#;; 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖙 — (para)

[valentinstjohn]

location: private lab in valentin's estate

with: @bellamychevalier

The room is bright and clean, recently scrubbed by a dutiful and adept hand that was not his own for he had better things to do with his time than scrub at porcelain tiles and silver instruments. High at the center of the ceiling resides a large iron cage, within which many small orbs of glowing white light illuminate the room. There are no candles here, no obstructions of wax or smoke to tar the room and affect his sense of smell, the room is kept bright by the use of pixies, entrapped within iron, unable to rest without landing upon the iron which burns their flesh and so they continue to fly endlessly until fatigue renders them useless and are then replaced.

Upon tables and every surface there is some sort of glass vial or cauldron, tinctures with written labels in a scrawling but neat hand and everything organized in a particular fashion so that he knows exactly where everything is. At the center of the room is a table and beneath this table is a drain and beside the table is a chair and it is here that Valentin is seated, a tray of silver instruments beside him. "Would you like to take something to ease your pain?" He asked without looking at her, his focus for the moment on the tray of silver instruments and the notebook resting atop his knee. Typically he did not care if the one he was experimenting on felt any pain and often times marked the pain as a factor so it was important not to muddle it, but at least for now and for her, pain was not an important element and so it did not matter if it was abated. What did matter, the only thing which did, was what resided within the meat of her bones.

An errant strand of hair fell from the crown of his head to curl by his brow and was soon pushed back with his hand, smoothed down and returned to its natural place, hand quick to return to the pages of his notebook before gravity moved them for the pages were so often kept open at different places for long periods of time that it was frequent the pages wanted to return to those places despite him needing a different section. "I have something which can numb you to the sensation of touch in a small area," he carried on to explain, "It is extracted from white willow bark or I have a poison that would induce you to sleep." He lifted his unbalanced gaze to her now, unbalanced in that where normally both of his eyes appear blue now only one has his natural hue and the other is black as pitch entirely absenting any whiteness. It is not the eye he was born with but the eye he obtained, a faerie's eye.

[valentinstjohn]

Steel blue eye followed the movement of the slowly retreating werewolf, the glamour he'd had in place concealing the black void that was his fae given eye gone, unable to maintain the illusion as the sun bore down on him so the pale blue of his left eye was quickly swallowed up to an abyssal darkness in its natural state. The blood-made blade at the wolf's throat followed him for a few paces backward before stopping its floating pursuit as it seemed the werewolf was indeed backing away with the intention of leaving with the rest of the pack that approached. All the while the sunlight cracked his drying skin like dry desert ground and the gnome in his grasp struggled against his vice like grip to be released, his legs swinging and kicking uselessly in the air.

He was not immune to the burning of the skin, the pain was astronomical but much like the werewolf would not whimper, Valentin would not allow a single indication that the sunlight affected him beyond the visible crumbling of his skin. Enough distance between the two now, Valentin dropped the gnome, who landed on his feet and wasted no time in retrieving the fallen umbrella. Valentin took it up and blocked the sunlight, shadow falling over his features to obscure the sun and put a stop to the burning of his skin but the effects did not heal. Intense thirst filled his dry veins. He allowed the blood-made blade to drop, falling in a splatter against the ground that smoked in the sunlight, evaporating quickly with rising steam. He would need to feed now and with this goal in mind, left the scene.

END.

The blade did not do sufficient damage. To a wolf with thinner fur perhaps, but the winter wolf's coat was thick, preventing the blade from embedding itself too deeply in his throat. Of course, it hurt, and he bled, the blade deep enough to slice vein and muscle but not quite enough to hit anything worthwhile, movement, of course, meant whatever had been sliced kept attempting movement and tore further until the blade fell to the ground from simply being jostled. Still all the occurrences that for the vampire took place in easily observed time, seemed to rush at the angered wolf.

First the sting of the blade that made his lunge become off balance, then the powdered wolfsbane in the air that caused him to flinch back and fall, and finally the blood made blade that stained his light brown and grey coat. He barely even noticed the blade for the wolfsbane made his brown eyes begin to water, tear ducks letting droplets run over brown mottled cheeks to his snout. He did not whimper, though if he were alone he might have, instead he sneezed, not as easily able to prevent this, wolf snot spraying across the ground, it's colour strange due to the wolfsbane as it landed on the wood of the docks.

It was as he sneezed the blade became evident, the sharpness of the strange magical creation slitting enough of his throat through fur for him to know there was a threat, even if he could not gaze down and see it. What he could see, fortunately, was the vampire's efforts leaving him uncovered, the scent of burning decayed flesh far more enjoyable to the wolf than the wolfsbane that lingered. He too would be forced back because of it, the wolfsbane, if too much was breathed in, would make him shift back. It was, with blood at his throat and the man he attacked charring that the rest of the pack seemed to approach, not shifting, not intervening...yet, but waiting to see what would occur.

A stale mate it seemed, but Taurus opinion of him had changed. Whoever the man was, he wasn't simply a prick, he was dangerous.

With the packs arrival he attempted to step back, his paws attempting to draw him away from both the vampire and whatever had been at his throat. Still he was prepared to continue, cautious that the vampire, or his little friend, might act once more. Even if he knew his weeping gaze and bleeding throat were disadvantages he would not simply be devoured, but he would retreat when the fight seemed ill prepared for.

[valentinstjohn]

appearing to be 38, this 541 year old true vampire is a well educated alchemist and scholar. he is the founder and head of a private invitation only club of vampires called the caliburn club, whose mission statement is for the betterment of vampires. he invented a viable substitute for blood so that vampires are no longer restricted in their diet and now strives to create a new subspecies of vampires who can walk through daylight unharmed.

       𝓼 𝓽 𝓪 𝓽 𝓼 …

NAME: valentin st john TITLE: ard tiarna - high duke: the contract alchemist, saviour of the starved, fólaíomh aos sí AGE: 541 GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him SPECIES: true vampire FACE CLAIM: cillian murphy

HEIGHT: 5'10" HAIR COLOR: brown EYE COLOR: blue (right), black (left) WEAKNESSES: direct sunlight, blood lust, needs to be invited into private and holy residences, pure silver, his grave dirt STRENGTHS: immortality, regeneration, enhanced senses, can control and manipulate his own blood, can see through fae glamour or secrets with his left eye PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: he has fangs which he can retract and descend at will, otherwise he has a generally average looking build and features save for his left eye which the iris is black in color as opposed to his natural blue. it is the eye of a faerie which he plucked out and made his own. ADDITIONAL INFO: his ability to see through fae glamour is linked exclusively to his left eye, if removed this is no longer an ability he has. he smokes a tobacco blend of his own making that is infused with crushed fae bones which allows him to glamour his left eye so that it can appear to match his natural color.

       𝓫 𝓲 𝓸 … 

TW: War, Non-Sexual Non-Consent, Fire, Body Mutilation.

The life he had as a human is but a distant memory for Valentin. His becoming a vampire was a result of the 40 Seasons War that raged between the different kingdoms and while he does not recall most of his life as a human, the way in which he became a vampire is a memory he can’t forget, nor the way he had been unable to stave off the ravenous hunger for blood. It made him flee his once human life, too afraid to inadvertently kill any he had once cared for. 

He didn’t know his sire well, mostly knowing them as a voice in his head issuing demands and various tasks that he couldn’t deny. For years he’d been ravaging towns, preying on innocents, a shadow in the dark that stole lives and was hunted for it simply because he needed to feed in order to survive and for years he’d let himself believe that it needed to remain as such, but no more. 

Valentin turned to science, to educating himself on the anatomy of his fellow vampires, learning everything that he could about their species and their unique abilities and conducting experiments. He discovered his own innate powers, if well fed he could control and manipulate his own blood, change its properties, alter its cell structure to make it dense and hard like crystal or steel or turn it to vapor. The vampire who had turned him now made her grand reappearance into his life, perhaps she believed she could use his abilities to her advantage. She turned him into a true vampire with the belief his powers might grow and once he was freed of her influence, he never again followed a single one of her commands. Upset with the loss of a potentially great ally, she left, spiteful. With his age, he was no longer burdened by his thirst for blood and could manage his abilities and emotions masterfully as an artist and precise as a surgeon. 

After the end of the war, he spent the better part of the next two centuries conducting various experiments and formulating a club of other elite vampires with  shared interests as his own. His research and acclaim brought him to the various kingdoms and courts across the continent where he was ever in search for more scientific and alchemical advancements. Test subjects were easy enough to come by, often they would seek him out once his reputation reached their ears, for the promise of further enhanced abilities drew out the power hungry, and existing vampires seeking respite from the daylight or their bloodlust brought the desperate to his doors. Most were unremarkable and then one day, an aasimar approached him with an offer and she was remarkable. Something about the components of her blood and the way in which he had turned her had worked. She was the first vampire he’d spawned through his experiments who didn’t face insatiable bloodlust in her new life. This was a breakthrough, however, the promise of turning her had come with a stipulation, to find a way to restore the once aasimar now turned vampire with her wings which had been tainted. 

This was a scientific mystery to the vampire and he spent countless days locked in his lab running test after test, trying to find a way to restore the wings to their once radiant celestial glory and more importantly, allow the woman to not be poisoned or killed by the transplant. She was his first major success and his first major defeat at once and she found a way into his heart in a way he could not have anticipated. Out of everything he had created or done, she would always and forever be, his masterpiece. Even when she, in her emotional despair at seeing him experimenting on her wings – something which he had tried to prevent her from witnessing for he had seen the desperation in her eyes when she spoke of the restoration of her wings and knew without a shadow of a doubt she could not tolerate the sight of them being experimented on – destroyed his work and his lab and his estate, he did not fault her for it, nor did he hold any resentment. 

The fire she had started nearly destroyed everything but he had managed to save a few key notebooks that held some of his more important calculations and also her wings. He did not, however, come out unscathed. Despite his regenerative powers, a mixture of various chemicals and elements exploded in his face during the fire and he forever lost his left eye. The scientist in him only upset that he did not know the exact mixture of this solution that had rendered his regenerative powers unable to restore his lost eye, but this also only incited his interest to recreate it and noted this down as a future experiment to perform on another. A replacement of his eye came from a fae and provided him with a new form of sight, now able to see through fae glamour and other secrets. 

The loss of his estate was not great for he had many residences across the continent and he needed only remove himself to the next one but the loss of his more recent work set him back a few decades and he needed to regain what he had lost. He attempted to seek her out but found that something magical was blocking him, this however did not prevent him from continuing to try and restore her wings, nor did he stop seeking her out. The moment he felt this magical resistance fade, he immediately set out to return to her. Shortly after their reunion, Valentin was able to synthesize a viable synthetic blood substitute that could satiate his own ravenous hunger for blood as well as that for other vampires.

No longer beholden to feeding off others, more freedom to exist among others and travel to further reaches devoid of human contact could relinquish the shackles of imposed vampirism. Now, he is attempting an even greater feat. To create a vampire who can walk in daylight.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin gave a slight inclination of his head when she mentioned garments made for him, a subtle gesture that was meant to be express his appreciation for the effort she had made. He'd not yet seen these garments mentioned but was certain she would reveal them in due time. "You have been keeping busy," he appraised thoughtfully as she continued and as the two settled comfortably together upon the bedspread, he paid careful attention to her as she spoke.

Her voice was a blessing he had long missed and now hearing it again for the first time in so long was something he was not going to take lightly. He paid attention to every word, every pause as their fingers danced together in an idle affection. "I am glad you made a study of that which you enjoyed," regarding her newfound occupation and hobby of sewing. It was his own intense passion for science and knowledge that was the driving force behind his work and was glad she too had now found her own source of passion.

The pale blue of his gaze landed to her as she carried on, briefly recalling previously expressed emotions before she paused and redirected her words. Then came her smile and suddenly this dimly lit tent in the darkness of the forest seemed a little bit brighter but it was not long lasting. Her words turned then to explain of a budding affection for another, a romance, an intimacy unfulfilled but no less desired. Valentin continued to observe her, a side effect of his work that he could no more stop himself from doing just the same as he could not stop his desire for blood, so he observed her, not with intense scrutiny but as casual as he could manage with his keen perception, watching the shift of her expressions as she spoke. She always was so expressive in contrast to his own muted emotions, him showing too little and her showing so much. He could imagine that he could discern all of her emotions solely through the expressions of her face, even the subtle ones that came with but a glance.

"Djinn are inherently magical beings," Valentin commented, eyes unblinking as he now turned his sight to their hands which remained entwined. He was not surprised to hear that a Djinn was the catalyst for her feelings. The very air around such a magically charged being often invoked strange sensations in those around them, at least this was the result of some of his own study on the species. "Be assured, Belle, you have not spoiled anything. What I feel for you is not so easily tempered." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You and I have an eternity. If you wish to explore your feelings, know that my own for you will not be altered."

Could the young woman's cheeks flush, they would have, instead her gaze temporarily averted itself at the notion of his playful request, smile lingering as his response brought her joy. Bella was not sure she had ever held resentment, she had certainly felt fear for some time, and hurt because she could not understand what she had seen, maybe there was a resentment to that, coupled with embarrassment when she felt she had potentially trusted someone unworthy of it. Certainly no resentment existed now, no embarrassment, or fear. Guilt maybe sat beneath her happiness, that she had kept him at bay for so long, but his touch and his words assuaged so much of it.

With the expression of one flushed she looked back up to him, listening as his fingers touched at her palm and then with tender affection stroked back down her fingers. "When I prepared to leave I suspect I was too focused on...on making sure you saw how, despite the charm I had to hide, I did long for you," Bella admitted of there being a lacking in things for herself. "I attempted your novels," the key word in that response very obvious. "And I made perfectionist revisions to garments I have made for you over the years."

With his movement her own fingers drew up between his own, locking their connection. It was hard to know she had missed these quiet gestures for years and yet Bella felt unable to regret how much she had discovered of herself while alone. When she had run from his home she had only been able to mend holes or add the occasional embroidered flower to a mundane dress. Now she wore a piece she had sewn herself, even able to make her own lace when she gave herself the time to do so.

Bella answered him, in part, by sitting in said dress, the side of her thigh against his own, knees touching through dark fabrics that covered each of them. "I took up as a seamstress, to make money," she began, her locked grip unlocking but not parting from his, seeking their fingers playing as they had before. "Once I found a joy in it, that was practically all I did, worked all evenings in which I did not feed. I monitored myself as best I could remember you doing, but in truth I found myself focused on seeking what brought me pleasure. Sewing, hunting, caring for the beasts in the woods." Bella's fingers rest against his own, Valentin's hand much larger, remembering it against her palm or shoulder when they had danced, considering how now he might draw her near the moment their feet took to the floor. "The further I got from running, the more at home I felt in myself, and the harder it was to break the charm I'd had to hide myself from the rage I imagined you had at destroying your work. I missed you but I was afraid even if you -" Bella cut herself off. She had already explained to him. "I missed you. I desired you to be proud of me. Mostly I loved you, and without you here I expressed it in buying books, making you garments, in journals far more vulgar than The Paladin's Handkerchief," the young woman looked to him with a smile of adoration that had lived in her since she had witnessed his skills. "I should have known I was ready to break the charm."

But that had not been enough and Bella's smile fell as a notion of guilt returned. "I should have known but I - I did not realise whatever fears had me react without thought that day had changed until I met someone." Internally she felt undeserving of his touch but yearned to keep it, a strange sort of conflicting emotion because she did not wish to hurt him with affection. She allowed her fingers against his to remain, light enough he could remove himself if her words caused him pain. "A djinn who saw my talent before my face. I had lived in my feelings for you for so long the notion I could feel romantically or intimately for anyone else was unexpected and as it intensified I realised whatever hurt is in me still is no longer so overwhelming it controls me. I knew I couldn't keep hiding on behalf of a girl who was afraid of being used or hurt because I'm - I'm strong enough now," or she hoped she was.

Bella did not believe she had broken the charm as a way to have Notelaih, she truly did think that what she had felt for him allowed her to see something in her she had not noticed before. That did not lessen her guilt and Bella faintly yearned to protect the affection he had offered. "To be a woman who could reciprocate your kiss is all I could have wanted from breaking the charm that hid me. I hope I have not spoiled that."

[valentinstjohn]

"Is that too much?" Inquired Valentin, "It is no more than what an average mortal being would consume at a tavern such as this," he had personally witnessed many beings imbibe more than a single pint of ale, surely a pint of spit would be no different. "I trust half a pint would be agreeable then," Alex hadn't seemed to oppose the concept of drinking the spit after all, the offense was in the volume.

Alex's brows raised slightly, expecting him to go on and elaborate. When that didn't happen, he noticeably slouched back into his chair. "Oh." He didn't think he was smart enough to come up with something so sophisticated... or had the patience for something like that. He'd give up or forget his own secret code and then he'd really be screwed. Alex tucked that nugget of knowledge away though - he did love puzzles.

"I'm almost offended," he said, as he resumed eating. "No longer held your interest - sheesh." Alex was always happy to be something of an attention hog, but when it was taken away from him so abruptly he shook his head and tsked his tongue in exaggerated disapproval. Mid bite, he looked back up at the other vampire incredulously, at the suggestion. "I'm sorry-- a pint? Of someone's spit? Are you mad? That's a lot!"

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin gave a nod just generally to indicate he had heard and understood and did not speak on it further. It wasn't his place to offer any opinion or advice though he certainly did have an opinion. Valentin was simply this way, he would not offer these things unsolicited, most people understood their own selves well enough so to meddle as essentially a stranger was pointless. He had nothing else he wanted to inquire after that and so just carried on smoking in silence entirely at ease, not minding at all either way if Notelaih remained to try and make another attempt to converse or if he left.

The grating squeak of a turning wheel crunching over the stone and dirt covered road paired with the clomping stamp of hooves signaled the arrival of an approaching buggy. It came to a slow stop just before the St. John estate, a few feet away from the two gentlemen and out from the door of the carriage hopped out a stout and surly looking but well-dressed gnome. "I thought I told you to oil that wheel," Valentin commented without lifting his eyes toward the carriage. Clearly the two were familiar with each other. The gnome gave a grunt followed by an apology then went on to busy himself with unloading the carriage. The gnome made an obvious show of side-eyeing Notelaih a few times and clearing his throat as he went on to struggle to remove a large crate from the back of the carriage. The crate was bigger than the gnome himself! It made one wonder how it even got into the carriage in the first place unless he'd had help loading it in.

Instead of the answers Notelaih was hoping for the Alchamist placed his interest upon the Djinn’s eyes. He smiled kindly, though he was disappointed that he saw no way to continue the conversation upon the direction he wished for it to go. He’d entertain the other, merely because he wished to have a good connection with someone so important to Bella. “They do,” he admitted. “Though if I wish I can alter them whichever way I like,” he added. “I simply do not see reason to do so, as I’d only guard them when I feel I need to hide myself.” And he hadn’t felt that way in Destarin for a long while now. He was openly of his own kind, openly offering his services. He shifted the colour of his eyes back to their natural greens. 

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin did not find the exchange at all strange either but what he did consider to be at the very least, unique, was that she had her notes readily available here in this very building. He had been ready to wait to acquire them at a later date at some agreed upon time and place but she had them soon produced and no wait was needed beyond that of a few passing seconds.

The language she advised was one he was aware of but not one he was very familiar with. When she turned to the appropriate page, he kept his eyes trained carefully to the surface, following the lines of the foreign script. It was good there were some pictures as that was one way that would lead to deciphering the text. All he needed really was one or two familiar ones and the rest would soon follow.

"Yes," he replied simply his confirmation to her terms which were more than reasonable. If she had been someone else he might not have agreed to this and insisted on paying for the notes but as she had been the one to write them and was therefore, in his opinion, also some degree of scientist such as he was, then he did not mind comparing information once he'd had his way with it. It could perhaps yield to something more beneficial for her or even for him beyond the cost of a few gold coins.

Valentin took up the book then, closing it slowly and handling the tome with care so she would know it would be in good hands and moved to tuck it safely away within one of the innermost pockets of his coat. He was not prone to vocalize goodbyes, like many things he found it generally useless and served only to ease the social awkwardness of leaving abruptly but as he cared nothing for social awkwardness, had already begun to turn away and toward the door.

Zaya nodded her understanding. To the young woman it didn't seem overly generous to share the information she had, or odd she would give it so willingly to a stranger, it wasn't as if what she said was dangerous and the gold was really only necessary to her because she understood it was necessary here to get things she either wanted or liked. In truth, it was sort of nice, the strangely unaffected man may not have fit in amongst the others back home but it was still a small reminder of the conversations she had once carried daily with her mother or her friends.

With a small pause Zaya stepped away to find the journals she had in the small closet that had been given to her for storage in the establishment. Most were kept near what they held the recipe and information for so not challenging to find, however all held a variety of different recipes so as she drew down the one he was after she opened it to find the pages relevant to him, ready to pull them out when she felt herself stop, heart beating heavy in her chest. Her hand fell away and instead she brought the book out with her, worn and dirty, stained with ingredients, just as some of the pages were.

"Tazkaans is what the other regions called it," she explained, unsure if that would be what people of this continent called it, she hadn't crossed paths with anyone from her home since arriving, even by sea it seemed rare. Occasionally trinkets were in the various markets she felt might be but beyond that she knew their magic was so communal it was hard to think people would leave as she had.

"I will need my book back when you are done," she told him, laying it open to the right page. It looked a little like a historical cookbook, where ingredients were not just listed but given context, some drawings that showed relevant ways to extract whatever was needed. "I do not want gold for this," Zaya continued. "When you return it you will tell me what you did with it. Yes?"

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin's scathingly perceptive gaze fell back to the young man, the young being, for Valentin not only recognized the scent of the creature from which the feather made its birth but he could also trace it back to its origin, which just so happened to now be standing before him eluding the point for why he now desired the vampire's help. "You request help and yet you continue to waste my time," it was interesting, to say the least, that a slaugh would come to him of their own free will and offer up pieces of itself. It would be fruitful to have a dedicated source of slaugh blood at his disposal, something the vampire was far more interested compared to a feather, but as was his way, he would not reveal as such.

"Why do you need my help?" Valentin couldn't believe he was needing to squeeze this out of the other man. "Anyone of sound mind and body is capable of aiding others. Why do you," being very specific here as he laid the harshness of his eyes upon the other, "need me? What," he loathed repeating himself but his expression remained bored and unchanged, "do you need?"

It was absolutely, damnably impossible to tell if St. John had any notion of what he held, at all. Perhaps it was just the terror of that - of even a scholar of the strange being entirely and uselessly unfamiliar with any detail of this curse Tig was so desperate to shed - that shot a shiver down the length of his backbone, quick and sharp as a crossbow's bolt. Or maybe it was simply the sight of the thing, a piece of, if not him, some dreaded part of him, in the hands of a man with such a reputation as this undead alchemist, here.

Either way, Tig stiffened his spine and set his jaw, biting down on his own tongue so he could think a moment. Order things. Not let hope get the best of good sense, when dealing with - whatever he was dealing with, here. Gods, on high and below and between the trees. How did you make a deal with a thing like Valentin St. John?

"Help," he answered, leaning in against the din of the... show, still wailing away back there. "Consider that," Tig dropped a pointed look to the feather, "a token of good faith? Or a, a deposit, if you'd rather." This was hardly his language; the talk of knights he overheard more often than he'd ever spoken to. On account of how little interest wealthy knights, the sort who made deposits on things, had in the likes of him. But St. John seemed interested enough, at least. For now. The rest tumbled out of him in a rush, desperate to hold that attention. "Keep it, with the promise of as much... related matter as you can make use of, and every possibility to, ah, further your studies, as you might find - within reason - in the course of our work together. But I need your discretion, and your help," he repeated, in a fretful rasp.

[valentinstjohn]

The knock to the door went unheard. No one was home to hear it. In fact, the homeowner was only just arriving. A carriage taxi that was commonly seen throughout the streets of Destarin pulled up outside of the building. It seemed a bit strange for such an average looking carriage, weathered and old to stop in front of this opulent looking home, enough to make one wonder if perhaps the taxi was simply in the wrong place because surely the owner or whoever lived here wouldn't be taking a taxi. Surely they should have their own private carriage. And yet, the door to the dingy carriage was opened and out stepped a man. He was dressed well, his suit clearly tailored, but it was perhaps the only thing which looked nice about him. Generally he had fairly average features but the most surprising part about him was the fact he was carrying a large severed reptilian tail that was dripping lime-green blood that ate away anything it dripped onto like a highly concentrated acid. Perhaps this was why he took the taxi rather than his own carriage for after exiting the taxi it was quite clear that the entire bottom had nearly melted away completely and the only parts which remained were one small section near the front to be used as a foothold.

"Send me the bill for the repairs," he stated plainly and the one driving the carriage taxi, a nervous looking kobold, simply nodded emphatically before snapping the reigns and ushering the horse drawn carriage away quickly before anymore damage could be done.

Valentin looked at the one stood outside the threshold of his estate and after giving them a brief but quick appraisal, asked unceremoniously, "And who are you?" The tail he held was massive, it was longer than his abdomen and was partly draped over the front of his shoulder, the severed part held away from his body as it dripped a puddle of sizzling green onto the stone ground.

@valentinstjohn

Mansions and castles and palaces weren't anything new to Vanathi, perhaps she'd even grown to dislike them rather than to enjoy their splendour like she once had. In her opinion, those with horrible taste usually occupied those spaces.

She had a whole box of produce with her, order by someone around this part of town, but she hadn't exactly paid ample attention to the directions, nor had she written it down. Leaving her, rather annoyingly, to just knock on doors and ask around. Surely someone had need of veggies and fruits.

The box in her hands, she knocked on the big door with her feet. Hard enough to kick it in should it accidentally be locked.

This place could come straight from one of those steamy novels she used to read on long trips.

"Hello! Anyone home?"

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin had long since adapted his body to be able to sustain itself on little rest so that he could devote more hours of his eternal life to study and experimentation which often required countless hours of observation, a task he did not often entrust to others for their priorities were not as astute as his own. It was why he also often did things himself when he had the time for it despite having the capacity and staff to do menial tasks such as go to the store to pick up an order he had placed for a specific ingredient he needed, but this was something he wanted to do himself because he wanted to inspect the product beforehand to ensure the quality was as good as it had been promised. The only issue he encountered was this shops operating hours which were exclusively during the day, troublesome for a vampire such as himself to be out in sunlight, but it was something he could deal with with a shaded carriage and the use of an umbrella and once inside, the sun would no longer pose an issue, as long as he avoided any rays of light that would filter through the dingy window.

"Have you under estimated my eyesight?" Spoke the vampire, his tone flat and his gaze lazy as he looked at the shop owner from across the counter. Between them laid across the table on a velvet scrap of fabric were a few gleaming white bones. "Or have I overestimated your ability to procure the items I've requested?" The shop owner floundered, their mouth flailing open with the beginning of some undoubtedly lame excuse but all that came out were various sounds before they sputtered uselessly, unable to come up with a retort to save themself.

"Pardon me," the vampire turned his attention now to the other customer in the store, a brunette witch, as far as he could determine, "It seems I am in need of a second opinion," Valentin made a gesture to the table where the bones laid. "If you would please, tell me what you see."

Should they choose to inspect the bones on the table, even if they could not determine what animal the bones might belong to, it was evident there was some glitter dust across them that had been added. The effect being a very crude and shoddy display of fake 'pixie' bones.

Starter Type: open Location: a shop within the Trade District

Corvina typically tried to avoid lingering in town when she didn't need to work, preferring to get anything they needed from the forest surrounding her home or from the Laras, Asharran, or Rocheilles districts. But on this occasion, there was a shop in the Trade district that did have something that they needed. A type of seed that when crushed would make the material she was working with more supple.

As she looked through the various tinctures, they felt a pair of eyes on them. The shadow witch was accustomed to eyes on her, having heard a tale or two of their exploits through the decades told in dark corners whilst none were the wiser to her presence. But they elected to ignore it, figuring it was some other customer or the owner themselves. She knew better than to speak when not spoken to.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin did not enjoy the sour sensation of her guilt washing between them, it was an emotion not often felt by him and so it settled uncomfortably obviously misplaced. He wanted to ease away this feeling as quickly as he could but would not do so with useless platitudes to placate her emotions. "It took three days and seventeen hours," naturally he had measured the time and kept a record of his healing progress during this time as it was a unique reaction to the particular mixture of chemicals and elements that had exploded in his lab. What exactly those were and in which quantities were of course unknown but it was useful to note should he wish to try and recreate this effect to use on another vampire one day in order to wound them for a length of time. At least for Valentin, when he was fully fed and filled with fresh blood he could heal almost immediately so for his healing to be delayed even by a few hours was abnormal. "Would you like to know the minutes?" He asked her in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and ease her guilt some more, subtly indicating that he cared not for the pain nor the length it took to heal, only that he'd found it a chance to experiment.

He took her unspoken direction and stepped away to the next door as well, leaving a blanket on the front step and not knocking as she had initially done. This was a preferred method for him as well, not prone to being casually social, silent actions were far more suited to him.

There came a soft smile as she spoke next, "You've been studying," he praised her theory, "I had considered this very same concept when I first began. Unfortunately it proved fruitless. The transfiguration could only change the synthetic blood chemically into something else, such as water or wine or some other sort of element. This is because the synthetic blood I have made already has all the elements within it that mirror that of true blood, except for one thing that is missing, one thing that isn't elemental. Much like how your wings anatomically could return to your body but there is one singular missing piece. Whether that missing piece for your wings is celestial in nature or not, I do not yet know. I do know the element which is missing for the synthetic blood. The problem lies in manufacturing it or sourcing it. Therefore I did not visit this associate in order to gain more knowledge about this problem but instead it was for your wings." Valentin was not a man of many words except when it came to speaking on something he was interested in. Then he had plenty of things to say and could speak at length. "My theory for your wings, and with your permission of course, is if your original pair of celestial granted wings can not be returned to your body, if perhaps another set of wings from some other entity or species could be grafted onto your body. As I said before, you retain the anatomy to carry wings, the problem lies in retention and the taint within your own. Similar to how my eye," he tapped his cheekbone beneath his eye which looked pale blue now, "is from a faerie and not my own. Is this a path you would be willing to explore should I fail to return your celestial wings to you?"

Valentin had not cared that his eye had been destroyed in the flame and did not care enough about his appearance otherwise to replace it. He would have gone the rest of eternity missing one eye and not minded one bit, but while exploring the aforementioned theory he, of course, felt inclined to test this and he had been the perfect test subject. His eye had been destroyed and could not be returned, with the aid of his associate and the eye he'd acquired from the fey wilds, they managed to successfully transplant the faerie's eye onto him. In theory, the same might be possible for her.

'Recovered.'

Bella had yet to completely question his eye, as it had not been the distinct black he wore predominantly in the presence of herself and his attendant, but she had made an obvious assumption it was her fault. The fire had started in his lab, and with so many vials and bottles filled with various magical and non-magical creations she imagined something within one of them had been damaging enough it prevented him healing his eye, but she hadn't consider how long healing might take, or that whatever had ruined his eye had delayed the rest of him healing. When she considered that he had tried to save her wings she had to imagine he was in the fire longer than he would have been if not for them and her heart gave a pang of aching that sunk into her throat. "How long did it take to heal?" she asked, sure he could feel her guilt and trying to will away the feelings so he needn't attend her for them.

Taking the handkerchief within her hand she rubbed off the grease, keeping it in her palm to prevent the blankets from also ending up with grease on them and laying one down in front of the door as no one seemed to answer. It would likely be easier this way anyway, so Bella turned to the door behind her as well and laid the blanket without knocking. As she did this, moving once more down to another door, she considered what could be the use of shapeshifting magic based on the shifters she knew in Destarin, or had crossed paths with back home, but she didn't know much on them, most of her closer companions keeping to one form.

"Did you think perhaps if they had a trait that allowed them to shift into something else, they might have some sort of innate magic that could change synthetic blood to genuine, or at least offer the synthetic whatever we would need to feed?" Bellamy asked him, often forgetting he still held a full purpose to his contract with her because so much of them was no longer bound to any trade. It especially did not occur to her he would attend to them so quickly after what had happened. "I know there are some shifters in town that can become reptiles or arachnids, to go from something warm blooded to something cool blooded or without even a circulatory system surely would mean they're having to go through some process to adjust."

[valentinstjohn]

Keep reading...

His tongue stayed the healing from the cut against her skin, not allowing the gentle reprieve of reconstruction. When she spoke, he could feel the vibrations of her voice through her body, sensations felt beneath his fingertips and mouth over the cage of her flesh. The questions came and he lapped his tongue against her wound one final time before withdrawing and finally letting the clean cut begin to heal. He spoke around the fangs in his mouth, "Your blood is luxurious and taste of petrichor but it does not sate me," he was a very old vampire, if he had been of a lesser species he might have been able to find satisfaction in the blood of other undead creatures but his particular species was too complex for the blood of the dead. He needed fresh living blood. It was part of the shackle of his being that he wished to be freed from.

Valentin's gaze flicked down to the offered silver scalpel and thought on it only for a brief second before his head shook once, subtly, a miniscule movement but an indication he would not take the scalpel. "For you, my Belle," he slipped a hand around to the front of her body and up to lay his hand gently along the side of her neck, his thumb landed in the divot at the base of her neck before stroking upwards along thin skin where his gaze followed, "I desire your heart, not the cold metal of a blade to be that which knows your touch. I want to feel you with my own flesh, with my own teeth," with so much of him being made into a study this was something he wanted to do organically. At least for the first time.

Fingers wrapped around the back of her neck as he drew her closer so that his nose was pressed into the slant beneath her jaw and his mouth opened over the column of her slender neck. Skin so pale and delectable with the rousing rise of a prominent artery made more visible as his thumb landed at the bottom of her chin to coax her head to the side. Her blood would not satisfy his thirst but he was not driven by hunger as fangs teased her skin, pressing gently against it bluntly, not yet with enough force to break through. The edges of his mouth curled as his tongue darted out to taunt the surface, tasting her skin. Then he bore down, fangs punctured through the meat of her neck's muscle, purposefully missing the artery and only nicking it because he wanted to control the flow of her blood into his mouth slowly. And slowly did her blood fill his mouth but thicker than what had flowed from the fine line incision of the surgical blade. His lips closed around the bite not to let a single drop go to waste.

Keep reading...

Everytime he breathed she shivered, the gesture causing a shiver to run up her spine as though he were caressing it, a sensation amplified by his watching eye. It was exhilarating as her own gaze lowered to him to observe a reaction from the older vampire she had never seen in him, curious to understand what it was. His parted lips alone, with the hint of his hungry fangs behind the edges of his lips displaying a hunger not remotely alike the kind he seemed to show when they'd fed together on other's.

The flattery she felt at his less than typically poised expression only grew when calloused fingers grasped weak fabric and tore down her core, droplets of blood that had slipped between cleavage and dripped down the center of her form exposed between ripped cheesecloth. The wideness of her gaze not one she registered, not as she observed him throwing the material aside, her already mostly exposed form now entirely void of the illusion of modesty. Illusion, as much as it was, still held some sway and Bella wondered how many of her emotions over the past weeks each time she came to bed in thin slip garments he had been able to feel in such detail.

Hands that complimented the sensation of his breath readily roamed up the length of her, Bella leaning closer as the prints of his fingers dug into her shoulders, and though they were coarse, and though his intensions were tender, Bella felt something else. His hold as he leaned in, one eye more prominently gazing up towards her disappearing beneath her chin, brought a sense to the young vampiric woman, complimented perhaps by the surprising reactions she'd observed of his breathing and parted lips, that Valentin had perhaps resigned himself to her abandonment over the years, that this closeness still felt surprising even after weeks of being in his home together. Maybe she was reading too much into it, perhaps he was simply less composed because this was how he could be when compelled by lust more than hunger, but perhaps he too had needed her consent beyond her comfort, maybe he needed it for his own.

With the feeling of his tongue against her skin the dark haired woman's lips curled upwards into a complimented smile and her eyes closed, content to let her thoughts remain in her mind, to be asked on later. For now she felt the drag of his saliva over her flesh and Bella's slender arms extended. They rested over his shoulders, one extending out past his back, the one holding the scalpel, while the other curled around him, fingers pushing into his own near black hair, softly playing with strands.

Even with the violence of the scalpel, with the force of his hands tearing open her garment, Bella felt a distinct softness between them that continued her own comfort. Her now entirely exposed cunt rolled gently over his hips, pushing her clit gently against one of the buttons to his pants, as one finger curled some strands around itself like a distraction that prevented her from continuing to rub herself against him. Other desperate acts could not be stopped however and Bella breathed so her chest rose against his tongue with parted her pink lips ready to speak, fangs still within her gums.

"Do I soothe your hunger?" Bellamy asked with a heated breath.

Fantasy had ascribed a level of craving to the act, journals filled with his need to feed from her so carnal his teeth tore at parts of her flesh, but she didn't know if he actually felt less starved by consuming her. She was dead, but there were elements to her surely that assuaged hunger since the same need had been weakened in her by his work. Maybe consuming her could subdue some of his own, or perhaps it did nothing and more importantly it offered him something else.

Bella's nails pushed against the side of his scalp, drawing down and pushing back up in a tender touch. "Do you enjoy my taste?" It was what she desired more than him being filled by her, content to find him a meal following their tryst if need be, until he found a way for them all to no longer need it. But she did yearn for him to take pleasure in her, and with that desire in mind, her extended arm drew down between them. "Show me what you would enjoy," Bella spoke, her hand that held the scalpel against the soft fabric of his blouse, wrist against the buttons at his center while the scalpels blade was concealed beneath her palm hurt himself seeking it if he desired to take the offering.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin had made a study of werewolves in the past. He recognized the signs of a rage induced shift perhaps long before it manifested physically. There were internal markers that indicated it, the rising of a heart beat bursting, the increase of temperature, the sweet explosion of adrenaline in the air that tickled his own senses with the primal urge to respond to an imposing threat but nothing in Valentin shifted. The two were stark opposites as much as could be. One man moved to the point of explosion and the other remained immobile as a statue without so much as a single internal flutter. Valentin turned the page as the beast took over, the first sign of movement from the statue of a man, heavily weighted with his indifference.

The growl marked as the precursor for the werewolf's lunge and the next events took place in rapid time. The gnome released his blade concealed by his belt, piercing silver darting through the air with a whistle as it cut through wind aimed for the lunging wolf's thick throat and just in case the attack did not land, was blocked or did not do sufficient damage, the gnome tackled the shoulder of his vampiric employer who had still yet to move, forcing him out of the direct line of the sharp fanged bite approaching. Valentin moved then and as the book once held in his lap slowly began to fall and the werewolf moved an inch closer, reflexes quickened from age so he had already grabbed the gnome by the back of his collar, caught the book in the air before it fell, pulled from his pocket a glass vial of powered wolfsbane and crushed it to release it into the air in a matter of seconds. The glass pierced his palm and blood released, his ability to mold his own blood and control it outside of his body took hold as he moved both himself and the gnome to the side away from the werewolf who by now would reach where they had once stood and be within the cloud of dispersed powered wolfsbane, while the droplets of his blood forged a flying crimson blade which stopped just before the werewolf's throat.

Because the gnome had thrown his blade and because Valentin had grabbed the gnome, the umbrella blocking the sun was dropped. Sunlight hard and roiling with burning heat struck Valentin with its full force and caused his pale skin already to ripple and char. He would have minutes if he did not move.

Taurus was, quite often, typically unable to do much beyond his own emotional state, or his personal desires. It was why he had left his daughter, why he had consistent flings but tended not to linger once things felt as though they were getting more serious, why he made rash decisions when it came to his work, or himself. The fact he had rushed into the water for a stranger but didn't intend to help beyond it, while yelling at a stranger by the docks. To be called out on it held an equally selfish and emotional response.

The wolf within him jumped through his form as the man's head returned to his book, wet flesh and wet attire torn apart, blood and bone scattering with them onto the worn wet wood of the docks. It was as though the wolf had been summoned within his mortal form and destroyed it, broken it and taken over, as a large brown and grey wolf took his place, growling before the vampire.

The deep aggressive sound was the only action before he lept in the vampire's direction, pushing off on his hind legs with his open jaw seeking throat. All he could think was of dragging him down the docks and throwing him in the water, to be discarded as the man's belongings had, but the success of even his attempt to grab the vampire's neck was unlikely. Even if he could rationalise failure he couldn't stop himself. He intended to make a show of force to the dismissive man before him.

[valentinstjohn]

Every press of her lips to his skin a blessing, a reminder, a silent promise of affection that he wanted to linger within and so he allowed his eyes to slip shut to better revel in these brief pecks of feeling against his cheek interspersed between her words. She was reassuring him and it brought the touch of a smile to his features that she was so sweet to do so even though his feelings did not need to be tended to so carefully, she still made the effort to think of him tenderly and this made him smile, warming a long dead heart. Her tenderness despite all the darkness she’d faced was but one of the reasons he adored her so. He shifted then to wrap his arms tighter around her figure, opening his eyes to take in the bright beam of her smiling features up at him. “Your desire for more pleasurable acts and thoughts will be fulfilled now that we are together once more,” he angled his face down to press his lips to the edge of her smiling lips, to feel their upward curl against him. “Rest easy. The only one capable of drawing me in for a stroll and a kiss beneath the moonlight shall be you and you alone. No other variables.” 

He pinched the point of her chin gently between her fingers, thumb stroking the line of her jaw before fingers slid to behind the back of her pale neck while his lips sought to find hers for a more complete and tender kiss but without lips parted, at least for the moment. “Dawn will soon break,” he muttered against her, stroking down the back of her smooth hair from the crest of her head to the tops of her shoulders where they fell. “Shall we read something until you sleep? And when you wake,” for he did not often sleep and when he did it was only lightly and in short intervals more akin to a deep meditation than actual sleep, “and night has fallen, we can pack up our things and continue onto the town. My butler is settling matters for my estate there and there is a place for you. You may choose to refuse, but I would be pleased to share it with you, if you wish to join me.”

As her own face shifted with the wind his own was far more challenging to read. Micro adjustments in moments, some actions she presumed specifically done to indicate something to her, rather than because emotion dictated the gesture as her own could overwhelm her own adjustments at times. Certainly he was watching her but Bella couldn't fathom with what thoughts, the only solid indication of how he was taking her words that he had not rescinded his hands from her own.

His unblinking response felt as unknown in purpose as his studying of her, Bella trying to recall in his moment of silence between sentences what he had looked like when he had studied her more literally, when notes had been taken on her temperature and the changes to her form that had come from death. It did not seem to her the same sort of studying. His gaze shifting to their gesture seemed a sign of that. Was he...concerned for her? For them? The thought alone showed on her face, so perhaps it was good he was not looking at her, brows tight as she felt his hand squeeze her own.

"I...," Bella began, only for a quietness to overtake her, drawing their entwined hands near her core, lace likely creating shifts of softness against the side of his hands. For all she had imagined the ease of the situation if he told he 'no, you must put those feelings away,' she had known what she would do all along if Valentin arrived and cared for her. It had simply been emotional exhaustion, or maybe even fear he would not come, that had not allowed for her to acknowledge the truth. "I wish to explore our feelings together, mon âmes seuors, without variables."

Leaning up to him Bella placed a kiss to the height of his cheekbones that sat above a hollowness where slender skin hid deadly teeth. "I could not imagine either of us sharing one another at this stage of eternity," she insisted with a second kiss lower, feeling the grooves of his teeth through his skin before drawing herself down once more. "Unaltered feelings don't mean unharmed," Bella observed of his own choice of words, her closeness to him lingering even as she had lowered. "I feel I am too vulnerable to share you in this moment. Or share myself. You are older, perhaps less vulnerable to envy," she smiled at him, unsure if this was true or just a gesture he was willing to make for their feelings. One day she imagined envy would not envelope her with him, but Bella knew it could now.

With the belief his study of her had been some sort of worry, she allowed the smile on her face to linger, to focus on the relief there was no longer any hidden truths between them and she might just get to enjoy him now. "I think it might consume me to see you with another," she insisted, fingers now tickling beneath his palms as she leaned to him. "The amount of nights I worried you had found some new experiment to pull you barefoot from your chambers for a midnight stroll. That you were kissing someone beneath the moon," Bella still smiled as she said it, the worry for these actions having left her the moment he had confessed his own feelings, and so they felt silly now, but...silly in a way that hopefully meant if he would have been hurt, hopefully he could sense that would have been okay, because if anything hurt him she wouldn't have done it, even if his hurt didn't lessen his attachment.

"I wish for more pleasurable thoughts and acts to consume me now that you are here," she beamed with hope at the man she had longed for and now had.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin had been quiet as she further explained, touching upon the times in their past where he could have utilized their bond as a means to control her feelings and how he had not. Valentin had long since muted his own display of feelings, for centuries his emotions were dulled out of numbness brought on by the tediousness of feeling and typically, others emotions were equally as tedious to witness but hers had felt so very raw and genuine. It would have been a great shame to bury them. It felt as if her emotions had toiled beneath the surface for a great many years, like lava pooling out from beneath a hard crust of the earth, it needed to flow freely and at her own pace lest it become unstable and shatter everything around it. "I could feel it," he confirmed knowing on when her feelings turned to ones of comfort, safety and trust, as she explained. It was a unique sensation to feel her emotions pulling at him inwardly, it was not a reflection of his own feelings and they did not feel like his own, there was no confusion between them. What was hers always felt like hers only it was no longer separate to himself, it was there within him, like a sixth sense only he didn't need to guess at what she was feeling, he simply knew it. However, knowing it didn't always mean he understood the feeling or the reasons behind them.

Her saying she did not wish to a delay to his aspirations gave him pause and against his logical reasonings said, "I would not mind a delay from time to time." In his mind, all experiments had a conclusion that would be reached eventually and he would not mind so much if the conclusion took a while longer, he'd already worked toward it for this long, another twenty or two hundred years wouldn't mean much. Besides, she was correct in thinking that if there was truly something important he couldn't divert his attention away from, then he would let her know.

The pale blue and dark obsidian of his eyes watched her own features carefully as she continued on and the effects of her emotions rippled between them. Even without the added element of her emotions, he would have understood her. "Your presence is of particularly great value to me. It is the most important factor," and he never wanted to do anything to betray that confidence. He wished they were now facing each other more directly and raised his hand to touch lightly along the side of her calf nearest to him, just above her ankle bone, as a gesture to encourage her movement so that she should turn more toward him. If she chose not to though, he would simply move to position himself in her sight line.

"If you wish me to stop, you need only say so," he would not take offense if she wished to stop even if after a simple kiss. "I would not want to proceed without you wholly present. I want to have you all to myself where not even the fantasy of me should have you. Tell me, my Belle, of one such fantasy. What has your nimble hand written in your journal?" He reached for said hand now, taking her slender digits up within his own, skin far rougher than her own from the long past of his humanity that revealed a more common life than the one now led, and against the back of her knuckles he pressed his lips in a lingering kiss as his eyes lifted to meet her gaze.

"I didn't mean I wasn't, just that I hadn't ever considered I was. I think you are right, at least, it was the start of me owning myself," she clarified, not intending to imply she felt he was wrong, just that his awareness in reflection felt right. Following the loss of her wings she had experienced a great deal of sorrow, shown herself in a horrifically low light, but she would not say her best times had been prior to him, in truth she would say the opposite. She could desire her wings and still think her life had given her more joy since their loss. "Certainly I never felt you owned me," she continued to shed light on how she saw it, so he did not have any notion in himself she had felt that. "You were entirely capable of it, with the sire bond, I'm sure it would have been simple, and you never did." Bella was sure with the hearing they had her crying had likely been overwhelmingly grating, it would have been far easier on the older vampire to tell her to stop and be done with it.

"Could you sense my trust?" she asked him. "How safe you made me feel?" It had never occurred to Bella if he could feel her through the bond he had suffered her hurt but had been acutely aware of her emotions regarding him. She wondered how much of her feelings had swayed his decision to hide his work on her wings, to know the depth of her pain for losing them, and to feel how safe she felt with him. He did not seem like a man who would be overwhelmed by pressure, but as time went on, and their closeness developed, Bella could see why he might not wish to reveal his actions initially started when neither cared for the other and he was doing what he felt was necessary to fulfil his end of their contract.

The woman's eyes watched his own in the moving liquid, a pretty pearlescent and yet Bella presumed something she should not consider touching without clarity on what the contents was. "I do not wish to be what delays your aspirations once again," she explained of her initial choice, still intent on shifting this worry. She could believe if he simply could not abandon his work he would tell her, if she was more willing to ask for his time. Today, it seemed, he could, Bella smiling when he said once more that he was hers, the smile parting when she felt the needle withdraw, her hunger waning substantially then, fading almost entirely as each object was removed.

Bella did not lower the hem of her dress as she lowered the height of her hip down behind her, instead allowing the end of her dress to remain half above her hip. As she settled the fabric ran over the height of her pelvis bone and between her thighs, one leg exposed while the other was covered. Her exposed toes drew up the length of the metal table until they were tucked beneath her opposing knee and the fabric that was draped over it. "I would wish for that," she agreed, her green calcite eyes looking up at his own, one the shade of blue to pair with her own while the other obsidian - protection.

"I would also wish if, in our closeness, you were to have things you wished for as well," Bellamy continued, laying beneath him in a way so counter to how she had been as he worked and yet still with that same unearthly stillness that would unsettle most. "When I considered what I might be capable of offering I couldn't see in my mind any action you might ask for that I would be disinterested in, even in my journalling each fantasy seemed unlike the last," she shared, knowing he would not lie to her about his wants but wishing to provide context for why he should not be cautious with sharing his desires, or consider subduing them for her benefit. "I simply would like always to remain...personified," Bella described, her eyes starting to shimmer with a coat of tears that formed as the word left her lips. A wash of sudden sadness affecting her desires that did not fade but simply seemed coated in a temporary thought. There was, despite any sort of work she might have done to her esteem, a level of shame that came with the notion she would need this, because it said what she knew he already understood, that she had been dehumanised, tainted in a way that she often didn't feel would ever wash off. "I do not think, even with an understanding of context, my heart could survive a pantomime where my presence was absent value to you," Bella swallowed saliva having built up beneath her tongue, allowing the action to aid in her withdrawal of sorrow, to internally acknowledge her emotions were valid but could not control her.

Ultimately Bella was proud of herself, and her phrasing. She trusted that Valentin would not take the definition of her boundaries as a judgement on his person, that he would see them for what they were. A necessary part of Bella's comfort moving forward to simply know she had defined her boundaries, as well as an offer he might not need to deny elements of his desires that were not so romantic or dynamics that were not so equal, so long as she still felt his desire was for these actions with her.

[valentinstjohn]

Valentin's gaze flicked to the werewolf briefly, he hadn't instructed his butler to stop scratching at his concealed weapon as a means to defend or protect the agitated man but simply because it was annoying. His sense of hearing was enhanced and with his butler being directly beside him, any sound produced was therefore louder to him. The constant flicking and scratching of his hard nail against the hilt of the blade had been grating to Valentin's sensitive hearing and so had advised him to stop purely for his own benefit and not for this werewolf. He would have conveyed this as well but he truly felt it would have no effect on the werewolf who was already so keenly set on his agitation that it would likely only further it which would only be more annoying for the vampire and so after that brief glance, he just returned his attention to his book once again. "If you are unable to converse beyond your emotional state then this interaction is over."

"You care to look now," he answered, which he felt was enough of an indication the pallid being before him cared more about being a little arsehole than any mediocrity he felt to the ease of which he could have just answered. "Sort of fucking pathetic if you ask me, to care more about asserting your indifference than just doing the bare minimum," Taurus scoffed, of course, this was when attentions shifted.

The werewolf's gaze moved to the small gnome that seemingly intended to act on the man's behalf. Despite the intentions of the gnome he was informed to stay his notions of violence. "How bloody generous," he shook his head, thinking it quite ridiculous that he'd offer than effort when he couldn't offer it to a simple request. "Once again an action that took double what was asked. You're a real fucking peach, mate."

Taurus brought his hands up to his long hair, squeezing the water from the strands and letting them fall onto the wood of the docks already soaked from those who had aided in retrieving the goods. "Karma will find you one day, in need and no one willing to lift a chin to notice. Good fucking luck to you."