#Five Tips For Entering the Vampire’s Castle

[thatsbelievable]

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere vampire x f! reader pt. 2

Into the Woods

Unholy Matrimony

TW: Blood, mind control, vampirism, forced transformation, forced marriage, unprotected sex Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

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Nos had taken you to the ceremonial baths inside the castle and let you sink into the warm rose-petal-filled water. The water turned red from the blood on your body, and your soon-to-be husband joined you. Nos moved in front of you and lifted your head up.

"Do you even realize what your body did in vampire customs?" Nos asks, taking a rag and washing the dried blood off your shoulders.

"I had a period that's going to last five days," You answer, coming down from the high and feeling angry at him again.

"Cynical villager type of response. I expected more thrashing and trying to drown me," He replies, tying your hair up.

"You can drown?" You question, letting the heat get to you.

"No, but you can believe I can if that makes you feel better about me," A flash of insecurity and worry is on his face. "Anyway, when it comes to human brides, we have a tradition where the groom gets the first taste of blood. But since that includes period blood, we usually keep the brides inside and have intercourse with them until their periods finish. It's supposed to be a very romantic and intimate thing."

"Why me? What did I do to deserve this?" You ask, facing the scarlet stained glass ceiling. "How long did the village plan to send me to this castle, just like the other girls?"

Nos wanted to remain silent, but he couldn't lie to you.

"You did nothing wrong, my love. Your only sin was being born out of wedlock. Your village sends the first out-of-wedlock baby girl born to be our bride. They do it to scare the young adults and teens in the village," Nos explains, washing away the last of the blood. 

You cry and sink into the water. Nos holds you and kisses your sorrows away. 

"It'll all be ok, my love. We'll get a wedding then you'll never have to see Verano again. I'll pack up your stuff from the village and bring it here for you. Would you like that?" Nos asks, rubbing your back.

"Yeah, that would be fine," You sniffle, laying your head on his shoulders. 

"I shall do it, my love. But now, we need to get ready for our wedding."

Nos carries your form out of the baths and into a scarlet room containing wedding attire for the both of you. A white, long wedding dress with snowflake designs lays on the bed next to a blue cape with elegant white lining and white fur for the hood and ends. Crystal-clear shoes are next to your dress, glistening in the moonlight. You begin to put on the dress, but Nos stops you by giving a playful slap on the ass.

"Princess, aren't you forgetting your wedding lingerie? Or are you going out there stark naked underneath your wedding dress?" Nos teases, pressing his body against yours. 

"I didn't see any lingerie," You squeak as Nos's fingers roam around your crotch, hoping to get a touch of your period blood.

"Oh yeah, that's right. The groom gets the privilege-mn! Of-fuck! Of dressing the bride for their first night together," Nos moans as he dry humps your body. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you dressed before I can't hold back."

Nos lifts the dress and takes a pastel blue lingerie set with a garter belt from underneath. He puts the bra on you while grinding himself against you faster. He barely stops humping you to put on the panties and garter belt. Nos's fingers enter your asshole, lubing it up with his spit. He quickly puts the tip inside your asshole and cums inside it. Nos pulls out a butt plug with a red heart and puts it in to keep the cum inside. Both of your bodies shiver with pleasure, and Nos presses the butt plug with his fingers to keep it in you as your muscles contract. He kisses your neck and takes his dick out of your underwear, letting the fabric smack your ass. You both stay against each other, breathing in synch.

"I need to put on the rest of my outfit, Nos," You breath, trying to move away from your fiance. 

He releases a sigh of pleasure, and his body slinks to the end of the bed to let you get dressed. You wear the dress, shoes, and cape, then turn towards your soon-to-be husband. 

"Let's have our wedding, my love," You say, still upset with Nos about the whole vampire bride ordeal. 

Nos holds your hand as you head towards a moonlit garden with a fountain spouting red water. You both take your positions, and the wedding begins. A vampire priest arrives and opens a black book with a pentagram and cross. You and Nos hold each other's hands as the ceremony starts. You look at the crowd and see your grandma, who only gives you a sorrowful wave. 

"Do you, Y/N, take Nos DeCorro to be your vampiric husband? To forever be bound by blood?" The priest asks, looking at you.

You turn to your grandma, and she can only mouth an apology for not protecting you.

"I-I do," You answer, seeing no way out.

"And do you, Nos DeCorro, take Y/N to be your chosen bride?" The priest asks, earning a quick answer from Nos.

"Yes, of course, I do!" Nos exclaims, gripping your hands harder. 

Nos's fangs poke out while he's smiling, and you feel the venom move through your body more. 

"Then you may bite the bride!" The priest proclaims, throwing his hands up as Nos puts rings on both his and your fingers. "May the gods and goddesses bless this union bound by blood!"

You try to run away, but Nos grabs your arm and pulls you into his grip. He bites into your shoulder and drinks as you start to feel weak. Blood stains your wedding dress and drips onto the stone steps. 

"Drink up, darling. I know you must be thirsty," Nos says, cutting his palm with a knife and holding it up to your face.

You quickly snatch his hand and drink from it like a hungry baby. The feeling of his blood flowing through you makes arousal spread through your body. Nos swings his cape in front of you, transporting you both into a dark room full of moonlight. You let go of his hand and recoil, knowing you've solidified your transformation into a vampire. You feel venom pumping through your fangs, and your heart slows. 

"Nos, help me," You plead to your husband.

"It's ok. You need to get your heart rate up for a couple of hours," Nos replies, putting you on the bed and unzipping your dress. "Relax, you only need to obey my commands."

Your mind gets hazy, and suddenly you're removing your shoes and cape. Next, you're straddling Nos and grinding your hips against him.

"You're doing great, darling. Keep grinding me at that pace," He grunts, taking off his clothes and leaving him naked.

He pushes your back onto the silk mattress and spreads your legs. You melt like putty as he touches you and feel closer to him than before. Nos kisses up your thighs and finally reaches your sex. He gently takes off your panties and gives you a fang-filled smile. Nos dives into your pussy and greedily licks the menstrual blood off you. Pleasure shoots up your spine, making you lift your legs more. 

Nos thrusts his tongue in and out, making you go wild. Your moans fill the room, and your back begins to arch. 

"In and out. In and out." Nos's words from earlier fill your head, making you feel his sensations more. 

"Fuck, Nos, more! More! More!" You scream, thrusting your pussy against his face. 

Nos lifts his head, visibly showing you his tongue slipping in and out of you. The image makes you orgasm, and Nos laps up your juices. 

"Oh, darling~" Nos moans, kissing you as his mouth and chin drip your blood. "Let's hurry and get to the main event before I eat your pussy forever."

"Yes, Nos," You answer, giggling as Nos moves between your legs.

Nos slips his member inside your bloody sex and slowly moves his hips. With each thrust, both you and your husband moan in synch. Both your moans are almost hypnotic, and it feels like everything is a hundred times more intimate. You caress Nos's back, and it makes his thrust speed up. Which makes your walls tighten around his cock.

"Faster, Nos!" You moan, slapping Nos's ass as he thrusts. 

"Oh-oh, I'll go fast, darling! I'll give you the first taste of what a human boy can't!" Nos grunts, lifting you to make you straddle him. "Hang on tight, sweetie."

He bites you and starts to thrust at an unnatural pace. Luckily, it didn't harm you since you're now a vampire. The feeling of his dick moving at such speeds made your mind become fried. You could only moan and grunt praises for your husband's performance. You wildly bite your husband and begin to ride him at an equal pace. With both of you riding and thrusting into each other, your orgasms explode at a supernatural level. You let go of your husband and cum all over his dick. Meanwhile, Nos holds your hips down and shoots his hot semen into your pussy. You collapse onto the mattress, and Nos follows you as he hasn't pulled out yet. 

Your legs shake as you try to ride through your orgasm, but call Nos for help.

"It's ok, my bride. I'm orgasming t-too!" Nos moans, his body also shaking inside you. 

He shoots another round of semen, passing out from exhaustion with you. Sunlight creeps into the windows as the newlyweds sleep soundly from your night of steamy sex. For the next three days, you two did the same thing until having such sex got tiring. So, instead, you let Nos eat your pussy under the covers to get his fill of your blood. Sometimes the mere act of eating your blood mixed with cum sent him over the edge. Which is good with him since you both haven't come out of the room or worn clothes since your wedding day. You didn't even care about the village anymore. You only want him and his touch. Luckily, Nos is more than happy to oblige. 

[yellowocaballero]

He’s Just Not That Into You: Web!Jon and Martin ficlet

Another ficlet written in the same universe as The Convention on Chronographer Lane/The Monster at the End of This Book. As before, you don’t need to have read that to read this. These ficlets are being written as character studies so I get a good handle on the uniqueness of the characters in this AU before I actually write something longer. Which is why they’re...like this. 

Very slight content warning for internalized fatphobia and Jon being interpreted as being a creep again. Reverse content warning for Martin’s tasty pasta. 

EDIT 2/4/2021: With the release of Sucker’s Bet, which this story was a kind of pilot study for, this story is no longer canon. However, you can still consider it a 15 page summary of that entire story. I’m sad I couldn’t keep the ‘join my spider cult’ thing but we all make sacrifices. 

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window.

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex.

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat.

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta.

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time.

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window. 

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex. 

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat. 

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta. 

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time. 

***

Martin had never really bothered to learn how to cook, but now that he was unemployed he had plenty of time. 

Now that he was unemployed, he had plenty of time for lots of things. He was finally taking up knitting again. Lots of seasons of Jane the Virgin to catch up on. His severance package from the Institute had been pretty good, not to mention the check Rosie had slipped him with a wink that she had worryingly called ‘Hazard Pay’, but this was London and even Martin could only make the money stretch so far. He spent eight hours of his day looking for jobs, touting his five year experience as a librarian and six month experience as an Archival assistant. But there was only so far you could go without a degree, and the market was shit, and really wouldn’t it just be so much easier to list a master’s in library science from some huge, anonymous university…

But Martin had the feeling that line of thought was what had put him on Jon’s radar in the first place. 

***

A week later Martin was halfway through a comforting Gilmore Girls rewatch when he heard a knock on his door. He had been fastidiously avoiding answering knocks on the door ever since Jon had pulled his first Jehovah’s Witness impression, but he had ordered a replacement washing machine part and it was arriving that day. He put his knitting down and got up, peering through the eyehole - hair not nearly long enough to be Jon, great - and opened the door. 

“Hullo,” the man said in a thick Cockney accent, not looking up from his clipboard, “I got a package here for Mr. Blackwood?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Martin held out his hands to take the little screen and sign for the package. After a second of clumsy fumbling, the man passed the package and the screen over, and Martin boredly scribbled his name. “Thanks, mate -”

But the man was gone, and Martin had realized belatedly that the man had slipped past Martin to enter his flat. He easily slid the cap off, letting his tightly curled hair cascade down to his shoulders, and propped his hands on his hips as he spun in a circle, admiring Martin’s extraordinarily boring and cramped flat. 

“Really love what you’ve done with the place!” Jonathan Sims said loudly. “Your sense of interior design is really impeccable, Martin, truly. A man’s home is his castle! Oh, is that vintage chintz? So cute.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Look at this ceramic kitten!” Jon was already in front of his mantle, carefully scrutinizing his little row of ceramic figures. They were fifty pence at the charity shops and Martin found them precious and charming, okay? “Your place has so much personality. My flat has personality too, but I’m afraid that personality just screams a propensity towards arson, so it’s much less impressive. How old is that couch, from the 70s? Very grandmother. Is it inherited?”

Yes. “No,” Martin said, resisting the urge to throttle the man as he dumped his washing machine part on the end table, “and please get out of my flat. I’ve said explicitly I don’t want you where I live -”

“Really, Martin, I’m hardly a vampire,” Jon said, having the gall to look offended as he cradled a little meowing ceramic kitten in his hand. “If I needed permission to enter dwellings I’d never go anywhere.” He paused a beat, something seeming to occur to him. “But I get a lot of permission from many different people of a variety of genders to enter their homes for sex, which I am very good at.” He paused again. “I really am very thirsty. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of tea…?”

Because Martin was British, he made the tea. But he resented every second of it. 

Jon hadn’t started stalking him immediately after he and his weirdo friends had murdered Martin’s boss, but it was pretty close. He had probably thought a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the ordeal of finding out that your boss’ boss was an immortal apocalypse cultist or whatever and that your boss was actually just a plant from a different and somehow creepier apocalypse cult inserted into your workplace to assassinate his boss. He had probably thought that a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the fact that Jonathan Sims - prickly, rude, pretentious Head Archivist with a heart of gold - was an elaborate fabrication, and that the man whom Martin had been falling for had never truly existed at all. 

A week had not been enough time. 

He didn’t even know Jon’s real name. 

“So what is your real name, anyway?” They were, unfortunately, sitting at Martin’s rinky-dink kitchen table, complete with little pock-marked burn scars in the wood and a wobbly leg. Martin had a magazine rolled up and jammed under the leg, which he was uncomfortably aware of as Jon lounged in his hard little wooden chair as if it was a thousand dollar gaming chair. The fake UPS uniform helped make him look like something other than a movie star, but it was hard to disguise the sharp and haughty features and the cold grey eyes. He had kept the ceramic cat, placing it in front of him with its little plainative face turned towards Martin. 

“What makes you think it’s not Jonathan Sims?” Jon asked archly, sipping at his PG Tips out of a chipped black mug. He made a faint face. “Sorry, is there cream for this? I hate black tea.”

“You always take your tea black,” Martin said automatically. Jon stared at him until he got it. “Of course. Right.” 

By the time he got back to the table with the sugar and cream Jon was going through his mail, with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “Bill, bill, overdue bill. You’re hurting for money, aren’t you? You know, I might know someone who’s hiring -”

“If you’re about to say a giant spider that’s going to lay eggs in my stomach and then burst out of my skin and transform me into a spider person, I have to pass.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Jon blatantly lied. “I just don’t think you’re hearing me out. Has anybody ever told you that you’re very unwilling to listen to new ideas?”

“When the new idea is joining a spider cult, then yes. Actually, no, because nobody’s ever asked me that before I met you.”

Jon didn’t seem to pick up on Martin’s extraordinarily pained expression, or maybe he just didn’t care. He leaned in instead, easily dropping a grotesque amount of sugar cubes into his tea. “Just consider it. Let the idea percolate in your mind. There’s a lot of benefits. No more worrying about money. No more putting in all that work to manipulate people. It’d be as easy as breathing for you. Anybody you want to like you likes you, and anybody you hate has their life ruined in days.” Something glinted with light in Jon’s grey eyes, like a spotlight shining off a raincloud. “Anybody you want to fall in love with you does so instantly. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“All for the low, low price of selling my soul to a giant spider god,” Martin said sarcastically. Jon nodded fastidiously, as if it really was a low price. “Seriously, Jon? I have no interest in any of this. I don’t even know why you’ve singled me out to stalk. I don’t - I don’t like manipulating people, it’s not some kind of hobby -”

“Liar. You love manipulating people.” Jon sipped his tea, as if bored. “Honestly, Martin, we’re all friends here. I won’t judge. You don’t need to virtue signal. We both love manipulating people, getting what we want, putting on personas. We like to control how people see us, no matter what that perception is. You believe that ends justify the means, I believe that good means result in good ends. We’ve very similar.” Something strange entered Jon’s expression, almost entirely hidden by the tea, and for the first time Martin wondered if this was an expression Jon hadn’t meant for him to see. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who is exactly like me. We should work together. You’re so well suited for the Mother. You’d be a treasured son. Valued, celebrated, loved. Everything you always wanted, you can have.”

Silence stretched between them. Martin let Jon think that he was thinking it over, staring into his own cup of Earl Grey and letting the slowly wafting steam fog up his glasses. Jon sipped his tea again, still posed casually yet attractively. In a brief yet stupid spurt of nostalgia Martin found himself missing the man he thought Jonathan Sims had been. 

Stupid. Loving Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, had been as real as crushing on a love interest in a dating sim. Instead, Martin leaned in, and Jon leaned in to match him. Martin locked eyes with him, as sincerely as he possibly could. No lies, no artifice. “Stop projecting your insecurity about your own bad decisions on me,” Martin enunciated clearly, and Jon’s eyes widened in shock. “and get out of my house.”

He did, eventually. Maybe that was one of a million surprising things about Jonathan Sims, or whatever his real name was: Martin could always get him to do what he wanted eventually. 

***

Martin did not spend time thinking about Jonathan Sims, mostly because he had the feeling that this was what Jonathan Sims wanted. 

Instead, he frantically piled more and more projects and work into his free time. Ever since he was seventeen, Martin had always held down at least three jobs. His life was a never-ending rotation of a six am to three pm shift at Papa John’s, then a three pm to ten pm shift at Panera, and then stumbling home to stuff a ready meal in the microwave before doing it all over again only to work his third weekend job on the weekends. It had gotten to the point where he had paid the unemployed downstairs neighbor living on disability cheques to feed and occasionally take care of Mum because he hadn’t had time to do it himself. Martin could have have just dropped a job and scraped by on two so he could take care of Mum himself, but - well, it wasn’t hurting anybody. His neighbor had needed the cheques, right?

In comparison, the Institute had been an absolute dream. Work from nine to five, every day, then come home and crash. There had been benefits, insurance. It probably said something that even after discovering that both of his bosses had been cultists to Lovecraftian horrors who wanted to end the world or whatever, it was still the best job he ever had. He even missed it, sometimes - missed listening to Sasha and Tim joke around, missed the repetitive work, missed harmlessly and shallowly crushing on his persnickety boss who sometimes flashed a smile at him that made his heart melt. 

Fucker had known exactly what he was doing. 

That was what got Martin, even now. What had been the point? Jon had been there to infiltrate Elias’ plans for a Head Archivist, or so Sasha had confusingly explained after the fact. The skeptic, pissy act was to show himself off as an ideal candidate: willfully ignorant, psychologically vulnerable, and utterly isolated from everyone. What was the point of...of...seducing Martin?

The thought made Martin want to die. Imagine living a life where you woke up in the morning and thought to yourself, ‘Today I’m going to seduce the ugly, fat, high school dropout in my extensive long con to save/destroy the world’. It was like he was a movie star in a heist film or something, only cruel and pointless. 

Was it just to make fun of him? Martin had thought it was. But as he...interacted with Jon more and more, he got the sense that his fascination with Martin was genuine. He genuinely saw something of himself in Martin. 

Unless that was a lie too, and he just needed something from Martin. Unless Jon knew that Martin knew that he was conning him, and that there was another reason -

Martin had the terrible sense that Jon lived his life like this, always guessing and second guessing and triple guessing. It sounded...very tiring. 

He didn’t know how to explain any of this to Tim. They got together every so often for drinks - actually, Tim texted him asking to hang out, playing it all cool as if he went out and got drinks with tons of buddies all the time but was doing Martin a favor. Martin had the sense that he was hiding a deep and pervasive loneliness, but these days whenever Martin went down too deep a spiral of teasing out motivations he felt like Jon, so he quickly cut it out. 

“What’s there to get?” Tim said, throwing back his pint. “He’s an asshole who pretended to be our friend for months, and he turned out to be a total creep who leads a spider cult. You know, as happens sometimes!”

Sometimes Martin got the sense that Tim was a little bitter about what happened at the Archives. He didn’t really have a good thread on why yet, but he had the sense it was because Tim had ‘adopted’ Jon as his friend very intensely and that made him react badly to the perceived betrayal - no! No psychoanalyzing! Not today! 

“It do be like that sometimes,” Martin said wisely, peeling away the label at his shitty beer. The bar was crowded, noisy, and dim, and it was hard to hear Tim over the noise. “I don’t know, though. If that was all there was to it, he wouldn’t be showing up at my house all the time…”

“Wait, what?”

Martin explained in short order, trying not to feel embarrassed about it. Tim seemed to grow increasingly furious, and Martin found himself trailing off uncertainly near the end. 

“He’s doing the same thing to Sasha,” Tim said lowly. “Fucking freak.”

“Wait, what? He’s been bothering Sasha?” Jesus, that really was creepy. Come to think of it, Martin hadn’t seen Sasha around lately - she used to come get drinks with them right after they all got fired, but the last three invites she had begged off and said that she was ‘dealing with a lot right now’ and that she was ‘really swamped’. Martin was pretty sure that she was also unemployed, so he didn’t really know what she was swamped with, but it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe she was depressed. “Like, is he also trying to recruit her into the spider cult, or…?”

Weirdly, Martin felt a weird pang of disappointment at that. He had thought that what he and Jon had was special. 

Ha ha. As if. 

“I don’t know!” Tim cried, frustrated. He was gripping his pint glass tightly, as if he wished he was wrapping his fingers around Jon’s very slim and attractive neck instead. “First he keeps bothering Sasha, and now he keeps breaking into your house and flirting with you -”

“What!” Martin squeaked. “He’s not -”

“He’s a predator,” Tim said finally, as if he was a judge delivering a verdict. “Fucking freak. Martin, next time he drops by, I want you to call me immediately. I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“I’m a grown man, I can kick his ass by myself,” Martin said lamely, fully aware that he had never kicked an ass in his life and never would. 

“Don’t let that bully intimidate you,” Tim lectured, like the overbearing big brother Martin had always kind of secretly wanted. “He’s just a grifter, spider cult or not. Seriously, Martin, next time he bothers you call me. I have more than a few things I want to say to the bastard.”

It was heartwarming, almost. “You haven’t seen him since he killed Elias, right?”

Tim looked away, scowling. “Nope. Dunno why, if he’s hassling you two. I’m the only one with some serious questions I need to ask him, and he hasn’t even - whatever.” He looked back at Martin, forcing a great big smile. “Really, if he wants a hottie, why isn’t he knocking on my door, right? Like, come on, I’m single and ready to -”

“How’s the job hunt going, Tim!”

“I’m trying to get back into publishing, what do you think! Kill me!”

Martin liked Tim. If you had asked him four months ago if they were really friends, he would have smiled and deflected, because he was pretty sure that Tim was just that friendly to everybody. Martin always felt insecure with friendly and nice people, because he never knew if they were being friendly to him because they liked him and considered him a friend, or if they were just like that with everyone. 

But they still got drinks when they didn’t have to, and the expression of tight and barely controlled rage that flashed through his face when he thought that Sasha and Martin were in danger from Jon was real. Maybe they really were friends. 

Maybe there was something deeply buried and long since repressed in Tim that was destroying him slowly from the inside. Maybe Martin and Sasha had that too, that rot: the way Sasha would carelessly invade privacy to hack inside people’s private files without even thinking about it, the way that Martin would almost instinctively balance impression management with playing down to expectations with always dissecting people in a ruthless search for a weak point without even thinking about it. 

Maybe they were all bad people, every one of them. It felt sometimes as if Martin had a corrupt and diseased heart, that infected parts of his body with a sick necrosis. He hurt people when he didn’t want to; he said things he didn’t mean. There was something rotten and evil in Martin, and sometimes it felt as if he couldn’t help but pass it along from person to person.

Man hands on misery to man, Phillip Larkin said, it deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself. 

Well, Martin had the second part down. He was still working on the first. 

***

But Martin was right to worry, because when he woke up at seven the next morning to shamble into his living room, he flipped the light switch to see Jonathan Sims sitting on his grandma couch flipping through his meager collection of books. 

“You don’t read very much, do you?” Jon said.

“How did you get into my house.”

“Told the landlord I was the exterminator and needed to get in to spray for bugs.” Jon tossed the book on the battered coffee table - 1984 - and reclined on the sofa. “You really do have quite a bit of spiders, though. Want me to take care of that? Do you want more spiders? I can get you as many spiders as you like.”

The way he sat was purposeful, the way one of his black boots with a low heel was propped on the coffee table, the way his dark and closely cut trousers were slightly splayed, his tight black turtleneck highlighting his figure was slightly hidden by a fine white silk jacket. The small part of Martin’s mind that used to work at a dry-cleaners inanely wondered how difficult that jacket was to keep clean. Most of Martin’s mind was occupied realizing that Tim was right, and that Jon was flirting with him. 

“What do I have to say to get you to leave my house,” Martin said, instead of asking why, why, why, why. He knew why - spider cult purposes - but why -

“Lots of poetry collections, though,” Jon said, and Martin knew that he had caught him looking. He had a little half-smile: half encouraging, half shy. “You have great taste. I’m a Yeats fan too.”

Sure. “Name one Yeats poem.”

“The Stolen Child,” Jon said instantly.

Martin narrowed his eyes. “What do you like about it?”

Jon was silent. 

“Thought so.” Martin pointed at his door. “Out.”

There it was, a brief explosion, so quick that Martin might have thought he imagined it: grinding teeth, sloping eyebrows, a scowl. A flash of irritation: here one second, gone the next. “I like your poetry, though,” Jon attacked, a different angle. “Your imagery is very vivid.”

What the fuck. “You went through my diary?” Martin screeched. 

“Yes?” Jon looked slightly flummoxed. “I was doing research. People like it when you display interest in their hobbies.”

“I am making coffee,” Martin said, voice strangled, “and I am making breakfast. And if you refuse to leave, you are not saying a single word until I’ve had caffeine.”

And then Martin refused to acknowledge Jon any more. Martin quickly realized that Jon hated this very much, used to being the center of attention wherever he was, and it was an extremely effective method of making him throw himself into a kitchen chair and sulk as the coffee pot sputtered out a cup. Martin focused himself on heating up the pan and cracking a few eggs into a bowl, whisking it absentmindedly as he clenched his mobile. 

He should call Tim. He had never known Jon to get violent, but that didn’t mean anything. The guy was...he was…

He glanced back at Jon, who had his arms crossed and was frowning down at the stained wood of the kitchen table. He didn’t seem to know Martin was looking, and it occurred to Martin for the first time that this might be the authentic Jon: tired and frustrated and uncertain what he was doing wrong. 

The eggs sizzled on the frying pan, and Martin pushed them around with a spatula. “What do you like on your eggs?”

Jon looked up, surprised, before rearranging his expression into something cool and distant. “Surprise me.”

Martin served them cheesy with herbs, just for that. When Jon took a bite he looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something spiteful and received only something good in exchange. 

When he put a cup of Early Grey in front of him, with sugar congealing on the bottom and rosy brown from the cream, he looked surprised again too.

“You’re excellent at reading people,” Jon said, carefully directly after Martin had a sip of his coffee. “Mother would -”

“Do you want to make a bargain?” Martin asked. 

That caught Jon’s attention. He smiled winningly, leaning in, hair carefully arranged to fall over one shoulder in a painfully attractive way. “I could be convinced.”

“If you knock on my door at a reasonable hour, then I will let you in and we can talk or whatever. I’ll make us tea. I don’t care.”

Jon’s grin only widened, and when Martin felt a foot brush his leg he had to fight the urge to jump a foot in the air. “What’ll I do in exchange?”

“You let up on the sales pitch,” Martin said severely, and physically moved his chair further away from Jon. “And you stop lying to me. And for christ’s sake, stop pretending you’re into me.”

 Jon blinked, expression falling in shock. 

He scrambled to paste something back on, but it was as if he couldn’t decide. Martin saw him half-cycle through different expressions, different appearances: abashed, eager, flirtatious. It was as if he was frantically guessing which Jon would work best to convince Martin to do what he wanted, but he just couldn’t decide. 

Finally, he weakly asked, “What makes you think I’m not into you?”

Martin couldn’t help it: he scoffed bitterly. “Guess someone like you was never asked out as a joke in secondary. Nobody would honestly find me attractive. Everything you do is calculated, Jon, and I’m not vain enough to think the flirting is an exception. It’s obvious.”

“I’m not obvious,” Jon said, physically fighting to keep his expression from twisting into anger. It was...obvious. He eventually forced his expression into something wide-eyed and sincere, reaching out a hand to place on Martin’s arm. It was warm, but it settled oddly on Martin’s skin. Something about it didn’t feel like a human arm. “That’s just your low-self esteem talking, love. When I look at you, I see -”

“A sucker?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed his. His hand was still on Martin’s arm. Martin didn’t know why he hadn’t shaken it off. “I see someone very kind,” Jon said, almost lamely. “I like that in a man.”

“Yeah, sure.” Martin shook his hand off - disgusted with Jon, disgusted with himself. Someone like Jon - attractive, confident, smooth - could never understand how it felt. He didn’t know why he expected him to. “I don’t know why you aren’t leaving me or Sasha alone, or why you’re trying to recruit us both into your spider cult -”

“I’m trying to recruit Sasha into my vigilante superhero team, actually.”

“Whatever. Point is, if I can’t get rid of you, I don’t want our conversations to be exhausting. These...games you’re always playing,” Martin waved his hand demonstratively as he chugged coffee with the other, “are tiring. Maybe - maybe you and I are similar, Jon. But the difference between us is that I find these games tiring. I don’t like doing it. I - what I want is a relationship where there’s no games. Where I can just be me and the other person can just be them. Don’t you want that too?”

Jon stared at him, eyes wide, almost shocked, almost hesitant, almost hopeful. 

Finally, he said, “I only trust three people.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Martin, who trusted nobody, said exasperatedly. What did it say, that the leader of the spider cult trusted more people than Martin did? “I’m just asking you not to lie to me.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon said, before pausing a beat. “I’d trust you if you joined my spider cult.”

“You’re shit out of luck, then. And you’re not going to convince me.” Martin took another sip of his coffee, hiding his trembling hands. “Because you can’t lie to me, Jon. Face it: I’m almost as good as you are.” He smiled wryly. “As good as someone can get without supernatural powers, anyway.”

Jon stared at him, just stared, and Martin let the moment linger in silence as he cut into his eggs. Finally, he said, “You’ll tolerate my presence if I agree to drop the act.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure how to drop the act,” Jon admitted, somewhat embarrassed, as if he was admitting to not knowing how to tie his shoes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Do your best. You must have been normal at one point.”

“When I was normal,” Jon said, “nobody tolerated me at all.”

The shocking honesty made Martin almost gag on his coffee. Jon’s eyes widened again, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said, as if he had never meant to say it. As if nobody had ever heard it at all. 

“Now that we’re actually getting somewhere,” Martin said, tactfully not touching that barrel of worms - er, spiders - with a two meter pole. “Can you please tell me your real name? Unless it was, like, wiped from your mind by your spider mom? Is this like one of those cult things were they rename you for indoctrination purposes?” Something terrible occurred to him. “Is every guy in your cult named John and every woman named Annabelle? It was just a fake name you gave to Elias, right? Right?”

Jon - whoever he was - stared at Martin, completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

Then he laughed, long and hard, hoarse and wheezing and breathy, and Martin knew that this, at least, was real. 

***

Martin: I think I’ve taken care of the Jon thing

Martin: Probably

Martin: The guy’s kinda hopeless

Tim: ya sash said that hes cool

Tim: apparently shes a vigilante now? or smth? Idk

Martin: Yeah that seems about right

Martin: At least she’s living her best life?

Tim: ya good for her honestly

Tim: ….so does Spider-Man KNOW how to use all eight of those arms ifyaknowwhatimean

Martin: WE! ARE! JUST! FRIENDS!

***

“ - so then after my father passed tragically of brain cancer, I was raised by my emotionally distant and disaffected Gran. I think she’s the one who taught me that if I ever want anything in life, I have to secure it for myself. I’ve been very independent ever since I was a child, and although my social skills have always been naturally lacking I’ve worked to compensate for that by studying the art of social interaction. I guess you could call it somewhat of a special interest of mine, I like to sit in coffeeshops with my sister Annabelle and study passerby -”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know forty percent of Britons own pets? I think it reveals interesting things about the human psychology. The domestication of dogs has always been fascinating, of course. Did you know that all dogs are descended directly from the grey wolf? There were other wolf species at the time, but they’ve long since gone extinct.”

“Wow.”

“I know! The evolution of what we today determine as dog breeds were only created in the Victorian era. I’m sure Jonah would have had some thoughts on that, if I hadn’t fed him to my mother. Actually, few people know this, but our modern conceptualization of the wolf pack hierarchy has been thoroughly debunked. Alphas and omegas only exist in captive populations. Tell that to the werewolves, huh! Actually, I organize the weekly Avatar poker games - you can come if you’re interested, great way to make some money - and I actually did tell that to the werewolves, and they were not very happy with me -”

“Jon? I can’t hear the movie.”

“Right, right.” Jon passed Martin the popcorn. “So what’s this one about?”

Martin scooped up a handful of the popcorn without shame, feeding it in a steady stream into his mouth. “About a guy who gets turned into a fly.”

“That’s fun,” Jon said warmly. “I turned a guy into a fly once. He got stuck in a spider-web immediately and everything, it was quite entertaining.” At Martin’s horrified look, he quickly followed it up with, “Gerry had found out that he was illegally evicting tenants who were undergoing cancer treatment, asking for rent before it was due and physically intimidating the tenants and everything. He also stole one thousand dollars worth of goods from Whole Foods and everything, which is quite funny if you think about it -”

“How does someone steal a thousand dollars with of stuff from Whole Foods? It’s a grocery store.”

“I know, right!” Jon threw up his hands, accidentally sending some pieces of popcorn flying. “The rich are the true parasites, Martin! I’m speaking as an insect person!”

“Word.” 

Martin ate more popcorn, and noticed Jon carefully brush his crossed legs against Martin’s knee. 

Well, he was trying. He’d stop pretending to like Martin eventually. 

They’d get there. ;

[kpopchangedme]

Nocturna: Part V [M]

The fragile peace between undead and lycanth is imperilled your arrival to the Inferorum Castrum. Between the changing power dynamics of the wolf pack and the insatiable urges of the vampire king, you aren’t exactly sure where your loyalty lies.

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You | Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 5.4k

Genre: NSFW | *SMUT* | Supernatural!au | Vampires | Werewolves | Angst | Romance | Love Triangle

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

Your eyes are shut, brows creased in concentration, sweat pearls on your forehead. All you can hear is the sound of the two wolves’ beating hearts behind you; the bird yelling at the squirrel in the sycamore tree; someone rummaging in the Castrum’s kitchen; and…

You tilt your head, focusing. Unfortunately, right when you’re about to get it the Beta behind breaks the moment. 

“Come on…” Minho scoffs, irritated. “Louder Yeji, I’m dying over here!” 

On the other side of the Castrum ground, several miles away, a crystal high-pitched giggle echoes. One that you hear perfectly. You must actively fight your urge to run over and murder the younger wolf. You aren’t sure why, but it’s inherent, you simply cannot stand the girl.

“Is she even saying something?” You glare at Minho, and his eyes narrow in dislike at your animosity. His rank is way above yours, for now at least, and he’s been tolerant so far since you’re acclimating. It doesn’t mean he’ll always let your rudeness slide, you know that.

“Yes,” Youngjae assures, sitting on a wood bench with an open illustrated book on his knees, “again. What is Yeji saying?” 

“Do you even need me?” Minho whines, “We’ve been at it for hours!”

“I didn’t ask you to come.” The Delta points out, flipping a page. Minho pouts, craving being elsewhere, anywhere. He despises you and the feeling is very mutual.

You aren’t dumb, you know why they’re all training with you today, it’s not because they enjoy your company. It’s obviously Chan who asked them to keep an eye on you. You haven’t spoken to each other since that day he fought with the Omegas, but he’s still your mate, and somehow he cares. The following morning you woke up to find out he and Jackson had left for a ‘mission’ somewhere. Chan didn’t even bother saying goodbye. He either hates you now or believes you wouldn’t even have seen him. You might have… You’ve been feeling especially shitty since that day. There's a knot in your stomach, and you know it isn't about your bond. It's him. Even if you are rightfully angry, your old friend is the only thing that feels like home here. That’s why you’re trying to take your training more seriously these days, you need to belong. You are doing your best... But that Beta and that Epsilon are getting on your nerves, always laughing when you’re messing up! Earlier, you couldn’t distinguish colours on brightly lit targets, and they had a field trip mocking you.

Honestly, out of your five senses, your view has changed the most since the bite. It has decreased dramatically in the daylight, so you’re having trouble with colours, but you can see in perfect darkness. Also, your field of vision is way broader than it used to be. Even with Minho and Youngjae standing in your back, you can see them clearly.

“Yeji, focus.” Youngjae orders, not even raising his gaze from his book. “No, not louder, she needs to learn.” 

“But she’s so damn slow.” Yeji whines, 3 miles away. “It’s tragic Chan’s stuck with her. I can’t understand what he see-”

“Watch it, glob of snot!” Your lips stretch to uncover your teeth and a weird sound births at the back of your throat.

Behind, Minho’s mouth falls open. “The pup's hearing seems fine after all, she’s just very selective about it.” 

“Good.” This time, the kind Delta stands to join you. “After tomorrow night, you’ll be able to hear that from double the distance!” Youngjae playfully hits you with his book, and your cheeks warm. You feel weirdly proud, gratified to have managed to do this little.

“Will he be...” His brows raise and you stop, looking down at the tip of your boots in the grass, too embarrassed.

“The whole pack always goes out as one, once a month.” Minho replies with a smirk, amused you’re acting coy. “I would actually be excited for your First Full Moon if Chan wasn’t there to damage control.”

“Why?” You frown, unsure if a first transformation is anything special to watch. You’ve heard about the pain of the first turn, but not much after their ‘it feels amazing’ usual speech. You are genuinely curious.

“I’d love to watch you go berserk.” Minho snarls sarcastically, making Youngjae close both eyes disheartened. “Given your considerate nature, I bet you'd obliterate an entire villa-”

“I’d obliterate you first, wimp!” Vexed, you jump forward until you’re almost against the Beta's chest. You thought he was giving you advice or some sensitive information at last. Turns out he was just pushing your buttons once more. Every werewolf has been irritated and sensitive today. Anyway, ever since the bite, you’ve been continuously picking up fights.

“Try me.” The triggered older wolf uncovers his canines, holding your glare. He’s threatening without the need of a growl, Minho is still one of the pack’s warriors. 

“In its own time.” Youngjae stretches an arm to pull him back, not the least frightened bt the animosity between you two. 

“Yeah, challenge me soon, puppy.” The cocky Beta steps away, his weird dire smile still plastered on. “Let’s see you go at it. An Alpha is only as strong as his Lead Huntress after all.” 

“Jackson doesn’t have one, but you still run around with your tail between your legs whenever he barks!”

“Careful or you’ll never even make it to your First Moon, bitch!” Minho’s jaw snaps, and you snort, remaining unimpressed. There it is; that word again. “And we do have a Lead Huntress, trust me. You’re nothing compared to her.”

Youngjae steps between you two once more for the confrontation to end. You notice others have already started gathering at the entrance of the castle and on the outskirts of the wood. All lycanth really seem to love a good clash. You don’t even ponder on Minho’s cryptic words about the Alpha, you’re too mad to focus. Perhaps it’s real, maybe your level of irritation and hostility has more to do with the imminent Full Moon than any of your real frustrations. 

“The sun is setting.” Youngjae points out blankly right as Sana jogs up to you. “You should make it back to your room, y/n. You’ll need a lot of sleep. Tomorrow’s a pretty big day.”

Agreeing, you leave and no wolf makes a sound as you walk by. You still see the glimmer in their gaze though. Something like elation. No one approved of you the first week, but now they’re curious. They wonder about you picking fights with both Chan and Minho. Will you be a courageous and fierce Lead Huntress? Or are you simply as dumb as a post for continuously angering two of their most dangerous Betas?

The pack doesn’t know yet, but this whole mess is bound to get interesting. 

You don’t see anyone in the East Wing on your way to your room. As soon as you enter, you begin to wash off the traces of your long training day. Exhausted, you nearly miss the soft thumping on your door when someone knocks. Fighting back your smile, you hurry to change your dark shirt-gown for a clean nightgown. No doubt that this is Chan finally coming back and... For some reason, it is a relief. You’re oddly excited to tell him all about your progress. Unfortunately, one thing is sure as you open the door, that visitor is nothing like who you were expecting.

The newcomer is wearing all-black, special silky clothes, he’s one with the obscurity. Even with your perfect night vision, you can hardly distinguish his silhouette. There’s a mask from the same fabric covering up his entire face except for his sanguine eyes. No wonder you haven't heard him coming by, no wolf would be as quiet in their own quarters. Your mouth opens in shock as the undead gazes up and down at you. He’s lean and short, barely as tall as you. The first time you faced a vampire you were too human to notice, but this time it hits you hard; his scent of death.

“Y/n?” He inquires, voice as uninterested as it gets. Before you can decide if you should scream or reply, the ominous intruder tilts his head, perceivably. “It stinks of him in here, so I guess you're her.” His eyes skim over your body once more, severe. “The king has called upon you.”

“E-Excuse me?” 

“The vampire king.” He repeats, accentuating every syllable like you’re dumb. “Now.” 

“What if I don’t go?”

You cross your arms over your chest defiantly. Jaebeom has ignored you for days, what can he possibly have to say to you? You’re changing tomorrow, you don’t have to be at his beck and call, your deal was a one-time thing. You’ve moved on. The vampire snorts at your reply, apparently entertained. 

In an instant, you’re gagged and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He’s indifferent as you struggle, kicking and biting. Without having turned and reached your full potential yet, you’re no match for his strength. Your captor moves fast, it takes him under a minute to cross the entire Castrum. It’s evident he isn’t taking you to the West living quarters you've been to before. Right before these stairs, he forks in a secret passageway, entering a dark corridor you are unfamiliar with. When he finally stops, you’re buried under the castle, so deep within, that you can’t even hear what’s going on upstairs anymore. If you were to cry or yell, you bet no wolf would hear. You're not entirely sure they'd come to your rescue anyway... The vampire tosses you on your feet, taking out the cloth he shoved in your mouth. As you're coughing for air, he knocks on a door that opens instantly.

“Mark,” Jaebeom’s eyes go from you to his scion, "Were you seen?" You haven’t looked at him yet, too busy glaring and growling at the second rude vampire. Mark. No wonder your fellow wolves don’t like them if they all act like such entitled assholes.

“It was boring and too easy. Even a newborn would've been able to get her, you didn't need a Shadow, Jeonha.” Mark’s words drip self-importance, making your skin crawl. Speaking, he pulls down his mask, revealing his diaphanous features. He is just as inhumanly perfect as the other undead you've seen so far. "Although, I think I vexed your pet..."

It takes you half a second to realize he's talking about you.

“I’m not his, you filthy leech!” 

“Oi, are you gonna bite me!?” The bloodsucker laughs, reaching to poke the middle of your forehead. You must be a fast learner because your current warning growl has nothing to do with how you were begging for your life when you first met one of them. If you don’t notice the slight change, Jaebeom certainly does. “Bad pooch.” Ok. That asshole is just straight-up asking to be gutted.

“Just wait a few days...” Your eyes reflect the torches, casting a supernatural light on the scene. “I’ll add your name to my list of priorities, Mark.” His smile turns to a thin line.

“Leave us,” done, the king dismisses his minion, "discreetly." Though he’s obviously annoyed, Mark obeys, hissing as he slowly walks back the narrow passageway. You don’t stop holding his glare until he’s gone. “What was that,” Jaebeom presses once you are alone, highly annoyed, “are the moon mood swings really that bad?”

“Perhaps I just hate being treated like a possession.” When you turn to face the king, he has already disappeared into a close dim-lit room. You ponder on whether to go back upstairs or follow, hesitating. In the end, you’re too intrigued to do what’s best and you enter, though keeping your guard up. 

You haven’t seen Jaebeom since your first and last night, and you had forgotten how beautiful he is up close. From his pellucid skin to his bloody dead irides. You feel a betraying shiver run down your back, remembering how his body felt all over yours. If you thought you could face him without any second thoughts, you were wrong. The hypnotic power he seemed to have on you hasn’t wavered the slightest. You could still run, but curiosity anchors you down.

When you enter, the vampire king is standing in the middle of this tiny darkroom, ominous. There’s a chair and a twin size bed in a corner as only furniture, and it smells of mould. Obviously, this isn’t his usual hang out spot. This is a misery chamber, you expected a secret office or something. This is closer to a dungeon than... Oh, turning to take another look at the door again, you notice the large silvery bars on a square framed window. 

“What is this place?” Feeling stuffy and trapped all of a sudden, you take a step back.

“My dungeon, a secluded place. I thought it better to talk privately.” Jaebeom replies swiftly, like forcing you down here is perfectly mundane. His motives remain unclear, but you get what he means; walls here don't have ears. You already noted that. “We used it during the war, but I doubt Jackson remembers his old room and my leniency. If he did, that flea-bag wouldn’t go around doing as he pleases half as much.”

“He's my Alpha now, careful.” You cross your arms over your chest and he raises a brow. 

“Forgive me,” Jaebeom apologizes, overly sarcastic, “I thought you only had his tail-wagger’ back.” 

“Chan is a legacy Alpha,” you’re defensive at his evident disdain. “Won’t be tail-waggin’ forever.”

“Why do you care?!” Jaebeom snaps harshly, and his aggressive tone makes you flinch, “Defending him? Last I heard, you hated the dog for what he did to you!”

After that, you remain silent, too stunned. He is right, and you are still angry at Chan for taking your humanity. It’s just that… You've always cared deeply for him, and now whatever is said about him reflects on you. You’ve been inextricably linked since he marked you. It’s not something you can explain with words to an outsider. You just… Feel it in your bones. Jaebeom sighs, turning to press his open palms to one of the stone walls. “When you’re as old as me, you start to forget past enemies. I’ve seen a lot of werewolves go by, I never thought I should care about their bastards.” When you don't bite, the king presses you again: “I hadn’t made a mistake like that in many centuries.”

“A mistake like me,” you breathe out hollowly, starting to piece things together. 

“Yes...” He shakes his head, still facing the wall. “I messed up by intervening in the woods. I single-handedly jeopardized the status of the peace treaty for you. Jinyoung formally castigated me in front of the Council.” The vampire from that night? You frown, vaguely remembering his cool demeanour throughout the confrontation with the Alpha. “I was sent away during the arraignments. I’ll be officially sanctioned tomorrow, I had never received blame from my Court before you. Not it over a thousand years of reign.”

He says it like this mess is all your fault. “Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to me, then.” You try not to sound affected. Despite you, his words hurt... And you really don’t want to wonder about why right now.

“I wanted to apologize,” Jaebeom blurts out fatally, turning to hold your gaze. “I wasn’t able to bring you home. I couldn't stay true to my word, and keep you safe.” 

“Consider yourself freed from our deal, Jeonha.” 

You need to leave now.

Before you’re overwhelmed before you feel like crying for everything you’ve lost. It’s not like the vampire could have changed anything anyway, or if he could have honoured that deal in the first place anyway. Apparently, a choice was made for you long before that dreadful day you were marked. When you reach for the exit, Jaebeom’s steel grip wraps around your wrists, holding you still. It was the worst idea coming in, perhaps he won’t let you leave. This was a dungeon for a wolf, and no one knows you're here. 

“There’s another thing too.” He whispers, awfully closer. There’s the almost familiar coldness of his body on your back, and your heartbeat quickens, betraying. His effect is undeniable, his magnetism paralyzing. “I don’t care about what my Court said. I still wanted to see you.” His nose brushes your hair, and you know it’s making its way down to your neck. You’ve been there before, only this time, you are sure he won’t kill you. “You smell the same, you’re still more human than wolf.” 

Jaebeom says this like it’s a compliment, and you shut your eyes. “So what?”

He presses his stone chest to your back, unbothered by your harsh tone. “My Shadow heard you ask about me… And I tried to neglect it, but I still have this…” He pauses then, and despite everything, the memory of your shared night haunts you. “... Craving.” 

Blood, you realize. This is not about you at all. Defeated, you pull your hair aside to fully expose the little bit of collarbone your nightgown isn’t covering. He can do whatever, you won’t fight him this time, don't care if it hurts. Then he’ll probably let you go. Jaebeom lets his index run down your spine, and you clench your teeth, expecting his bite any moment.

“After you turn-.”

“I know.” You cut in sharply, eager to get this over with. His arm slides around your waist. “You hate dogs.” The vampire presses his lips on your neck, not on the same spot as last time. Again, instead of biting, he breathes you in, mouth wandering. This isn’t what you want, you shouldn’t do this. “Drink.” Frozen still, you don’t bother trying to sound like yourself.

“No,” Jaebeom hushes in your ear, absolutely shameless, “like last time.”

“I don’t want to,” you state, authoritative. The idea of betraying Chan like this makes your stomach turn. Even if you are angry, he’s still your friend and your… That. Then, there’s the rest of the pack too, and what they said about wolves with vampires. What Minho called you earlier.

“Is that so?” Jaebeom snorts, hand reaching to cup your sex over your nightgown. You catch a breath as he hums, satisfied by your reaction. “I can smell you.” Shit. You’re screwed. Already, your body is betraying you, and you press closer to his palm, craving friction. His hand doesn’t oblige though. Instead, he takes it back, letting it wander up until it finds the strings tying the collar of your long gown. You think he’ll open it, but he surprises you by spinning you in his arms. His grip closes on your wrists, holding them up. “You wear his clothes, but his scent isn't on you.” 

You don’t need Jaebeom to say his name. “He comes back tomorrow.”

Something in his gaze darkens like you’ve made a mistake: “I know, I approve every dogs’ outing. Mark was right, he shouldn’t have made it so easy.” Smirking, Jaebeom releases you, apparently very amused by something. “Now that I know who you are for Jackson’s successor… I want you even more.”

‘W-What?” You don’t move, don’t even blink when his fingers slide up the interior of your thigh. This time, it’s skin to skin, under your loose clothing. He stops centimetres away from where your legs meet. “We can’t… My pack-”

Lowering himself to press a kiss on your lips, Jaebeom interrupts your protests. He doesn’t give you an answer, but you forget about everything as soon as his mouth opens yours. Your mind numbs. You forget you’re angry, forget the pack and everything about who the creature kissing you is. Even Chan is eclipsed from your thoughts for the first time in days. Jaebeom pulls back after a while, one hand to the wall and the other frozen still on your thigh.

“New deal,” he announces, voice-controlled. He’s doing way better than you. You're panting, hanging on his every word with apprehension. He's like a drug, clogging up your brain and stealing away your better judgement. “You owe me since I got into trouble trying to help you.”

“How should I repay you?” You ask in a trance. You sound more innocent than you truly are. It’s obvious what he wants, of course you know. You can feel him already hardening against you. Right now, you want him too. You don’t care about anything else.

“I forgot I have to show you everything, tidbit.” Jaebeom smiles, ruby eyes creasing. “Don’t move.” It’s not like you were planning on going anywhere anymore. You’re already too turned on to know what’s best. Sensing you’re obeying, Jaebeom kneels on the ground before you to roll up your gown. “See?” He looks up, pushing your feet apart with his knees. You seem to have learned from your first time because you don’t move to cover your sex. Jaebeom licks his lips, gaze roaming your exposed body hungrily. “I knew you were wet...”

His cold hands grip your knees to spread you and you lean back against the stone wall, weak. He hums, nose brushing your inner thighs. The vampire king kisses them one by one, making sure not to leave an inch of soft sensitive skin untouched as he climbs. If he claimed you were wet before, it was nothing. This time you know what to expect from him and you’re shivering from anticipation. Your folds are already swollen and glistening when he finally reaches his goal. Jaebeom doesn’t lose any time, icy tongue sliding up your slit once, then twice. You grip his shoulders to remain still and he lets out a hollow chuckle, entertained. His mouth works wonder, it’s even better standing like that above him. You pant, hips rocking on his face despite yourself. You don’t have any self-control whatsoever. You aren’t sure if it’s because of the imminent Full Moon or your exacerbate senses, but everything feels more intense; anger, impatience, and now pleasure, desire… Jaebeom helps himself with a finger, and it’s way more comfortable than last time. You’re so relaxed that he adds another one, pumping them leisurely into you.

Without stopping, he sits back on his heels, raising your right leg on his shoulder. Jaebeom presses kisses in your inner thigh, looking for something that he finds almost too soon. Unlike the other night, there’s no warning or build up before he bites you. His flaming eyes find yours when his fangs pierce your skin, and you yelp in surprise. Already blood drips, overflowing his mouth. Jaebeom sucks – entranced – he wasn’t too harsh this time. He cannot heal you with vampire blood, not when you’re lycanth. His fingers are still working your core, and the pleasure mixed with the burn is far from unpleasant. Your head hits the wall when you throw it back, pushing for more friction against his hand. He holds you still, sucking harsher on your thigh. His first bite is so shallow that your flow to the wound is already dwindling.

After a moment he gives up, he wants and needs more, but there are plenty of pretty veins on your body. Some are easier to conceal than others though that’s not what he wants at all. Not tonight. Not when you belong to the next Alpha. Jaebeom wants a statement, one that ensures the balance, retribution. The king hates being ridiculed, and they are far worst ways to send a message than this. At least you’re both going to enjoy yourselves tonight. He’ll make sure you get off, just like last time.

You don’t know that of course, but even then, could you have resisted him?

It’s your turn to take the lead when Jaebeom stops drinking from your thigh. You tug at his nape, forcing him up and interrupting his lapping of your wound.  This time, you don’t mind the blood when your mouths meet.

Your new kiss tastes of metal, but it’s delicious.

Wild.

____

The East Wing is deserted when you emerge from the depth of the Castrum. It’s to be expected, to limit interactions between species and risk useless frictions, they are many specific rules. Werewolves aren’t allowed outside their sanctuary walls after sunset unless they have special permissions, so they usually limit themselves to their rooms. One night of freedom per month is granted of course; the Full Moon. No similar rule applies to vampires. It might seem unfair, but most can’t stand the sun and normally rest during the day anyway. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t bump into any other lycanth when you enter the common room and climb the stone stairs leading to the living quarters. Everyone is in bed, getting ready for tomorrow’s night hunt and celebrations of your first transformation. 

Still, you are extra careful not to get caught when walking up the corridor, passing dozens of wooden doors along the way. You can hear the soft breathing of the sleeping wolves, but also the cracking pages of a book being read, and the scratching of graphite on paper. You furtively reach the door to your room, opening it and praying the hinges don’t betray you. They don’t. 

Letting out a breath of relief, you enter. You allow yourself to make more noise once you are where you were assumed to be all along. Immediately, you stretch your sore body. Wow. That was something else entirely. You hadn’t realized Jaebeom was being so attentive on your first night. This time he was less considerate, not that you’re complaining. Smiling, you rub your thumb on the bite marks on your left wrist. You have many, you’ll have to conceal all of them tomorrow by wearing something like a long-sleeve linen shirt and pants. 

You are so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the mass on your bed at all. It’s when he sits up that you gasp, so shocked you drop the hairbrush you had just picked up on the carpet. It bounces twice before rolling on the stone floor, the faint sounds seemingly resonating throughout the whole wing. Chan looks half-dead, as though he hasn’t slept ever since he last fought with you. 

“Hello,” he says, voice alarmingly placid.

You feel yourself crumble under the weight of his gaze. “You’re back.”

He drops his chin to his chest like a prayer. “I came early since I was worried...” His words hit hard, and you feel the bitter sting of guilt in your chest. Somehow you spent the whole week waiting for his return... Now it’s too late, you messed up. “I missed you,” the wolf-man snorts, rolling his eyes back, “so much. I kept wondering how you were holding up without me. Laughable isn’t I?” When he looks your way again, the bite marks on your body itch like liabilities. “You seem to be doing perfectly fine.”

“Chan,” you breathe out unevenly, heart as heavy as the moon in your chest. Whatever bliss you felt from your escapade with Jaebeom is completely gone. This is why you tried to leave. It feels like you committed high treason. Perhaps you truly did, that's the scariest thought. You should tell him you didn't go to Jaebeom willingly, it just happened. Tell him you hadn’t thought of the king for days. Instead, you let out a series of incoherence; “It’s not… I’m-”

“You smell of death.” He points out, weirdly serene. You both know it means him. “I’m exhausted, y/n. Let’s not fight, let's just go to bed.”

“H-Here?” Your eyes round, staring at him under the covers.

“It’s our den, our bed.” Chan lays down again. “You can sleep elsewhere if you can’t stand me... You seem to have other options.”

Silence settles after that, you walk up to the empty side of the canopy bed, miserable. How could you leave, even if you wanted to? The mattress protests under your weight. Sitting guardedly, you keep an eye on the young man with his back turned on you. Chan doesn’t comment and as you lay over the covers. Your heartbeat is deafening. 

You are so taken aback when he breaks his muteness after over ten minutes, that you wonder if you heard right; “I don’t want us to be like them.” 

“Who?” You ask, turning on your side to face him. 

“Them,” he repeats as though you are supposed to figure it out. He rolls too, but his eyes remain glued to the ceiling.

This whole situation is strangely reminiscent of these nights you talked for hours, both laying on your back, staring at stars. You often went on trips together with a hunting crew from Ianua and other villages. You and Chan used to discuss anything from your childhoods to dumb stuff. Of course, back then, you had no idea he was way older than he looked, perhaps even older than gran. You had no idea he wasn’t human at all. Come to think of it, you wonder how he managed all these trips and why. Was it just to be with you? Does ‘deceive your future mate under the false pretense of friendship’ qualify for outings permissions?

“Them; Jackson and Ryujin.” You stop your breathing altogether when Chan clarifies. Ryujin, as in the queen? Shit. You had forgotten all about her... “Lycanth, we are loyal to a fault, devoted by nature. We…” He glances your way, having at least the decency of being embarrassed by himself. “... Mate for life… With our one partner.” 

But you aren’t listening to him. Your head is spinning, Jackson and Ryujin. What do they have to do with each other? Isn’t she wedded to Jaebeom? Although it’s quite obvious his vows don’t keep him from sleeping with whoever he wants, whenever. 

Any of you take issues of my personal life? The Alpha and Minho’s cryptic words suddenly mean much more. Jackson has a mate, trust me.

“The parasites are nothing like us.” Chan goes on as you piece things together, sounding spiteful. “They take what they covet without hesitation, they use others for their means. They are ruth-”

“I get it.” You interrupt, fighting back your irritation. Ok, now you are done feeling bad for him. No one ever explains things to you clearly in this damn castle. You’re always expected to do what is asked and understand things later on. “You hate vampires.”

“No. You don’t get it, you aren't hearing me y/n.” Chan sighs and the sound is cavernous deep. He turns to you, serious. “Vampires don’t feel like mortals or werewolves. You can’t trust him, no matter how much intimacy you share, it doesn-”

“I understand that you like me, Chan.” You’re careful not to raise your voice when you cut him off again. The last thing you want is this to escalate in another full-on fight. “And I am so sorry you feel that way, but...” You stop yourself, reading the pain on his face.

“It is my business because you’re my m-... Best friend...” He whispers, winded as though he ran for miles. “You are bitter – rightfully so – and you need time… But I’m not gonna spend my whole life picking up the pieces after him. I won’t stand sharing you. I don’t want us to be like them, I can’t.”

Though you soften slightly, you turn away to avoid his gaze. You should tell Chan that you don’t think of Jaebeom half as much as you think of him when he isn’t near, but you can’t. You’re too ashamed and resentful, both at yourself and at him. 

“Maybe you should have considered that before changing me.” It sounds too mean even to you. “You knew me, so you should’ve made the right choice.” 

Again, the silence following is louder than words. It takes Chan less time to cut through the tension. When he does, you can tell he's been thinking deeply about this.

“I did consider...” He waits for a few heartbeats before going on, hopeful; “I know you and I’ll wait. I know us, I made the right choice. I’m sorry I brought this up.” Chan sounds so relieved that you can’t help wanting to believe him. “We will never be like them...” There's an infallible faith to his truth.

Even though you’re exhausted, even though tomorrow marks the beginning of your new life. You don’t sleep a wink that night, torn between two fates you neither wanted nor considered before these last two weeks.

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

[flutteringphalanges]

                                  Strangers in the Night

Summary: After the mysterious disappearance of her partner, Jonathan Harker, Detective Agatha Van Helsing finds herself delving into a case that is otherworldly.

Rating: T

Pairing: Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: This was requested so I thought I’d write a chapter and see where it goes! Feedback is loved and highly appreciated! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

                                                   Chapter One

Detective Agatha Van Helsing had been a part of the West Yorkshire Police force for nearly twenty years. It was both a rewarding and strenuous profession. She'd witnessed it all, murders, kidnappings, burglaries, any given crime one could name. As time went on, her stomach hardened, her emotions with it. She was brave. Thrived on any given challenge. It was her calling-and to think that she had almost become a nun.

"Coffee?"

Agatha looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk. Her partner, Jonathan Harker, stood at her side, drink in hand. The two had been a team for the past few years ever since John had transferred from Scotland Yard after marrying his wife, Mina, and moving to Yorkshire. They worked well together, the man almost as dedicated to his work as Agatha was. Perhaps she'd even considered him a friend. The couple had, after all, invited her over multiple times for dinner-most of the time she declined. While John was married to Mina, Agatha was married to her work.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the cup gratefully.

"Don't know how you can drink that stuff," he chuckled. "Especially without any cream or sugar. I prefer tea myself, or even a nice hot chocolate."

"It keeps me focused," she explained, taking a long sip. Bitter. Just how she preferred it. "You're here early."

"And you're here earlier," he countered. "Going over the cold cases again?" Jonathan leaned over her shoulder curiously, his eyes scanning the various pages spread out from a file folder. "The seaside murders? You mean, you're looking into the Whitby Ripper again?"

"The expanse of it all," Agatha muttered, flipping through the papers. "The Whitby Ripper is just the tip of the iceberg. The murders, how it's all organized, we could be looking at a mafia like set up."

"...Where the Whitby Ripper is the crime lord?" He questioned, seeming uncertain of her claims. "But we haven't come across anyone or any leads that would link to an organized crime circuit. Someone or something can't be that underground."

"And yet, here we are," the detective sighed, motioning to the mess. "Trying to dig past the surface. I know I'm missing something," she mumbled, taking another swig of coffee. "Just can't figure out what."

"Well, maybe…"

"Van Helsing, Harker."

Jonathan was cut short as an older man approached. Howard Nye had been Chief of Police nearly as long as Agatha had been there. Gruff, but surprisingly patient, the two respected each other well enough. Jonathan, however, had yet to earn his favor, much to the younger man's disappointment.

"There's been a suspected homicide report off of Leeds, in the abandoned spice building? Another weird one, thought it best you two go out and take a look," his eyes flickered down to Agatha's desk. "Take notes."

Despite being one of the first to be alerted, Agatha wasn't surprised to find others already on the scene. Parking the car, Jonathan on her heels, she lifted the police tape with a gloved hand and entered the building. Dark. Musky. Even though the shop had closed years ago, the scent of cinnamon was in the air.

"Agatha, John, I was wondering when you two would show up."

Jack Seward, the station's forensic scientist, waved the two officers over. Agatha had actually known Jack before he was hired. It had been, after all, her recommendation that got him in. A few years back, when she agreed to give a lecture at a local university, the young man had come to her requesting mentor-ship. Surprised by the young graduate student's interest, they developed a bond. Perhaps, like Jonathan, she might go as far as to say Jack was her friend.

"What are we looking at?" The detective inquired, walking over to the motionless figure on the ground.

"Female, no source of identification," the forensic scientist stated, moving around the body. "In her twenties maybe, but here's the thing."

Jack pointed down and Agatha followed with her eyes. In the middle of the woman's chest was a long, thick piece of wood that pierced deep within her. A stake. The detective frowned, noting how the color of the woman's body was incredibly pale. Whiter than the average shade of a post mortem body. She had been drained of her blood.

"Her neck has the same marking too," the man said quietly, breaking the silence. Taking his pen, Jack carefully moved a lock of hair out of the way to reveal two deep bite-like marks near her jugular. "We could be looking at another victim of the Whitby Ripper."

"Convenient," Agatha huffed, attention turning to Jonathan. "I suppose I picked the right file to examine today." She cleared her throat, catching the eyes of those around her. "Take pictures of everything. Samples. Any clues. If anything even looks remotely out of place, consider that it is."

It was going to be a long day.

                                                          XXX

"What do you mean you neglected to dispose of the body?"

Dracula's voice was low as he stared at Lord Harvey Ruthven from his seat. Even when he didn't lose his temper, the elder vampire was terrifying. The man swallowed, trying his best not to meet the Count's gaze. He had messed up. Royally so. And as a member of the Transylvanian Mafia, that was far from a good thing.

"I made sure she was dead," he sputtered. "I was careful-"

Dracula held his hand up. "I didn't ask about you killing her, I asked about the aftermath." He sighed, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. "Harvey, Harvey, Harvey, I don't ask much of you. Of any of you. I give you the eternal gift of life and this is how you repay me?"

"Clearly he's unworthy of it," chuckled a feminine voice. Lucy Westenra floated into the common room, her heels clicking on the stone floor. "Rule number one, never be sloppy."

"Like you would know," Harvey countered, glaring at the woman. "Always finding luxury with wealthy men. Draining their blood and getting their cash. Unbecoming."

"I help provide for this family," she sneered. "What do you contribute?" Lucy looked over her shoulder towards the entrance. "Frank, dear, exactly how much as Mr. Lord Ruthven helped out?"

"I...I don't exactly have the papers on me," the middle aged vampire replied meekly. "All of the accounting work and-"

"Just stop. All of you. You're giving me a headache," Dracula growled. "I have enough on my plate dealing with the four of you, now the police are looking into us again." He frowned, leaning against his desk. "That Agatha Van Helsing, always so persistent."

"We could always kill her," another voice suggested. When Quincey Morris stepped from the shadows, Lucy giggled and hurried to his side. It was almost sickening how she clung to him. "I don't see why we can't go that route."

The Transylvanian Mafia had called England a home for over a century. Dracula was the head. The boss. The true mastermind. Harvey had been the first to join, a man he'd turned from The Demeter out of sheer boredom. Frank followed a few decades later. He was a lawyer, good with paperwork and accounting. Lucy had come out of pure fascination, Quincey joining her because he came as a packaged deal.

Together, the five vampires lived in a stone mansion, very reminiscent of a castle. Money. Murder. They lived in a world of their own. A world they tried to maintain and keep quiet. An existence that was threatened when one of them slipped up.

"No," Dracula interrupted. "Killing Detective Van Helsing would be risky. We have no choice but to lie low again until this all blows over. Hopefully dear Harvey didn't leave anything to track us. For the time being," he sighed. "We feed only on vagrants, homeless, those who clearly won't be missed. I know they don't taste the best," he smirked. "But you can thank your brother for that. Dismissed."

Harvery clenched his fists as Lucy, grasping Quincey's hand, strode past him, shooting him a dirty look. Frank was quiet, hurrying by to do whatever the hell the lawyer did in his spare time. Though he was frightened by him, Lord Ruthven wasn't about to lower his standards to drink some dirty beggar. He'd go out tonight and be careful. Even the count wouldn't realize he'd left.

                                                            XXX

"I'm going to call it a night," Jonathan sighed, stretching his arms. "Are you coming?"

It was well into the late evening, most of the police department gone-or switching rounds. Agatha still found herself pouring over the latest information connected to the cold case. Not much was learned about the woman yet, but having a new victim was a lead in itself.

"You go on ahead," she suggested. "I think I'll stay a little longer."

"Alright," Jonathan said. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tell Mina I said hi," the detective responded, sounding clearly preoccupied. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

As the night wore on, Agatha found herself growing sleepy. Every time her head slipped down, she immediately sat back up straight. It was hard to focus when exhaustion tugged at your consciousness. It wasn't until her phone began to vibrate wildly on her desk did the detective realize she'd fallen asleep.

Blinking wearily, she picked up the device and looked at the call identification. Mina. Puzzled, she answered it.

"Mina?" Agatha began. "What's wrong-?"

"It's John," the woman said, her tone frantic. "Agatha, John isn't here. He...he never made it home!"

[belmontsfate]

Day 21: Jealousy - Carmilla

- The Year 2103 -

Carmilla had never been prone to jealousy, having never before found anyone to be jealous of. As a human, she had been known far and wide for her beauty, showered with attention from an abundance of suitors. And as one of the former Lords of Shadow, she had ruled as Queen of the Vampires, feared and respected by all. As you can imagine, she didn’t enjoy being turned down, especially not by a man as handsome as Gabriel Belmont, the current Lord of Shadow and Prince of Darkness.

The subject of her jealousy was none other than his precious wife, Marie. The mere thought of the woman filled her with rage. She didn’t know why she was so jealous, for the woman was not nearly as beautiful as she was. In fact, this Marie was rather plain-looking. Yet, the prince still loved the woman with all of his heart and soul, even after a thousand years had passed.

“My Love!” Marie exclaimed as she ran into her husband’s embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Watching the two of them sickened her, but it made her realize why exactly she was so jealous. Carmilla had always lived a privileged life, but there were two things that she had always wanted more than anything else, yet never obtained; a loving husband and child. This woman had those two very things, and she loathed her for it.

“Now drink from me again,” Marie ordered her husband. “The witch’s blood is powerful.”

Carmilla could not allow her rival to win … She would not allow it … The spell she had cast over him was powerful indeed, and would not be broken if she had anything to do with it. Before the night was done, she vowed to herself that Gabriel would belong to her and her alone, forever to stay with her in the castle, making her his Princess of Darkness.

Casting an enchantment over herself, she rushed forward to intervene. “No, Gabriel!” she declared.

The handsome vampire stopped at the sound of her voice, or rather Marie’s voice, his fangs only inches away from his wife’s neck. Slowly backing away, he glanced back and forth between the two Marie’s that stood before him, shocked and confused as to what was going on.

Carmilla had to suppress the urge to smirk. Her mirage was working perfectly. It made him push his wife away, doubting who she truly was. Poor Gabriel wasn’t able to tell the difference.

“This is pointless!” Marie declared, her fists clenched. “He knows your tricks!

Carmilla ignored the other woman, directing her full attention towards the prince of darkness. “Only my blood can undo the spell.”

The prince did not speak, clearly lost in thought. He took a couple of steps forward, turning to face the mirage. There was uncertainty in his eyes, as he appeared to be studying her as if searching for something in particular. 

She didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but she was confident that he would choose her. After all, there was no visible difference between her mirage and the real thing.

“Choose me! I am your woman! I am yours!” she pleaded with him.

“Follow your heart!” exclaimed the real Marie. “I have faith in you!”

She realized soon enough that something she said must have tipped him off, for he strode determinedly away from her, taking the real Marie in his arms once more, gently caressing her face before plunging his fangs into her neck.

“No, my prince!” She screamed for him to stop, but it was too late. The woman’s blood had already entered his body. She could feel her power over him beginning to slip away.

Allowing the enchantment to slip away, Carmilla clenched her fists, her body shaking uncontrollably. A voice in her head told her that she had lost, but she refused to acknowledge it. Gabriel would be hers, and nothing would stop her. She would not be defeated.

“What a disappointment you are!” she declared, returning to her own voice.

Pulling away from his wife, the powerful vampire turned to face her with angry red eyes, stepping in front of Marie as if to protect her. “You!” Summoning his void sword, he charged towards her, the blade pointed straight towards her.

“Bad choice,” Carmilla smirked. It seemed that he wanted a fight. Oh, he would certainly get that, but the result might not be to his satisfaction.

Summoning a bolt of electricity, she blocked his attack, sending him flying backward. His body hit the ground with a loud thump. It would appear that he was still weakened from both the influence of her spell as well as the five-hundred-year nap he had taken. This might be easier than she initially thought.

With the vampire on the ground, struggling to get his bearings, she took advantage of the opportunity and grabbed Marie, flinging her carelessly off to the side, creating a prison of sorts to keep her from interfering. 

“Marie!” Gabriel called to her.

Carmilla burst out laughing as she summoned her full powers to surround her, lifting her off the ground and into mid-air. “Now you’re going to be mine!”

The handsome vampire prince turned to her again, his hands ablaze with his chaos powers. He was not going to go down without a fight, but he was not at full power, as she had already seen with her own eyes. He was no match for her.

The battle began, and though she managed to knock him to the ground many times, Gabriel got back up to continue fighting every time. A part of her admired his determination, for it nearly matched her own. If only he would use such determination to fight for her instead.

With the ferocity of the legendary dragon that he claimed to be, he fought her, thwarting every attempt she made to subdue him. In the end, he kept running back to the other woman, freeing himself entirely from the spell with his wife’s blood. No longer under Carmilla’s power, he was stronger than ever. She had thought that he was powerful as a human, but the power he held then was nothing compared to the power he held now.

Beginning to realize that she was not going to win this battle, she poured every last ounce of her power into the fight, trying her hardest to keep him down with electric shocks. Yet, despite her best efforts, it didn’t seem to be enough. He was too strong for her. He even managed to steal some of her powers from her. It became clear to her that she would once again die at his hands should this battle continue.

A part of her felt ready to give up, yet the jealousy within her still raged, urging her ever on. Breaking out into a run towards the prison holding Marie hostage, she yanked on the gate, ripping it off its hinges. 

“You are coming with me!” she declared as she closed in on the pathetic excuse of a woman. Her sole objective now was to get rid of the pest once and for all. If she couldn’t have Gabriel, then neither could this woman.

With every step Carmilla took towards her, Marie took a step back until she found herself with nowhere else to go, her back pressed against the castle’s stone wall. “Gabriel!” she cried out for her husband to save her.

Carmilla was just inches away from her now and was about to reach out and grab her when she felt something pierce through her chest. She knew the feeling all too well, for she had felt it before. A quick glance down confirmed her suspicion. It was Gabriel’s void sword. Once again he had stabbed her in the heart. This time, she found that she didn’t even care. He had broken her heart so many times with his refusal to love her that there was nothing left but broken pieces anyway.

Giving Marie one last glare, she managed to spit out a few last words. “You win … Marie Belmont …”

No sooner had she spoken, then she felt her body turn to ash. She had failed, and now she would face an eternity of torment, knowing that this woman would continue to have everything that she had ever truly wanted.

[spoopysammymoose]

So... my tiefling character is deciding to act out like a teenager, since she never really had the chance growing up...

DM: The chapel seems to still be a wreck, rubble is strewn about and the pillars still show damage from Argynvost's assault. But the stained glass has been replaced and repaired. On it a stunning depiction of Tatanya ascending into the sky. Sergei is there but an ugly smear of red obscures his image, the red runs down to the frame. In the distance Ithil can hear the sound of an organ.

Ithil: In the back of her mind, Ithil wonders who would have had this made, as she was sure Strahd would not have had Sergei included at all. She looks for a moment at the image of Tatanya with a smile, glad that she really was gone from this place. Ithil continues on, heading towards the sound of the organ.

DM: The organ music gets louder as she wanders down the main corridor leading to the front door. The music seems to flow from an open door to the left, a decayed dining hall last you knew. The music is somber but fast, like a melancholy waltz.

Ithil: She continues to head towards the sound, having not heard this sort of music before. It was.... sad... but deep and beautiful.

DM: You walk past the main junction without incident, the grand stair case lies empty and the front door is closed tight. You stand before the room with the music, the doors closed. You can smell the sickening mix of delicious food, rot, and dust.

Ithil: Ithil goes towards the doors, pausing with her hand near the handle for a moment before opening it. She opens it slowly, not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the playing.

DM: The music washes over you, making you feel almost warm. But that warmth is quickly replaced by a chill of fear as your eyes unwrap the scene before you. The table is set for a small dinner, five figures sit at the table in various states of decay, their dinner rotting before them. The candles of the table are brightly lit, illuminating their demise. One was speared by an arrow through the eye. Another seems to have had their heart ripped out. A third lies face first in a bowl. A forth lies chained to their chair, their whole figure wilted and thin. and a fifth still struggles in their chair. Iron straps bind him to the chair. At the head of the table a figure sits with his back to you, his black cape hiding much of his figure. He plays the organ with vigor, pouring his whole body into the music. The music ends with a flourish of his hands, leaving you in deafening silence. For a moment, all is still, then with a sweep of his cape he stands and turns to you. His face contorted in fury. Strahd Von Zarovich.

Ithil: Having been noticed, she feels her mouth break into a nervous grin and she fully enters the room, looking around at the gore. "Love what you've done with the place..."

DM: His face seems to calm a bit, and he silently walks to his bound prisoner, placing his hands on the vampire's shoulders. "Much has changed about this place, but it seems your meddling has not, Ithil." "My servants lie dead and a soon to be bride has gone missing, I can only assume your hand was the cause of this." You notice despite his calm voice and inviting expression, his nails dig deep into the vampires shoulders.

Ithil: Her smile brightens and she begins to shrug off her layers of cloaks onto a nearby chair. She gives a bit of a shrug and finds a bit of the table to lean on. "Ah, it seems you do know my name afterall. We never really talked the last time that I was here." She studied the wall a bit. "At that time though I'll admit I was quite a bit weaker and stupid... well, you could say I'm stupid for being where I am right now after what I've done but.... I don't regret it." Ithil's eyes wander over to the organ. "You play beautifully, that was something I did not know."

DM: Strahd: "I make a point of learning all about those that have killed me. As for your intelligence I can only assume you're cunning, at best, an imbecile at worst. Whether luck or skill has influenced your deeds, only time will tell." He glances at the discarded cloaks with a disinterested gaze. "The music is something I have been working on for years now, a tribute to Tatanya. But I fear it will never be perfect."

Ithil: Her eyebrow raises at that. "Music will never be perfect, as nothing ever is, but we take things as they are and enjoy them while we can. So... you really did love her." She pauses for a heavy moment. "I don't blame you for that, I was even moved when her soul appeared. She was beautiful and gentle... I wish I had known her. We knew Ireena but... she was definitely different."

DM: "She, WAS perfect. The music, and Ireena were only a pale reflection. As well as Marina, Vela, and the rest." He releases the vampires shoulders, leaving deep claw marks. "She was mine, and mine alone. And you took her from me; for that I will destroy you piece by piece." He looks up at you, anger deep in his eyes. "But you know that, so why are you here? Have you given up all hope of escape this time? Surely you would at least put up a fight."

Ithil: She hisses, her own claws digging into the table and her eyes snapping over to him. "Don't think me a coward or a lunatic! For those I am neither. You would be gravely mistaken if you think I am not holding back fear or a desire to start firing off my spells. Those are natural impulses and I could definitely entertain you with a fight if you wanted. But I am not here for that." She takes the Staff of Power and throws it next to her cloaks. "Fighting you on my own would be an instant death, though apparently many of your servants were not so much of a challenge." Ithil actually laughs out loud. "The one in the dungeons mocking the wizard with the one he had killed, he was already seized by the prisoner by the time I showed up and I stood right in the open. He didn't even see me there." She steps away from the table and crosses her arms, a snarl still on her face. "My original plans were only to help my party's friend when I came here, however I got tripped up on how many innocents had already been captured by this place. If I let them be, then I likely would face elimination by my own allies." Her eyes close for a brief moment and she attempts to relax herself. "Sometimes I hate the part of me that is a demon, usually its whispers don't take hold of me so readily but this time it has. My first time being trapped here broke a major part of my teachings though I shouldn't be so surprised. I didn't have the best Master. The scars on my back are proof enough of that." Her blank eyes open once again. "But that doesn't matter, what matters to me is that because of this place, my beliefs on vampires and the undead are confused. I should hate them, but I don't. My confusion keeps leading me here."

DM: Strahd puts a hand to his chin, pondering. He slowly begins to circle the table. "So, here you stand. Weapons discarded but my servants humiliated and my play things escaped. Your teachings muddled and your curiosity... " Strahd picks up a rotten apple. "... Ravenous." Strahd lets the apple tip out of his hand, it hits the ground with a sour squish. "It is strange that Exethanther cannot quench your confusion, instead you have sought out me... your captor, your lord, your undoing. If I were a less patient man I would be satisfied with snapping your neck here and now, or even turning you, finally becoming a monster so much of the world thinks your kind was born to be. Perhaps that's what you desire..."

Ithil: Instead of revealing any form of fear or distaste, her lips curled upwards in a devilish grin. "Ah but just simply killing me now would be.... so boring." Absentmindedly, she approached the table again and began to flick something on one of the corpses. "I have sought Exethanther near three times now. The dark gods have their appeals but... even some my other half finds horrific. We recently have slain a broken man there whom had accepted every gift the gods put forth. His mind was lost, it's not something I desire. His own profession lies in necromancy, and while he amuses me, I understand him. It's the vampires I can't figure out. Escher seeming to have been completely bound to you and now out there with that other group, also being led by our lost companion." She smirks. "And to think my group hated her so for practically doing what I am now."

DM: "She was a fool, then and now. Kept safe solely by means beyond even me. Escher... " His lips curl in disgust. "A coward seeking only the lavish things he desired in life. He will rot in a prison of his own making, I will see to that." He waves his hand away, dismissing the thought, Strahd sets his eyes on Ithil gesturing at her with his outstretched hand. "Ironic that you, of all people think vampires difficult to understand while you stand defenseless before me. I struggle to understand your intentions Ithil, you argue against lunacy yet I can assure you that you will not leave my castle alive." He circles closer, lifting up the dead figure in the bowl for effect. He drops the head, its impact shattering the bowl. "Killing you outright would be terribly boring and a disgrace for how much strife you have caused me... perhaps I should have you brought before your allies and kill you there."

Ithil: She watches him, her eyes bored. "I have no intentions of fleeing either, for I know what happened last time, even though I am uncertain if Bucephalus has indeed returned to you." Her head tilts onto her shoulder, "I'd apologize for some of my previous discretions except I desired a bit of revenge. I did not have many blows against you in that final battle and I must say I carried quite a bit of anger for my last moments almost being a fish.... flying through the air." Ithil's expression becomes unamused for a moment before she shakes her head and brushes it away. "I'm willing to trade.... some information in return for some answers. Whatever you decide to do to me afterwards.... or before...." she sighs sadly, "I honestly do not care what happens to me. But I have to warn you... do not underestimate my allies." Her gaze is steady. "I spent all of last night in one of the north towers, undisturbed and left to be well-rested. Security could be... better here." Ithil holds back a small giggle. "Afterall I guess my presence here and my activities over the last day have shown some obvious weaknesses here. I don't want to be so bored."

DM: Strahd laughs. "Your life in return for an... interview? I must say I am surprised, but this has held my interest. As for the castle, most dare not venture here and those that do often have my invitation." He has finally circled around to Ithil, standing between her equipment and her. "I will tell you all you want to know Ithil and perhaps you might do a better job at defending my castle from intruders..." His eyes seem to spark, inviting you in. Give me a wisdom saving throw.

Ithil: 11

DM: The eyes fill you with peace and you feel yourself relax next to him. Strahd smirks and turns away and takes a seat at the head of the table. He steeples his fingers and looks at Ithil. "Ask me whatever you desire, Ithil."

Ithil: She blinks a couple of times, and feels inclined to walk towards him. One of her feet takes a step. "My questions may make no sense to you or any who hear them but they will satisfy my own curiosity and that is fine with me." Her bright eyes find his dark ones once again. "The soul of the one you chased. You loved her, truly, I can see that and my words mean no offense. I must ask, over the hundreds of years, did you ever try anything different from just making her one of the undead?"

DM: Strahd stares at you, his expression unreadable as he ponders the question. When he speaks it is with a grave seriousness. "I loved her truly. She could never accept me for what I am, not for the reasons that you might think. This land that is my prison and my kingdom... is against me. I attempted to court her when Berez was once prosperous... Patrina was her name then... dark hair that desperately wanted to curl but I could see the beauty within her." Strahd's gaze drifts upward, lost in the past. "The villagers feared me, so to did the Elves. I won her hand, true then, but it was not to be. The Dusk Elves, in their great wisdom, stoned her to death, to prevent me my prize I had strived so much for. They feared her a vampire." A flash of anger passes of Strahd's face "I tore their village from the earth, cursed every member, and left them to the snakes. For the Dusk Elves... they would never see a child again, as I'm sure your aware."

Ithil: Her expression remains blank except for her mouth momentarily popping open. "It's true of the curse... none of us were willing to listen before but the dark ones have been the actual source of this curse since the start. Feeding on misery and intervening to cause more of it." She almost laughed. "I see our fates were of being naïve. We deserved to be brought back here for our actions in haste." She shakes her head to stop herself from rambling on more about it, and puts a hand to her face. "Maybe things could have been different at one point, this much time having been passed if they didn't disturb the outcomes. When.... or did you actually become aware that the dark gods you made a pact with are continuing to feed off of your emotions?"

DM: Strahd gestures vaguely to the air. "I knew from the moment I became Vampyre, a stalker of the night. They are not without a sense of humor though, near the edges of Yester Hill, when the sun rises, my homeland can be seen in all its shimmering glory..." Strahd's voice becomes wistful, enjoying the sight of it in his mind. "But I know it cannot be... it lies so far away from Barovia yet its there. They must give me hope, or I am worthless to them. They are gleeful in their torment of me, I know that now."

Ithil: She cocks her head like a bird, curiosity spiking again. "Homeland? I believed Barovia to be that for you." A couple more thoughts came to mind. "And it seems they have given you a few more things to chase, with the hag and that soldier that I've heard have been causing problems."

DM: "No, I came to this land as a conqueror, dispelling my enemies as easily as I do now. Armies fell before my might and they fled to this place. After their slaughter I made it my home." Strahd cocks his head at mention of the hag and soldier. "I created them, dragged to Barovia through hubris and theft. Without strife, the Dark Powers would discard me." "A queen sent her armies to me, now they wallow in this land, slowly being whittled away, day by day, year by year."

Ithil: Ithil nods. "Her I met, angry woman, very rash. I didn't much care for her." She waved her hand, "Anyways she's not too important herself.... So the gods would discard you? How would that take place?"

DM: Strahd smiles. "I'm afraid that information is beyond even me. The gods are ever mysterious and cruel. For all I know they plot me another bride."

Ithil: She looks down at her hands. "I have no more to ask, I thought I was confused when in fact I was merely lacking very basic information in the first place." Her shoulders begin to shake, but when she looks up, she is just laughing with tears stinging at her eyes. "The world of people, of humans, I should have stayed well away from it. The jester gave me hope but he was just like the others, gone, whenever I needed him the most. 10 years of looking. I guess in perspective of time that's nothing. 10 years of trying to do good and I manage to continue to jump blindly into situations without weighing out all sides of them. Meant to hate you while we support Exethanther as he hunts down humans to use in his own projects. Killing a Beholder that was trying to run a government by controlling people but unleashing riots that may have killed more people than we tried to save. Last time I was here, I personally turned over the wizard that helped us during the battle to the lich..." Ithil's voice trails off. "I deserve this fate laid before me, this much I know and I accept it." Her face turns to him. "I think I know why I couldn't seem to leave this place." She wouldn't let her face betray it, but despite all that she said and all that her mind tried to scream at her, she felt bad for this monster in front of her, though perhaps it was merely a side-effect of the charm.

DM: The monster in front of her smiled, humored by Ithil's ramblings. He rises from his chair and begins to approach her, calm and confident. "You need not bother worrying about the past, the adventures you've had, the people who have suffered, it doesn't matter. This land is a land of trades, what you get you must sacrifice for. You have done so much for this world and its people. It's time to start doing things for yourself. " Strahd brushes the hair from Ithil's forhead, his hand trailing to her neck. "We are not monsters, simply those cursed to rise above the weak. I offer you that gift, to rise above, Ithil. Accept my lineage..."

Ithil: She felt her body burning, from embarrassment at the closeness of the vampire and anger at herself for all the thoughts that crossed her mind. Every ounce of sense left in her mind screamed at her to run, back away, just say no. But none of that was what bubbled to the surface. Ithil wanted an escape, even if it was mostly from herself. "Y....yes....." With those words she couldn't bear to look at him, she had fallen to exactly what he wanted.

DM: Strahd leans in close, his presence like ice. He can feel her heart beating faster as he pulls her closer into his embrace. The hold is gentle, for there is no escape now. He brushes the hair away from her neck, savoring the moment of victory. His fangs sink into Ithil's neck with ease and a faint tremble runs through her. Heat rises within Ithil as her blood is drained away, her senses fading. The room seems to spin, the rotting feast, the dead guests, the restrained vampire, all a blur. Darkness tinges her vision but before she faded she felt dripping on her lips, blood, from Strahd's wrist. He had stopped drinking and she had not even noticed. Her last image before her vision fades is Strahd's cold eyes and his smile, as blood runs down his mouth.

[forevercaroline]

The queen and king of hell

[inacciaio-archive]

underworld blood wars descriptive audio notes (spoiler warning, do not read if you haven’t seen the film)

So, if you can’t tell, I’m very analytical, especially when it comes to the characters I portray. I have about five books talking about Ann and for Semira, not only did I watch the movie a bunch of times, twice in theaters, I’ve now bought the dvd and am doing an analytical study of both English captioning sets, as well as a study of the descriptive audio just to see if I can learn anything from it that I missed. (Edit after watching: Oh yeah, there were so many things the descriptive audio pointed out to me and I was thrilled to notice them.)

“David slumps against the truck” legit made me giggle way harder than it should’ve. 

Varga snaps and motions a group of vampries aside. (you go varga)

A regal looking vampire steps out from behind a desk. (mm hm regal af)

In a tunnel. (this line came out of nowhere and I wasn’t expecting it and again I laughed. And thought of that ‘dig a tunnel dig dig a tunnel’ song)

Semira gives Thomas a look. (hey hey hey my plan worked *winks* thanks for going along with it, thomas)

Wearing an elegant black dress, Semira motions for them to stop. (okay the audio describes no one else’s clothing but Semira’s.)

Cassius scowls. (again a line that made me laugh. waiting for more “Cassius scowls.” through the whole movie.)

In her office, Semira stands in front of a mirror. She stares off thoughtfully as Varga strokes her back.

Shirtless, Varga wraps her arms around her waist. (Narrator is getting into it yo)

She runs a hand up his cheek and through his hair. Semira guides him onto his knees in front of her. 

Staring off, Semira takes wavering breaths. ( totally didn’t describe the part where Varga’s head was up her skirt but okay. Guess the blind have to come to their own conclusions when it comes to Varga using his mouth or his hands or even some other kinky shit while down on his knees.)

Semira strokes the paralyzed vampire’s forehead then walks away. (more on my thoughts of this action another time)

Semira enters and David raises his gun. (At this point, something happened that I hadn’t noticed before: Thomas says no and gestures David to put the gun down. Despite what he knows now about what Semira has done, he still doesn’t want her to be shot. He pulls out his sword but it seems his intention is to only distract her, not kill her. )

Thomas attacks, kicking Semira away. (Again, not really a move of being lethal, a move of trying to get her away or to weaken at most.)

Thomas strikes Varga in the face, knocking him back. (Even to Varga, he makes no move to stab at Varga, he just knocks him out and gets him out of the way. It seems he planned to do the same with Semira.)

He brings his blade to Semira’s throat. (Again, he makes no actual move to slice it. She has her sword away from his, it would only take a second to slice her throat with the position he’s holding her in. It’s clear he wants her to stand down, unknowing that Semira would actually make a move to kill him.)

Semira stabs Thomas in the gut. (This happens when he’s holding her sword hand and restraining it, though he must’ve missed the second sword she had sheathed away. She pulls it out  quickly and he seems genuinely shocked when he’s stabbed. He’s not dead yet in this moment.)

She stabs him again in the back, blood pours from his mouth. (He dies with a true look of surprise on his face. It really seems that Thomas had no intention of killing Semira, and that he hadn’t thought she would try killing him either. They were close friends. But as I spoke of in my meta, she had a choice to make, she could have one not both, and she chose her plan over her friend.)

Semira and Varga stare after them. Semira recoils from sunlight, then grins wickedly. 

In an armory, Semira addresses the council members. The round-eyed vampire, and others. (who the fuck is the round-eyed vampire. maybe alexia?)

Semira drops blood in a glass container of water, watching it permeate. Varga stands behind her. The water turns green. (Another thing I didn’t notice despite my countless times watching this film. So apparently blood mixed with nightshade placed into water will turn the water and blood green. Good to know.)

Alexia leaves the security room where two humans lie dead in their chairs. (OOOOOH ALEXIA, DAMN. I never noticed this part of the film either. Alexia, not only are you committing treason by siding with the lycans, you also committed treason by killing humans, another huge no no. Not even Semira kills humans in this movie. Yeah, Semira commits treason in other ways but even she knows humans are strictly off limits.)

In her office at the castle, Semira takes off the lid of a large crystal goblet containing blood, then picks it up. Wearing a faint smirk, she walks towards the center of the room. 

(I fucking love this description) Varga watches as she slowly lifts the goblet to her lips. Blood spills down the front of Semira as she drinks. (Suggesting that she’s unlike herself in this moment; usually she fights without getting a single drop of blood on her, unlike most other combatants in this film, but in this moment she’s so focused on drinking the blood and gaining it’s power that she doesn’t even notice the blood spilling down her front.) She drops the crystal goblet. Semira’s veins darken beneath her pale skin as the blood courses through her body. The veins gradually disappear and her lips curl into a smile. Varga looks on tensely.

Later, Alexia kneels before Semira in her office.

Semira brings a hand to Alexia’s chin, gently guiding her to her feet. (also Alexia’s face is just oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit)

Semira leans in and kisses her on the lips. Alexia stares fearfully. 

Blood pours from a slit in Alexia’s throat. Semira walks away. Grasping her neck, Alexia drops to her knees, falls over, lying in a pool of her own blood. 

Semira and Varga signal and death dealers aim guns. 

He takes out a tiny metal vial. He hands the orb back to the vampire who distributes a vial to each council member. Cassius sniffs it then eyes David with surprise. (why did I fucking laugh hearing the narrator casually say “Cassius sniffs it”)

David watches as Cassius pours blood from the vial onto his tongue. Each council member follows suit. They wear stunned expressions. (Narrator left out how one was offered to Semira but she didn’t take it. Yet again, blind people have to come to their own conclusions about whether or not Semira took one, or was even offered one.)

Varga stands still, Semira eyes him. (ooo she’s like wtf varga I told you to kill him, fuckign listen) Varga points his gun at Semira.

David strides away, Semira gets detained. 

Two death dealers lead Semira to her room. Looking up, she spots swords on display. (oh such a bad mistake they made)

A council member gets taken out. (welp one of them is officially dead)

Elsewhere two death dealers lie dead. (everyone saw that coming.) Semira stands nearby, gazing at her reflection in a mirror. She holds a sword. 

(And now, a play-by-play of Semira and David’s fight)

Semira attacks David but he ducks her swing. They move down a hallway, clashing swords. David slams Semira’s head into a wall. She makes a leaping kick, sending him through her office doors and onto his back. David gets to his feet and disarms Semira and throws her across the room. Semira takes a halberd (a battle axe) from a display. She uses the long weapon to disarm David, then stabs him in the chest. A vein shimmers on her arm as she pins David to a wall. She pulls out the halberd and then he falls to the floor. David breaks her weapon in half and slashes at her with it’s bladed tip. Semira takes the blade back and nearly hits him. David strikes her. 

Elsewhere, Semira knocks David down, then flips over him, flinging him against the wall. David throws two knives, but she catches them in mid-air. David kicks a sword into his hand and attacks. She misses a jab and David slams her head into a mirror. She stabs him in the thigh and kicks him onto his back. He lays on the floor, coughing blood. (ah how she would’ve won if she hadn’t allowed herself to be distracted)

David pulls the knife from his leg and throws it into the control panel on the wall. The window shutter rises and sunlight bathes Semira. She basks in it, unharmed. 

David stabs her through the mouth. Semira collapses and David walks off with his sword in hand. 

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Eight: Enzo and Natasha

Enzo returned to the Den just before the 10 PM curfew was set into motion. He carried a charmed messenger bag with his essentials, his sway slightly more intense than it had been earlier. He didn’t speak to anyone when he entered, taking a blanket and one of the chairs, setting it up in the corner of the room near the window, looking down to the front lawn of Idorna.

Natasha looked up from her book when the portrait opened again, revealing a still-intoxicated Enzo. She’d already gone back to her own dormitory to grab a few necessities, but she was prepared to be here for the night. Not that it would be easy if the tension stayed as heavy as it was at the moment.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, she stood up, walking over to the corner he had secluded himself in.

“Are you planning on just ignoring everyone for the rest of the night?” she asked him.

Enzo didn’t look up when he heard the footsteps come towards him. Natasha had a heavy step for a girl of her slim build - distinct. He reached into his bag, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a half-finished bottle of firewhiskey.

He shrugged. “I have a friend,” he said, twisting the cap off of the bottle and pressing it against his lips, tipping it back and letting the strong liquid run down his throat.

Natasha shook her head when she saw the bottle.  

Really, Enzo? Are you kidding me?

She contemplated, for a moment, just leave him be, since at least he wasn’t hurting anyone while he was drinking in the corner, by himself. But as easy as it would be just to go back to what she was doing, she knew it wasn’t a good idea.

“Enzo, we need to be figuring out a solution. And your drinking isn’t going to help with that,” she reminded him, trying to be somewhat gentle about it, even if she wanted to just grab the bottle from him and smash it.

Rolling his eyes, Enzo pulled the wand from his bag, aiming it at one of the other chairs, casting a silent ‘accio’. The chair came over and stopped beside him, just in front of Natasha.

“Sit. Talk.”

Natasha looked between the chair and the Frenchman for a few moments, trying to figure out if he was serious. But she finally determined that he was, and sat down in the chair with a small huff. She crossed her arms and looked at him, her eyes almost challenging him to take another drink of the firewhiskey.

“I know that you’re pissed off, but this isn’t helping anyone. Including you.”

Enzo kissed his teeth when he watched the moon hover above the horizon across the Waking Sea, and like clockwork, the Vampires stepped out the forest almost curiously, roaming around the castle. Enzo could not tell what was scarier: the beasts themselves, or the fact that it was routine now.

“We’re surviving tonight,” Enzo said, ignoring her piercing glare and taking another drink. “Nothing more - and this is helping me get by.”  

“Really?” she asked, her annoyance slipping through much more now. Not that she cared. Her eyes followed his for just a moment, watching the Vampires leave the Gladur, before moving back towards him and his bottle of alcohol.

“Unless we figure out what we’re going to do about Ibori, tonight, we’re as good as dead, Enzo. Because locking ourselves up in here may protect us for now, but people will figure out we’re all gone, and it will get back to him. And then he’ll get suspicious, and I doubt we’ll have long after that. So unless you’re giving up, I suggest you stop drinking and start brainstorming.”

He chuckled, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Look at you, Natasha Kraus,” he said, finally making eye contact with the stern German. “You should think about dropping Cucchurian for Aquilen.” He heavily slurred ‘Curccurion’, but he hardly noticed - the word was hard enough for him to pronounce when sober.

He gripped the barrel of the bottle, holding it towards her. “Take a sip.”

Natasha saw him offer the bottle and shook her head, huffing out a sigh of frustration. She ignored everything else he said, brushing it off as just drunken rambling.

“I don’t want any of your liquor, Enzo,” she told him. “I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually pull your weight.”

“Five drinks left, maximum,” he said, sighing as he examined the bottle. “As soon as it is gone, I’ll ‘pull my weight’,” he said, using his free hands to create air quotes. “If I drink it alone, I’m going to be no use.”

“Are you-” Natasha cut herself off, realizing that he was very much not joking. She wondered if he even had the capacity. She glanced at the still-outstretched bottle in his hand then back at his face. He did have a point; he was relatively coherent at this point, but with five more drinks, he would be completely gone.

“Fine,” she finally growled, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a long drink. It felt like fire in her mouth and throat, burning the entire way down and not in a pleasant way. The Cucurrion had only on rare occasions actually had firewhiskey, and she was remembering why.

He grinned as she made a face of disgust - possibly the most he had ever seen her emote since...

“So what do you think?” he asked, taking the bottle back, taking the second swig. “Do you honestly see a future where we don’t die?”

He looked past her for a moment, taking note of the three people on the other side of the room. On one bed was Beatrice and Calix, seated close together, talking about something; they were too far for Enzo to hear. On the other bed was Melanie, lounging comfortably. It was the same bed they...

He turned his attention back to Natasha, not wanting to look at her too long.  

Natasha restrained herself from rolling her eyes when she saw the grin on Enzo’s face. Of course, he was taking pleasure from this. But her annoyance gave way to other feelings when he spoke, knowing her deeply-rooted worry flashed across her face for a moment before she could cover it.

“I...don’t know,” she admitted after a pause, in which she tried to rein herself in so that she would reveal anything. She had been very careful not to tell any of the others about her vision, or what Professor Levas had told her about it. “I think that we have a chance, maybe.”

“That makes one of us,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on a Vampire near the edge of the island, looking down off of the cliff. “Son of a bitch, huh?”

She followed his gaze, smiling faintly despite herself. “Yeah,” she agreed, taking the bottle from him again and taking another long swig. She didn’t know how much it would take for her to start feeling the effects, but she doubted it was a lot. She was tall, but she had always been slender and rarely drank enough to build up a tolerance.

Images of Chantal Williams and Theodore Crix swept across Enzo’s mind, each working towards the same goal with the same master pulling their strings.

“I wonder why he did it,” he mused, grabbing the bottle and taking another sip, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. “What would Ibori’s reason be to sacrifice students? He’s been here for years.”  

Enzo’s speech was slowing down some, and Natasha knew that if he had any more to drink, he was just going to pass out, and then they wouldn’t get anywhere. So she took the bottle back one last time and down a few more mouthfuls, intending to finish the bottle.

“Remember what they said at the Quidditch match? Something about a queen or whatever? Maybe he’s working for someone else,” she suggested as she took a break between drinks. She was starting to feel a buzz and hoped that it wouldn’t get too bad. She needed to be coherent, too.

Enzo watched Natasha finish the bottle, taking a moment to process her words; he could tell this conversation was not going to end the way she planned, and her deal about the whiskey would be broken. “Who knows…? Not us, that’s for damnsure.” The last two words fused into one and Enzo could feel his grip on reality slipping.

The Cucurrion couldn’t help her derisive laugh, shaking her head before downing the rest of the firewhiskey and setting aside the empty bottle. “No, not us,” she agreed. “But that’s what we’re here to try to figure out, remember? How we’re going to stop whatever Ibori is doing and get the hell out of here.”

Enzo’s eyelids began to droop even more, and he settled back into his chair, lifting up his feet to rest against the windowsill. The blanket, alcohol, and heat from the fireplace gave him a fuzzy feeling in his chest. He completely forgot the statement Natasha made a moment ago.

“Thanksfortalkingtome,” he said, but it was barely more than a quick mumble.

Natasha turned toward Enzo, frowning a little. He’d clearly said something, but what, she had absolutely no idea. He was either too drunk to speak clearly anymore, or she was too drunk to understand. Probably some combination of the two, at this point. But after several moments of trying to piece together the words, she understood what he’d meant. Or at least what she thought he meant.

“You’re welcome,” she told him, nodding a little. She glanced towards the others, who were still wrapped up in their own things.

Maybe it would be better to relax. Just for a little while…

His eyes closed as the sound of her voice reached him. “Cinq minutes…” he said gruffly, but as soon as the French words passed his lips, his head tilted to the left, against the wall, and his consciousness slipped away.

Natasha looked over at Enzo as his head slumped to the side, clearly out cold. She doubted he would wake up for a while, entirely negating the point of her drinking any of the firewhiskey in the first place. But it was too late to change anything.

“Gott im Himmel,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if it would clear the alcohol-induced haze that had settled over her. She knew she needed to sober up, to start planning with the others, but her limbs felt heavy, resisting letting her up from her seat.

Five minutes, she silently agreed with Enzo, letting her own eyes slide shut. Maybe without them, the others could actually get something done.

[thelastvanti-blog]

Chapter 2: Oops

Word Count: 2,639

“Nika! If you do not hurry up and come outside, I’m going to give you such a beating when we get back home!” A man yelled to Nika from outside. The teenage boy groaned as he hurried up with him getting ready for the days sales and chores. A raggedy tunic that had been through what could be assumed was to be fights, leggings that barely fit without a belt and boots that were two sizes too big. Nika had been given all this from his father as he grew into himself. Even now, he was much smaller than his father had been and was more of a burden than a blessing to his father who had only him to help on the farm. He had always been more interested in magic. Even as he prepared for the day, the brush for his hair put it in place and his shoelaces tied themselves. Those bright green eyes looked to their reflection, getting him mentally prepared for a day of ridicule, screaming matches and self-loathing. A usual Monday morning, he thought to himself.

Grabbing his bag, Nika ran out to his father who gave him a slap to the back of his head before getting on his horse which had a cart full of produce and meats in it. Nika, rubbing the hit spot, got into the cart and held on as the horse started forward. To him, his father was a rugged man; full beard, scars littering his face and arms from work, muscles from manual labor, and a scruffy voice to top it all off. The two were total opposites and that set them apart from the other villagers who were alike to their family members and all seemed to fit to where they were born into. 

“Hello Nika! What produce do you have today?” The sweet voice interrupted his small thoughts. A beautiful woman followed the cart close behind, holding her pale blue dress up from the ground to keep it somewhat clean. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a braid that trailed behind her to her waist and those glistening blue eyes always made days like these worth it and the smiles were worth their weight in gold.

“The usual, Ms. Paulline. Radishes, potatoes, carrots… Oh! We as well have some fresh onions this harvest. The kind you like of course.” Nika smiled and held up one of the purple onions, “We will be setting up shop in the usual market so you can’t miss us!” As they begun to turn down the market alley, Nika waved a temporary goodbye to Ms. Paulline. His attention now turned to the hulking figure that crested over the walls of the alley. A few spirals of the nearby castle revealed the capitol of their grand country and the home of one of the most powerful sorceresses in all of history; Fonata Krystalline.

Legend stated that Fonata was born along the streets of this small village that bore the name of her favorite wild flower that grew along its borders, Lingu. Fonata was an orphan who was born with the gift of magic that surpassed even that of the eldest of vampires who had been given the harshest of teachings of magic. She was but only 10 when she was given the honor of the most powerful sorceress in the land and 12 when she was bestowed even greater power by the godly birds of life and death, Pheon and Azu. It was then, she was crowned as queen of the land and with her new power, gave to the poor of Lingu and to all else she could help. 

No sorcerer has ever matched her power and was an inspiration to all magic users to gain equal powers to her. Nika found her as the greatest of inspiration since they had grown in the same village and had grown up poor. Without her to drive him, he was sure his father would’ve diminished all hopes of him becoming something years ago. “Nika! Out, let’s go! Start setting up!” His father ordered as he halted the horse and got off, scouting their spot. Some people were beginning to ruin spots for farmers in the market for some reason and had nearly pushed three sellers in the past month to selling in a new area. Thankfully, those people were persuaded to stay and now everyone was on edge, fearing the people would strike again. 

Nika got out and once his father was done, begun bringing out the crates of produce and meats. Once the cart was emptied, he pulled out the wooden stands they used and set that up. The stand was pre-built so all it needed was to be pulled out and clicked into place. His father went to the other farmers as he arranged all the items in their respective places and got himself in place as he awaited the opening of the market. The minutes before the opening was always silent, but once everyone was open for business, the alley would be crowded and bustling till sundown or until everyone was emptied of their inventory. Their spot was situated at the corner of the alley and a major street which was a highly sought-after place that they paid good money to keep. Nika could see everything from where he stood but what he did not expect to see was a carriage coming down the street. It was rare to see a carriage going through the village since there was a safer path made that led to the bigger cities and the castle. Two white horses led the luxurious white carriage which were highlighted with precious gems and accented with gold. Whoever this was was very important like a royal or possibly the queen herself! Nika watched carefully and as the carriage passed, he got a glimpse inside to see a teenage girl looking right back at him. Her hair was a pale blue and her eyes were a deep violet like the Lingu’s around his village.

“Who was that?” was all he could muster as he watched the carriage hurry away towards their destination.

“The princess Yukina Isa of the Frost Giants,” Ms. Paulline answered, holding an empty basket, “Father told me that the leaders of the four countries are having a meeting. Her and her father are here from their homeland to talk to the queen.” Nika almost questioned her on her knowledge of what was going on, but remembered who she was exactly. She was no regular maiden, but the daughter of the town mayor. It was no wonder she knew what was going on since those important people would be passing through or around the village. Her basket was placed on the edge of the stand and her eyes met his. “Now, sweet Nika, how much could I ask for those radishes? I’ve got a few mels for a bushel.”

“I’ll give them to you for half if you tell me when exactly the meeting is to be held.”

“Nika, you know I am not allowed to tell any more than I already have! Fathers’ rules.” “Yes, yes, but a quarter of what you ask and five of the best tomatoes on the market!” Nika held up the bin of tomatoes, hoping she would bite. Ms. Paulline sighed and handed over a mel and 15 scrols, “It is to start in two hours. If you head off now, you’ll make it just in time to hear that the castle gates will be shut till the meeting is over.” With a nod, Nika gave her what she deserved, gathered his bag and set off towards the castle, not caring about his fathers’ anger for him leaving the stand unattended. Meetings were the rare times that all could see the different rulers of the other three major nations. It would as well get to be his first chance to see his idol without all the glitz and glamour of her entourage.

“I thank you all for meeting with me on such short notice,” Fonata spoke softly as Frosna and Yukina stepped into the room, “Our normal meetings are months from now but I and Nijiru have grave news to report concerning the Akio.” The room was situated in the highest tower of the castle with only one barred window to the outside. In the center was a large round table in which a map of the world had been engraved onto it as well as the topography of each country. A special red line was drawn to track the growth and overall movement of the Akio and from where it started to where it ended, the line seemed to encompass all the northernmost country in a huge circle.

Fonata erased part of the line and connected it in a large downwards U towards the bottom left, meeting with another country, “The Akio is coming onto our land. The warmer weather is slowing the pace of its growth but I do not think that will stop it for long. The being is known to adapt very quickly to its surroundings and I expect it to do the same within our borders,” she motioned to Nijiru, “It is as well gaining speed and entering the waters of Manicour. We have the strongest mages working to keep the Akio at bay for a little longer while we come up with a way to kill it permanently.”

Frosna frowned at this, knowing that soon, the Akio would fully engulf both countries as it has nearly done with his. The only safe place the giants had was the capitol; a small island on the southernmost tip of the country. It confused everyone as to why that was saved, but no one dared questioned it as it was the last hope of all Frost Giant kind. “You have yet to develop the magic that could seal away this beast? My god Fonata, it has been almost 15 years since it had come about! 15 years since this monstrosity killed my wife! Are the dragons not assisting with your development of the spell? Are the godly birds not heeding your call? Are there no gods that can help us save ourselves from this nightmare?!” his voice had grown and grown till it was a loud roaring that shook the table and the tower itself.

“Frosna stop it! The dragons have heeded my please for their help and are giving Fonata all their knowledge to assist with the spell. The birds Pheon and Azu have already given her half their power so they feel they have no need to assist her further as well and the gods abandoned us long ago! Us beings of ice, flesh and magic have no gods to rely on other than the gods we have made in our minds.” Skyrine snapped at him, glancing to the shaking queen, “She has given months at a time for the spell, Frosna. Look at her, she could barely stand if she had not the servants with a better sense to let her do as she pleased. She is the strongest sorceress we’ve ever seen, but she is as well human. Pushing her as you suggest will kill her and then where would we be? Already dead, that’s where.”

“She is right,” Nijiru sighed, “Fonatas’ power has bought us 15 years to try and make the spell we so desperately needed. Without that power, we wouldn’t have had 15 years, let alone 15 minutes to figure out how to kill this thing.” He glared at the king through his fox shaped mask, but then looked around as if searching for something. Everyone stopped as they saw Nijiru search, knowing that if he knew something was wrong, this would be the sign. He moved along the walls slowly and stopped at the windowsill, “I did not know you still allowed pests in your castle, Lady Krystalline. I will blame it on the staff since you do are not deserving of that criticism at the moment.” 

His arm shot out and grabbed the wrist of what felt to be a small boy. This made Nijiru freeze and look outside, “Oh my god, young man! How did you get up here? This is nearly the height of a fully-grown giantess!” he exclaimed to the young man dangling from his grip. Short, scraggly blond hair, tattered clothes, and shoes that obviously did not fit him. Everything about his appearance screamed the beggar outside that you were afraid would rob you at night but he was up at the window of the highest tower with no mechanical means of getting up to this point.

“Well sir, I do believe this is what you call magic?”

“Spying in on such important international meetings without authorization is a punishment set at none less than a lifetime in jail young man,” Fonata frowned at the boy standing before her. With her help, she and Nijiru had brought the boy into the meeting room, now interrogating him on why he was there and how exactly he got there in the first place. “Be honest with us and start at your name.” “My name is Nika Nordstrum. I wanted to see all of you guys before I had to go back to my father at the farmers market so I hurried over and cast a spell to levitate up to where I assumed you would all be. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything, I just wanted a sneak peek at you guys!” Nika defended, “I will go home and neve-.”

“Are you of a wizard class?” Skyrine cut in. “No.” “An apprentice?” “No. I’ve never had formal magic training before, ma’am. I just study magic in my free time.”

“So, you just naturally had this level of magic within yourself?” Fonata inquired, her interest piqued with the boy. She hadn’t seen such mastery in magic naturally grow since her youth where her magic evolved to that of a warlock by the time she was 14. “How did you come upon your finding out your proficiency in the arts of magic? Specifically, levitation?”

“Well, I’ve always been interested in magic so I stole a lot of books about learning the arts. I got good but dad didn’t like me dabbling in magic since we’re farmers and he always said that magic took out the personal touch in raising crops that’s essential. When I started to read about you Queen Krystalline, I only got more and more invested. It started with little things like moving things around my room, then I got it to where I could sow fields with my magic. Once that was mastered, I decided to follow your path. I began trying my hand at levitation magic with all the old books I had. I’m not quite as good as you yet though and I promise if you let me go without telling my father, I’ll become the best without interfering with your proceedings, my queen.” Nika explained, looking down towards the ground.

Fonata turned to Skyrine and walked with her and Nijiru out of the room. This boy had found her to be his inspiration but she doubted how much the child knew how incredible he was even without reaching her level of mastery at his age. True, by this time, she was already learning how to become a pyromancer, a class that required decades of training from dragons, but to be able to levitate this high up with no obvious strain on his body was incredible! The three looked to each other very carefully before Fonata spoke up calmly, “I think I have found my first apprentice and I hope that if the worst comes, he will be able to not only take my place, but destroy the Akio.”

First / Next

[inkstainedhan]

the other party: divinity and druidry

Ever since the ball, the group of five had been the subjects of whispers, less-than-subtle stares and unwanted admirers, and Taenion wanted none of it. 

This city already unnerved him. His kind weren’t exactly common even in the northern reaches of Iskaldhal, preferring to remain in close-knit tribal communities to protect themselves, and these city-dwellers didn’t hesitate to remind him of that. He’d been accused of being a sylph or a vampire, or perhaps some magical abomination from their mountains. He’d almost slapped that one in a brief fit of indignation: Valathe’s mountains were hardly worthy of even being called mountains, and yet this upstart wished to accuse him of both being from there and being some sort of abomination? Hmph. They should be glad that he was above their filthy street brawls.

(Kesia had taken offence on his behalf more than once, threatening the brutes in her guttural native tongue. The one time that hadn’t worked, Sonja had glared one of them down and forced him to walk away. He’d never admit it aloud, but Taenion was thankfully for the girls’ overprotective nature, even if it did tend to get them into trouble.)

The ball itself had, at least, been entertaining, if not worrying. Lady Alysia had warned them of possible threats, and they’d kept an eye out. Esran’s distraction with the adventurous halfling had allowed Kesia and Tyrik to knock out and pull away a would-be assassin before he’d acted, Sonja had entered a staring contest - and won - with a vampire who’d been keen on claiming her powers for his clan, and he himself had proven vital in capturing some foolish assassins within the vines climbing up the castle’s walls. Of course, they’d also helped the other adventurers protect Lord Cyne, and his comrades had taken to interrogating the perpetrator rather enthusiastically. In front of the weak-hearted nobles. He’d had words with them all about appropriateness later on, of course - what use was his research into cultural behaviour differences if it was ignored? - but had largely been pushed aside in favour of caring for Esran’s sickness.

Of course, Esran had had to get himself separated from the group. The ifrit’s reckless nature and lack of self-respect was infamous in their party, and whilst Taenion had done an admirable job of hiding the concern during the ball, he’d given the ifrit a long lecture about being careful and identifying poisons afterwards. Tyrik had stood by him on this, the two presenting a unified front for once - one that was almost immediately ignored by Esran leaving for some time with that halfling. The audacity of that boy. Tyrik had forced Taenion to sit down and drink a mug of ‘one hundred percent Dwarven ale from back home, spiced and heated to perfection’ to prevent the snow elf from sending his companion after Esran to ‘keep an eye on him’. It had worked, if only because Kesia had switched the brews with a decidedly too spicy brew from her home, only complaining about how bland the Dwarven one was after he’d taken the first sip. He had not needed, nor wanted, to know how it felt to breathe fire, yet he was near certain he now possessed this knowledge. It was most certainly not wanted.

Thankfully, it’d been a few days since that incident, and neither the suli nor the dwarf had tried to get him to drink anything strange since. Instead, Sonja had been leading them about the city to meet old acquaintances of hers and show them the sights of Undria. Currently, they were being accompanied by Lady Alysia, only adding to the stares and whispers, as they walked through the city’s religious district. Sonja and Alysia had always seemed to get along well, from their first meeting after the group had felled the sea serpents to the current day, and now both seemed to be locked into a religious debate on the sources of various powers. Tyrik had already dived in with his own thoughts on the matter, the cleric never being able to ignore a chance to speak on the greatness of Torag. Esran and Kesia had fallen behind slightly, arguing between themselves on... surely he’d misheard.

He spun around to give each of them a scathing look, chastising them in the group’s preferred tongue - a regional variant of Dwarven, one commonly heard in all reaches of Iskaldhal with various levels of comprehensibility. They’d taught it to Kesia and Esran. Sonja, being the group’s best linguist, had long since learnt it when they’d met. “You two have far better topics to discuss than the preferred amount of flesh upon someone’s behind, especially in earshot of a Lady. Handle yourselves.” His sharp comment silenced the religious discussion, and caught the attention of those nearby - perhaps using an unfamiliar language in a city’s centre had been unwise. He ignored the flush of heat that reddened the tips of his ears in favour of continuing to glare at his two foolish companions, who grinned at each other before each darting forward to surround him. Tyrik, ahead of them, let out a laugh and asked Lady Alysia something about her foresight, smoothly resuming that conversation and not-so-subtly letting Taenion know he’d be on his own with the two imbeciles for now.

Kesia’s - or perhaps Esran’s, he really couldn’t tell at that moment - hand squeezed his backside firmly, bringing his attention back to the two flanking him. She laughed at his displeased reaction, teasing gently. “C’mon, Tae, it’s an important topic! There’s an optimal level of booty and we’ve gotta decide what it is.” Esran followed up with a wink, flicking Taenion’s chest gently - both of his hands were visible, he’d been right in guessing it was Kesia who was being forward - and his own comment.

“For instance, Tyrik’s buttocks are muscular and handsome, but there’s not quite enough to make them exciting, whereas Kesia’s is supple enough that there’s plenty to hold onto.” Thankfully, the conversation wasn’t being held in Aletheia’s native tongue, and Taenion couldn’t see any looks of comprehension or disgust on the faces of those they passed. Esran was mercifully holding back from projecting images or drawing diagrams in the air, likely not wanting to test Taenion’s patience too much.

Kesia nodded sagely. “Yeah, but my butt’s also a little too big for most people’s comfort, especially midgets like Tyrik or that Kraia chick you slept with. You need that perfect balance of--”

“I do not see how this relates to me, why you are discussing this within earshot of a noblewoman, nor why you choose to discuss this in a religious sector.” he interrupted, unable to bear the woman’s touch any longer. “Unhand me, please. I do not wish to make a scene.” He saw the victorious looks pass between the two as they released him, and sent them disgusted ones in return, striding forward to get away from them only to see that in his absence, the others had gotten into a discussion with a wandering zealot wearing a similar amulet to Sonja’s own. Not more of this. The religious debates they’d held around campfires were bad enough. Deciding that he’d dealt with quite enough of the party’s bickering and debating for one day, Taenion closed his eyes for a moment and focused, shifting into the form of a small bird. His friends hadn’t noticed, distracted with their two conversations, but it wouldn’t be the first time Nature had taken him away from them, and so they wouldn’t worry. After all, they knew where he’d go. He’d been enamoured with Undria’s nature district since their first pass through it, and immediately set course for it. None would take note of a simple bird resting in a tree.

As he’d predicted, it was a few hours later that his friends came searching for him, having finished their travels. Alysia was no longer with them, he noted - they’d likely accompanied her back to the castle. He flew up above them, listening to their conversation for a few moments.

“...wasn’t our fault her brother wandered off with the other adventurers. She sounded kinda pissed at him.” Kesia laughed, waving her hands in the air. “Least she’s got us to find out where he’s got to!” Esran nodded in agreement, his golden eyes scanning the trees for any sight of Taenion - or so Taenion assumed, at least.

Tyrik grunted in response, shifting the axe on his shoulders. “We ken where they’re heading, we dinnae need to find them. I’m curious meself about that vision. Ye pick up on it, Sonja?” A vision? Perhaps he’d made a mistake in leaving. The oracles of his homeland oft needed assistance during their fits of Sight. Tyrik had been there, at least. Sonja nodded as she glanced around, auburn hair glinting in evening’s light.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t to do with us. Something to do with the dwarves of this land. She glanced at you, Tyrik, then towards the mountains in the distance. Given her need to depart...” she trailed off, each of them connecting the dots. 

Esran frowned, glancing towards the mountains marring the horizon. “More drow activity, ya think? A few of them were involved at the ball..” Drow. Were he not a bird, his glare would have surely mutilated Esran. That a drow assassin had escaped them had infuriated him. If their next mission were to involve eradicating the beasts, he’d be pleased. Bird form or not, though, he’d been noticed.

“Tae, ye can get down here now. Ye’re not subtle.” Tyrik called out, beckoning him down with a stubby-armed Dwarven wave. He sneered mentally, but landed and transformed back gracefully, levelling a haughty glare at all of them.

“I appear to have missed something significant,” he said, rather imperiously. Kesia’s eye-roll at his manner didn’t go unnoticed, and the suli became subject to his glare in turn. “Something involving Lord Cyne, a fit of Sight, dwarves and filth. I suggest we adjourn to our quarters so we may discuss things in private and can decide a course of action for our party.”

Tyrik grabbed his arm and muttered, “Calm yerself, Tae. Save yer cold fury for later,” gently leading the snow elf in the direction of their quarters with a meaningful look to the rest of the group. Sonja hooked her arms through Kesia and Esran’s, forcing them to match her step and staying just behind, as Tyrik kept up a litany of mutterings that slowly bled into Taenion’s form of Elvish.

It was a nice thought, but Taenion wouldn’t be distracted from the mentions of filth that easily. At their temporary home, Sonja told them what she’d discovered of the current situation in Aletheia, of how the other adventurers had already stopped a cel of drow activity in Undria proper. Tyrik took over to fill Taenion in on what Alysia had asked them to do: find her brother and make sure he was alright. Cyne had disappeared in the middle of the night. No signs of a struggle, and the other adventuring party - who he’d travelled with in the past - had departed earlier that day, but... he was her brother, and a little more importantly, the Heir to the entire bloody Empire, in Tyrik’s words. They’d agreed to track him down and make sure he was alright. Taenion asked after the vision, noting that aside from Sonja’s words at the beginning, nobody had commented on it. With commentary from Esran and Sonja - Kesia remaining silent, not caring for magic in any of its forms - Tyrik filled him in on how Alysia had near collapsed in the street, words in Celestial spilling out incomprehensibly and uncontrollably. They’d gotten her away from public earshot quickly, but she’d been understandably disturbed when she’d come out of the fit, and had insisted they keep what they heard to themselves, refusing to elaborate on anything. She’d been quickly escorted back to the castle shortly after, as in Tyrik’s expert opinion, she desperately needed rest.

Their observations on what they’d heard concerned him, but the prior request - to find the Heir - was indeed more important, and he assured Tyrik of this. Not that there’d been much doubt, however. Taenion and Tyrik were the most logical of the group, just as Sonja and Esran were the most charismatic, and Kesia the most likely to run in and hit things.

They decided to make for Solariste first, to depart at morning’s light. If anything, the town of light would at least have seen the other party’s infamous way of travel pass through, and they could decide their direction from there.

That night, Taenion’s dreams were plagued with shadows. Tyrik, his party, his home - fleshwarped monstrosities and feral drow tore at each of them, their disgusting laughter ringing in his ears as familiar bodies fell to the floor broken, bent, their screams cut off by the talons that hooked through their throats... and he was torn out of the nightmares by Tyrik. The dwarf’s arms had wrapped around his midriff, and he appeared to have been maneuvered into a nest of furs on the floor. “..?” His voice felt hoarse, overused. Tyrik gave him a gruff smile.

“Ye woke me up, ya bastard. Temperature’s dropped a good chunk, too. Calm yerself and let’s get some good rest, aye?” Embarrassed, Taenion nodded, wrapping furs around the both of them and laying back down. He’d be gone by morning, as per usual, but the dwarf’s presence would at least keep away the night’s horrors. 

Neither man noticed Sonja at the door, her expression relaxing upon seeing them intertwined. She closed it gently, turning to the two behind her. “It was Taenion this time. Let’s let them be.” she murmured. They nodded, understanding.

After all, they’d all been told what had happened to the northern duo’s previous companions. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

And come morning light, when they departed, there would be no teasing, nor any comment that they’d seen or heard anything. Instead, Kesia beared the brunt of morning banter, accused of moaning in her sleep - the subsequent argument serving to thoroughly fluster both her and the uptight Taenion, to the amusement of the other three. They departed shortly after, continuing to bicker over pointless topics, just as a good adventuring party did.

END

[allcheatscodes]

majesty pc

http://allcheatscodes.com/majesty-pc/

majesty pc

Majesty cheats & more for PC (PC)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Majesty cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for PC (PC). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

Use the links above or scroll down to see all the PC cheats we have available for Majesty.

Genre: Strategy, Action Strategy Developer: Unknown Publisher: Infogrames ESRB Rating: Everyone

Hints

Get Money

Build a Marketplace and upgrade it as far as possible without going broke. Then build a Trading Post at the edge of the map farthest from the Marketplace. If your Marketplace is at Level 3 you should rake in at least 1,000 gold for every Caravan that comes in.

Help To Break Castle

In the quest of killing the vampires, you can easily break the vampire’s castle withthe following trick: First type ” fill this bag ” to get 10,000 money. Then, upgrade your palace to level 2 after making 4 knights. Then type ” revelation ” to reveal full map. Then quickly build a wizard tower near the black area where the vampire territory starts. Then, build 3/4 wizard guard towers exactly around the castle, and after they are completed, click “enchant” in each tower’s status area. This way, the guard towers will break the castleand do much damage to the vampires. You can add to the damage by striking them with thunderbolts occasionally.

Cheats

Instant Buildings

For instant buildings, first choose a building. Then place it. For the final touch, put in the cheat “restoration.” Note: You can choose multiple buildings at once and then do the cheat.

Cheat Codes

While playing a game, press [Enter], then type one of the following codes to activate the corresponding cheat function:RESULTCHEAT CODEAdditional 10,000 goldfill this bag All buildings availablebuild anything All spells availablegive me power Infinite spell rangecheezy towers Restore hit pointsrestoration Highlighted hero gains five levels grow up Kill opponentnow you die Full maprevelation Win gamevictory is mine Lose gamei'm a loser baby View frame rateframe it

Unlockables

Currently we have no unlockables for Majesty yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Majesty yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

Currently we have no glitches for Majesty yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Guides

Currently no guide available.

Achievements

Currently we have no achievements or trophies for Majesty yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

[forevercaroline]

The queen and king of hell

Happy birthday Angie @thetourguidebarbie !!!!!!!!!!!🎊🎉🎁🎈 This is her first gift I'm writing another Drabble for her too I'm almost done with it. At the bottom I'll put a sneak peek of her second birthday Drabble. This does have smut in it, it's at the end. Xxxx "Elijah Mikaelson I have to say I'm both happy and sad somebody killed you." Elijah looks around and it's just blackness. He looks behind him and sees six inch heels, black skin tight pants, a black tank top and a black jacket he looks up at the face and sees someone he hasn't seen in years " Katerina." "The one and only. You are the only person I would consider if I was looking for a king. So who finally killed the great Elijah Mikaelson." "Where are we, what do you mean king. And the hollow killed me and my entire sireline." Katherine looks down at her nails " Really the hollow pretty pathetic name. Your in hell and I'm queen and because we have a history that you will thank me for later I will give a message to your sibling that you are safe with me." "Why would our history be useful in hell." "Everything you've heard about hell is true fire and torment all day but as queen I get to decide who gets punished and if you say you will be my king I will not let the fire and torment come near you. Everyone wants to be with me to escape it but they are just so ordinary and boring well except for this one named Kai Parker he was fun oh and Lucien Castle he is one of my favorites. So what do you say Elijah rule with me or being tormented and set on fire." Elijah thinks about it he knows Klaus is going to try to bring him back because Klaus doesn't like losing but until then he will have to survive. " I will rule with you." Katherine smiles " Elijah Mikaelson king of hell." Xxx Klaus, Rebekah, Kol and Freya are looking at Elijah's body in his coffin when Katherine appears behind the coffin. "Dead or alive Elijah is still handsome." The Mikaelsons look up at the Petrova and Klaus pins her to the wall " How did you get in my house?" Katherine smiles at him and releases his hand " You can't kill me I'm already dead. But I think it's precious that even after my death you still want me dead. I have a message from the recently deceased he's in hell with me he's actually the king to my queen. He is safe but I have noticed that's he's not all there." Rebekah and Freya share a look " What do you mean he's not all there." "Sometimes he zones out and when you call his name he doesn't answer it's like he's somewhere else." Klaus taking control he wants his brother back from Katerina. " Katerina find the other part of Elijah so when we bring him back he's not broken." Katherine looks at the hybrid who she has run from her entire life. " No he's not coming back he's mine you had him when he was alive I have him when he's dead. You always took him from me when we were alive. You take him from me now I will have nobody and be settled with Kai Parker and Lucien Castle who keeps talking about how fascinating he found Freya Mikaelson plus the Salvatore's who just mope about Elena." Freya is surprised that Lucien genuinely found her interesting. " He is our brother we are not just going to let him stay dead." " Oh that reminds me your other brothers Finn and Henrik are not in hell." Katherine disappears and the remaining Mikaelsons look at each other confused and not entirely sure of what just happened. Xxx Katherine returns to hell and on the way to her quarters she gets stopped by Damon and Stefan who are steaming from being burned alive all day. "Katherine make it stop. You got what you wanted us here with you forever." " You don't get it, I wanted you here because of what you've done to me. Both of you choose precious little Elena over me and both of you killed me. Also your right I can make it stop but I won't it's more fun to watch you two suffer plus as Queen of hell I can make your eternity even more miserable than it already is." When she get to her quarters she sees Kai and Lucien waiting for her outside the room. " How do you want us?" "Together again." Katherine smiles at them when Kai died he went to hell and Katherine took a interest in him so she saved him from being on fire and basically made him like a pet. She did the same thing for Lucien when he died. Three years ago she was having a really terrible day the Salvatore's kept begging her to let them go, Cade was annoying her and kept reading her mind, the travelers kept trying to break out so they could take over another town and make it a no magic zone, plus Silas was just being his annoying self. She stormed into her room dragging Lucien and Kai by the necks and threw them into her room all she said was entertain me, the next thing she knows Kai is sliding her jeans down her legs and sliding a finger down her slits and Lucien has her shirt off and his palming her breasts and rubbing her nipples which has her moaning. By the next day not only was she was in a much better mood she liked both Lucien and Kai entertaining her together. She runs her nails over both of their chins " Not today I found someone better." Xxx She finds Elijah sitting in one of the chairs looking down at his hands. " Elijah, Elijah, Elijah." Elijah is so lost in his thoughts he doesn't hear her calling his name until she touches his arm. " What's wrong with you, you keep zoning out." " I keep getting lost in my thoughts." Katherine plops down on his lap " Since your going to be no fun until we get you out of your thoughts. Tell me what thoughts you keep getting lost in." "It would bore you plus you have more pressing matters to attend to than my thoughts." "Not when the person who I'm sharing my pressing matters with is also the person who is lost in their thoughts. And just to remind you I don't give up easily plus we have eternity. Also after you tell me we can have some fun." Elijah sighs he knows Katherine doesn't give up easily or let anything go. He has to tell her. " A thousand years ago before we became vampires I was in love with the doppelgänger before you Tatia Petrova. After we became vampires Niklaus made his first kill unlocking his werewolf side he turned into a werewolf and slaughtered six villages as I was comforting Niklaus, Tatia came across us and saw the severed bodies. I ran after her to tell her it's not what it thinks as I was running after her she tripped and fell I finally got her to talk to me but I could smell the blood from the cut on her hand from when she fell and I had only been a vampire a couple days I couldn't control myself I killed her. I brought her to Esther in our pig barn and she told me that if I look clean and proper nobody will ever know. It's called the red door I put the people I kill behind that door in my mind." " Elijah we all have people we are ashamed of killing and don't like to think of them. For me it was my daughter Nadia's boyfriend who traveled himself into Matt Donovan I don't regret killing Gregor but I don't like that I hurt Nadia trying to protect her. For you its all your kills but it doesn't have to be. You've been alive for over a thousand years and when you look in the mirror you see a monster. I've known you for five hundred years and I've never thought of you as a monster." Elijah looks at her she's being very open with him right now, which is weird for her since she doesn't open about anything to anyone. He also had no idea she had a daughter named Nadia. "What happened to your daughter?" Katherine sighs and looks sad she doesn't like thinking about Nadia and how she could of saved her but she was to stubborn to ask Klaus for his blood. " She died a couple minutes before I did, and found peace." Elijah picks Katherine up from his lap and lays her on the bed and lays next to her his arm around her. He knows she doesn't open up and now she's vulnerable, he feels the same way and he knows that Katherine was putting on a brave face but she is still the same Katerina he met in England 1492 the Katerina he fell in love with all those centuries ago. Xxx Katherine has been ruling hell along side Elijah who has not thought about his red door issues or got lost in his thoughts since their conversation a couple weeks ago. He's surprised by how much he has really missed Katerina and is totally in love with how she is ruling hell with an iron fist, sass and looking like a true queen. Elijah walks into Katherine's room he has been sharing with her to find her naked on the bed. " You've been here for a month thought I might give you a present." Elijah smiles at her he thought the hollow killing him was awful but it was really a blessing he reunited with his Katerina. He walks over the end of the bed and Katherine kneels in front of him and starts stripping him while he is palming her breasts and leaving feather light kisses up her neck and over her shoulders. Once he is completely naked she grabs him " You are mine." Elijah moans at the sensations of her hand sliding up and down him and grunts out " Since 1492." Katherine lays on her stomach and swirls her tongue around his tip. She licks him all around slowly wanting him to be on the brink of coming. She takes him in completely her tongue flat on the underside of his cock. Her head bobbing up and down as she licks and sucks him. He wants to hold on but the sight of Katherine's naked body and her mouth around his cock is his undoing. He explodes in her mouth and she takes it all. She looks up at him with a naughty playfulness that he secretly always loved as she cleans him off and releases him with a pop. He pins her to the bed his hands holding her wrists above her head and passionately kisses her. She leans up as far as she can and bites the bottom of his ear and whispers " I love it when you take charge." Elijah slowly enters her she moans at the sensation. No man she has ever slept with made her feel the same as she does when she's with Elijah. With Elijah it's mind blowing and euphoric. With other guys it's because she's bored or they are part of a bigger plan of hers. Elijah is thrusting into her and she is kissing his neck. Her arms are still pinned down by his hands above her head. She wraps her legs around his waist and to get him even closer to her. " Harder you feel so good." He does as he's told and thrusts harder into her and Katherine is one the verge of coming she just needs something to push her off. She bites his neck and drinking his blood while he is thrusting into her has her coming that she can't even hold it back any longer. Elijah bites her neck to push him over to and he comes right after her, her name on his lips. Xxx Sneak peek of Assassins in love. Caroline's sword goes over Klaus' she gets in his face. " They don't talk about him anymore too painful. Elena is clueless which made my job so easy." Klaus flips Caroline on to her back on the floor he points his sword at her throat. " Good job will they come looking for you?" Caroline puts her foot between Klaus legs and brings him down to the floor and flips them so she's straddling him. " If they do can we kill them. I want Elena." He smiles up at her " So blood thirty my love. Elena is all yours." Caroline reaches in her thigh strap and takes out the dagger she had and places to Klaus throat. Who flips them so he's on top between her legs holding the dagger to her throat he leans down and kisses her.