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More dragon lady from Mieudo!

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Just... this... from http://pangnim.wix.com/pangnimm 

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Oh my lordy, kill me. Commissioned by http://felicemelancholie.deviantart.com/ 

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Also shoujo heroine Lia! Belated birthday things...

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His metamorphosis did little to move her. Clasping her hands together she would politely wait her turn to speak. It was then that she would make her rounds around his now adult frame, assessing him. Once pleased, a smile would grace her lips. 

“You approach me, questioning my resolve, my sincerity... and then inquire if I would be willing to use myself as a bartering chip to attain the means of accomplishing my goal? Now now, my boy wouldn’t you know the answer from my previous words? I am quite certain you had been listening.”

Although she remained smiling her tone was vicious. Spinning on her heel, she would move to her throne once more, taking a seat. The dirt that was possibly left on her furs (only the best werewolf pelts), seemingly more interesting for a brief amount of time. Eventually she would look darkly up to him.

“I accept the terms of our agreement...now, shall we sign in blood?”

He listened silently, knowing that he had opened the floodgates to a very deep passion in whatever remained of this woman’s soul. The ambition, the drive, it was all so beautiful to behold, something that the world was so painfully devoid of as of late. It brought him joy, on a level that sank far below the flesh. Before her eyes, the boy would change, his stature growing, as though aging at an absurd pace, his clothing following suit. Even as she finished speaking, the transformation was all but complete, the boy now an adult, his body exuding an air of intense evil. For some, it would be revolting. For her, it would be as though she was speaking with an old friend.

“Oh, now that is quite the wonderful answer, Lady De Richelieu. One can expect such responses, but it’s nothing compared to the act of hearing it in person. It’s quite invigorating.”

The voice had changed suit as well, a deeper speech with his tones of mirth and glee more subdued but undoubtedly there. It was rare that he ever found one that he felt any level of comfort near enough to take on this form, namely because beings of like nature to him were often less than willing to have a conversation with abomination, seeing him as a threat, and rightfully so. Still, Emery had proven to be quite the treat and she would only have to look upon his smile to see it.

“Then heed my words, and heed them well, for the future of your dream relies upon it. Your Vampiric Host is quite a fierce force, but there is another, rising in the world that you cannot reach, an entity that will command an army far beyond the might that yours can hope to match. In due time, they will strike at this world and wipe it clean of any signs of the mortals that once inhabited it, and you and your legions will be utterly annihilated - or worse.”

“This end need not be written in stone. You and I can prevent it, but for such to work, a partnership of sorts will be necessary. I shall use you for all that you are worth and in turn, you shall do the same of me. What say you?”

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Lip quivered ever so slightly in a pout at his words. She then would brush it off, returning to the matter at hand. A question posed to her. How far was she willing to go to claim what she sought? Lips pursed together as her sweeping steps approached one of the many paintings in her throne room.  A man sat posed, his brow set in determination, and features gruff yet kind. 

“Say, Sir Intruder Know It All, do you know the history behind this piece?” 

Before he had the chance to answer she would spin around to face him, her hand gesturing behind her as she spoke. “Ah, of course, anyone with knowledge of the hunters and art would. Nearly 300 years ago there was a terrible massacre in the vaults of the hunters and this portrait was stolen. This single portrait... Every other valuable, cursed, magical item and hunters portrait remained untouched, but not this one. Not the hunter, Jespar De Richelieu.”

Her words were fueled by passion, a step forward. “Do you know why I labored tirelessly on tracking this down...? Why I stepped into the domain of those I once called family, those whom my father and his father and his father before him, called brother -- and made the choice to cut them down when they were in my way? Because I wanted this. Because it was mine. He was my father before he would ever be their hunter. If that is not an apt answer for you, let me be frank. I will do whatever it takes, kill whoever I need, to fulfill my goals.” 

“I’ve known generations worth of manners and proper form, so many that is has become abundantly clear to me that it is a waste of time. Besides, if I were to be dead honest, you should consider yourself blessed that I even gave the throne back without you kneeling. But I’ve never been one for that sort of life, so we shall carry on.”

His tone was clear and unapologetic, without even a hint that he might perhaps be simply joking. This was one he could joke with, but at the same time, he could also hammer in the grim truth, that all he was doing here was a courtesy to help her save face. They were, by no means, equal. It was not something he often chose to express, but sometimes a boot to the ass was what was needed to get back on track.

“Oh I have many titles and many names - Requiem, Chronos Abomination, Keeper of Time’s Crypt, so on and so forth. However, it would be inappropriate to give you the name I’ve dubbed onto myself, for that is not something I give lightly, and quite frankly, prestigious as your position may be, you have not earned that right. Not yet.”

He spun to face her with a brilliant flourish, his sterile white coat seeming to float in the air longer than it should have. An expression of childlike glee belied the age and the sheer magnitude of this being’s existence. He did not come here for idle chatter, much as he would enjoy it. He was here with purpose.

“Tell me, how far are you willing to go to claim what you seek?”

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His lips grazed her knuckles in the traditional fashion of royalty, a nod of approval was her response. Her lithe frame would then climb the three steps to the throne. Drowning in crimson and gold, she would sit, crossing her legs and placing her hands upon her knees.

Her gaze would move over to a small table, taking an ornate fan from it she would appear to examine it, before quickly snapping it open and bringing it to her lips.

“You step...no, break, into my castle, sit on my throne, and do not have the decency to give me your name? Quite bad form.” 

Eyes narrowed at each word she spoke, before she seemed to return to normalcy, lowering her prop before leaning forward; as if interested in what sort of explanation he could give.  

“Or is it...” A soft gasp, as her features seemed to be mockingly shocked. “Perhaps you simply do not have one! You poor thing, living a nameless existence - No one would ever able to know the real you, because there is none without a name...then again -- Ah no matter. Maybe I shall bequeath one to you, perhaps with a title as well!”

Rising, she would gracefully pace before her throne, hemming and hawing as she seemed to go through options in her head. None of which were appropriate or would be liked. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at her comments, a genuine chuckle of utter amusement which only came when he came across someone whom he could be genuine with. Benevolence was not his normal, but very often he had to play the role, when he would very much rather play the instigator, the teaser, the vile. A jaded view he held on the world and on the majority of its occupants gave way to such thoughts.

“Oh, of course, just keeping it warm for you. I know how that tends to be a problem for vampires.”

A snarky comeback for a snarky comment. Stepping down from its placement, the boy approached the vampire, bowing low to her whilst taking her hand to kiss it, a set of actions made comical by how diminutive the figure was. Rising from the action, he stepped on past her, hands held behind his back, a quiet hum on his lips.

“Emery De Richelieu. Rising Lord of those who stalk the darkness, and lover to the Master of the Endless Hunt - you have my sympathies for that. One who vows to bring the chaotic horde together under one banner. It is truly a pleasure to finally make the acquaintance of one so capable of taking grasp of one’s fate. So many just wallow and languish when given a less than pleasant lot in life, but you’ve turned it into quite the spectacle. It’s truly a pleasure to record your antics, and you have nothing but my utmost respect.”

“Ah but I know so much about you, and you know nothing about me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is…”

“Something I will tell you in due time. You may call the Eternal Historian in the meanwhile.”

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While anyone else would have expected to hear graceful steps upon marbled floors, the halls were devoid of any sort of sound. Odd, when a woman’s scarlet footwear certainly pressed against the floors surface. It was almost as if she were a spectre or phantasm, wandering the ostentatious halls of a castle crafted from obscure history. 

Digits with nails painted crimson would lightly dust the inside of a gold frame. Bringing it up to examine what residue was left on her fingers before glancing up at the painting. A portrait of a woman, stylized circa the “Golden Age”. 

Red eyes moved quickly from it, returning down the hall towards her throne room, where a voice was playing a very lazy version of hide and seek with her. Lips upturned slightly. She was not without humor, she was actually quite fond of games. 

“If you were planning on calling upon me, then mayhaps you should have scheduled an appropriate audience. My retainers would have been happy to assist you, should you be confused.” 

A beat of pause as she rested her hands upon the handle of her large throne room door. “If my followers have qualms with my actions, I implore them to speak up.” While her expression seemed calm, her words held a dangerous undertone, one only masked by the volume of which she spoke. 

Entering her own throne room, she would rest her eyes upon the boy sitting there. Bringing her hand to her cheek she would gaze upon him in reflection for a bit, before clucking her tongue. “Oh my, it is much too large for you.” 

An underhanded double meaning perhaps, or maybe she did simply mean it literally, who knows? Certainly not him...

Her own coy smirk took over as she adjusted her furs, before moving into a sweeping curtsy. “I beg your pardon my Lord...”

“But I am going to need that back.”

Her departure was routine, her activities unto her own, her time spent with someone that only truly mattered to her. A day of absence did not a kingdom unmake, especially not one built upon the foundations of the blood seeking undead, so who should bother her for it? However, upon the Vampire’s return, she would be able to feel a disturbance in the air, something small, like an insect that simply would not leave her be. This was no simple gnat, sadly, as a voice, seemingly from nothing, sounded in her ears.

“Welcome home, Emery. I was hoping to catch you yesterday, but it seems you were preoccupied with other things.”

It was a sickeningly sweet tone of voice, one that seemed to taunt and judge all at once, but couldn’t be held accountable for it. It matched that of a boy, but it held a deep rumble of power beneath its playful banter, something that did command respect, even upon her territory. Whether or not she would grant it to him was entirely up to her.

“But now that you’re here, we can finally talk. It’s a rather important issue, one that greatly concerns you in the process. I could tell you of the potential danger it presents to all other things, but I doubt the state of this world is really all that much of a concern to you. It was mankind that brought about its undoing, so why should a Lord of Vampires care…”

The voice seemed to lead her along, through her own castle like a child with her hand held. Was it purposely aiming to grate on her nerves? Or was there a cause for it all?

“All this art, all this glamour, this fashion, even this throne, is it really necessary to rule? I mean, sure, power should be beautiful, but one must wonder if at some point, you’re just overindulging yourself. Couldn’t these funds go elsewhere to help your ever growing legion? Perhaps it creates unrest amongst your followers? Who knows! Certainly not you…”

Finally, she would arrive at her throne room, to where a figure, small, youthful, and in attire of all white, would sit upon her very throne, legs crossed, a playful smirk upon his lips.

“I’ve heard of loving yourself, but you’re crossing the line into narcissism there, Miss De Richelieu. How was your day with Gilgeam’s Legacy?”

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Older Lia because I hate myself.

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“...It is time, I will use this power.”