the world again.

Was it really a choice?

He didn't move to touch the knife, or to kick it away. He didn't even lift his head from where it rested on his knees when he spoke.

"I don't want to die."

____

"Then say the word! Say yes!" Nox would growl, standing up from his improvised chair in a heartbeat. "You won't be alone! You'll have your mutt, that woman, and so many new friends. An older sister, and two younger siblings on the way. You'll still have your music! The only things you'll be stripped of are your heartbeat and the prospect of seeing daylight again!" The excitement was back in the Caer's voice as he loomed ever closer and closer, edging slowly closer to the bed before finally sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress, as far from the boy as he could.

"There are things you'll never get to experience otherwise. There is so much more to life than what you humans have laid out. My father lived for thousands of years. My oldest brother much the same. Even I, with nearly four centuries under me, have so much left to see. I have no time for death, or the miseries and frailties and maladies that so plague your kind."

And then something that appealed to Noemi popped into his head. The prospect of freedom after the turn. "You know my kind can be slain. If I am ever struck down, and you manage to escape those who kill me...you'll be free. Free to go where you want, and powerful enough to not need any help to do it. I've kidnapped you and yours, just to give you this choice Nathan." The weight of the knife would lift from the mattress, as Nox examined the weapon.

And yes. To readdress your earlier hypothesis...I do indeed love your music. It reminds me of some one I lost a long time ago."

____

Nathan almost laughed at the phrasing. Stripped of his heartbeat. As though his heart had ever done all that much for him. That was hardly a sacrifice. Never seeing daylight again? He'd accepted that fate long ago. Perhaps he'd lose the kiss of it on his skin, too, but even the dim light of the moon would be more light than he'd seen in a decade.

His mind was already made up. It seemed a hefty decision to have made so soon, but he was too scared of death to seriously consider refusing this creature what it wanted of him. He could hold out hope of freedom this way, but death was a one way street he wasn't ready to walk.

"... I'll accept, on one condition." He lifted his head to face towards Nox. "Let Claire go. She has so much more to go back to than me. Her family, her friends... I don't want her to lose all that. If you let her live and go back to her life, I'll say yes."

____

The woman. The corners of his lips would twitch in irritation. Nox had had plans for her, but Nathan...might be worth it. A very annoyed "tsk" would be heard as once more the vampire lord rose from his seat. He'd pace the room for a few seconds. "Fine. If those are your terms...then I suppose I have no choice but to accept. However, I can't simply let her go. To do so might bring the authorities down on me like flies on shit. But I promise not to harm her, and I promise to let her live. She'll go free in due time."

More pacing. This was troublesome. Part of him had wanted to Turn to woman as well. He desperately needed more soldiers, more followers. She seemed able, organized, helpful. She was used to being an aide of some sort. It was a pawn he wasn't excited about losing, especially now. But Nathan would be worth it. The plans he had for the boy would be worth it. Besides...there was always the chance she could accept his offer as well, when he visited her later. For now though, the Caer would go along with the boy's wishes.

"I suspect my word means nothing to you, but in time, you'll learn what a precious gift it is. So there. You have it. I'll let the woman...Claire...go. As soon as I am able to without endangering myself. I swear it on the memory of my Father. Is that acceptable?"

____

It wasn't perfect, but it was more of a concession than he'd been expecting. If the monster wanted to lie to him, it could. But then, if it wanted to just turn him without his consent, it could do that too. This entire performance was based on the illusion that he had a say in things, and so he might as well play along for as long as it lasted.

"Alright. Then... I accept." The words felt heavy as they left his lips. There wouldn't be any taking it back.

But despite his fears, a part of him was ... excited. He was going to see again. He was going to be able to walk, and run, and jump... he wouldn't be helpless any more.

He just hoped the price was worth it.

____

The words left the boys lips and Nox's fangs latched onto flesh, as quick and viscous as a coiled snake finally striking. Neck and shoulder encompassed by a single, flesh tearing chomp. This boy was far smaller than Noemi had been, so the distended jaws and horrible teeth sank further into sweet skin and meat, reaching bone and even then barely stopping. This was not the romanticized bite that novels and movies loved to play off of. The Caer meant to consume the boy.

The pain would be indescribable, and cold. So very cold. So frigid it would keep Nathan awake through the whole thing, as Nox greedily sucked down every last drop of blood the boy's weak heart could supply. Whatever changes Nathan suffered, the nosferatu would be completely obvious. The blood. The blood! It was so young and fresh and thin! It flowed like sanguine water, and tasted sweet on the tongue!

Once it was done, Nox would release the boy, letting him drop onto the bed so the curse could work its magic. Two hands would reach up to a blood covered face, smearing it as he wiped down from forehead to chin, and a supremely satisfied, drawn out "Yeeeeeeeees..." escaping crimson stained lips. Oh it was ecstasy. Ever bit of pain his attack had caused, the Caer felt as pleasure, and he'd collapse onto the ground rear end first before scrambling to lick any drops that might have fallen to the stone floor.
 
as written by Script and Emperor Jester

Nathan would have cried out, had the shock not taken all the breath from his lungs. His sightless eyes shot open in a silent scream and he pushed feebly, instinctively against his assailant. Within moments, his struggles had come to a halt, and his twitching stopped. He slumped down, and his awareness died as surely as his body.

Time passed, though the boy was unaware of it. He slept in death's grip as the curse worked upon his body. His already fair skin turned to a snow-white pallor, and his blonde hair faded much the same.

And his eyes. Where they had been milky white and sightless, now colour blossomed forth. An icy blue, cold yet beautiful; twin pools of moonlight.

Slowly, consciousness returned. Nathan blinked, squinting as light filled his vision.

His vision.

Nathan took a sharp intake of breath - breathing would be a habit it took a while to get out of - as he realised it. He could see. He could see. No matter that all there was in the room was drab walls and his terrifying captor, he could see.

"Oh my god," he lifted his hands up to his face, tears starting to form in his eyes. "Oh my god. I can see. It worked." Despite everything, despite knowing what had happened to him, he laughed. It was a pure, joyous expression, unfettered by doubt. He laughed and he cried with delight, shaking his head and looking up at Nox. He didn't care that the man before him was a monster, in this moment, all he had was happiness to share.

"I can't believe it."

____

Nox stirred from his own rest, still on the floor. Sitting up, face still covered in succulent crimson, he'd affix onto the boy's gaze with one of his own, wearing an incredibly goofy, toothy grin. Just like Nathan, he couldn't be more pleased with how it had all turned out. But there was more to it than that. In truth, Nox had never had a son before, by blood or by Curse. It was an odd feeling, far different that the one he'd experience before and during the war, and vastly different from the one he'd felt when he'd turned Noemi. Perhaps it was the younger age of Nathan, perhaps it was nothing more than the imbalanced mind Nox called his own, but that didn't change the fact that he shared the new vampire's enthusiasm.

"And to think you might have doubted me!" He'd exclaim, scrambling to his feet. Now that he could see, his 'son' would behold Nox for the first time, and he honestly regretted not cleaning himself up first. But he had to be here. The first thing a child should see is their Father. A tradition passed down through the Caeruleum lineage, older than even Nito, supposedly.

"Tell me. How does it feel? The cold won't pass, but you'll grow to love it. And no better time, with winter right around the corner."

____

"Strange..." Nathan answered after a moment's hesitation. "I feel stronger, but..." his hand went to his heart. He'd never thought he'd miss that feeble beat. "It's... a lot to take in."

His eyes continued to flick around the room, taking in everything with the enraptured amazement of a child. Colours, light. Even the sight of Nox covered in his blood wasn't enough to shock him out of his euphoria at being able to see again.

He rose to his feet, stretching out his arms experimentally. "It feels like there's a lot more... going on. Like there are muscles that I don't know how to move yet. But not quite muscles..? It's hard to put into words."

____

"Aye. That sounds about right. Though what I went through was a thousand times worse. I did not wake for a full year, and when I had, I had gone from a sixteen year old boy into...this." Nox would indicate to himself rather proudly. "Father crafted me to last. Gave me a body that, so far, has lasted almost three hundred and fifty years. When it time for your real education to start, I'll tell you about the side of the..." The next word was spat with distaste, as if it had turned foul on his fair features.

"Skirmishes. A word chosen no doubt to anger the memory of my family. Your uncles, aunts...siblings." A dismissive wave of the hand. "I am sure that you're hungry. Or will be soon. Unfortunately, I cannot provide a meal to you without breaking my vow. But soon, you will eat. And soon, we'll show ourselves to the world proper. Soon...you'll discover a thirst for violence. A desire for blood. It will be hard to adjust to, as it was for your sister. The process in which you were turned is a bastardization of the ritual performed on us with pure blood. Your urges will be harder to control, but also less frequent."

He'd offer his hand then. "I will call you my son, from this day forth. Come. I'll show you where you'll be staying, now that you are family."

____

Conflict was clear on Nathan's face when Nox mentioned feeding, and bloodlust. Of course, he'd known what vampirism entailed in that regard, but... his mind had been elsewhere, when accepting it. On his sight, his strength. On his life.

He didn't want to hurt anyone. He couldn't imagine developing a 'thirst for violence', as the Caer called it. But he was going to have to eat, wasn't he? There had to be a way he could do that without killing, surely? Somehow he doubted that Nox would entertain such thoughts, however, and so he did not voice them.

He wasn't so sure about this 'son' business either. For all his issues with his mother and father, they were still his parents... not that they would want anything to do with him now. He wondered if Claire, at least, would be happy for him, or if she'd condemn him as a monster.

Nodding silently, he reached out and took Nox's hand. A new life, then.

He hoped he wouldn't regret it.
 
as written by Script and Faithy

At an earlier point...

The taxi pulled up outside a nondescript apartment block on Siroux Street. The building was a little run down, but far from decrepit, and the neighbourhood seemed fairly average for Merveilleux. There had been a few small stores along the street, and a park at the far end. All in all, it was very mundane.

After paying the driver, Arien led Jimmy inside and up a couple of flights of stairs, before stopping outside one of the doors - marked 201 - to pull out his keys.

"It's nothing special," he remarked as he opened the door. "Looks less suspicious that way. I don't doubt I could source a much nicer place, but then people would start asking questions about how."

Just as Arien had said, the apartment was unremarkable. The doorway opened straight into an open-plan kitchen-living area, with an open doorway off to the side that led into a double bedroom. Though unremarkable, it was a decent enough place. The kitchen looked to have been relatively recently fitted, and all the furnishings were of decent quality. A couple of rugs were tactically placed over the laminate wood flooring, and a lone sofa was positioned in front of the hefty-looking box television.

Once Jimmy had stepped inside, Arien leaned onto the kitchen-top and turned to face him. "So," he said with a sultry grin. "Shall I get you a drink, or do you want to get right to it?"

____

Jimmy was incredibly grateful when they finally pulled up to the apartment complex, because he felt like he was going to throw up and to do so in a car was very humiliating. Sliding out after Arien, it wasn’t soon before he was struggling to get up the flights of stairs. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before they reached the teen’s place and he moved inside, fighting to catch his breath. It reminded him of a slightly fancier dorm room, what with the kitchen and everything.

Stretching out his body, he popped his back and wound up leaning against a wall, using it to hold him up for the moment. The stairs took a lot more out of him than he was expecting, but it wasn’t like he could ask Arien to carry him or anything. Shaking his head at that thought, Jimmy couldn’t help but blush at the sultry grin, still a little apprehensive about this arrangement.

“First a few more questions, Arien. For the moment, I’d like to stay at the Monastery, though I know that it won’t last too long. I don’t know if my father’s leaving me anything in his will… I doubt he is, so if not, how am I supposed to live? I guess you’ll teach me how to be a Vampire?” He chewed on his inside cheek again, having a plethora of more questions, but unable to put them into words.

“A drink would be great. I am incredibly apprehensive.”

____

"There are options," Arien answered, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Some people move from place to place on the regular, getting new jobs often enough and far enough removed from each other that nobody picks up on the aging thing. Others work their into careers where they don't need to show their faces, or work with human fronts. Others get involved with crime, shady stuff where nobody asks too many questions, and they can hide their identities."

He shrugged. "Myself, I have a benefactor that provides me with what I need to get by. You needn't worry though, you'll be looked after. You'll be one of mine." He chuckled, winking. "My first, actually, would you believe it?"

He turned and pulled open a cupboard, retrieving a bottle and a pair of small glasses from the sparsely filled shelves. "I hope whisky's alright. It's pretty good stuff, as far as I know. I can't claim to be a connoisseur, but it works for me."

Pouring two glasses, he turned to hand off one of them to Jimmy, before taking his arm and leading him over to the couch and giving him a playful nudge into one of the seats. "C'mon, take a seat. Relax a bit."

____

Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder what kind of benefactor Arien had and wondered if it was the twins. As far as he could tell, they didn’t appear to be like the male standing before him, but who was he to judge? No, that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be them, could it? Maybe their parents? Jimmy had a million and one thoughts running through his mind and absolutely none of them made sense. Shaking his head a smidge, he decided it wasn’t worth dwelling upon and more than likely, he’d be finding out eventually anyways. That brought the second thought that didn’t necessarily bother him, but put him on a slight edge. What exactly was meant by him being the first for Arien? Well, actually, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, but it was still unnerving.

“Whisky works for me. I tend to like the harder stuff anyways.” Taking the glass as he was led over to the couch, he couldn’t help but laugh as he was playfully nudged onto the seat.

“Here’s to new experiences and a new life.” Jimmy grinned, raising up his glass in toast to what was about to happen.

____

"Now you're speaking my language," Arien winked at Jimmy's (likely unintentional) double-entendre, grinning as he lowered himself onto the couch beside him. He raised his own glass as Jimmy did, and took a long sip.

"Any more questions? Or are you ready? It's your last chance to change your mind." Arien swirled his glass around, his eyes practically alight with anticipation.

____

Jimmy’s cheeks flushed and it most definitely was not because of the alcohol. He hadn’t meant the comment about liking hard things to come out as it did, but thanks to the wink, he knew it had been taken in another manner. He just grinned sheepishly and took a huge gulp, needing to steady his nerves before he backed out of the offer.

“Hmm…I guess I should know what’s going to happen after you do whatever it is you have to do. I know all about werewolf shifting and what comes with that, but I don’t know anything about vampirism. Odd how a while back I was so desperate to meet a werewolf and a vampire and well, we all know how part of that desire went.” Jimmy shook his head, snorting as he took another drink of the whisky, enjoying the sensation of it burning down his throat.

“I know I can’t tell anyone about this, not even Inarin. It’ll just look like I wasn’t infected, but I am going to have to come up with a story to explain why I end up leaving the Monastery. I almost go the silver. I’m not backing out though, it’s for the best.”

____

"You'll be out for a few hours while your body gets used to the change," Arien answered. "It won't hurt. But you'll probably be hungry. You'll still be able to eat and drink normal food, but it won't do anything for you. You'll need blood. But like I said, you needn't worry. I'll make sure you're provided for. And no, you don't have to hunt anyone."

He leaned back, holding up a finger on his hand for each point he made. "Because of how my particular variant of vampirism works, you'll still have a heartbeat, and bleed like normal. You'll still be warm to the touch, so most people won't suspect you of being anything other than human once you get the hang of the glamour to hide your fangs. Just try not to get stabbed, because you'll heal very quickly, and that's a touch hard to explain. You'll also probably manifest some hemomancy, but the specifics of that is relatively variable."

After a pause, he shrugged. "It'll take a while to orient yourself and figure out how to actually use any of your new abilities. But I'll help out."

Arien took another drink, then set his glass aside on the coffee table. "So. Ready?"

____

There was a lot to take in and Jimmy had to take several sips of the drink to keep him from bolting. This was better than becoming furry or at least he hoped it was better than the alternative. The notion of drinking blood wasn’t exactly appealing, but again, it was better that turning into a beast. He finished off the whiskey and placed the cup down and shifted a little. At least Arien was willing to help him learn the ropes and the notion of not needing to worry about things was also a plus. He was basically going from being homeless to having a chance at some stability in his life.

“As ready as I’ll always be.” Jimmy paused, rubbing his forehead a moment before continuing his line of thought. “Thanks for this, Arien. You didn’t have to help me with what happened to me, especially since we don’t really know each other, but you are anyways. I can’t even begin to explain how grateful I am.”

____

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Arien replied with a grin, the glamour fading once more and his fangs becoming clearly visible. "It's all mutually beneficial."

Without further warning, like a cat pouncing on prey, Arien sprung from his seat to aggressively straddle Jimmy, running a hand through the other boy's hair in order to cock his head back and expose his neck. "Don't worry," he purred, leaning close to the proselyte's ear to let his breath fall hot on his skin. "This won't hurt."

And then he bit. There would be a momentary spike of pain as Arien's fangs broke the surface, but true to his word, it barely lasted an instant before it was smothered by a wave of pleasure brought about by his magic, blanketing Jimmy's every sense with ecstasy. It could never be said that Arien didn't treat those he fed on well. After all, that's what kept them coming back for more.

He drank long and deep, but though it seemed to drag on for eternity, it was barely a dozen seconds before he pulled back. A trickle of crimson ran down from his lips, that he lapped up without hesitation. "That's step one," he murmured huskily. "Now it's your turn."

The vampire raised one arm, and in a swift slash brought the nails of his other hand - turned clawlike for but a moment - down the length of his wrist. "Drink," he whispered, holding the dripping arm toward Jimmy. The single word, loaded with compulsion, would override any disgust that the boy might feel towards consuming anyone else's blood. It would be like nectar to him - just as it would become for good once he turned.

____

He was about to ask just how it was going to be mutually beneficial, but the sudden movement caused his words to become stuck in his throat. Gasping as his body ended up being straddled by Arien while his head was jerked backwards, exposing his pulse, Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake. Goosebumps ran across his body at the feel of Arien’s breath on his flesh, something stirring deep within him. Despite the words, he was expecting a load of pain, but when it didn’t occur, Jimmy couldn’t help but relax, his eyes closing as he got used to the sensation. It felt incredibly good and he groaned softly, his hands resting against the vampire’s thighs.

As the fangs were removed from his neck, Jimmy slid open his eyes, though they weren’t quite focused. He had the overwhelming desire to kiss the Arien, but was sidetracked by him cutting down his arm, it being held out towards him. At the request or demand, he wasn’t sure which, because in truth it didn’t matter, he took the arm and placed it against his mouth, drinking the blood as he was told despite the fact that this wasn’t something he would do on a normal basis.

____

After giving Jimmy time to drink his fill, Arien pulled his arm back and let the wound close up. The blood would burn as it rushed down his throat, flooding through his body in a tidal wave of intense sensation that, although painful, carried with it an invigorating sense of power.

His eyes alight with crimson, it was clear that Arien was as caught up in the moment as the proselyte. Throwing any pretense of teasing to the wind, he grabbed Jimmy by the collar and drew him forwards into a deep and aggressive kiss. Before long, his hands were tearing at the other boy's clothes as he shoved him down onto the couch...
 
as written by Script and Faithy

Several hours later...

The afternoon had worn well on into evening by the time Jimmy would stir from the slumber that had taken him shortly after the conclusion of he and Arien's impromptu bout of passion, and the change in him would be immediately noticeable. Everything around him would hold a newfound sense of clarity, from the colours on the walls to the feel of the bedsheets against his skin.

Far from feeling closer to death, Arien's particular brand of vampirism only served to make one feel all the more alive. More aware of the blood flowing through their veins, and of both their own pulse, and that of the world around them.

Arien himself was perched cross-legged on the end of the bed in just his jeans, typing something on his phone. He didn't immediately notice Jimmy's rousing, staying focused on his texting.

____

Jimmy was soon very aware of everything around him as he slid open his emerald eyes. He wondered for a moment if everything was just a dream, a hallucination brought on by the infection running through his body, but then everything that had happened earlier rushed through his mind. He remembered the conversation with Arien and drinking his blood after being fed upon. His cheeks flushed at the memory of what happened next and he couldn’t deny how good it felt.

Brand new life… don’t jack it up, Jim. His fingers slowly ran across the sheets, marveling at their feel. Everything felt and looked so different, he couldn’t help but hate how much he had missed in the last twenty-one years. Well, at least he was turned when he was old enough to drink, that was a plus, right? Jimmy slowly stretched his limbs out, sensing Arien sitting nearby. Licking his lips, finding himself hungry, the male sprawled out so that his head was resting against Arien’s thigh.

“Hey… I feel amazing in more ways than one. A bit peckish though.” He grinned, poking his fangs with his tongue.

____

Arien looked up as Jimmy stirred, flashing a grin to his new progeny. He idly trailed a hand through Jimmy's hair when he rested his head on his thigh, chuckling. "I'm glad," he murmured. "And hunger is to be expected, given that your body can no longer make proper use of anything you ate before you turned. I've already ordered take-out."

He winked, letting the strangeness of that statement (considering the 'meal' in question) sink in without further explanation.

"Once they get here, there'll be time for a quick bite, but then we've got a visit to the twins to make." Arien frowned down at his phone. "Apparently something went down at their school today that's got them spooked. They won't tell me what over the phone."

____

Rubbing his cheek against Arien’s thigh, liking how his jeans felt against his flesh, Jimmy mused a little on the takeout comment, wondering if the vampire had certain individuals that stopped by on a regular basis. Clearly they couldn’t just go out and feed wherever and upon whoever they want, but obviously there was some sort of system. Just as he was about to ask about how the whole feeding thing was handled, Jim was sidetracked by the comment concerning the twins. He hoped all was well with them.

“Alright, that sounds like a plan. Can you explain to me how the whole feeding thing goes? I mean, obviously I can’t just go out and bite whoever I want. How do you keep the meals from talking?” He slowly sat up, poking his fangs with his tongue yet again.

____

"They know that if they do, they don't get to come back for more," Arien remarked with a grin. "Add in a little bit of compulsion for insurance, and I'm quite confident none of my feeding partners will give me away."

He tilted his head. "Until you get the hang of how to use your powers, you should stick with me when it comes to feeding. It takes a few weeks to get the hang of it. And it means you don't risk getting ... carried away. In your early days it's not always easy to keep track of the line between a blood donation and draining them dry."

____

“Ah, that’s a very good system.” Sitting up the rest of the way, he ran his fingers through his hair, realizing he now had a ton of questions, but didn’t want to overwhelm Arien with them all. Plus, they had plenty of time to talk about them and until he got answers, he would just keep to himself. He couldn’t imagine becoming a vampire and being on his own. There was no way he would survive, not because he wasn’t smart, but he wouldn’t know how to control his craving.

“Sticking with you during feeding time sounds like a smart move. I probably should text Inarin later so he doesn’t come looking for me and worry when I don’t answer my door. I’ll also have to show my face when they bury my father, I guess.” He shook his head, not really wanting to deal with that, especially since he had no clue how to hide his fangs. “Also, what did you mean by this being mutually beneficial? Not like it matters now, but I am curious."

____

"Let's put it this way," Arien said. "Vampires are far from unified right now, and having more people I can rely on is starting to seem important. On that note... I'd like you to avoid being found out by any other vampires, too. You're technically supposed to present yourself to the ruling House, but I don't want anyone to find out I've turned someone. You, and anyone else I turn, are my trump cards. It's better that I keep you close to my chest."

Arien rose, then, walking through to the sitting area and retrieving his shirt from the couch and starting to redress his top half. "If all goes to plan, I'll have taught you how to conceal your nature by the time you have to show yourself in public. We don't need to sleep, so we've got plenty of time."

____

“Close to your chest sounds like a pleasant place to be.” Grinning, unable to help himself, Jimmy slid up to his feet, following behind Arien. He ran a few fingers through his hair again before it dawned on him that he was completely nude. Surprisingly, he didn’t blush at the notion of standing in front of another male while being naked and instead looked around for his clothing, tugging on his boxers and pants before glancing around for his shirt.

“I won’t tell a soul that I’ve been turned and I will avoid anything that would reveal that I’m not just a human who was lucky enough not to be infected by his father.” Giving a thumbs up, Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder why he would have to present himself to the ruling house, but it didn’t matter. He was quite content with the idea of sticking with Arien and hoped that he was a quick learner. “You mean no more being tired all the time? Fantastic!”

____

Arien laughed at Jimmy's comment, smirking back at him. "I'm glad it appeals," he remarked. At that point, his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. "Looks like our guest's arrived."

A short time later, there was a knock on the door, and Arien opened it to admit a girl who looked to be in her late teens. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a neon purple tee, and her blonde hair was decorated with pink and purple highlights. Various wristbands and bracelets covered much of her forearms. "Hey Arien!" she said cheerfully as she swept inside, throwing her arms around him in greeting.

Grinning, Arien returned the gesture, kicking the door shut behind her. "Good to see you, Viv."

The girl stepped back from Arien, only then noticing Jimmy and smiling. "Oh, hey. You must be the guy Arien mentioned on the phone." She stuck out a hand to him. "I'm Viv. Nice to meet ya!"

____

“Oh, great! I’m famished.” Jimmy’s gaze shifted towards the door, surprised to see a female that couldn’t be older than him standing in the doorway. Brow arched a little as he took in her appearance, it obvious that she had been feeding Arien for a while. He smiled brightly when she noticed him, though he hadn’t an idea how to act around her.

“Hi, Viv! I am indeed the guy; the name’s Jimmy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jimmy took her hand and shook it firmly, resisting the urge to do what he had been trained to do at the Monastery. She put him at ease by her mannerisms and he was thankful for that.

____

Viv (which was short for Vivienne, she explained) was a bubbly girl, and seemingly not at all nervous about what was expected to follow. Over the course of about half an hour, she and Arien talked like old friends about what was going on in her life - her university course at LCU (she was studying philosophy), her co-workers at her part-time job as a delivery driver (Helen was a stuck-up bitch), and her family (her parents had knocked out another baby brother, which Viv would have thought should have been impossible).

It was only as the conversation started to lull that she betrayed the first hint of nerves, and it was more of a bashful coyness than concern. "So... shall we, uh... y'know?"

Arien grinned. "Let's."

Smiling, Viv pulled her hair back, producing a scrunchie from her pocket and tying it back into a ponytail. Arien got to his feet and stepped around behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I'll make sure it feels as good as always," he murmured reassuringly to her. "Even though it's his first time."

She giggled at that, blushing slightly. "Good," she replied, her voice heavy with anticipation.

"Now, Jimmy. Most of this should come to you instinctively, once you've bitten down. Make sure you relax the pressure once the fangs break the skin, so you don't bite too hard. Then suck." Arien brushed a hand through Viv's hair, tilting her head slightly to one side to expose her neck.

"And make sure you stop when I tell you to."

____

Jimmy listened intently to Viv’s part of the conversation, finding her incredibly intriguing. His apprehension about biting her was still there, but it was lessening as time went by. However, when it became obvious it was time to do the deed, he felt his palms growing sweaty. Could he do this? Feeding from a human albeit a willing human felt wrong to him. Not only that, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop and he’d end up draining her. Would Arien kill him? Frowning, he chewed on the inside of his lip, wincing when his fangs cut the tender flesh. Just one more thing he’d have to get used to.

Watching as Arien stepped behind Viv, Jimmy swallowed hard, fingers running nervously through his hair. He slid to his feet, stepping closer to the two of them, his pace slow and full of worry. Nodding at his instructions, Jim wondered if he would be able to pull back when told to and hoped that he didn’t mess this up.

“Alright, Arien. Viv, thanks for being so nice and sweet about this.” Jimmy smiled, stepping behind Viv, his mouth nearing her neck. He was easily able to focus in on her pulse, it like a beacon in a dark night. Wanting to not hurt her, he bit down as gently as possible, relaxing just as Arien instructed. As soon as he felt the blood entering his mouth, his eyes closed and he started to suck, swallowing in the process. It was like the sweet nectar that he had been missing out of his whole life.

____

As Jimmy bit, Arien let his magic flow into the girl, replacing the pain with pleasure just as he had for Jimmy before. She let out a quiet gasp, shivering.

It wasn't long before Arien put a hand on Jimmy's chin and gently pulled him back from the bite. He'd allowed the fledgling vampire enough to sate him, but knew that it was difficult to gauge how much was safe to take without guidance. He'd made that mistake himself in his early years.

Viv smiled dreamily, sinking down into the couch. Arien lowered her down, and by the time her head hit the cushion, she was asleep. "Don't worry," he reassured Jimmy. "She's fine. I usually let them doze for a bit afterwards, to recover their strength. She knows the drill by now."

Stepping back around to the front of the couch, he wiped a stray droplet of blood from the edge of Jimmy's mouth with one finger, bringing it to his own and lapping it up with a glint in his eye. "Feel better?"

____

The more he felt the blood cascading down his throat, the more Jimmy wanted. It wasn’t long before he was consumed with the need to feed and he probably would have kept going had Arien not pulled him back from what he was doing. Releasing a slightly frustrated growl, he shook his head and snapped back to reality just as Viv was lowered down to the couch. He was grateful that someone had been here to stop him from draining her and glanced over towards Arien with a small smile.

“Yeah, I feel better. How long did it take you to learn just how much to take… how to control it? At the time, I wanted so much more.” He glanced down at Viv and shook his head, still focused in on her pulse.

“Will I be able to do what you did with her and with me earlier? Make the pain turn into pleasure?”

____

"Eventually," Arien grinned. "One step at a time, though. As far as controlling your feeding goes, it's just a matter of practice and willpower. You should have an edge, what with your paladin training and all that 'self denial' schtick I'm sure they drill into you."

He nodded his head towards the door. "Hate to rush you, but I want to get over to the twins to find out what happened. Viv can stay and sleep this off, she'll let herself out when she wakes up. I'll call us a cab."

____

“Ah yes, all that bullshit they filled us with, that’s clearly just fluff and stuff. I do have quite a bit of willpower though. I’m very stubborn when it comes to certain things. Jimmy stretched out his body, poking his fangs with his tongue before nodding and moving to the door before glancing once more towards Viv.

“To the twins then! It will be nice to see her again, so I’m glad I didn’t drain her.” Grinning and ultimately flashing his fangs, Jimmy clamped his mouth shut, frowning a little. “The twins are going to know unless I just don’t talk or smile… I’ve got no idea how to hide my fangs.”

____

Arien chuckled. "It's alright. They already know about me. And I trust them to keep quiet. Just don't let any of their staff or family see. I should be able to walk you through figuring our how to mask them within the day, if we're lucky."

He quickly dialed them a cab, and once it was on its way, pulled open the door, and they set out.

____

“Ooh, alright. I’ll make sure none of their staff or family see. I’m a quick learner.” He grinned, giving a thumbs up before following behind him out to the cab. He was a little surprised that the twins knew, but then again, they were very close to him, so in truth, it wasn’t all that surprising. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say when it became time to leave the monastery and hoped Inarin would still want to be friends with him. Shoving out those thoughts, he decided to just focus on things one day at a time.
 
as written by Script and Sentry

Earlier That Week

The cool air of the late evening stirred with a faint breeze that disturbed Noah's cloak as he walked through the quiet streets of Merveilleux. Few pedestrians remained out at this hour, the only other traffic on the street being the occasional passing car, headlights piercing through the darkness between the street-lamps for a few moments before they'd gone by.

Where another might have been nervous, out so late on their own in Lutetia, Noah walked with confidence, unconcerned with what might lurk around the next corner or in one of the numerous side-alleys. He had made the same trip many times before, to visit his father and Juliette. Most knew better than to accost one clad in the regalia of the Order of the White, and those few muggers that didn't know the uniform (or didn't respect it) had quickly been shown the error of their ways.

You are worried for them.

Aurore's tone was not that of a question, and Noah's lips pursed as he walked. I would be foolish not to be, he answered. The city is growing more dangerous. Sir Lacroix and Sir Arodring might not be willing to discuss it, but I can read it from them clear as though it were painted across their foreheads. These murders are something more than a few rogue werewolves, no matter what the police reports say.

Perhaps. No doubt there is a good reason for the Church to keep that information guarded, if that is the case. A panic would not do the city any good.

Noah scoffed. They think they know what's best for everyone. Whatever's happening, people deserve to know the truth, so they can take steps to protect themselves.

A naive viewpoint, Noah. It is the Order's duty to protect the city. Sometimes, we must protect it from itself.

It's not their place to make that judgement, Noah snapped back. Duty or not, they aren't infallible. You know that as well as I do.

It seemed that Aurore had nothing more to say, however, for the spirit stayed silent. Scowling, Noah quickened his pace, shaking his head and redirecting his focus outward. Sometimes that woman was insufferable.

The young animancer may have heard the slightly hurried clatter of footsteps behind him as he walked.

The gloom that the darkness cast over the perpetrator made him brutish. Broad shoulders, tall. As he walked into a lone steetlight, that changed.

Silvery hair gleamed beneath its glow, sprawled onto the collar of a dark coat. His hands were up at his face as he tried to light a cigarette. He headed straight for Noah, eyes intent on the other man. His steps eased as he caught up and fell into stride next to him.

Peering over, the man brushed his hair from his eyes, which were just as bright, and smirked.

"Gets a bit chilly down here in the south, doesn't it?" he spoke, words riddled with a foreign accent. "Oof, but that's a terrible icebreaker. How about this: have we met? I'm sure I've seen you around at the bar." He cringed, nose crinkling. "Tonight is just not my night. Chock it up to nerves? I get flustered next to a man in uniform."

Noah had glanced around at the stranger as he approached, raising an eyebrow as he drew alongside him, but otherwise seemingly indifferent to the unexpected company. He took silent stock of the other man's unusual appearance - most notably his eyes, betraying him as likely none-human - whilst he started to speak.

The warden's expression became steadily more perplexed as the stranger spoke his piece, culminating in a taken-aback blink at the final sentence, followed quickly by a guarded frown. "Is that so? That must be inconvenient for you, if you make a habit of approaching them at random in the dead of night." Noah turned his eyes forwards with a dismissive huff. "To answer your question, no. I haven't been to a bar in months. You must be mistaken."

The silver-eyed man swished his cigarette to the other corner of his lips. His eyebrows raised at Noah's response. "Not really one for small talk, I suspect. Here- let me start over. I am Miron, a bit new to town and all. You are?"

As the mysterious man turned his head to look at Noah, his eyes darted behind them, and his shoulders stiffened.

Noah noted Miron's unease without immediate comment, giving the man a sidelong glance and sighing. "Noah," he answered. "If you're new to the city, I should warn you that it's not a good idea to be out on the streets alone this late. Lutetia isn't exactly safe."

He glanced over his shoulder at the street behind them, eyes coming to rest on the hunched-over figure stepping slowly towards them a short distance down the street. "Which it looks like you've already found out."

Noah stopped walking, turning calmly to face the figure. It had no aura to his eyes. Soulless, then. Likely an undead construct of some sort. "Do you know where it came from?"

"It started following me after passing it in a back alley. Wasn't sure if he was someone to mess with."

Miron freely looked behind him now, watching the thing move in and out of the streetlights. "I don't suppose it's just some homeless guy looking for some change?"

"No, it's not," Noah answered coolly. "You'll probably want to step behind me."

The warden extended his hand to the side and spread his palm, and a glow bloomed from it. The light rapidly spread outwards, and in a flash, it took on the form of a luminous longsword. A small rush of displaced air ruffled his cloak as the weapon came into being from nothing.

Noah raised his voice, then, calling out to the advancing figure. "If you do have a mind, this is the only chance you'll get to show you mean no harm. If you take another step, I will assume you have hostile intent, and attack."

And it stepped. The concept of Noah's words were disregarded. Worse yet, as it advanced, a groath bulged out from the creature's neck, poking and prodding until they could clearly see the imprint of a hand stretched against the skin. The rotted pieces slid apart like pudding skin, and out burst an arm, lashing backwards in freedom.

There was no hesitation on Miron's part. He snatched his knife from within his coat and spun it between his fingers, muttering an incantation. The blade glowed, similarly to the warden's.

"You sure you want to take this thing on first?" he joked.

The creature lurched forward, dropping onto all its limbs to gallop forward, head trailing on a string of tendon.

There were no more words from Noah, his focus on the fight at hand. When the additional limb burst forth from the creature's neck, he revised his initial assessment of the thing as nothing more dangerous than a rogue zombie. If it had one surprise for him, it was likely to have more. It was best to be prepared.

And so, he drew more heavily on his aura, channelling it outwards into a paper-thin layer of protection that spread over his body like a second skin. To the untrained eye, it appeared as a faint translucent glow to his body. To an aura seer, it would be blindingly intense.

Taking a breath, he shot forwards. There was only the barest moment of acceleration before he was practically skimming across the concrete towards the creature, sweeping his sword in an upwards arc that split the creature clean in two across its torso. Coming to a halt a few paces past it, Noah swivelled around immediately to face it once more, sword still raised in anticipation of the thing not being down for the count.

The undead seldom had the decency to re-die when they ought to.

And for a moment, it really seemed as though this one had given up early. Miron held his knife ahead of him.

There was a squelch, a splutter, like something wading through an ocean of guts. To no surprise, like the mythical hydra, a plethora of hands burst from the cleaved body, unnarutally long and spidery and grabbing at the warden.

Two more swift arcs of the sword, and the hands were severed to flop to the ground harmlessly. Unflinching, Noah stepped forwards and drew the sword through the creature's body once more - both halves. All magic was finite, he reasoned. If he cut apart the creature enough times, eventually it would have to run out of power.

Short of running off to find a necromancer to put this thing to rest, he had few other options. It was grisly, but it would have to do.

The silver-eyed man watched, itching to join but denying himself the pleasure. He'd be in the way, and he knew it.

Eventually the arms ceased to sprout, the final weakly groping for Noah's shoe.

His foot came down on the limb hard, crushing it until it stopped moving. Only after several long moments of stillness did Noah step back, letting his aura recede back into himself and releasing his blade. The weapon faded into nothingness as swiftly as it had appeared.

The warden let out a heavy breath, swaying for a moment before he regained his composure and straightened. He grimaced when he noticed the blood splatters on his previously pristine white uniform. The Order's colours were certainly symbolic, but they weren't exactly practical for their more battle-inclined members.

Miron flipped the knife back into its place on his belt and warily approached the scene. He made an arc around the corpse and sidled up next to the warden.

"Should I treat you to the dry cleaners?"

Noah smirked, fixing Miron with a dryly amused stare for a moment. "The offer is appreciated, but the Order has that covered for me," he answered. "Give me a moment, though. I should call the police and let them know what happened, so they can set someone to figuring out where that thing came from."

A short phonecall later, and Noah returned his attention to Miron. He stepped across to lean onto the wall of one of the nearby buildings. "They'll be here before too long. They'll want a statement, so you should stick around."

Miron threw his hands up. "Oh, you're kidding. Then they're going to ask for identifications, and it's going to take time, and... you're really not going to have us just leave it, are you?"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "No. That's exactly what I just said. We're not leaving it, we're staying to give statements..?" He sounded confused.

The silver-eyed man reciprocated the gesture. He looked up and down the warden's clothing and bit his lips. "You're like a police officer, aren't you?"

"No." Noah's initial reply carried an edge of bitterness, his expression briefly sinking back into a scowl. "I'm a Warden of the Order of the White," he went on, after taking a moment to recompose himself. "Which, whilst a prestigious title... affords me no legal authority whatsoever." He shook his head, looking down and folding his arms across his chest.

Miron scratched the back of his head, then sank his shoulders. "So you're just some prestigious warrior-type who follows the rules?" he asked. "Can you drink?"

Noah looked back up, frowning quizzically. "Why wouldn't I be able to? I don't often, but I can. And why does it matter?"

"You're hopeless," Miron blurted. "Is my Queran bad? Listen. You listening? Because I'm going to spell it out for you." He held his hands out in front of him, palms facing one another, and bobbed his arms with every word. "We're. Going. Out. Does that make more sense?"

"Oh. What? I..." Noah blinked, firmly taken aback. "Out as in..?"

Miron's hand slid down the length of his face. He planted that hand next to Noah's head, on the wall, and looked deeply into his eyes. "Out. To drink. In a bar."

Hopeless.

Noah stiffened as the man's hand was planted beside his head, his eyes widening. Finally, the penny dropped. "Oh." A furious blush found its way to his face, and he broke eye contact, looking down. "D-don't you think that's a little ... forward? I mean, we literally just ran into each other in the street. I'm covered in bl-"

Miron held a finger up to Noah's lips. "Shhh, shhh, shh. It's okay. You saved my life, right? I'm going to treat you. As courtesy."

For a man that had just dispatched an undead monstrosity, it was perhaps amusing how much like a deer in headlights Noah was acting in the face of mild flirting. The finger to his lips turned his alabaster skin so red it was a miracle he didn't burst a blood vessel. "I... you really don't have to."

"I want to," Miron pressed.

"Well... I suppose I can probably find the time," Noah mumbled after a moment's hesitation. "When?"

"After, ah," He took his hand away and gestured to the corpse on the ground. "All of this?"

Noah raised an eyebrow, then looked down at himself. "You'll need to give me a chance to change..."

Miron pushed himself away and tucked his hands in his pockets. He paused, at first biting his tongue. This kid couldn't handle that amount of innuendo. "I could wait."

"Well... okay, then." Noah still couldn't quite believe this was actually happening. Who just ... asked someone to a bar after bumping into them on the street? After watching them eviscerate a corpse, no less?

The sound of a car approaching saved him from any further attempt at conversation, as a police car came into view at the end of the road. He relaxed a touch - a conversation with a cop, about a dead body? That he could handle a lot easier than this ... stranger.

How on earth was he going to handle the rest of the evening?
 
as written by Script and Sentry

Miron could only hope that the warden hadn't somehow lost his way. Perhaps he lost his nerve once he'd changed out of his blood-soaked uniform. The silver-eyed man sighed. How could someone, who had no problems hacking apart a corpse, blush so strongly when approached? Once again, Miron mumbled to himself, "Hopeless."

He checked his watch as he leaned against the wall of a small establishment that saw more usuals than new faces. It was more than a decade old, and catered mostly to the necromancers in the area. After passing through Tiranoth months before, Miron picked up the influences it had on Lutetian culture.

Shifting, the man swept his hair from his eyes. He reached for another cigarette and plopped it in his mouth, but didn't light it. He knew as soon as he did, Noah would show up, and he'd have to put it out again. That's how these things worked.

And, after contemplating that point, he did just that, and snapped a flame to the end of the cigarette.

"That's a filthy habit, you know," Noah remarked, having - as predicted - stepped around the corner not a moment after Miron looked down for his lighter. The warden had shed his formal white regalia for a tan-brown duffle coat, worn over a white turtleneck, and a pair of dark jeans. It was hardly an adventurous outfit, but it was at the very least, a touch less formal than a uniform.

He glanced past Miron at the bar, briefly trying to catch a glimpse through the door, before returning his attention to the other man. "Well... I'm here now. So, should we go inside?"

After putting away the cancer stick, Miron opened the door with one hand, beckoning Noah inside with the other. "After you," he said.

A waft of warm air washed over them from the roaring fire at the room's left, where several couches were stationed. It sat next to the counter, and around it, several tables. A pool table lay comfortably on the other side, on a slightly raised platform. It wasn't bustling, but it wasn't quiet, either. There were a comfortable amount of people buzzing about.

"Take your pick," Miron prodded.

After a moment's hesitation, Noah made his way over to one of the couches, seating himself there and setting his bag down to one side. "This is ... nice," he remarked, glancing around at the other patrons. Not as busy or overwhelming as he'd expected, certainly. It had an almost homey feel to it. "Have you been here before?"

Miron flopped down opposite of Noah, fingers clasped behind his head. His foot propped itself onto his knee and the man made himself at home.

"A couple times, now," he replied. "My night life consists of bar hopping and few other things. Necromancers make the best whiskey. Who could've known?"

He waved a waitress their way and gave Noah a once over. "You clean up rather well. I don't know why I expected another uniform."

Noah smiled and laughed nervously, shifting under Miron's gaze and busying himself with undoing his coat. "Ah, thank you. I do wear the dress of the order a lot, but ... It's not exactly bar-wear. I thought it might give the wrong impression."

He looked down at his lap for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. "So... do you make a habit of inviting strangers in the street to drink with you?"

"Aye, and worse," Miron chuckled. "You could call me a free spirit. I haven't got anything in the way of family and I'm too young to worry about consequences. I didn't think it was that out of the ordinary though- do you not go out much?"

"That... would be an understatement." Noah let his eyes wander across the bar as he spoke, running his hands over his upper arms. "I think the last time was sometime before I graduated in June. And rarely enough before that, too." He sighed. "I spent most of my time studying, or practising."

"But isn't school for partying?" he asked, perplexed. He'd never been to school, not really. But he had been to many college parties.

"For some," Noah replied, a terse edge to his voice. "I took it a little more seriously."

It's hard to let loose with someone tutting over your shoulder all the time.

I did no such thing! Aurore's reply was indignant.

It was implied.

The brief mental exchange took place over little more than a few seconds, leaving his expression slightly distant for but a moment before his attention came back to Miron.

"Was this all for... what was it, the Order of the White? What is it you do?"

"We're an order of animancers," Noah explained. "With roots going back to the first formalisation of the art in Lutetia. Being a member of the order is like a ... badge of prestige, really. It lets others know that you've undergone enough training in the art to be very good at what you do, and that you follow the order's creed of morality regarding the use of your powers."

It was clear that Noah was more comfortable talking about the order than making smalltalk. His voice carried obvious overtones of pride as he explained. "Unofficially, we also take it upon ourselves to police our own. When a rogue animancer is causing trouble, we're often consulted by the Monastic Order and the police force. Personally..."

He hesitated, considering his wording. "I'm ... employed, in a manner of speaking, at Auclair Academae. That's where the Order is based, and where I studied. I help teach combat classes there now, and more recently, I've been working with a few paladins on a case."

Miron took a moment to take in all the information. He'd heard of the Monastic Order; after all, they were crawling all over Lutetia City. But today was the first he'd heard of the Order of the White. Not quite police, but people to be noted, for sure.

"A murder case?" he asked. "Like for one of those creatures?"

"Not exactly," Noah replied. "I can't really talk about the details, though. Since it's still ongoing."

There was a disgruntled moan from the silver-eyed man. He clopped his cheek in his hand. "You follow too many rules," he mumbled.

Noah folded his arms with a huff. "And I suppose you would have me risk compromising an investigation just for an entertaining anecdote?"

Miron folded his arms back. "I just think," he began, knocking the menu towards the warden. "That it's high time we start drinking."

Though he held his indignant pose a few seconds longer, Noah eventually let out a breath and relaxed, taking up the menu and poring over it for a while. "I don't suppose you have any recommendations..?"

Miron brought a hand up to his chin, closed one eye, and narrowed the other on Noah. "You look like... a fruity drink guy," he announced, nodding. He pointed to something on the menu for the waitress. "Unless you disagree?"

"My experience of drinking consists of wine, and whatever got slipped into my drink at the graduation party," Noah replied with a grimace. "So I'll take your advice, I suppose."

After a moment, he smirked. "By your expression I'd guess reading a person's drink preference is as involved as reading their aura. I wouldn't want to disparage your talents."

Cheeks puffed, Miron let out a laugh. "You won't find yourself disappointed! But I'm also reading that you're a lightweight. Try to keep up."

"I've no intent of overshooting my limits," Noah noted. "So we'll see."
 
as written by Script

Some time later, Miron had taken his third shot and was stooped over the table, focused on the story. "So I was taking out the arrow, and this chick is screaming bloody murder, so I tell her, 'Well, if you weren't dressed like an absolute moron maybe we wouldn't be having this problem!'" He shook his head she shoved Noah's syrupy red cocktail toward him. "Seriously, now. You can't leave me hanging by leaving this all alone."

Laughing at the conclusion of the story, Noah shook his head, stalling for time while he recovered himself enough to speak clearly. "I'm not!" He finally managed, "I'm just pacing myself, is all." Despite his protest, he did pick the drink up and take another sip. "I take it she was alright in the end?"

"Aye, I think pissing her off kept her concious long enough to walk to a healer." He held a hand up to the waitress for another shot, then picked up a coaster to fan himself. Unlike Noah, he hadn't taken off his jacket. "Now, come on, I've been telling stories all night! Not everything you've been through's been confidential."

"Says the one who refuses to tell me where he's from," Noah retorted with a pointed look. "Besides, I ... haven't done a lot that's interesting, yet. I've been at Auclair since I was ten. So unless you're interested in stories revolving around studying and training, there's not much to tell..."

Of course, there was the matter of the paladin in his head. But that was ... probably not the best thing to mention off the bat.

Miron threw his head back. "Oh, but after that stunt on the street, you can't, you can't tell me you haven't any other experiences. You haven't traveled, even? Met anyone rather strange and unique?"

"There are some parts of the city I haven't been to," Noah answered, looking away awkwardly. "I've lived on the same campus I studied on for ten years."

There was a pause. "I suppose there was one incident."

Miron leaned in, hands on the table. "Yes, go on."

Noah sighed. "It was four years ago, when I was a stupid teenager that thought he was a lot more capable than he actually was. I was getting impatient with my training, and wanted to ... put it into practice. So I snuck out after dark, and ventured into the city without any real direction beyond one foolish idea: finding a vampire, and slaying it."

He looked down again. "Suffice to say, it didn't go exactly to plan. I didn't find a vampire, and instead ended up provoking a pair of werewolves. I might have died, if I hadn't been bailed out by a paladin, of all things. It was humiliating. But I learned my lesson."

Chuckling, the silver-eyed man shook his head. "Oh, put some theatrics in it sometime. Details! Were you hurt? Did they look like a few mean brutes?"

A shot glass was set next to him, and Miron took it casually, like a glass of water. "And I refuse to believe that's the only one. You have experience under your belt. At least, you act like it! How many of those abominations have you run into?" He pointed to Noah accusingly. "You're holding back, and I know it!"

"I..." Noah hesitated, avoiding eye contact. "I don't have much first hand experience. Only second hand, lessons passed on to me by my tutors. And no, I wasn't hurt. They were ... well, your average werewolf for that part of town. Territorial, large and easily annoyed."

Miron stuck a hand down his back and scratched. "I don't think I've run into these. But I do see a lot of dogs around town in the slums. Is the same thing?"

A glass was set down loudly on the other side of the bar, but it was hardly a nuisance in the buzzing establishment.

"No..." Noah cringed. "A shifted werewolf is very definitely a wolf. You wouldn't mistake them for a dog."

"Oh. Will keep an eye out, then!" He nodded, then fanned out his coat. A bit fed up with it, he slid it off his arms and rested it onto his shoulders. "What is it you like to do, then? You have hobbies, I am sure."

"Well, I read a lot," Noah replied, tilting his head back and gazing at the ceiling as he thought. "I don't know if I'd call it a hobby, but I do like to cook, I guess? I own a few recipe books. I..." he furrowed his brow in thought. "I used to play cello. And I still do, just not very often, but I suppose that counts."

He leaned back and shrugged. "And I train. Whether that's practising swordsmanship, building strength or focusing on my aura and magic. I find that relaxing in and of itself - and it takes up a fair amount of time. I imagine that's all not particularly interesting, but there you are."

"All this doesn't bore you? I Mean, you don't feel like doing... more?" To choose to live so mundane a life, it baffled Miron. Once, he had been caged by his parents to study, train, stay in the city. Disappearing had been the best choice of his life.

"Like what?" Noah folded his arms. "Not everyone has the option of just abandoning everything and going gallavanting across the world. I'm ..." a moment of hesitation "...quite content as I am. My place is here, doing what I can to keep the city safe."

"You can. You just choose not to," Miron observed. "It just confuses me, but I suppose I could try to see it from your side. I am a restless person. Not very content in one place long. I like people and fighting and discovering. That is not something for you?"

"No. I have a purpose and a duty here," Noah answered, his tone coming across sharper than he intended. "I'm glad you're so care-free as to be able to flit from place to place as you choose, but I'm not. I ... have responsibilities, and promises to keep."

Miron held up his hands. "Ok, fine, I get it. I surrender," he quickly rattled.

Noah sighed, looking off to the side with a frown. "Look, maybe this was a bad idea. I'm clearly not the sort of person you're..." he gestured vaguely, searching for the right word, "...used to. I didn't mean to sound so defensive, I just ... I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Dropping his hands, Miron grimaced. He was pushy, he knew it. Most people thrived on the energy he gave off. Perhaps, now, he needed to dial it down.

"We are very different," he pointed out. "But that does not mean is bad. Perhaps instead, we talk about something you're very familiar with? That you like? What about this soul seeing, ah?"

"You don't have to force yourself to keep this up, you know," Noah glanced back at Miron with a small, somewhat resigned smile. "I won't hold it against you if you'd rather just leave. But... if you are genuinely interested in animancy, I don't mind explaining."

"We just need to find some common ground. I'm interested. I am!" Miron replied.

"Well, if you're sure." Noah took a long sip of his drink, using the pause to mentally recompose himself before going on. "At its broadest, animancy can be described as magic of the soul. Just as pyromancy is the magic of fire, and necromancy is the magic of death - although, that one's a bit of a misnomer, but I digress."

"The soul is difficult to define, and is linked to a lot of religious beliefs. As an art, though, animancy is belief-system agnostic; the insights it provides don't necessarily suggest one true interpretation of the soul, and despite the name and the fact that much of the art does correspond with some traditional interpretations of it, there isn't absolute certainty as to whether what we interact with even is the soul."

He smiled somewhat dryly. "That's all very, ah... politically correct, though. If you ask me, I think that it is. I just thought I'd qualify that before I get into the details. But anyway. An animancer almost always first discovers their powers through manifesting 'soul-sight'. The potency of it varies between individuals, but at its most basic, animancers can see at least some aspect of a person's soul - or aura, or spirit, or life-force, or whatever you want to call it. A side-effect of that is that we can also see ghosts."

Miron grinned and excitedly pointed to himself. "So you can see mine?" he asked.

"Yeah," Noah nodded. "I'm not a very potent soul-seer myself, but I can see it, and get at least a little bit of a reading from it. Some animancers can read everything from emotions, to honesty, to personality and even history from an aura. That's... one of the reasons a lot of people aren't exactly any more fond of us than necromancers. We ah, see too much for comfort."

"That is amazing. Enough of you could make sure there's no crime. Just read everyone, right? Yo-" He stopped himself. A society with that little freedom, with so much policing of its people, meant no real chance of experiencing life as it should be lived.

"You'd... be feared, and if you're already disliked now... it would just be worse." Damn. Utopian propaganda at it again, letting him know how different the real world was.

"But you all police yourselves, yes? Try to be better than that, you said."

"That's what the order's for," Noah nodded. "All of us follow a code that boils down to not using our powers on unwilling spirits, not manipulating the souls of the living, and a host of other rules and regulations that make up a quite sizable book of law."

"Let me guess... you've memorized the whole thing?" Miron joked.

Noah rolled his eyes. "Even I'm not that bad. I remember the important ones. Most of the finer details relate to specific rituals or practices, and a lot of it is just common decency."

"So have you read my soul? What do you see in it? Do you need to do a ritual for that?"
 
as written by Script

"Like I said, I'm not the best at soul readings. To some extent, how well anyone can do them is limited by natural talent, but even discounting that, I haven't put a lot of time into it. Unless I focus, it's just sort of ... there." Noah paused, searching for an analogy. "Think of it like reading facial expressions. There are expressions that are obvious and easy to read, like a scowl or a smile. Then there are microexpressions that you wouldn't even notice unless you knew what to look for, and even then it's difficult."

He fixed Miron with a stare, focusing on his aura. After a moment, he smiled slightly. "You're... happy, I can tell that much. And curious? No, not exactly... ah, see, when it comes to the finer details I'm no good. Something along those lines, though. Curious, inquiring, and even ... intent, all read quite similarly at times."

"Maybe it's because they're mixed up. I'm not really in a sharp state of mind, yeah? Which reminds me." He slid Noah's drink closer to him again. "It's almost full, still!"

"Pacing," Noah reminded Miron with a smirk, but he obligingly took another drink of it. "In any case, soul reading is just one school of animancy. I could talk about them all for much longer than a single evening, but in brief: spirit calling is using animancy to communicate with, channel or summon the spirits of the dead - be it for information or to ask for assistance. Soul bonding is the linking of two or more souls, to allow one to always be aware of the other's state of being. Exorcism involves banishing restless or malicious spirits, helping them pass on. Binding involves the use of 'vestiges', which are like fragments of souls without sentience, to perform simple tasks like animating objects, scouting or watching your back."

He paused to take another drink. "Finally - well, not finally, there's a lot of other things that can be done, but we don't want to be here all night - there's the art that I focus the most on. Manipulating pure anima. Specifically, I use it to push my body beyond its normal limits, and as protection. As a form of animancy it's actually more similar to what some Losenyu traditions refer to as manipulating 'ki'. And... well, that's mostly it, for the short version."

"Wasn't aware Lutetia was home to so much, ah, how do you put it? Talent? This city is so dark, but so bleak sometimes. Most of the times. Even the paladins seem grim. Like old men with scowls who lost hope a long time ago. Animancy seems more... it seems out of place, a little. In a good way. I don't think I'm making much sense."

Which meant, of course, he needed another drink, which he waved over promptly.

"I'd agree with you there," Noah noted. He kept a straight face for a solid few seconds before smirking. "About not making sense, that is."

Miron blew a raspberry at Noah before receiving his beer. He held it up. "Cheers, for surviving this long. How do they put it? You're a real trooper. Next time, we'll have to try for a club."

"Next time..?" Noah blinked. "A club?"

"Did you think I was suddenly just going to stop talking to you after this?" he laughed. "A club, to dance, to party! Really, actually party."

Noah grimaced. "That sounds... awful. No offense. Nothing to do with you, but ... I've never been one for crowds. It's an animancer thing. That's my excuse, anyway. Crowds are twice as overwhelming when you can feel every soul there."

He shook his head. "Sorry. But, I mean..." He glanced off to the side. "There is the Aurellae in Valentine Park for the next week and a bit. It's a festival run by the Church. I wouldn't normally go, but one of the paladins I've been working with somehow convinced me to sign up to one of the tournaments..."

"A tournament! Which one?!"

"Sparring," Noah answered. "Freeform duels with replica weapons."

"And I can come?" he asked with the countenance of a hungry dog.

"Well, it's a public event..."

Miron bounced in his seat. "I'll come see you fight. There's gambling? It doesn't matter, everyone likes to gamble. This will be fun!"

Noah smiled, laughing lightly and shaking his head. "It's a church event, of course there's no gambling." He paused. "Well, not officially, anyway. I'm sure the ecclesiarchy would just love to make money off of it, but that's a bit blatant, even for them."

"People will do as they want. I'm sure someone will be passing money around and everyone will be brushing it off. This is how these things work." And he would be participating in full. His funds were dwindling, and a game of chance was the best way to spend it. "The festival is tomorrow?"

"The first round of the tournament isn't until Wednesday," Noah answered. "The festival is on in the meantime, but I won't be attending every day. I'm working tomorrow, and I agreed to spend Tuesday with the paladin..."

"Then we meet Wednesday again. If not a club, a festival is the next best thing. Perhaps... we get a chance to spar too! If it's just fake swords, I won't end up like the creature and stain your clothes." His eyes went to the top of his head in thought. He grinned, then said, "Well, there are other things we could do t- mnyaaaaaah." And immediatelly rattled off again. He just isn't ready!

It took Noah a moment to cotton on to where Miron had been going with that sentence, but when he did, his face flushed so thoroughly that it matched the colour of his drink. "I ..." He averted his eyes very pointedly, clearing his throat. "Well. Ah, perhaps we will get a chance to spar," he said, choosing not to acknowledge the rest of what Miron had said at all.

Miron had a fist up to his mouth, sweating in an effort not to laugh. For someone so clueless, he caught on quick!

"And maybe if there is a wrestling portion too, yes?" he teased with a gulp of beer.

"Ah, that's tomorrow..." Noah noted, choosing once more not to acknowledge any secondary meaning to the statement. "So I won't be there."

He cleared his throat, still avoiding eye contact and still very much red. He took another drink, and finally, emptied the glass. "You are very ..."

"Enthusiastic? Charming? Handsome?"

"...forward."

"You should be honored. I've been holding back all night," he purred, hand to his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

"This is you holding back? Good grief..." Noah laughed nervously, still mostly staring at his own lap, with the occasional upward glance.

"Shall I pull myself back a bit? You might just melt if your face gets any warmer."

"I'm quite alright," Noah insisted, clearing his throat a second time. "I suppose you probably act this way toward every stranger you invite out to a bar, anyway."

"You need to flatter yourself mo- do I give off that bad an impression?! I'm not some... fiendish playboy." He sank into the couch and sipped at his beer poutily.

Noah looked up with a blink. "I didn't mean to imply that you were. I was just under the impression that these sorts of comments and jokes were normal for you... And for most people, I imagine. I'm just not used to such, er, suggestive humour."

"Humour? Yes. Suggestions?" Miron shrugged and grinned. "Not as much. Or would you rather not hear that?"

"I guess I'm just not really sure how to ... er, take it," Noah shrugged in turn, sighing. "I've not done this before. At least, not in this context. If it's even in the context that I think it is..?" He ran a hand through his bangs and shook his head. "I'm just talking myself in circles now. What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to get the wrong idea."

Miron raised a hand, ready to exclaim how obvious he was being, but paused and clopped his jaw closed. He bit his lips and held up a finger, squinting in thought.

"Yes," he said. "Uh, I mean, no. I mean... you're not getting the wrong idea. You're getting the right idea. Assuming the right idea is the same ideas I'm having."

"...well, then. Ah. Good." Noah nodded slowly. "I think. If we ... are having the same idea. Which we probably are? Oh, light, I don't know anymore."

Hopeless, Miron echoed in his mind for the umpteenth time. "So... what ideas are you having?"

"Why do I have to go first?" Noah protested weakly. "You're the one who ..." he gestured vaguely at the entire bar, as though that adequately finished the sentence.

"Oh, you know, just to make sure. I wouldn't want you to be confused by what I have to say." Clasping his hands atop his knee, Miron gave Noah a toothy smile.

Noah sighed. "I apologise if I'm wrong, but... Well, I get the impression you might ... not entirely be joking..?"

Miron nodded. "And if I'm not? What do you think of that?"

"Uhg, you're making me feel like a child being walked through thinking about what they've done." Noah muttered, rubbing his temple frustratedly. "Light, but I'm acting like a simpering idiot, I probably deserve it."

He took a deep breath, straightening his posture and attempting to regain a measure of composure. "I suppose I wouldn't find the idea altogether objectionable..."

The silver-eyed man raised up his hands and shimmeyed them, donning an even wider smile of victory. "He finally said it, heeey!" he cheered. "So next time, it's a date, yeah?"

"Only provided you agree to stop patronising me for my ignorance as to how these sorts of things go..." Noah shot Miron a glare. "It's already embarrassing enough."

"Fair," he said. "Quite fair. But that's a yes? That's a yes." He grabbed his beer and held it up, toward Noah. "Cheers!"

Noah sighed. "Sure. It's a yes," he conceded, glancing down at his glass. "Cheers?" he raised the empty glass in response, shrugging.

Miron excitedly clanked the glasses together, then chugged the remainder of his beer. He was entirely pleased with himself.

He signaled for a bill before centering his attention back on Noah. In truth, he couldn't really tell if the other man was just humoring him, or saying anything to get him off his back. There was a chance he was genuine and that was all Miron needed.

"Is there anything else, anywhere else you want to go tonight?"

"I'm open to suggestions, but..." Noah glanced down at his watch. "It's rather late already. I'm normally very much at home at this hour. Either that or working. So I don't really know what we would do."

"Then we take off," he replied. "Home. I'll take you home. I'll walk you home. How's that?"

"I hardly think that's necessary, I'm more than ca-" Noah began, before stopping himself. "I mean, that would be ... nice, I think."

He smiled faintly. "Although considering our encounter earlier, maybe I ought to be the one walking you home."

"Iiiii... could have handled it! Maybe. All up until... the hands. I'd have figured something out. I would have!" he insisted.

"You're not reassuring me," Noah noted with a smirk. "Whereabouts is your place, anyway?"

"I don't really... have a place. Was going to rent a hotel somewhere. I move too much."

"All the more reason for me to walk you. What, were you just going to wander around until you found somewhere?" Noah rolled his eyes. "I'll help you find somewhere half decent that doesn't cost a fortune."

"Fine, that's... negotiable." He got up, and wobbled, then handed the waitress a few bills. "So lead me, wise Hotel Recommender."

"Can't even stand up properly, and you wanted to walk me home?" Noah laughed. "Ambitious. Come on." He stood, making his way around the table and towards the exit, nodding his head for Miron to follow.

Snorting, the silver-eyed man hobbled toward the warden with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Pfft. Ambitious. If you only knew the things I'm capable of!"

"I'm sure you're full of surprises," Noah remarked with a smirk as they stepped out into the street and set out on their way. "Hopefully of a more pleasant nature than a surprising amount of hands."

"Oh... just you wait," drolled Miron, wagging a finger at Noah. "Just... you... wait."
 
as written by Sentry

"Stupid... fucking witch hunter!"

Climbing through her bedroom window wasn't as easy without the staff boosting her abilities. She grabbed onto the windowsill and slid across it, groaning like the dead. Her face planted onto the wooden floor of her room, where she didn't move for several moments. "The second I get my staff back, I swear I'm going to knock her a new asshole."

Right on time, her mother's flats could be heard clapping up the stairs. "Serry, pumpkin? You in there? You've been on the internet all day, you need to come eat dinner with your father, alright? Come on," she chimed, knocking persistently on the young witch's door.

"Uh, shit. Coming! Give me a second I just got out of the shower!" Cerise replied loudly. She pulled the strings to her bandeau and dropped it to the floor, flinging herself into the closet to change. The flung on a shirt and skittered downstairs after her mother.
 
as written by Ronin and Sentry

Savien had spent the next day after his meeting with Ariadne following up with as many of Nicole's friends as he could get a hold of. He still had a headache. Chasing leads was hard enough without interviewing highschoolers. If they weren't in class, they were at home. If they weren't at home, they were at a friend's house. If they weren't there, they were at such and such, having one of those six dollar cups of coffee in a plastic cup, or at the movies, watching some B-list horror flick, or at a club, shaking their underdeveloped assets to whatever uninspired drivel the DJ was mixing that day. Even when he was able to get a hold of one, they usually had little to say, most of them more occupied with their smartphones than the death of their friend. Savien growled at the memory of one particular 17 year-old - a mod-punk pulled straight from the golden age of the 80's who wore way too much eye makeup. It was only after repeating his question for the third time that he realized she was wearing wireless earbuds. Savien got two legitimate answers out of her before she got a call from a friend and skipped out for the mall. God, people who had social lives were annoying.

There had been a few who seemed legitimately distraught over Nicole's passing and seemed eager to help however they could, but they didn't seem to know much beyond what he'd gleamed from her father. Was seeing Ariadne. Started wearing the rings a few weeks ago. Small changes in behavior, but nothing drastic. As it stood, Savien was beginning to lose hope that Nicole's friends might know something about the supplier of the rings. Perhaps his next interview would have better luck.

The paladin parked his bike on the curb and walked to the door. He hesitated before knocking. Should he take off his helmet? He usually did so when entering residential areas - it was only polite - but he was about to interview a witch...

He frowned. Stop being so damned prejudiced. He undid the clasps on his helmet and tucked it under his arm before wrapping on the doorway with steelclad knuckles.

____

Cerise stumbled into the seat next to her father with a gleeful "Hiii!" and reached for the casserole in the middle of the table. Her father shuffled the newspaper in front of his face and chuckled. Her mother smiled warmly.

It was picturesque, the scene they painted. A normal, warm family. God-fearing and loyal to the church. Even if their daughter had dabbled in the dark arts before, her parents were sure that after Nicole's death, she had been scared straight. Seeing her smile after the incident set tensions loose for the first time in a while. It didn't last long.

The knock at the door grabbed at the little witch's heartstrings. It could have been anyone: the neighbors, the crazy cat lady that was down the street. Maybe even a cousin coming to comfort young Cerise in her time of need.

Her mother, striking a strong resemblance to the witch, clopped over to the door and looked through the eyehole. "Yes?" she sang. Her hand came up to her mouth. "Oh! Oh, goodness." The woman waved at her family. "A paladin is here!"

The door swung open to the brightest smile Savien ever did see. "Well, hello! What brings you here, today?"

____

Savien's brows raised in surprise. He was accustomed to doing work in the slums of the city or in the outlands, places where paladins were looked on with suspicion at best, outright hatred at worse. It was easy to forget that a sizable chunk of the city liked the church and looked up to its knights as protectors and heroes.

"Good evening," he pressed two fingers to his lips, "I apologize if I've interrupted your dinner..." He looked ahead into the kitchen at the in-progress Normal Rockwell supper. "I'm looking for your daughter, I believe. Cerise. I was hoping she could answer a few questions for me."

____

The woman blinked. "Ah, yes. This is probably in regards to... the Nicole incident."

The house turned grey again. Like a bulb flickering out.

There was a ruckus at the table. Cerise screamed, "I DON'T HAVE PANTS ON!" and rushed upstairs.

Her mother sighed. "I'm so sorry... my name is Liv. Please, come inside."

____

"It's no trouble," Savien nodded, "thank you for having me in. I am Sir Savien Durandet." He stepped into what looked like a typical middle-class living room: bookshelves, sofas, a mounted television. Photographs lined the walls, the tables. The knight quickly deduced that Cerise was an only child.

"My condolences about Nicole - I understand she was a friend of your daughter's." He did his best to sound sympathetic, but compassionate emotions didn't mix well with Savien's rumbling monotone. "Has she been taking it hard?"

____

Liv folded her arms and tucked her chin toward her chest. "For the first few days, she locked herself in her room. She wouldn't speak to us. She wouldn't come out. She barely ate. Today was the first day she actually smiled at us." Her fingers trailed through her hair as she lead Savien over to the dining room. She presented her husband, a round-bellied man with a peppered beard and a pair of frameless glasses. His eyes were sunken in. The newspaper was folded beside him.

The older man got to his feet and held a hand out for the paladin. "Sir Durandal, was it? I'm Brice Royer. Nice to meet you. I hear you're here about, ah-" He waved his hand to the upstairs portion of the house. "The mess."

______________________

As they spoke, Cerise flung on her bandeau and a raincoat, then looked out of the window.

That was a long drop without wind magic at her feet. She cringed and weighed her options.

____

Savien shook his hand, nodding. "Sir Durandet, yes. A pleasure, Mr. Royer." He followed Brice's hand to the top floor. "And ah. Yes. The 'mess', as you say. I just have a few questions, I won't keep you from dinner for too long."

So she'd been shut up in her room for the last few days. She must really be taking this hard. The last thing Savien wanted to do was re-open healing wounds, but he desperately needed a lead. Hopefully he could get what he needed without bothering her too much.

____

"All is fine. If we can do anything to stop something like that from happening again, we must. As members of the Church," the older man declared. Misses Royer began to patter upstairs to call out to Cerise.

"Love, come out. We've got to speak to Sir Durandet. Cerise. Honey. Honey?" There was frantic knocking at the door. "Cerise!"

Something hit the ground outside the back porch, and it hit the ground hard. Brice jumped, then hurried over to the back door. Upon opening it, he saw Cerise rolling onto her feet, clutching her arm with a cry. Brice called out to her, but she was already off. "Cerise, what are you doing? Get back here!"

____

"I appreciate the help," Savien nodded. He watched as the mother took to the stairs, continuing his brief survey of the house as he waited for the daughter. It didn't take that long to put in pants, did it? It didn't take him that long. Maybe she was fixing her hair or charging her smartphone one of those other things teenage girls do sometimes...

He moved instinctually towards the noise, the back door. His fingers found the handle as her father called out, pushing himself outside and taking after her in a sprint. She was running. Either she knew something and she didn't want to tell, or there was a serious misunderstanding. Either way she had some explaining to do, and Savien wasn't about to let what may be his only lead disappear into the city.

"Cerise! Stop!" he took off after her in a sprint, surprisingly limber in his full armor. Modern Lutetian plate was much lighter and more efficient than the medieval suits of old; Savien could run, roll and jump with only slightly decreased mobility. His sword and Lawkeeper were the heaviest thing he carried, and the paladin gripped the hilt of his blade as he ran so it didn't slap against his leg.

____

"Oh, shit," hissed Cerise. An unarmored, trained Paladin was bound to catch up to the very tired, very hungry witch who now had a broken arm. Without the staff, her powers would be erratic, but perhaps she could still make use of it. "Stay away! I don't wanna talk, okay? Just leave!" she spat towards Savien. The witch scanned the street ahead of her. She knew this neighborhood too well. The brick house ahead had a shed behind it. If she could make it to that, she could get away, right?

The witch dodged left into the yard of the brick house. Her lungs felt like raisins.

____

"Cerise, listen to me-" But she was already sprinting down the street. The knight huffed and charged after her, plate-mail clinking against his nanofoam with every pounding step. She knew the neighborhood. If he let her get too far, she'd seize the earliest advantage and disappear into a hiding place.

The paladin burst into yard of the brick house not long after her, quickly scanning the area.

____

The witch had began to mutter unintelligibly beneath her breath. She could see the shed ahead of her. She was so close.

As Savien entered the yard behind her, Cerise whipped around and thrust one hand in front of her. She leaped into the air, yelling in an old Lutetian tongue. Wind gathered at her feet and lifted her up, then gathered at her palm toward the paladin. The girl was torpedoed toward the top of the shed, slamming into it with an audible, painful bang. Her feet rolled over her head in a backwards roll.

____

A brief apprehension twinged at Savien's reflexes as she turned to him, half expecting lightning to shoot out of her hands or fire out of her mouth. He watched as she summoned her magic, throwing herself through the air onto the top of the shed.

"Hell..." he snarled. His hands found his gaunlets and quickly unclasped the gloves, letting them fall to the grass. The knight didn't slow down for a moment, sprinting hard across the lawn and throwing himself up against the shed in an act of sheer athleticism. His jump carried him high enough, his fingers finding the roof. With a pained grunt, the knight hefted himself, his 20 pound armor and his 9 pound utility belt onto the roof of the shed in a pull-up, muscles straining against the exercise. Lateral and flat-footed movements were easy in Lutetian plate, but vertical exertions were far more difficult. Nothing negated gravity, after all.

Savien wasn't sure why Cerise thought escaping to the shed would help her get away, especially with Savien so close on her heels. The knight quickly rose to his feet, hopefully unassailed, ready to either confront Cerise or continue the chase.

____

Cerise was barely on her feet by the time Savien got onto the shed. She was swaying back and forth on her feet, and a trickle of blood ran down her forehead, over her brow. Even so, her teeth grit with determination. She didn't care how many bones she had to break.

"Stop following me!" she cried, sweeping one foot behind her. She barked something harsh in the old Lutetian tongue, which catapulted her toward Savien. She aimed to land on the paladin's shoulder and bounce off toward the tall roof of the house behind him.

____

"Stop running from me," Savien retorted. Every muscle in his body tensed as the girl started chanting, hand instinctually dropping to his firearm. Magic was no simple threat; a spoken spell could kill him just as easily as a gun. Cerise's chant could very well be an act of lethal aggression...

In the end, the knight acted on what he knew - a young witch who was running from the police, not engaging them. She'd given no indication that she was hostile. This alone kept his Lawkeeper in its holster, and perhaps saved the young witch's life.

He grunted as Cerise's feet slammed into his shoulder, but his stance was strong and his reflexes were quick. As she moved to escape, his hand shot out to grab her ankle, attempting to halt her flight and pin her to the floor of the shed.

"Enough," he growled.

____

Cerise may have been a witch, but her body was entirely human. Once her ankle was grabbed, she went down. Trying to use her bad arm to aid in her fall wasn't the best decision. Pain jolted up to her shoulder, causing her to roll onto her back and groan in pain.

"Come... on..." she spat. "Not this again."

____

An armored boot thudded down on the roof next to the witch's face. Savien loomed over her, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

"Utter one more spell," he stated, "and I will gag you."

He knelt down, procuring a pair of binders from his belt. "Don't put anymore weight on that arm." He grabbed her good hand, snapping one end of the cuff around her wrist. The other he clapped to his own forearm. "Up. We're going back to your house. I'm calling a cleric for your injury, and you..." His voice lowered, a low rumble rupturing from the base of his throat. "...are going to tell me everything."
 
The night air was cold and the streetlights flickering, for once allowing the light of the stars to grace Lutetia, or at least this particular street. Time seemed to move slowly for the only living person in site. A young woman, no older than twenty, perhaps on her way home from university. Tall, but not too tall, with a thin but pleasantly curved frame, and bright, luminous blue eyes. Hair seemed to flow down from her scalp, thick and luxurious, golden, beautiful, like a river of gold barely disturbed by current or wind. A cheap but good looking blouse-jean combination covered the fair form, protecting it from winter’s early chill. This defense against the elements was bolstered further by a thick, but body hugging fleece jacket, and nearly knee high boots. Judging from her fashion choices, the young student’s family was neither well off nor scraping by. A happy medium.

A breeze rolled down the eerily empty urban setting. The woman huddled into her jacket, sneezing loudly as she did so. This noise would be followed by a whine as a corner was turned. A car, with a boyfriend, was supposed to be here, waiting for her. Instead, nothing. Just solitude and disappointment. A curse would pass through her thin, pouting lips, a breath of annoyance aimed towards her absent paramour as once again he failed to be on time. The flaxen haired youth would give a heavy sigh as she fumbled around in the handbag at her side for her phone. Maybe she had missed a text, and he was just going to be a little late. More than likely, however, there would be no text. No message of any kind. The layabout that had mysteriously earned her affection was notorious for his poor memory. Odds are, it had simply slipped, and now, she’d either have to walk, or call a cab.

Calling a cab cost money. Walking was free. The poor college student found an exhausting but exceedingly simple solution before her. One she did not like, but one that she accepted.

Boot heels on cobblestone, cobblestone slick with moist, autumn night air and the general filth of the city. It eased her mind that hers were the only footfalls she heard on this night. Everyone born in Lutetia, in Issunar, knew that the nights belonged to savage criminals…and worst. If the rumors were to be believed. Witches, werewolves…other things. Still, she wasn’t far from the bus stop she sought. Only another ten minutes, another several blocks. Everything would be okay.

The thought soon faded, shot from her mind by a jolt of fear. A heavy thud echoed behind her. Someone taking a heavy, an impossibly heavy, step on the sidewalk. It was far off, her ears could tell, but she’d felt that footstep. Felt it like it had been her own. An icy grip seized her spine, and her neck refused her mind’s curiosity to look back. A sweat, despite the cooling temperatures, broke out on her brow, further strengthening the iron tight grip that terror had etched into her mind. When a second footstep fell, her mind broke, and she ran.

Somewhere she dropped her hand bag.

Somewhere she dropped her back pack.

Somewhere, the footsteps behind her had stopped, and still she ran. She ran until she saw a parked car, idling in the cold. She could see a shape inside, and in an instant, her faculties returned to her. It was her boyfriend’s car. It was recognizable, even under extreme duress. The crack on the back-passenger side window. The dent above the exhaust ports, right on the fender. She was approaching from behind the vehicle. Her lover never noticed her approach. She never heard him approach.

The world flew away before her very eyes, as something immovable and sharp wrapped around her throat, silencing a cry that would have possible saved her. She felt herself slam into some dark wall, pulled far off into a dark abyss of a nearby alley. The being before her was human, but wasn’t, and that alone terrified her. She could only comprehend shining blue eyes, so bright, so cold, dead and yet living, as razors and blades danced across and into her flesh. Viscera flew this way and that, her own, she realized, as her body and brain began to succumb to the numbing embrace of shock. Her entire body was wet, soaked to the bone with her own crimson sanguine. Hungry fangs set upon her young flesh as eager talons removed clothing and skin alike. Ripping her apart, feasting on her flesh, it was hardly the worst this monster was doing to her. Black webs gripped the edges of her version, drawing closer and closer, and soon enough they would eclipse her entire field of vision. The last thing those young eyes saw were those eyes, and that smile. Pale cyan beacons resting above a shark’s grin dripping blood and scraps of flesh pulled from her body. A horrid last memory, last sensation, for one to feel before death finally sinks in, a mercy at this point in the nubile youth’s fleeting existence.

A voice broken through the festering silence, one that rumbled with the power of a moving glacier, commenting on the state of his selected prey. “A pity she did not last longer. Not even close to the best I’ve had.” Each word was slow, deliberate, and malicious, without an ounce of pity or remorse. Keen ears might’ve been able to pick up on an undertone of sweet, sadism inspired glee. Not…that there were any ears to hear but his own. Still, good meat must not go to waste. With joy, teeth sank into leaking flesh once more, snatching up muscle, tendon and bone. Eventually, the body fell apart in Nox’s ebon claws, mere scraps left of what was once a person. Still…there was something there. Something just out of reach of snapping maw, something tantalizing and forbidden. Like a mote of energy, the essence of the bitch he’d devoured lingered. Somehow. As if held in place, though it should’ve passed beyond his reach instantly.

They always had before.

But there it was, hanging there before his hunched, dark figure. A shimmering mortal coil made manifest. A host-less soul. Its form was impossible to describe, and even its color was changing too fast to accurately pinpoint a pattern. It flickered and danced, but due to its trapped nature, the movements seemed almost…lazy. Red dyed fingers would pluck at the air around it, nervously, almost timidly, awestruck by this moment in time. The nigh-on four century old Caer could not put to words the emotion that swelled in his chest. But it was longing. He’d not seen anyone or anything do this since his Father. And here, now, it was happening. And only he could possibly be responsible. The offspring was catching up to the sire.

Like a bear trap snapping upon a young fawn, black fangs descended around the animus, sucking it down into an eternal, never ending pit of ice and hate. Immediately, as intense and fleeting as a lightning strike, Raw vitae! Untouched, supposed to be untouchable, consumed like a midnight snack! It tasted bitter, sour, spiced, sweet, rotten! The patriarch wanted more! But alas, it was gone, disappearing in an instant down his gullet, pulled towards whatever frozen hell normally awaited his devoured victim’s remains………

Unknown to the undead abomination, the act of annihilating an eternal soul had effects. Throughout the city, those tied to the powers of life felt a jolt, a shockwave, small but noticeable. If they gained their power from blood or soul, life or death, be they witch, warlock, necromancer, or animancer, they would notice it. A soul not only leaving this world, but permanently vanishing. Like it had never existed in the first place, now replaced with a void in the web of all things.

It would be the first time the city’s magical community would feel this sting in nearly fifty years…
 
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