The life and times of an aristocratic secret vampire society and their newly adopted fledglings. Shenanigans abound!
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Fantasy The Configuration - The Dygarian Mansion - Library - [CLOSED]
- Thread starter mothspit
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The Configuration - The Dygarian Mansion - [CLOSED]
The Configuration - The Dygarian Mansion - Office - [CLOSED]
The Configuration - The Dygarian Mansion - Library - [CLOSED]
The Configuration - The Dygarian Mansion - Kitchen - [CLOSED]
The Configuration - OOC
The Configuration - Bad Times at El Vampiro - [CLOSED]
The Configuration - Modern Fantasy/Vampire/Detailed - [CLOSED INDEFINITELY]
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
As you push open the wooden door using the metal knocker on it's face, you are immediately greeted with the soothing smell of old paper and wood. There was something calming about a library-- Maybe it's silence. Though it rested in the home of someone you considered the devil incarnate, this one place could be a sanctuary. At least, for the time being.
The collection was vast; Large enough to rival even the most prestigious of collectors. Towering bookshelves climbed the walls, all the way to the raised ceiling, where large chandeliers hung to light the room. Dotted about the floor were a serious of tables and chairs, accompanied by additional lamps for extra light. A small cluster of chairs sat around a lit fireplace, crackling and filling the room with a comforting warmth. On the back wall sat a bar, complete with drafts and a series of fancy crystal bottles. Though, you had the sickening thought that it wasn't beer stored in their barrels..
You let the door shut behind you. It was uncertain how much time you'd have here, but one thing was clear; It was better than that charade of camaraderie you left brewing in the foyer. For now, this was your calm among the storm..
..But it looked like someone else had the same idea. On an adjacent wall, one of the windows curtain had been drawn back, allowing for silvery moonlight to pour in. There stood.. a woman. Her back was turned, face down into a random leather-bound book. She wore a beautiful red silk dress, though it wasn't like the modern designs of the other women you had seen in the mansion. It was vintage, perhaps old-Victorian, with gold filigree and sparkling jewels embedded into the fabric.
You couldn't see her face, but she didn't look like anyone you've seen before-- Not from the theater, anyway. As she gazed out the window, and then back to her book, a full moon and midnight snow were her only company.
At least, until you walked in.
Kitchen - Office - Foyer
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Damafaud
Kitty
A smirk made its way to Drevis' face when faced with Katya's respond. One who used barbed tongue to cover her real feeling, was his judgement of her now. A nice, kind woman underneath who had difficulty conveying her thoughts in social situation? Maybe? He could speculate all night long, but it wouldn't do to embarass her any further.
With Katya out of the picture --and how she just gathered the attention of several vampires around them-- Drevis decided against approaching Daedric. Katya's last shout was loud enough to be heard by him and the last thing he wanted was to be asked the awkward question of what he thought of Katya when he wasn't even sure how he really feel about her.
For that reason, Drevis headed to the library instead.
The library was spacious. The familiar smell of old paper tingled up his nose as he closed the door behind him. His gaze was captivated by the books around him. Some, he recognised, as epic written in latin. Leather journals from late 1700, written in italian. He never had the chance to learn italian, but now he has all of the time in the world, he mused. Maybe he could learn arabic after. A Southeast Asia language if the economy condition there turned out to the better.
It took him several seconds to break out of his musing and noticed the presence of the woman by the window. He wasn't sure he was welcomed, but seeing how she didn't react to his presence, he decided to not bother her either. If she initiated a conversation, he would follow, but for the presence? He would stay silent.
Drevis took a book out of the shelf-- if it could be counted as a book, really. It was a collection of chinese qu poetry. From Yuan Dynasty age, maybe? He wasn't much of a scholar, but he had tidbits of knowledge in many subjects. He continued reading the poetry, keeping quiet as silence enveloped the library.
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
As she heard the sound of the door shutting, the woman by the window raised her head from her book. It looked incredibly old, bits of dull leather falling off the worn material every time she flipped a page. She closed it quietly, and placed it on a nearby table. Now that there were two people in this room, it'd be rude to pretend he wasn't there. Reaching up to close the windows curtain, silencing the call of the full moon, she turned to look at him.
Her eyes were covered by a kind of masquerade mask, one intricately crafted from small bones, like that of a rodent. She removed it, exposing a set of sparkling grey eyes complimented with icy skin. Her expression was indiscernible, a swirling mixture of emotions that resulted in none at all. A living statue.
"..You put on quite the show out there," She said smoothly, making her way over to a set of chairs by the fireplace. Her dress carried behind her in a long train, like a river of rubies. The woman lowered herself into one of them silently, with both hands folded neatly on her lap. She stared into the fire with a distant expression. Though their bodies lived in a state of perpetual cold, the fires warmth could stave it off for a time. It was possibly the closest feeling to human they would ever get now.
"If I'm honest, I was never much for these ceremonies. So much death in this house.." She shook her head. So many memories in this place-- Every shadow contained a faint whisper, a forgotten memory from years past, a dancing phantom of her youth. It was like every room was haunted.
The woman looked down at her hands and began flexing their fingers. She felt.. oddly refreshed. New. How long has it been..? The last thing she remembered was.. the townspeople. The fire. Ajax.
Without taking her eyes from the fire, she spoke to Drevis again, "..What is the year of your lord?"
Damafaud
Her eyes were covered by a kind of masquerade mask, one intricately crafted from small bones, like that of a rodent. She removed it, exposing a set of sparkling grey eyes complimented with icy skin. Her expression was indiscernible, a swirling mixture of emotions that resulted in none at all. A living statue.
"..You put on quite the show out there," She said smoothly, making her way over to a set of chairs by the fireplace. Her dress carried behind her in a long train, like a river of rubies. The woman lowered herself into one of them silently, with both hands folded neatly on her lap. She stared into the fire with a distant expression. Though their bodies lived in a state of perpetual cold, the fires warmth could stave it off for a time. It was possibly the closest feeling to human they would ever get now.
"If I'm honest, I was never much for these ceremonies. So much death in this house.." She shook her head. So many memories in this place-- Every shadow contained a faint whisper, a forgotten memory from years past, a dancing phantom of her youth. It was like every room was haunted.
The woman looked down at her hands and began flexing their fingers. She felt.. oddly refreshed. New. How long has it been..? The last thing she remembered was.. the townspeople. The fire. Ajax.
Without taking her eyes from the fire, she spoke to Drevis again, "..What is the year of your lord?"
Damafaud
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Damafaud
Kitty
"A show goes a long way in making a good first impression," he answered the hanging statement. "with the atmosphere earlier, a good show feels a good way to survive. If only to survive the night. And I don't think life of a human have much value here; not as much as a vampire, I assume. Maybe closer to the value of a cat's life to a human?"
Drevis closed the book of poetry, before running his hands along the spine of leather journals. A large portion of the books would be history, he guessed. Holy scriptures, sea journals, biography texts. Not really what he was into. Too old to be relevant, too niche to be discussed. He gave up looking for a book that catch his interest.
The open window let a cool breeze sneaked in, playfully dancing with the curtain. Drevis swiped the curtain aside. The moon was in full view that night. It was nothing special, really. It was not a super moon, a blue moon, or a lunar eclipse. Just a full moon, a moon one could see every month.
Nothing special. The moon would not deviate from its course, regardless of what happened to him. Was it weird that he feel irrelevant to the moon as much as he felt the moon was relevant to him? Knowing some things stayed when he changed was a relief. An anchor when he was trapped in a turmoil.
Several seconds passed with silence.
"It's 2018," he answered to break the silence. Too many questions, too much on his mind. If he was left to his own device, he knew he would spiral down a line he regret.
"Will it be crossing a line to ask for your name? My name is Drevis. Drevis Senade, though I'm not sure if I can keep that last name."
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
"How right you are.." The woman muttered, raising a hand to brush away stray dark hairs from her face. An elaborate show resulting in death, all for a good first impression. What did that say about them? That they were willing to kill if it meant survival? Were they scared, or just desperate?
"You didn't shoot him." She mused thoughtfully, eyes locked on the flames, "In my day, we didn't have such a luxury. Our.. bare hands would have to do."
What was this strange feeling..? She remembered all of her life leading up to this moment; Every passing century, every life taken, every phase of the moon spanning hundreds of years, and yet.. this was new. Somewhere, there was a gap-- From the fire, to the mansion. She recognized this place easily, but certain.. modern renovations threw her for a loop. Even watching from the window.. Strange metal contraptions, moving like carriages without horses.. Some guests even carried these odd slabs of glowing glass. Though she felt she knew where she was, it was clear that a significant amount of time had passed. This was the Dygarian mansion-- And at the same time, it wasn't. This realization caused a sense of agony to blossom throughout her chest. After all this time, he still lived.
Her head perked up slightly at the mention of what year it was. She abruptly stood to her feet and began counting the years on her fingers, pacing in front of the fireplace..
"..One hundred forty-seven." She whispered in disbelief, her pacing coming to a dead halt. 147 years had passed by without her. How was this possible? She died-- She knew that. Burned at the stake for all to see and yet, here she was, good as new. Was she a phantom? A ghost come to haunt Ajax and his kin for his grievances? No, she was real-- Fleshy and corporeal. She could feel that.
The woman had been so caught up in her spiraling thoughts, she didn't realize Drevis had asked her for her name. The question took a moment to process-- My name. My name. What is my name?
She approached him slowly, taking in his appearance. Somehow, she felt like.. he was the reason she was here. No, not just him.. the others, too. For some reason, their souls called out to hers, and with a force so powerful, it summoned her back here. Were they kindred spirits after all?
"It has been a long time since anyone asked for my name," She said finally, smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress calmly, "Longer still since I've uttered it.."
".. My name is Gwenhwyfar. Gwenhwyfar LaVey."
Anyone born and raised in the valley had heard tale of the death of the Valley Priestess, exposed for her cravings of the other flesh, but most thought it to be nothing but fiction-- a fairy tale made up by the Church to scare kids into denouncing their gender non-conformity.
At least, until now.
Damafaud
"You didn't shoot him." She mused thoughtfully, eyes locked on the flames, "In my day, we didn't have such a luxury. Our.. bare hands would have to do."
What was this strange feeling..? She remembered all of her life leading up to this moment; Every passing century, every life taken, every phase of the moon spanning hundreds of years, and yet.. this was new. Somewhere, there was a gap-- From the fire, to the mansion. She recognized this place easily, but certain.. modern renovations threw her for a loop. Even watching from the window.. Strange metal contraptions, moving like carriages without horses.. Some guests even carried these odd slabs of glowing glass. Though she felt she knew where she was, it was clear that a significant amount of time had passed. This was the Dygarian mansion-- And at the same time, it wasn't. This realization caused a sense of agony to blossom throughout her chest. After all this time, he still lived.
Her head perked up slightly at the mention of what year it was. She abruptly stood to her feet and began counting the years on her fingers, pacing in front of the fireplace..
"..One hundred forty-seven." She whispered in disbelief, her pacing coming to a dead halt. 147 years had passed by without her. How was this possible? She died-- She knew that. Burned at the stake for all to see and yet, here she was, good as new. Was she a phantom? A ghost come to haunt Ajax and his kin for his grievances? No, she was real-- Fleshy and corporeal. She could feel that.
The woman had been so caught up in her spiraling thoughts, she didn't realize Drevis had asked her for her name. The question took a moment to process-- My name. My name. What is my name?
She approached him slowly, taking in his appearance. Somehow, she felt like.. he was the reason she was here. No, not just him.. the others, too. For some reason, their souls called out to hers, and with a force so powerful, it summoned her back here. Were they kindred spirits after all?
"It has been a long time since anyone asked for my name," She said finally, smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress calmly, "Longer still since I've uttered it.."
".. My name is Gwenhwyfar. Gwenhwyfar LaVey."
Anyone born and raised in the valley had heard tale of the death of the Valley Priestess, exposed for her cravings of the other flesh, but most thought it to be nothing but fiction-- a fairy tale made up by the Church to scare kids into denouncing their gender non-conformity.
At least, until now.
Damafaud
Damafaud
Kitty
The implication of her name took several seconds to seep in. And when it did, Drevis was caught unaware enough he let his surprise show on his face. His eyes widened, his lips unintentionally parted. His neck muscle contracted at a small fraction. He quickly willed himself to erase the expression, but it lurked long enough for anyone to see how he felt. Drevis smiled awkwardly and scratched the collar of his shirt.
"As in Gwenhwyfar LaVey, the Valley Priestess? The one from fairy tale? Or is it a coincidence and I have made a gross misunderstanding?"
Not that it's likely, he thought to himself.
The Valley Priestess was a local myth, unheard of outside of the town. Both name, first and surname, were unusual, even in his grandmother's day. If someone came up to him when he was alive and told him her name is Gwenhwyfar LaVey, he would assume it is a joke or her parents had a cruel idea for a joke. Now that he was a vampire, a third option came into mind; the woman was really Gwenhwyfar LaVey, and Gwenhwyfar LaVey was a vampire.
Considering the moral of the fairy tale, the evil woman being an unholy vampire didn't sound too farfetched.
"Of course, it is not my place to pry," he hastily added at the last moment. "do pretend I have asked nothing if it's more convinient."a
Fairy tale or not, he did not want to offend anyone. Not on the first night, and especially not one who might be centuries years old.
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mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen scrunched her nose with a newfound sense of digust. Fairy tale? Did the Church pass off her death as nothing but a story? They must have. Her legacy, the work she did for the valley and it's people, reduced to nothing but a cheap work of fiction. How insulting.
"I am not aware of what sort of lies the Hierophants have been peddling in my absence, but I assure you I am no child's fable." She scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. It was easier to pretend she never existed, than admit she was one of their most valuable members. The first and only woman of the Church of the Hierophant-- Who better to blame for the devil's work than she? She supposed, though, they weren't too far off in the end.
She reached out to touch him, her hand firmly planted on the lawyers chest, "Do you feel that, Drevis? I am off the flesh just as much as you." Now within close proximity of the man, the two only inches apart, she took the opportunity to examine him closer; Her piercing eyes flicking from facial features all the way down to his toes. He was Ajax's type; she could see that. Professional, intelligent, and of course, decently attractive. Another display of vanity to be shown off as the superior bloodline. She felt a faint familiarity in that sentiment-- She was just the same on his arm all those years ago. An item to be displayed.
"..Bind tightly to your name, Drevis Senade, for it may be the only thing you have left now."
She took a step back from him, once again flexing her fingers and bending her wrists. It was strange having a body again; If one were to ask what Hell was like, she would be at a lost for words. There was no Hell-- No dark limbo she was residing in until now. It was as if someone had merely pressed 'unpause', coupled with the faint ache of emptiness and isolation. A type of weightlessness that carried only sorrow in it's back. It was pure agony.
"You spoke to him. A man called Ajaxius. Tell me, does he know I am here?"
Damafaud
"I am not aware of what sort of lies the Hierophants have been peddling in my absence, but I assure you I am no child's fable." She scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. It was easier to pretend she never existed, than admit she was one of their most valuable members. The first and only woman of the Church of the Hierophant-- Who better to blame for the devil's work than she? She supposed, though, they weren't too far off in the end.
She reached out to touch him, her hand firmly planted on the lawyers chest, "Do you feel that, Drevis? I am off the flesh just as much as you." Now within close proximity of the man, the two only inches apart, she took the opportunity to examine him closer; Her piercing eyes flicking from facial features all the way down to his toes. He was Ajax's type; she could see that. Professional, intelligent, and of course, decently attractive. Another display of vanity to be shown off as the superior bloodline. She felt a faint familiarity in that sentiment-- She was just the same on his arm all those years ago. An item to be displayed.
"..Bind tightly to your name, Drevis Senade, for it may be the only thing you have left now."
She took a step back from him, once again flexing her fingers and bending her wrists. It was strange having a body again; If one were to ask what Hell was like, she would be at a lost for words. There was no Hell-- No dark limbo she was residing in until now. It was as if someone had merely pressed 'unpause', coupled with the faint ache of emptiness and isolation. A type of weightlessness that carried only sorrow in it's back. It was pure agony.
"You spoke to him. A man called Ajaxius. Tell me, does he know I am here?"
Damafaud
Damafaud
Kitty
His heart skipped a beat-- figuratively-- when Gwenhwyfar LaVey put her hand over his chest. Drevis had women touching him before; Young socialites took the opportunity at conversation such as this one. And women he had walked into his house... did more than touching his chest. Yet something of the touch made him hold his breath (again, figuratively). Her words ominous. Her touch a warning. He couldn't bring himself to stare her right at her eyes. With difficulty, he muttered his answer.
"I know."
The words were so weak coming from him. He did not like it. He sounded too vulnerable. Too much like how he really felt deep down. He almost broke into a chuckle when she changed the topic, but he stopped himself.
"I don't know if he does, nor would I know if he doesn't," he worded his answer carefully. "he didn't say much apart from what was relevant to the game. Or maybe calling it a test would fit better? A test I failed, either way."
The physical cue was there and the warning was quite obvious. To pass the test, Drevis had to pull the trigger. Rain lead on the human's body, rob him from life and breath alike. A show of determination to kill. An action he could only do once he stop think of himself as a human or get rid of the guilt of taking the life of another. That was his failure. Being too humane or inexperienced to be ruthless.
For once, Drevis was grateful he failed a test.
"If I may ask, what is your relationship with Ajax Dygarian?"
He could deduce it is not a good one. A lover would meet him before the show. A friend would approach him in the foyer. A family would... he did not know what a relative would to to be honest. When someone ask if another individual knows of their presence in a neutral tone, there were three possibilities.
Someone who the individual hates, someone who hate the individual, or someone who desperately has something he does not want the individual to know.
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen's posture visibly relaxed at the mans words. Ajax didn't know, that was good. There was no telling how he'd react if he found out she was snooping through his library. This was a golden opportunity; With Ajax unaware of her presence, she could watch silently from the sidelines, gathering information about this new modern age. She could learn more about what has transpired in the years after her death, and potentially catch him off guard with the element of surprise. She could finally kill him.
She turned back to the fire, a hand raised to her lips as her mind wondered into deeper thought. She could feel seven of them-- Seven souls that spoke to her from the void. It was their pain and suffering that brought her back, trading one kind of Hell for another. What did this mean? She knew was different; Some sort of power coursing through her veins, unlike one she had ever felt before. Not even from the hearts. Was this.. the power of a Forebear? There was no other explanation. With her death by fire, she was reborn anew, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Not only that, but she was finally separated from Adrian completely. There was nothing holding her to the man who stole her humanity.
Gwen let out a series of small giggles, her eyes glossing over with a look of genuine happiness. She had researched ways of cutting ties to ones Forebear in the past, but no such method had ever been discovered. Though it was a small victory, it was enough. She turned back to Drevis with a wide smile, eagerly taking his hands in hers. She kissed his fingers, unable to control her laughter before throwing herself into his arms for a tight hug.
"I must thank you, Drevis! You've helped me much more than you realize."
She pulled back from him to straighten out her dress again, tucking long strands of hair behind her ear. At the mention of her relationship with Ajax, her smile fell, and her back stiffened. So much for that good mood.
"..I was.." She stopped, unsure of the right words. A lover? A friend? A business partner? So many things at once, it was hard to tell what she truly was to him. After all those years spent together, she never really understood how he saw her. A pawn in his game? More than likely.
"..I was a lot of things," She said finally, avoiding eye contact, "We.. ruled together."
The tone of her words sounded.. nostalgic. What little time she had spent in this library was, for the most part, spent reminiscing. In a way, she missed those days. She was never proud of the lives she stole for her own selfish gain, but there was some gain nonetheless. It was a simpler time in a lifetime of different eras. Gwen shook her head, pushing those tainted memories from her mind. None of that mattered now.
"In a different life, perhaps things would have been different. But now.."
Her eyes trailed to the ceiling. It was as if she could see the smoke from her execution-- The embers rising and her skin peeling off in ashed layers.
"..He is merely the man that stole my life."
Damafaud
She turned back to the fire, a hand raised to her lips as her mind wondered into deeper thought. She could feel seven of them-- Seven souls that spoke to her from the void. It was their pain and suffering that brought her back, trading one kind of Hell for another. What did this mean? She knew was different; Some sort of power coursing through her veins, unlike one she had ever felt before. Not even from the hearts. Was this.. the power of a Forebear? There was no other explanation. With her death by fire, she was reborn anew, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Not only that, but she was finally separated from Adrian completely. There was nothing holding her to the man who stole her humanity.
Gwen let out a series of small giggles, her eyes glossing over with a look of genuine happiness. She had researched ways of cutting ties to ones Forebear in the past, but no such method had ever been discovered. Though it was a small victory, it was enough. She turned back to Drevis with a wide smile, eagerly taking his hands in hers. She kissed his fingers, unable to control her laughter before throwing herself into his arms for a tight hug.
"I must thank you, Drevis! You've helped me much more than you realize."
She pulled back from him to straighten out her dress again, tucking long strands of hair behind her ear. At the mention of her relationship with Ajax, her smile fell, and her back stiffened. So much for that good mood.
"..I was.." She stopped, unsure of the right words. A lover? A friend? A business partner? So many things at once, it was hard to tell what she truly was to him. After all those years spent together, she never really understood how he saw her. A pawn in his game? More than likely.
"..I was a lot of things," She said finally, avoiding eye contact, "We.. ruled together."
The tone of her words sounded.. nostalgic. What little time she had spent in this library was, for the most part, spent reminiscing. In a way, she missed those days. She was never proud of the lives she stole for her own selfish gain, but there was some gain nonetheless. It was a simpler time in a lifetime of different eras. Gwen shook her head, pushing those tainted memories from her mind. None of that mattered now.
"In a different life, perhaps things would have been different. But now.."
Her eyes trailed to the ceiling. It was as if she could see the smoke from her execution-- The embers rising and her skin peeling off in ashed layers.
"..He is merely the man that stole my life."
Damafaud
Damafaud
Kitty
The hug caught him offguard. Drevis stood awkwardly in her embrace. He had expected coldness, but her body radiated off a small hint of warmth. His gaze turned toward the fireplace, where a lick of flame danced from its source. Warmth. Fire, one of the few method able to kill him, was also able to provide him a luxury he never knew he missed. He gingerly patted the woman's back before she let go of him.
Her expression changed when he asked of her relationship. He knew it would happen, but the question was necessary.
A vendetta. Again, Drevis scratched the collar of his shirt. A nervous tick he sometimes show despite himself. His guess had been right regarding the bad blood between Gwenhwyfar LaVey and Ajax Dygarian, but what came after was a blank. The enmity was not his business, but seeing how he would be tangled with the business of his forebearer, it would be unwise to pretend ignorance.
"I see. I will ask no more of it, then. If you need any help, Lady Gwenhwyfar LaVey, I will extend you a hand-- as long as it does not put me or my relation with Ajax Dygarian in grave danger."
The smile he shown toward Gwenhwyfar LaVey was a kind one, though containing a tint of apologetic tone. Ajax Dygarian was not a good one, but he, Drevis, did not think he is better. His career path was filthy with bribes, threats, and carefully planned murders. The only thing that seperate him from Ajax was his unwillingness to murder himself. An unwillingness he wasn't sure he would have forever. He steered the conversation to a safer topic.
"Or maybe you have questions about the mortal world? I do not know much of current situation in vampire society as a Newblood, but I can say I am well versed in the on-goings of today's human society. Technology, law," he glanced at the woman's dress. "fashion, politic. I may not be all knowing, but as a lawyer, I can say I am among the knowledgable with confidence."
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen tilted her head to the side curiously. What relationship did this man have with Ajax? More importantly, what kind of relationship did he intend to have? Possibly one of false loyalty, meant for his own survival. There was no telling for sure-- She had met many people who, after being indoctrinated into this strange secret world, surprisingly welcome it and it's horrors. Was Drevis one of those people, too? She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to get a reading on the man. He didn't shoot the victim on stage. Perhaps there was some vestige of a good person in there.
"..You speak as though you aim to befriend him. To what end?"
She was no stranger to using others to her advantage. Not just by consuming their power, but also by abusing their friendship. Sometimes it was necessary to get ahead-- People like Ajax expect loyalty above all else, even if it meant sacrificing someone you cared about. It was a cruel test. Gwen took her seat back at the fire, anxiously fiddling with a strand of her hair. So much was happening at once, it was hard for her to process. She was already attempting to concoct some sort of plan to take out two birds with one stone-- Ajax and Adrian. Would this man help her? Would any of them help her?
"..They look at you as pets, you know," She said over her shoulder, "Cute little orphans they so humbly took under their wing. You mean nothing to him. Getting closer will only cost you your dignity."
Her shoulders slumped slightly, "..I know it did mine."
His offer was one that, under different circumstances, she would have gladly accepted. But time was of the essence-- As much as she would have adored cracking open modern history books and learning all that this new world had to offer, how long before Ajax himself discovered her here?
"I am capable of such efforts myself. Right now, I ask that you keep my presence a secret. Can you do that, Drevis?"
Gwen turned to look at him in her chair, grey eyes pleading behind a pale, stoic facade.
Damafaud
"..You speak as though you aim to befriend him. To what end?"
She was no stranger to using others to her advantage. Not just by consuming their power, but also by abusing their friendship. Sometimes it was necessary to get ahead-- People like Ajax expect loyalty above all else, even if it meant sacrificing someone you cared about. It was a cruel test. Gwen took her seat back at the fire, anxiously fiddling with a strand of her hair. So much was happening at once, it was hard for her to process. She was already attempting to concoct some sort of plan to take out two birds with one stone-- Ajax and Adrian. Would this man help her? Would any of them help her?
"..They look at you as pets, you know," She said over her shoulder, "Cute little orphans they so humbly took under their wing. You mean nothing to him. Getting closer will only cost you your dignity."
Her shoulders slumped slightly, "..I know it did mine."
His offer was one that, under different circumstances, she would have gladly accepted. But time was of the essence-- As much as she would have adored cracking open modern history books and learning all that this new world had to offer, how long before Ajax himself discovered her here?
"I am capable of such efforts myself. Right now, I ask that you keep my presence a secret. Can you do that, Drevis?"
Gwen turned to look at him in her chair, grey eyes pleading behind a pale, stoic facade.
Damafaud
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Damafaud
Kitty
The smile that came was painful. The collar of his shirt brushed against his chin when he drooped his head. End? Would it really end? The suit below him was a fitting symbol for his fate. What had he said earlier? Being removed from the fragile mortality to be reborn as one of the more supreme race. Only, the supreme race had their own hierarchy as well. And he was at the bottom of the pyramid, reporting directly to someone at the peak.
"The best end available to the son of such a man."
His answer was almost a whisper. It did not hold any confidence that he wanted to show. It did not convey a relaxed attitude he held in front of danger. His facade was crumbling. And the cause had never been so out of reach. He knew what Ajax Dygarian was capable of. He knew, because they were so much alike. Drevis never deny the degradation of his moral, but he had thrown it away without flinching. A step further into the abyss. There would be no good ending to being a subordinate of a man like him. He knew. His employees knew of the snare he looped around their neck 'just in case' they betrayed him.
A cruel twist of fate, for him to be placed in the seat he had reserved for others.
"...this is a deal with a devil I can't revoke. If it is impossible to dampen the damage, I will be satisfied with the edge it gives."
If he found no way to escape, he would find a way to enjoy himself under the thumb of the devil. If it means throwing himself into the abyss, so be it. Drevis was no stranger to the darkness, though he had never put his head into it. The shrug of his shoulder, an act put to look nonchalant, came naturally.
"Confidentiality is a basic right for my client. Your case is safe with me, Miss LaVey."
To her stoic gaze, he gave a reassuring, confident smile. A smile so bright it hid the fear in his eyes.
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen forced out a shallow, relaxed sigh. So he wasn't completely bound to Ajax. Not yet, anyway. Somehow, for a faint moment their souls connected, she knew that he, and perhaps the others, would already be against this life. As much as they could be, anyway-- Drevis' words proved that. The words of a scared little boy, ripped from his home in the dead of night. She could relate to that, too. It was a cruel way to be taught; To survive by being thrown headfirst to the wolves. But now they had the opportunity to grow. To evolve, just like she did. Though, evolving is arguably what got her into this mess in the first place. How long before they, too, succumbed to this world and it's taboo's? How long before they turned into her? How long before they stop killing out of necessity, and out of pleasure? Gwen didn't have the answer. If there was one line she had yet to cross, it was that one.
She took her eyes off him, opting instead to stare back into the fires warmth. Having a corporeal vessel after all these years.. it almost felt strange. Not to mention being thrown into a completely different time..
"..Thrown to the wolves yet again.." She muttered to herself.
She didn't take her eyes from the fireplace, but the tone of her voice was.. vitrolic.
"You likened humans to something as trivial as house pets. Far too generous. Pets can at least be given a resemblence of freedom. They are closer to cattle-- Something to be culled and devoured," She shook her head, her delicate face twisting into a tasteful scowl, "You, Drevis.. You are the pesky fly biting the necks of cattle to get your fill. You are no more a son to him than a fly to a farmer."
With a raise of her open palm, she beckoned Drevis to kneel at her side in the chair. Her face had softened, but there was an unmistakable sadness in her eyes. A brewing mixture of centuries-old knowledge and perhaps even wisdom, all bound by grief and loathing. It was the look of a freshly dead corpse-- Tired, old, and judgmental.
"I have not the words to describe my anger, Drevis.." She whispered lowly, hanging her head slightly, "..the level of agony for which I have carried for decades. And now I carry a new burden: You. You and your kin, another set of Innocents brought to slaughter..
"..I am angry, Drevis. Are you?"
Gwens words seemed.. almost judgmental, but anyone reading between the lines could see what she meant. She was testing his resolve-- If there was ever a time to be upset, to cry, shout, or even act, it was now.
She continued to hold up her palm; An offer for him to either take it, or leave this quiet space.
Damafaud
She took her eyes off him, opting instead to stare back into the fires warmth. Having a corporeal vessel after all these years.. it almost felt strange. Not to mention being thrown into a completely different time..
"..Thrown to the wolves yet again.." She muttered to herself.
She didn't take her eyes from the fireplace, but the tone of her voice was.. vitrolic.
"You likened humans to something as trivial as house pets. Far too generous. Pets can at least be given a resemblence of freedom. They are closer to cattle-- Something to be culled and devoured," She shook her head, her delicate face twisting into a tasteful scowl, "You, Drevis.. You are the pesky fly biting the necks of cattle to get your fill. You are no more a son to him than a fly to a farmer."
With a raise of her open palm, she beckoned Drevis to kneel at her side in the chair. Her face had softened, but there was an unmistakable sadness in her eyes. A brewing mixture of centuries-old knowledge and perhaps even wisdom, all bound by grief and loathing. It was the look of a freshly dead corpse-- Tired, old, and judgmental.
"I have not the words to describe my anger, Drevis.." She whispered lowly, hanging her head slightly, "..the level of agony for which I have carried for decades. And now I carry a new burden: You. You and your kin, another set of Innocents brought to slaughter..
"..I am angry, Drevis. Are you?"
Gwens words seemed.. almost judgmental, but anyone reading between the lines could see what she meant. She was testing his resolve-- If there was ever a time to be upset, to cry, shout, or even act, it was now.
She continued to hold up her palm; An offer for him to either take it, or leave this quiet space.
Damafaud
Damafaud
Kitty
The question took him by surprise, but Drevis recovered soon enough, and his expression softened. He bended down on one knee, and cusped her hand between his. He stayed silent for a while. The fire crackling in the background was the only sound before he opened his mouth.
"There are worse fate out there. Hinduism believes in reincarnation into animals if we have insufficient karma," his smile turned lopsided. "it could be better, but I am grateful for this second chance in life."
Was he mad at his fate? The answer was surprisingly no. Life crueler than death existed, but he, at least, could still live and not spend his last moment at a desolate trench in the wood. He might had no freedom, but he could still laugh, he still had pleasure and fun. He exchanged banter with Katya. Performed a show for a room of cold blooded inhumane murderers. Inwardly cursed his miserable fate. Not a life he would have chosen, but a life he could live in without another choice.
"I will help if I can, but not for anyone else. For my sake, my conscience."
He gave her hand a squeeze. It was like pressing a slab of meat; cold, hard, without trace of life. Just like his hands. Just like him. But they were not dead hands, and that was enough. Drevis stood up and gave her a slight bow, just like the one he gave to Ajax. Ajax told him he could be killed when bowing, but he did not care at the moment. If even Gwenhwyfar LaVey aimed for his life, he would rather die on her hands than Ajax. His words was not a rejection to her invitation, but neither was it a strong affirmation. An answer befitting a lawyer, if nothing else.
"I appreciate your concern, Miss LaVey. But I'm not sure we deserve to be called innocents."
He moved to make his exit. Moments before he touched the handle, he spoke without turning his back.
"I don't deserve it, anyway."
Drevis closed the door behind him.
shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
The big Venezuelan entered the library with a harsh sigh. The alcohol was finally working its magic and Hector was beginning to mentally unwind as well as physically. His head was starting to get a little fuzzy and his thoughts were slowing down. It didn't feel like his mind was strapped to an asteroid going light speed with how much was on his mind.
The man quickly found his target, which was a lonely chair to which he promptly sunk into. Another sigh left his lips as he pressed his head into his free hand and rubbed his temples a bit.
Hector had left that life of bloodshed, murder, kidnapping, and stealing behind when he moved to the states. America was a fresh start for him in his troubled youth and it had given him every opportunity to make a better life. An opportunity which he gladly took full advantage of. Only for everything to come full circle and start living an underground life... only this time as a nightwalking immortal that feeds on blood.
What a life.
It took a moment for Hector to actually notice there was someone else in the room. She was being so quiet that he hardly noticed her presence at all. Though, when he did, even Hector couldn't hide his surprise.
The woman was absolutely striking. A timeless beauty of a creature. It was a brief moment before Hector blinked and returned to his normal stone-like expression. He gave the woman a brief nod and raised the stolen bottle to her in greeting before focusing his gaze on the roof of the library.
There were several reasons why Hector didn't want to look directly at her. First, was that alcohol and beautiful women were the blueprints to being dragged around by the nose. Hector was many things but he was no one's fool. Inebriated or otherwise.
Second, was that he recognized her. The dress was different and the look in her eyes definitely told a different story, but that woman was the very same that was in Ajax's office. The one that had that strange shrine dedicated to her. Surely, he wouldn't be able to hide his initial surprise but he could simply blame that on her looks. She didn't need to know that he knew who she was.
Third, was that she must have had some deep connection to Ajax if she was framed up in such a way. She must have been some important figure for that megalomaniac to idolize. If, for whatever reason, she wanted to converse, Hector playing dumb would allow him to gather much more information. Possibly.... hopefully.... a way out of this unholy hell hole.
mothspit
The man quickly found his target, which was a lonely chair to which he promptly sunk into. Another sigh left his lips as he pressed his head into his free hand and rubbed his temples a bit.
Hector had left that life of bloodshed, murder, kidnapping, and stealing behind when he moved to the states. America was a fresh start for him in his troubled youth and it had given him every opportunity to make a better life. An opportunity which he gladly took full advantage of. Only for everything to come full circle and start living an underground life... only this time as a nightwalking immortal that feeds on blood.
What a life.
It took a moment for Hector to actually notice there was someone else in the room. She was being so quiet that he hardly noticed her presence at all. Though, when he did, even Hector couldn't hide his surprise.
The woman was absolutely striking. A timeless beauty of a creature. It was a brief moment before Hector blinked and returned to his normal stone-like expression. He gave the woman a brief nod and raised the stolen bottle to her in greeting before focusing his gaze on the roof of the library.
There were several reasons why Hector didn't want to look directly at her. First, was that alcohol and beautiful women were the blueprints to being dragged around by the nose. Hector was many things but he was no one's fool. Inebriated or otherwise.
Second, was that he recognized her. The dress was different and the look in her eyes definitely told a different story, but that woman was the very same that was in Ajax's office. The one that had that strange shrine dedicated to her. Surely, he wouldn't be able to hide his initial surprise but he could simply blame that on her looks. She didn't need to know that he knew who she was.
Third, was that she must have had some deep connection to Ajax if she was framed up in such a way. She must have been some important figure for that megalomaniac to idolize. If, for whatever reason, she wanted to converse, Hector playing dumb would allow him to gather much more information. Possibly.... hopefully.... a way out of this unholy hell hole.
mothspit
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen was sitting patiently in the seat opposite of Hector. She did little to acknowledge his arrival, apart from sitting up in her seat, and crossing one leg over the other. There was something enchanting about the flames of a fire. Something.. familiar. It was almost like looking into a mirror of the past. To a time when the good people of this valley were so much more primitive. It seemed little had changed in all this time.
She could almost see herself in those flames. Tied and bound, screaming helplessly as her skin melted. It filled her with a different kind of heat-- Nothing but revenge-fueled anger. No, calm down Gwen.. Thinking like that would only get her into more trouble. This would have to be thought out. Plans would have to be made. Alliances formed. Who all from her vampiric youth would aid her in this fight? How many of them were now bound by Ajax's wealth and influence? it was hard to say.
She looked over to the man seated next to her, and also to the bottle in his hand. Looks like he found the bar. A part of her wouldn't mind a drink as well, but she needed a clear mind tonight. There would be time to drown her grief and sorrows later.
"The man of the hour," She said softly, a faint smile spreading across her lips, "I heard the gunshots from all the way in here."
Gwenhwyfar turned her head back to the fireplace. Taking a life wasn't new for the man, but she could tell it certainly didn't come easy for him. If he was anything like the other man that just left this room, it would eventually become as natural as tying his shoes. In due time, as all things would.
"..It is noble, taking on the burden others are too weak to bear." She mused thoughtfully, "But what good is nobility to sicophants resting on velvet couches? They laugh at such efforts."
In a different time, many years ago, she would have done anything to protect the ones she cared about. But times change. Bridges burn. And soon, people of this life realize protection is only good amongst others who are just as weak as them. When there is someone above you-- Above everyone, in terms of power-- true protection is impossible. A pipe dream for those afraid of their own shadow. Burdens resting on one's own shoulders, taken so someone else wouldn't have to, was also a weakness to the right enemy.
"That is not an insult. It's.. an admirable trait. How goes the festivities? I trust the night is treating you well enough."
shadowz1995
She could almost see herself in those flames. Tied and bound, screaming helplessly as her skin melted. It filled her with a different kind of heat-- Nothing but revenge-fueled anger. No, calm down Gwen.. Thinking like that would only get her into more trouble. This would have to be thought out. Plans would have to be made. Alliances formed. Who all from her vampiric youth would aid her in this fight? How many of them were now bound by Ajax's wealth and influence? it was hard to say.
She looked over to the man seated next to her, and also to the bottle in his hand. Looks like he found the bar. A part of her wouldn't mind a drink as well, but she needed a clear mind tonight. There would be time to drown her grief and sorrows later.
"The man of the hour," She said softly, a faint smile spreading across her lips, "I heard the gunshots from all the way in here."
Gwenhwyfar turned her head back to the fireplace. Taking a life wasn't new for the man, but she could tell it certainly didn't come easy for him. If he was anything like the other man that just left this room, it would eventually become as natural as tying his shoes. In due time, as all things would.
"..It is noble, taking on the burden others are too weak to bear." She mused thoughtfully, "But what good is nobility to sicophants resting on velvet couches? They laugh at such efforts."
In a different time, many years ago, she would have done anything to protect the ones she cared about. But times change. Bridges burn. And soon, people of this life realize protection is only good amongst others who are just as weak as them. When there is someone above you-- Above everyone, in terms of power-- true protection is impossible. A pipe dream for those afraid of their own shadow. Burdens resting on one's own shoulders, taken so someone else wouldn't have to, was also a weakness to the right enemy.
"That is not an insult. It's.. an admirable trait. How goes the festivities? I trust the night is treating you well enough."
shadowz1995
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shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
The man narrowed his eyes into a dangerous glare and was nearly about to retort until she clarified that she hadn't meant it as an insult. Hector was not so crass as to make something of a non-issue.
Instead, he nodded his thanks with a grunt and gave his response to what she had said, "I couldn't care less about what those pendejos think or laugh at. They can laugh all they want. In the end, they are the worms. Not me."
Normally, Hector's accent was noticeable but easily dismissed. With alcohol in his blood, the accent was a thicker but it was still comprehensible.
"And no, the night is not treating me well, Señora. But there is not much I can do. If I'm being honest, I just want to get away from here. Train my body again to see where my limits are. Then make good on my promise with ese bastardo, Ajax. "
Normally, Hector would never be so loose lipped with a stranger he just met but the whiskey was making him care less and less.
@vevenusmother (sorry its short but i got nothing lmao)
Instead, he nodded his thanks with a grunt and gave his response to what she had said, "I couldn't care less about what those pendejos think or laugh at. They can laugh all they want. In the end, they are the worms. Not me."
Normally, Hector's accent was noticeable but easily dismissed. With alcohol in his blood, the accent was a thicker but it was still comprehensible.
"And no, the night is not treating me well, Señora. But there is not much I can do. If I'm being honest, I just want to get away from here. Train my body again to see where my limits are. Then make good on my promise with ese bastardo, Ajax. "
Normally, Hector would never be so loose lipped with a stranger he just met but the whiskey was making him care less and less.
@vevenusmother (sorry its short but i got nothing lmao)
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen raised an eyebrow. A promise to Ajax? Was this man planning on making an attempt on the elder vampires life? Not if she could get to him first. Still, it looked like they shared a common goal. This could be useful. The other man, Drevis, seemed to be.. apprehensive. Not yet ready to pick a side. But it was clear who this man wanted dead.
"..I am fluent in many languages. If you like, we may speak in your native tongue. That is, if it is easier for you."
She looked down at her hands, unable to contain the off sense of physicality manifesting throughout her entire body. Gwenhwyfar flexed her fingers, as if she were trying to awaken sleeping limbs from going numb. This was how she felt when she was first turned, too. It would take some time getting used to again. How annoying.
"¿Y qué promesa sería esa?" She asked calmly, tilting her head to the side curiously. If anyone here was going to be serving Ajax's head on a silver platter, it would be her. But that didn't mean this fine gentleman couldn't help.
"¿Ya has hecho un enemigo tu primera noche?"
This last comment was said in Jest, accompanied by a playful grin. The last thing she was trying to do was upset a drunken brute.
shadowz1995
"..I am fluent in many languages. If you like, we may speak in your native tongue. That is, if it is easier for you."
She looked down at her hands, unable to contain the off sense of physicality manifesting throughout her entire body. Gwenhwyfar flexed her fingers, as if she were trying to awaken sleeping limbs from going numb. This was how she felt when she was first turned, too. It would take some time getting used to again. How annoying.
"¿Y qué promesa sería esa?" She asked calmly, tilting her head to the side curiously. If anyone here was going to be serving Ajax's head on a silver platter, it would be her. But that didn't mean this fine gentleman couldn't help.
"¿Ya has hecho un enemigo tu primera noche?"
This last comment was said in Jest, accompanied by a playful grin. The last thing she was trying to do was upset a drunken brute.
shadowz1995
shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
(Ill spare everyone the spanish hahaha.)
Hector was about to respond in kind but it always bothered him to some degree when he couldn't speak properly in a language. So, he stubbornly shook his head and responded in english again, "He knew...."
"When he called us up to the stage, he saw it in my eyes. He knew I was looking for a way to kill him. So, he asked me and I said yes. Ajax knows I want him dead but he knows I can't do it... At least.... not yet."
" Once I know what this body can do...."
Hector was staring at his hands while he spoke but he looked up now at the woman and met her eyes -for real- for the first time. His grass colored eyes shone with hate and anger. Anger at having his mortality robbed from him. Hate for being forced into such a stupid game. Both for feeling so powerful yet so powerless on that stage.
"If I can get in close, there is no man, woman, or vampire that can brawl with me and leave in one piece. I just need time."
The large man scoffed at the thought. Time. How could a man's perception of time be thrown off so radically in the span of a few hours.
"Something I have an unlimited amount of now. It seems."
Hector was about to respond in kind but it always bothered him to some degree when he couldn't speak properly in a language. So, he stubbornly shook his head and responded in english again, "He knew...."
"When he called us up to the stage, he saw it in my eyes. He knew I was looking for a way to kill him. So, he asked me and I said yes. Ajax knows I want him dead but he knows I can't do it... At least.... not yet."
" Once I know what this body can do...."
Hector was staring at his hands while he spoke but he looked up now at the woman and met her eyes -for real- for the first time. His grass colored eyes shone with hate and anger. Anger at having his mortality robbed from him. Hate for being forced into such a stupid game. Both for feeling so powerful yet so powerless on that stage.
"If I can get in close, there is no man, woman, or vampire that can brawl with me and leave in one piece. I just need time."
The large man scoffed at the thought. Time. How could a man's perception of time be thrown off so radically in the span of a few hours.
"Something I have an unlimited amount of now. It seems."
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwen seemed.. interested. So, this man had already signed a contract for Ajax's death? And what's more, he knew about it? Though it didn't really surprise her. For all this intelligence, his power, or wealth.. Ajax could never help but stir the pot. That included provoking someone he knew was out to get him. But, his actions werent always careless and without meaning-- He was still a smart man. He wouldn't have made it this far otherwise. If any of the years spent with Ajax proved anything, she knew he was always ten steps ahead of anyone else. Even this man sitting across from her. Even Gwenhwyfar herself.
"..Have you considered he's testing you?" She offered with a small gesture, "Perhaps this.. contempt you feel is exactly what he wants."
She shrugged, "I could not say why. I must admit, he was always better at understanding another's emotions than myself."
The idea of training.. It was one that, many years ago, she too clung to for support. Growing stronger, surpass those that contorolled her.. Some would say it was all she had left. It consumed her resolve, turning her into something unrecognizable. A cold killing machine. One that had a single objective: Consume. Grow. Evolve. It was a dark, dangerous, and lonely path. For his sake, she hoped this man would be satisfied enough with Ajax's death.
"Powers are finicky things. They manifest in.. minute ways. Small, at first. Be on the look out for little things you cannot explain."
Gwenhwyfar remembered what it was like discovering her unique ability. Before this.. strange rebirth, it was something akin to construction-- Being able to manipulate metal to her will. She suspected it was tied to her childhood days as a stonemason working under her father; That was the educated guess amongst their kind, anyway. But since that version of her has passed on, only to be reborn into a Forebear.. There was a different ability somewhere inside her, itching to get out. Some tests were in order...
"And after that?" She asked, her smile slowly fading, "Once the life has been drained from his eyes.. what then?"
shadowz1995
"..Have you considered he's testing you?" She offered with a small gesture, "Perhaps this.. contempt you feel is exactly what he wants."
She shrugged, "I could not say why. I must admit, he was always better at understanding another's emotions than myself."
The idea of training.. It was one that, many years ago, she too clung to for support. Growing stronger, surpass those that contorolled her.. Some would say it was all she had left. It consumed her resolve, turning her into something unrecognizable. A cold killing machine. One that had a single objective: Consume. Grow. Evolve. It was a dark, dangerous, and lonely path. For his sake, she hoped this man would be satisfied enough with Ajax's death.
"Powers are finicky things. They manifest in.. minute ways. Small, at first. Be on the look out for little things you cannot explain."
Gwenhwyfar remembered what it was like discovering her unique ability. Before this.. strange rebirth, it was something akin to construction-- Being able to manipulate metal to her will. She suspected it was tied to her childhood days as a stonemason working under her father; That was the educated guess amongst their kind, anyway. But since that version of her has passed on, only to be reborn into a Forebear.. There was a different ability somewhere inside her, itching to get out. Some tests were in order...
"And after that?" She asked, her smile slowly fading, "Once the life has been drained from his eyes.. what then?"
shadowz1995
shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
Hector scoffed at the idea of being tested. While he thought that Ajax would regret ever trying to test him, Hector was much smarter than he seemed. As it was, he had probably said a little too much to this woman-in-the-painting and for all he knew, she was working for the man. He hadn't said anything Ajax didn't already know but....
"After he is dead, I have some others to hunt down. Once they are dead... then I don't know. Chances are... I will return home. To Venezuela. My country is full of superstitions."
"So, my presence there and my... feeding will probably just be blamed on a chupacabra or some vengeful spirit. Maybe they will blame the devil. There are many villages that have 'devils' " he signaled with air quotes. "One more devil in some nameless village wont be anything they arent used to. I can also keep an eye on my siblings. We've been out of touch since I moved to America but... they are still family."
The big man laughed to himself before gripping the bottle and taking a large swig of the fiery brown liquid. "I can be like a guardian devil to my nephews and nieces. To their children, and their children's children. They would never know it was me but...." Hector trailed off and lapsed into silence for some time. It was clear that despite everything, Hector was a family man. He would never show it but he did care deeply for those close to him.
"I don't know..." He concluded with another gulp of whiskey. One could tell that was the bare truth. The idea of vengeance had consumed his life for so long that he had no idea what he would do after he was done. Probably get himself killed somewhere but he already managed that one. How would he deal with immortality when mortality was hard enough?
mothspit
"After he is dead, I have some others to hunt down. Once they are dead... then I don't know. Chances are... I will return home. To Venezuela. My country is full of superstitions."
"So, my presence there and my... feeding will probably just be blamed on a chupacabra or some vengeful spirit. Maybe they will blame the devil. There are many villages that have 'devils' " he signaled with air quotes. "One more devil in some nameless village wont be anything they arent used to. I can also keep an eye on my siblings. We've been out of touch since I moved to America but... they are still family."
The big man laughed to himself before gripping the bottle and taking a large swig of the fiery brown liquid. "I can be like a guardian devil to my nephews and nieces. To their children, and their children's children. They would never know it was me but...." Hector trailed off and lapsed into silence for some time. It was clear that despite everything, Hector was a family man. He would never show it but he did care deeply for those close to him.
"I don't know..." He concluded with another gulp of whiskey. One could tell that was the bare truth. The idea of vengeance had consumed his life for so long that he had no idea what he would do after he was done. Probably get himself killed somewhere but he already managed that one. How would he deal with immortality when mortality was hard enough?
mothspit
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
A family.. How futile. Maybe he didn't know it yet, but returning home was impossible. The powers that be, even after Ajax's death, would never allow him to return home. At least, not until he learned how to properly control his abilities, but even then..It wasn't realistic. There were others who had managed to leave The Configuration in the past, though none she could name. She wouldn't know where they went, or even if they're still alive after all this time. They were always said to be nothing but rumors, regardless.
Growing up, women of Gwen's time were taught that a woman's place was at home with a few kids. The idea of children never appealed to her. In fact, she despised them. Though, she understood why others had them-- Having someone depend on you, and to have someone to care for, gave one a purpose. It was a nice feeling, albeit a bit selfish. She decided not to vocalize as such.
"Mm," Was all she said.
Should she enlist this man as her aid? He seemed reckless, mindlessely spilling information from drunken lips. Perhaps not. That was two out of seven that were apprehensive, at best. She felt a strong connection to one soul in particular.. Would they be coming in here, too? If not, there would always be another opportunity. She'd make sure of it. Despite the fact this man had no reason to even trust her, that also meant there is no reason to trust him, either. She decided to throw out a small idea, to see how well he'd cling to his revenge..
"And if you are not the only one who wishes to take his life?" She said plainly, relaxing her posture to sit back into her chair, "Is death alone enough, or must you be the one with your hands clasped around his throat?"
shadowz1995
Growing up, women of Gwen's time were taught that a woman's place was at home with a few kids. The idea of children never appealed to her. In fact, she despised them. Though, she understood why others had them-- Having someone depend on you, and to have someone to care for, gave one a purpose. It was a nice feeling, albeit a bit selfish. She decided not to vocalize as such.
"Mm," Was all she said.
Should she enlist this man as her aid? He seemed reckless, mindlessely spilling information from drunken lips. Perhaps not. That was two out of seven that were apprehensive, at best. She felt a strong connection to one soul in particular.. Would they be coming in here, too? If not, there would always be another opportunity. She'd make sure of it. Despite the fact this man had no reason to even trust her, that also meant there is no reason to trust him, either. She decided to throw out a small idea, to see how well he'd cling to his revenge..
"And if you are not the only one who wishes to take his life?" She said plainly, relaxing her posture to sit back into her chair, "Is death alone enough, or must you be the one with your hands clasped around his throat?"
shadowz1995
shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
Now, Hector's suspicion perked up through the drunken haze. His eyes had been somewhat clouded but for a moment, light broke through the fog and he locked eyes with her once more. His eyes narrowed and if his heart was still beating, it would have sped up considerably.
Why was she asking THAT of all things? Why did it matter to her if he had to be the one to deliver the final blow? He just got done saying that he wanted the man dead. To Hector, the answer was fairly obvious. Yes, he wanted to be the one to end it.
"I know I can't be the only one that wants him dead. I saw the faces of the audience after he snapped that man's neck. The way they looked at him. At me. Some of them enjoyed the act but quite a few looked as horrified as..." the man sloshed the bottle around in a circle as he tried to figure out the english word but he eventually gave up, "...the new ones. New vampires like me. There is no way I'm the only one." The older gentleman leaned forward in his chair now to get a closer look at the red-clad woman, propping his elbows on his knees. One could tell he was searching for something. Intensely. It was several long breaths before he apparently was satisfied with whatever he saw.
The woman in the painting, huh? Even buzzed, Hector put two and two together. She didn't seem defensive of Ajax. She was calm and collected but that question sounded almost possessive. If his death didn't interest her or worse, scare her, she wouldn't have asked.... or at least, would have asked differently. She was too calm about this entire subject. Hector was talking about killing one of the big kahunas of the vampires and she was speaking as if she could relate.
....
Ah.
"No. It doesn't have to be me." he finally admitted with a grunt. "As long as I'm directly involved with his death, I'll be satisfied." Hector cocked his head to one side curiously before leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other, taking a very laid back position.
He understood her angle now.
If Ajax had something of a shrine dedicated to her in his private office then she definitely meant something to him. Something big. If she seemingly wanted him dead or to suffer or even if she was apathetic to his death entirely.... it was certainly useful information to have.
He would go along with what she wanted. For now, at least.
But now it was Hector's turn to ask the questions.
"He has a shrine dedicated to you in his office. Did you know that? A painting. Candles. A strange knife at the base." Hector was watching the woman carefully for any reactions. A twitch or an uncomfortable shift in weight. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he knew who she was now. He was done acting ignorant. Now, he wanted to see what she was made of. "I don't know who you are exactly but you are clearly someone important to him. Very important. He must care for you. Family? Close friend?" All the while, Hector's crossed leg came back down to the floor and he sat up straight. Without any noticeable movements, the tension in his legs built up to move at a moment's notice. On the off chance that he touched a nerve and she reacted violently, he needed to be ready to evade. She seemed like the type to remain calm at all times but he didn't have the wrinkles in his face or the grey in his hair for nothing.
Hector's blunt approach to It was often the quiet ones that were the most deadly when provoked and she certainly seemed like a quiet one.
mothspit
Why was she asking THAT of all things? Why did it matter to her if he had to be the one to deliver the final blow? He just got done saying that he wanted the man dead. To Hector, the answer was fairly obvious. Yes, he wanted to be the one to end it.
"I know I can't be the only one that wants him dead. I saw the faces of the audience after he snapped that man's neck. The way they looked at him. At me. Some of them enjoyed the act but quite a few looked as horrified as..." the man sloshed the bottle around in a circle as he tried to figure out the english word but he eventually gave up, "...the new ones. New vampires like me. There is no way I'm the only one." The older gentleman leaned forward in his chair now to get a closer look at the red-clad woman, propping his elbows on his knees. One could tell he was searching for something. Intensely. It was several long breaths before he apparently was satisfied with whatever he saw.
The woman in the painting, huh? Even buzzed, Hector put two and two together. She didn't seem defensive of Ajax. She was calm and collected but that question sounded almost possessive. If his death didn't interest her or worse, scare her, she wouldn't have asked.... or at least, would have asked differently. She was too calm about this entire subject. Hector was talking about killing one of the big kahunas of the vampires and she was speaking as if she could relate.
....
Ah.
"No. It doesn't have to be me." he finally admitted with a grunt. "As long as I'm directly involved with his death, I'll be satisfied." Hector cocked his head to one side curiously before leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other, taking a very laid back position.
He understood her angle now.
If Ajax had something of a shrine dedicated to her in his private office then she definitely meant something to him. Something big. If she seemingly wanted him dead or to suffer or even if she was apathetic to his death entirely.... it was certainly useful information to have.
He would go along with what she wanted. For now, at least.
But now it was Hector's turn to ask the questions.
"He has a shrine dedicated to you in his office. Did you know that? A painting. Candles. A strange knife at the base." Hector was watching the woman carefully for any reactions. A twitch or an uncomfortable shift in weight. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he knew who she was now. He was done acting ignorant. Now, he wanted to see what she was made of. "I don't know who you are exactly but you are clearly someone important to him. Very important. He must care for you. Family? Close friend?" All the while, Hector's crossed leg came back down to the floor and he sat up straight. Without any noticeable movements, the tension in his legs built up to move at a moment's notice. On the off chance that he touched a nerve and she reacted violently, he needed to be ready to evade. She seemed like the type to remain calm at all times but he didn't have the wrinkles in his face or the grey in his hair for nothing.
Hector's blunt approach to It was often the quiet ones that were the most deadly when provoked and she certainly seemed like a quiet one.
mothspit
mothspit
ɖɛʍօռ ȶօ ֆօʍɛ, ǟռɢɛʟ ȶօ օȶɦɛʀֆ
Gwenhwyfar remained in the same relaxed position, unnmoved by the man's words. Instead, she smiled. A wide, knowing grin; The kind that was indiscernible, unreadable.. Just a pale facade against a stark, blank stoicism. The face of a statue following someone's eyes across a room. Admittedly, the information about this strange shrine was new to her. But, she didn't dare let it show. This man wasn't the first to try and provoke her into carelessness, and Lord knows he wouldn't be the last. He was in unfamiliar territory, even if he acted so confident. After all, she was positive Ajax had accumulated more dark secrets in the hundred years off her absence. No sense to get torn up over this one.
She took note of his defensive posture, and made no attempt at sudden movements. He might be a newborn, but technically so was she, and a fight wouldn't end in either of their favors. Instead she moved slowly, turning her head to glance back at the burning embers of the fireplace. Folding her hands neatly on one crossed knee, she took a moment of silence to think. He said he was content enough with just his death so long as he was involved, and yet, backing it up with these sudden bursts of questions made her feel.. uncertain of his motives. Though, she was no stranger to men wanting to feel in control. Hell, that was her entire life story-- Men taking control over something that was rightfully hers. That didn't mean he couldn't be useful, however.
"..Many years ago, when I was a young child," She began slowly, taking on a tone of deep reflection, "No taller than your knee, my father used to hoist me unto his shoulders, and carry me to the edge of the valley."
She began to gesture calmly with one hand as she spoke, "To the tallest hill he would climb, and when we reached it's peak, we would look out over the rest of the town from below until sunset."
Gwen paused, taking a moment to remember that far back before speaking again, "And when the moonlight hit the town square, he would say, 'One day, I will take control of all that you see, and leave behind a great legacy for you to inherit.'
"I used to get so giddy at the thought. At the time, my father owned his own construction company. When my mother died, he took to drinking. Became angrier. Louder. Abusive. All the while clinging to his mighty dream.
"One day my father realized he had grown old, and owned little to show for his efforts. By that time, I was gone, and so was anyone who might have cared for him.
"Perhaps it's cruel that such a dream was crafted for men like Ajaxius. Unfair, even. But that never mattered.
"My father died bitter, angry, and alone. All because he felt entitled to something that was never his."
Gwen turned her head too look at him once more; Her smile gone, now replaced with a blank, expressionless stare. She needed something more before posing the question to him. Something honest. These questions felt more like a quick deflection, moreso than a real interest. The other man, Drevis, showed vulnerability; Something that-- Even though it was clear he wasn't ready-- She could admire. This man before her lacked that. But, he wasn't entirely out of the question. Next time, then.
She gestured to the bottle in his hand, "Enjoy the rest of the evening, friend. I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon."
shadowz1995
She took note of his defensive posture, and made no attempt at sudden movements. He might be a newborn, but technically so was she, and a fight wouldn't end in either of their favors. Instead she moved slowly, turning her head to glance back at the burning embers of the fireplace. Folding her hands neatly on one crossed knee, she took a moment of silence to think. He said he was content enough with just his death so long as he was involved, and yet, backing it up with these sudden bursts of questions made her feel.. uncertain of his motives. Though, she was no stranger to men wanting to feel in control. Hell, that was her entire life story-- Men taking control over something that was rightfully hers. That didn't mean he couldn't be useful, however.
"..Many years ago, when I was a young child," She began slowly, taking on a tone of deep reflection, "No taller than your knee, my father used to hoist me unto his shoulders, and carry me to the edge of the valley."
She began to gesture calmly with one hand as she spoke, "To the tallest hill he would climb, and when we reached it's peak, we would look out over the rest of the town from below until sunset."
Gwen paused, taking a moment to remember that far back before speaking again, "And when the moonlight hit the town square, he would say, 'One day, I will take control of all that you see, and leave behind a great legacy for you to inherit.'
"I used to get so giddy at the thought. At the time, my father owned his own construction company. When my mother died, he took to drinking. Became angrier. Louder. Abusive. All the while clinging to his mighty dream.
"One day my father realized he had grown old, and owned little to show for his efforts. By that time, I was gone, and so was anyone who might have cared for him.
"Perhaps it's cruel that such a dream was crafted for men like Ajaxius. Unfair, even. But that never mattered.
"My father died bitter, angry, and alone. All because he felt entitled to something that was never his."
Gwen turned her head too look at him once more; Her smile gone, now replaced with a blank, expressionless stare. She needed something more before posing the question to him. Something honest. These questions felt more like a quick deflection, moreso than a real interest. The other man, Drevis, showed vulnerability; Something that-- Even though it was clear he wasn't ready-- She could admire. This man before her lacked that. But, he wasn't entirely out of the question. Next time, then.
She gestured to the bottle in his hand, "Enjoy the rest of the evening, friend. I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon."
shadowz1995
shadowz1995
Amoeba of Wisdom
Hector scoffed but stood to take his leave anyway. He looked down at her with suspicion but eventually decided to let it go with a shake of his head, "We aren't friends." He corrected harshly before taking another swig in front of the woman. "And you didn't answer the question. But that's okay. If you don't want to tell me, I'll find out on my own."
He turned to leave and head back to the bar but just before he set off, he paused. "I've met many people over the years, Miss. You aren't the first one to dodge the question with a smile and a story when someone hits a little too close too home. But I understand what your story meant."
"Ajax is yours. You feel.... entitled." he said with a grin. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.
"But for what it's worth, you have my sympathy for your father. It sounds like he was a good man. Lost, in the end.... but good. I'm sure he is at peace with your mother. As I hope you will be one day." It was rare when Hector showed genuine compassion and even then, it came across rather gruff but one could tell that he was genuine. The man was the embodiment of rough around the edges.
"To your father." The boxer toasted to the library roof before taking a fat gulp of the whiskey. He shook it off and strode back into the bar where Lyra and that other girl were hopefully finished with any private conversation.
mothspit
He turned to leave and head back to the bar but just before he set off, he paused. "I've met many people over the years, Miss. You aren't the first one to dodge the question with a smile and a story when someone hits a little too close too home. But I understand what your story meant."
"Ajax is yours. You feel.... entitled." he said with a grin. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.
"But for what it's worth, you have my sympathy for your father. It sounds like he was a good man. Lost, in the end.... but good. I'm sure he is at peace with your mother. As I hope you will be one day." It was rare when Hector showed genuine compassion and even then, it came across rather gruff but one could tell that he was genuine. The man was the embodiment of rough around the edges.
"To your father." The boxer toasted to the library roof before taking a fat gulp of the whiskey. He shook it off and strode back into the bar where Lyra and that other girl were hopefully finished with any private conversation.
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