#Nythanel

[crownedinmarigolds]

Born on the streets and nearly died on the streets. Now a part time doll, part time chemist, full time menace only tempered by his Corpo best friend. Nyth Loken in Cyberpunk!

I attempted a holo coat! And what's beneath the shirt... <3

[thesixthplaneteer]

Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

[thesixthplaneteer]

I have two OCs that jewelry is important to them. Both are vampires in VTM

Nythanel - He has several piercings in his ears and will always have jewelry to catch people's eyes. He wants to bring attention to his pointed ears. It's a little bit of a "look at me, I'm better than you" kind of thing.

Daimund - He wears several necklaces with crosses of all different makes and materials. The special one is on a shoe string thin strip of metal, and the cross is made of two rusted nails and wire. The others obfuscate it and keep it hidden, but it's very special to him. It was given to him by a homeless man that he had made friends with not long before he disappeared. He's also very cynical, so it's a little test to see if people can see beyond the shiney glittery necklaces to the "real" one.

Is there a particular type of jewelry (like rings, necklaces, bracelets, etc.) that your OC favors over others?

[crownedinmarigolds]

Fangfest 2024 - Day Two - The Magician Dr. Nythanel Glenn Loken, PHD! He is the Magician, a card that represents new beginnings and opportunities, as well as the manifestation of your goals. Nyth has always seized opportunity wherever he goes, from his body to his education to his job to his relationships. A Thinblood bore from his lover Tremere sire, an "unfortunate" quirk during his Embrace but the hardship has made him tough as nails and an absolute fighter. Thriceborn, born human, reborn a Thinblood, then brought back anew after a near-fatal injury by his Giovanni best friend, Nythanel will never waste a second honing himself during his hopefully infinite existence. Fangfest Day Two - Electric Boogaloo! Yay!

[crownedinmarigolds]

Nyth WIP for my love, in his CEO Vampire era!

[crownedinmarigolds]

Merry Chrysler to @thesixthplaneteer!! The man, the myth, the Nyth!

[thesixthplaneteer]

The Seed of the Serpent

The Seed of the Serpent is a write up in mine and @crownedinmarigolds VTM canon. It features Noa, Nythanel, and other OCs we have! If you would like a peek at some of what has lead up to this event, click here for a write up by the lovely Crownedinmarigolds. Nythanel has been near fatally wounded and seemingly is unable to recover due to being Duskborn, Thinblood. Noa seeing no other option tries to reconnect with her family much to the dismay of her brother Joaquin. As she waits and hopes for Nythanel to recover she finds herself having a much more difficult time handling tasks and those around her. Hitting a breaking point she decides she needs him back, and needs him back now. Her own studies and reading over Nythanel's alchemical theories leads her to seeking the help of the local Followers of Set. The dawn of the twenty first century is near and their fate unclear.

The descent into the basement was made difficult by the narrow stairs. Julian nearly stumbled several times while carrying Nythanel, causing Noa's dead heart to drop every time. Her grip on the black leather briefcase she carried was so tight her nails tore into the leather. She kept herself composed but with every stumble she was forced to imagine Nythanel’s body becoming more broken, or worse. All this was exacerbated by Joaquin’s teasing of Julian and acting like he was going to drop the wheelchair. She was sure he would have pushed them if she wasn’t  in front of the group. It felt like the stairs went on impossibly long before the final step to level ground. The end of their descent brought relief for one anxiety, only to give rise to another. They were now in the temple of the Followers of Set.

At the base of the stairs she quickly made sure her sleek, form-fitting dress was straightened out. It was far enough outside what she normally wore that it added to her discomfort, but at least it was pink. Julian followed, always looking out for the unspoken instruction, placing Nythanel in the wheelchair before checking his collar and brushing down his coat. Joaquin watched them fuss over themselves and chuckled at Noa as she straightened Nythanel’s outfit. Noa had Julian and Nythanel dressed in coats and pants that were freshly pressed and shoes that were shined. They were here on business and she aimed for them to be dressed appropriately. Joaquin of course rebelled against “dressing nice for some blood sucker” and sported a brown leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to remind him at that moment that she too was a blood sucker, but it wouldn’t have done anything but devolve into an argument that would lead to only more frustration and more rebellion. If he wasn’t going to be well dressed, she at least needed him well behaved.

Noa stood up straight and took in the first breath since they started down the stairs. “I need both of you to remain quiet. Look no one in the eyes, and look at nothing longingly.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Julian dutifully answered between heavy breaths, taking a hold of the push handles on Nythanel’s wheelchair. Even with all his natural strength added to the power given to him from Noa’s vitae, he was still out of breath from carrying Nythanel down the steep stairs.  

Joaquin let out a snort. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious, Joaquin.” Noa said sternly. 

Joaquin balked but knew she was right. He should keep his trap shut, for now. Julian side eyed him, a faint air of smugness for knowing his place. 

“You wanna be in a wheelchair too, jackass?” Joaquin turned toward Julian with his fists balled tightly.  

“I said be silent!” Noa’s voice rose just slightly, her tone becoming harsh.  

At that moment she sounded like their father. Far too much like their father for Joaquin’s liking. Far too damn much. But unlike with their father, he obeyed and went silent. 

“Julian, stop goading him and pay attention to what you are supposed to be doing.” Noa forced herself to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. 

It was bad enough she had to try talking to the Followers of Set without Nythanel being able to assist, but these two seemed like they wanted to sabotage it. The Beast inside her screamed at her to rid herself of these idiots. Drink them dry! It yelled at her. You want to be treated seriously? Then go in with a full stomach!  Another deep breath calmed the Beast, a meditative practice when one doesn't need to breathe. It’s not been as effective in recent nights.  

“Let’s go.” She commanded and started down the long cement walled hall. 

She walked alongside Nythanel, occasionally brushing her hand against his shoulder. A nervous reassurance that he was still there. Joaquin strolled right behind Noa despite his and Jullian's frames taking up the width of the hallway. The hallway was long, unnecessarily so. It seemed the Setites wanted to give their guests time to decide if they really wanted to be here. The lights were dim and warm like artificial candles. Noa was used to working in dim light but the spacing between the lights made it excessively dark. Even with the low light, Noa could see a golden glint at the end. A door, decorated with large red ankhs along with a golden scrolling line of hieroglyphs. When they finally reached it after what seemed like minutes, Noa steadied herself with a deep breath one last time before giving a single hard knock. As if the person on the other side was simply waiting for the courtesy to be observed, the door immediately came open. 

The full force of the droning industrial techno playing inside beat against their ear drums. Noa and Joaquin seemed least affected, Joaquin’s own ear drums abused by loud club music and gunfire. Noa refused to allow any sign of weakness in her now that they were entering the temple proper. Julian winced at the sudden sound as his grip on the wheel chair loosened, wanting to bring his hands up to cover his ears. Catching himself, he tightened it once more to not displease Noa. A club goer himself years ago but he still wasn’t ready for just how loud it actually was. Nythanel shifted in the wheelchair. His movements were slow and unsteady but it was clear he was uncomfortable with the noise. Noa looked at him, a feeling of pity and sorrow swelling in her but she quelled it, he wouldn't want her to feel that about him. 

The inside of the temple was like a scene in a movie. Stone columns with white cotton sheets hanging between them like sheer dividers. A thin haze of smoke choked the air. Ahead of them through the fabric they could make out silhouettes of people, mingling and entangling together so much that they seemed like a single writhing beast. 

The heady smells of incense, sweat, and more besieged their nostrils. Noa was mostly spared, only needing to breathe when she spoke. But the other three had functional lungs. They drew in the smog and were overcome with the earthy, burnt timber and sweet citrus smell making their heads swim. Joaquin and Julian were no strangers to substance use. This mild high wouldn't be their undoing, but it certainly helped them feel a little more relaxed. A little more okay with the pounding rhythmic music. A little more comfortable in a strange place. Nythanel’s cheeks became rosy as he breathed in the smoke and his muscles relaxed.

A voice somehow pierced the thrum of the music. It was calm, controlled, and clear. 

“Miss Hidalgo.” Spoke a bald man with a serious face. 

He was shorter than Joaquin or Julian by a few inches. He had a strong chin and nose but his face still had a softness to it that, judging by how his suit fit, his body did not have. He was not as opulently dressed as Noa would have expected for a Follower of Set. He had a modest amount of jewelry, just two thin rings and nice cufflinks. His suit was pretty basic, wine color, possibly a high end material. Noa looked at him with a polite smile and faint recognition. She was sure this man was the bouncer in Mexico years ago. It felt strange to be delighted in a familiar face amongst the snake den. Before she could give an answer he spoke again. 

“I am Arham.” He introduced himself with a shallow bow. “If you and your party would follow me. Just this way.” He turned and started walking. He spoke like a trained and experienced concierge.

Noa waved her party on to follow the man. Her anxieties ate away at her. Soon they would find out if they walked into a trap, or if a deal could be struck. Eyes leered from around the pillars and the sheets, hands reached out and grasped for Arham and their group. Voices called out to them, inaudible through the music. Julian would look through the corners of his eyes then force himself to look forward, remembering Noa’s instructions. Joaquin scowled, eyes locked on Arham.

Their guide pulled back a curtain to reveal a pair of plain doors. He opened them to reveal yet another dimly lit hallway. Noa’s anxiety fueled her frustration. She wondered if they were just being toyed with. The only calming sight ahead of them were the large doors at the end of the hall. That had to be their meeting room.

“Just through those doors, Miss Hidalgo.” Arham said as he gestured towards their destination.  

The doors at the end of the hall were ornate like the ones that had led into the temple. Their handles were golden and their surfaces decorated with a mural that seemed to be made of inlaid gemstones. It was a depiction of a crocodile headed man fighting a tiger. A large snake boarded the mural. Noa couldn’t help the sense of awe. The Followers were an ancient clan and their histories and rituals were so shrouded in lies and half truths, seeing just a glimpse of it first hand was exciting in itself. She considered the meaning behind the crocodile man and tiger fighting… until she realized they weren’t actually fighting, but coupling. A shot of embarrassment went through her for not noticing immediately. Not just for herself, but for playing into what she thought was a stereotype of the clan.

Joaquin let out a sharp laugh at the sight of it. “Think they’ll want us to fuck a tiger?” He said, still chuckling to himself. 

Noa cut an angry look at him. It said all that needed to be said and served as a reminder of him needing to be silent. He huffed and looked away, and Noa was thankful for the best outcome of that situation. Refocusing her attention, she took the golden handle and pulled open the door. 

The room looked like a lounge and sitting room. Chairs upholstered in velvet of different colors with golden accents. Cushions and large pillows were in piles on the floor. Works of art hung on the walls and rested on pedestals. On the parts of the walls without hanging art there were grand painted murals. The room was lit with only candles, giving a flickering glow throughout the room but no detail was hidden. Standing near a portrait of a naked woman was another familiar sight for Noa. 

His hair was yellow gold and skin golden-bronze like the scales of a desert snake, he even glinted in the candlelight. He had a strong and muscled build, broad-shouldered and tall. He wore a silk robe that trailed down to the floor. When he turned to greet them, they realized the robe gave him very little in terms of modesty. The open chest revealed the myriad of tattoos that decorated him. The most prominent one a snake that seemed to slither all over him, the head at his throat and posed to strike out. There were also Ankhs, a lotus flower, a stalking tiger peeking from behind the snake’s body, and filling the spaces between were hundreds if not more hieroglyphs. His hawkish nose was well framed by the rest of his handsome features. Full lips, a strong jaw, high cheekbones. He was the most impossibly beautiful man Noa had ever seen, there was no way to confuse him with any other. The irises of his eyes were golden with slit serpent-like pupils. He had a wide and disarming smile.

“Greetings, Miss Hidalgo! Welcome to our temple, I am so excited to have you here with us.” He spoke to Noa as if the others were not in the room. “This is my wife, Parvati.” He gestured to a pile of pillows in the corner of the room. 

At first glance there seemed to be no one, but as Noa’s eyes adjusted further, she saw the Hierophant’s wife. Unmoving, like a waiting predator, was a woman with deep warm skin. She lacked even the attempted modesty garment Harrakhty wore. Her long dark hair draped over her curvy body. Her unblinking gaze intense and seeming to pierce right through them. Her sharp jaw, smooth cheeks, aquiline nose, and full lips made her another image of impossible beauty. The body jewelry she wore framed her large breasts and accentuated the curves of her belly and hips. Lines marked her stomach, implying she may have been a mother in another time. 

The woman stirred and watched as they became aware of her. Julian’s eyes were locked on her. He couldn’t help himself or keep his desire completely at bay.  

Noa stood next to Nythanel with the other two just behind them and led the conversation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Parvati.” Noa said to the woman then looked back at the Hierophant. “And you of course, Mr. Harrakhty. I really am grateful for this meeting.” Her smile is polite and her tone business-like. 

“Oh of course!” He said as he drew nearer. His lack of underwear was apparent as the fabric of his robe hugged his body. “All out of the goodness of my heart and all that.” He stopped just a few feet away and looked down at Nythanel who stared ahead, seemingly not aware. “Is this our special man?” He said, leaning down to look at Nythanel’s face. 

Nythanel’s head turned slowly and his unbandaged eye met with Harrakhty’s gaze. The glazed over look in Nythanel’s eye gave way to a spark of something deeper inside trying to escape before glazing over again and his posture returned to a neutral state. 

“Oh yes, you're very special aren’t you?” Harrakhty commented as he stood up straight again. 

Parvati’s gaze was focused on Nythanel. She shifted on the pillows, now sitting up from her lounging position. 

“You know Miss Hidalgo. This feels like a very common group for your clan.” He spoke, seemingly refusing to allow any dead air in the conversation, or for her to speak. “Strapping, similar featured bodyguards. The delicate often waifish boss. Someone incapable of caring for themselves.” 

As he spoke Noa reached out and took Nythanel’s hand. She hated how much Harrakhty seemed to be familiar with her clan and just how predictable they were apparently. It was obviously meant to be a display to make them uncomfortable or irritable and unfortunately it was working. She wished more than anything that Nythanel were able to speak and engage Harrakhty in this social dance. But he couldn’t, all because of her. She got them into this mess and she will need to get them out. She felt a fire light in her as she felt Nythanel’s grip tighten on her hand. 

“It’s all very Giovanni.” Harrakhty continued. “So, I must know, which one are you shtupping?” He said with a smirk but his eyes were not on Noa, they were on Joaquin and Julian. 

Joaquin scowled at the question and Julian shuffled uncomfortably, pulling his attention away from Parvati. Idiots she thought to herself. They remained silent like she told them but their expressions and body language were giving Harrakhty all the answers he wanted.   

“Ah!” He said with a self satisfied grin. 

“With all due respect.” Noa said, the same all business voice she greeted him with. “That is not what we are here to discuss, Mr. Harrakhty.”  

“Yes of course!” Harrakhty said with a short laugh. “Apologies, I rarely get to speak with your clan on good terms after that whole, consuming the cappadocians event. My curiosity got the better of me.” As he spoke he sauntered over to the same pile of pillows his wife was sitting on and flopped over onto them, putting his arm around her. She seemed to register his touch and rested her head on his shoulders, but her eyes never left Nythanel. 

The robes Harrakhty wore now hid nothing as he reclined with his legs spread. His antics were obviously upsetting Joaquin as he started to shuffle in place, angry he had to stand here and listen to a vampire. Julian was basically drooling while staring at Parvati once more. Noa recanted to herself how important this meeting was to keep herself calm and push down her anxieties. She had to remind herself she still needed Quino and Julian. 

“I understand, I have my curiosities of your own reclusive clan. However I am here for a specific reason.” Noa took just a moment to take a breath, unfortunately allowing an opening for Harrakhty. 

“Yes well if you could-” Harrakhty’s voice trailed off as his wife's hand ran over his bare chest. 

“My love.” She said in a cold pur. Her intense gaze now upon him. “Let her speak.” 

The air in the room became thick and Noa was afraid they were going to reenact the mural on the door as they stared into each other’s eyes. Harrakhty then looked back at Noa, with the smirk that seemed permanent on his face. 

“Again, apologies. Continue.” 

Noa nodded acknowledgement to his apology then spoke again. “As you can see my Nythanel has been injured. He is Duskborn and unable to heal himself. I can help him. But I need to ask you if you can perform a ritual. I have heard rumors of the Followers of Set being able to remove Kindred hearts without triggering their Final Death.” 

Both pairs of eyes were on her. Their intense stare. Both so predatory it was no wonder they represented themselves as apex predators. Harrakhty rolled his hand to signal Noa to go on. 

“I need you to remove his heart. Safely.” She felt her own heart drop. The worries of everything that needed to go wrong in order to put them in this position of weakness. The spiral of everything that could go wrong from this point coiled around her and squeezed tightly. 

Harrakhty let out a deep chuckle, the welcoming warmth waned and the air around him became sinister. “That is a big ask. Tell me Miss Hidalgo, what does an orphan and an invalid have that can be in comparison to an ancient rite reserved only for our most devout?” 

“Cut the bullshit will you? Get on with the creep show so we can leave.” Joaquin loudly declared. 

Noa quickly shot a scowl at him. She had no idea what he could be thinking or planning but she didn’t want him doing it. She couldn’t tell if he was actually thinking he was being helpful or if he was trying to ruin everything like he always does. Something she found herself wondering a lot lately. Her look cut into him and he became still, scowling back at her. The coiling emotions squeezed tighter on her with embarrassment.

She looked back to Harrakhty. “Could my mortal cohort possibly wait outside?” 

“Arham.” Harrakhty called out.

The door they came in pushed open. The same bald man that led them through the temple. 

“Yes?” He asked.

“Can you give these gentlemen the tour? Don’t have too much fun now.” He said with a smile. 

“Yes sir.” Arham looked expectantly at Joaquin and Julian. 

Julian looked to Noa for instruction and Joaquin sucked in air through his teeth but it was clear she was only going to get more upset with him if he stuck around. 

“Whatever.” Joaquin said with a huff and walked out of the door, brushing against Arham as he left. 

Noa motioned with her hand toward the door and Julian followed. 

With the others gone and the door sealed, Noa felt some sense of relief over her. She hated how much having Joaquin out of the room made her feel more at ease. But he’s proven too many times he was too brash. She rested her hand on Nythanel’s shoulder and with new found confidence spoke to Harrakhty. 

“With the combination of the disciplines I've studied and my beloved’s own studies, we can create new life.” 

Harrakhty allowed a quiet moment, giving Noa a chance to continue before he spoke. 

“We can create a viable womb to support the gestation of an offspring.” Noa said, taking a pause to let it start to sink in. “I can facilitate the bearing and birth of you and your wife's child.” 

Harrakhty still smiled and let out a quiet chuckle,very amused at the impossible fantasy she proposed. Then his smile dropped and he looked at Parvati who was still hanging onto his shoulder. They stared into each other's eyes like they were having a silent conversation. Then he looked back at Noa. 

“You really believe you can do that, don’t you?” There was no more amusement in Harrakhty’s tone or expression. 

“I do.” Noa replied confidently. 

“How?” Harrakhty asked. 

Noa knew she had his full attention now. Few loved the sound of his voice more than him. Single word sentences meant he was focused on something other than himself. “I have all of the details here in this case.” She tapped the briefcase for emphasis. “It will require invasive surgery, and the transplanting of Duskborn reproductive organs into you and your wife. It will require a lot of blood.” 

“Thinblood parts? Oh this is very interesting. Tell me, how will it be my child if I am using the gonads of someone else?” Harrakhty asked with all sincerity. 

“They will be treated with an alchemical process using your vitae.” Noa answered. “Same with the womb.” 

“So not only are you asking for me to remove the heart of your companion, you also want both of us to relinquish vitae to you? All for the promise of a child born in a process of magic and insanity? Tell me, how in the multiple millennia that Kindred have existed and propagated that you are the one to be able to do this?” 

“Duskborn have been exceedingly rare until very recently in our history. Even fewer were able to survive long enough to understand their condition.” She gently squeezed Nythanel’s shoulder. “To put it in his own terms, my Nythanel is an elder Thinblood. He has not only survived, but thrived. We now understand so much more of our existence than we could ever have.” 

“What if this child comes out as an abomination? How can I know I’m getting what I’m paying for?” Harrakhty sat up and learned forward. 

Noa was thankful for the robe falling back over Harrakhty’s privates, and even more confident to have his undivided attention. “You’re a man of faith. I’m sure you understand there are not always guarantees for everything but I can guarantee I will try and try again until you get what you want. We have many more millennia to perfect the process.” Noa hoped it wouldn’t take that long but was more than willing to dedicate whatever it took to make it happen. 

“What do you think, my love?” Harrakhty asked Parvati out loud as they looked into each other’s eyes.

She drew closer to him, her breasts pressing against his shoulder. Her hand ran along his chest. She seemed ready to start practicing their part of the procedure. “I want our child.” She answered him in a quiet voice, kissing his neck. 

The robe once again covered little as she tugged at it. “You have your answer.” He said to Noa but his eyes were still locked onto his wife. 

Noa felt a rush of excitement. She gets her beloved Nythanel back, they will put the theories of their arts to practice. “When will you be able to remove his heart?” Noa asked. 

“Full moon. Give the briefcase to Arham.” Harrakhty replied before pressing his lips hard against Parvati’s. 

It was obvious it was time for her to go, although she couldn’t help but linger a moment as the pair of elder Kindred lashed out at each other lustfully. Noa couldn’t help but see hope in true Eternity with the one she loved with how even venerable kindred can keep alight a flame of romance. Noa took hold of the handles of Nythanel’s chair and started to push him toward the door. “I believe that is our cue to leave. Are you as excited as I am my love?” Noa practically cooed at Nythanel, giddy with the achievement of negotiating with Setites and the excitement of nights to come.

[crownedinmarigolds]

We have fun at camp with Papa Bear!

(My husband's Tav Nythanel and my Khloe coming up with fun new nicknames for our fave)

[crownedinmarigolds]

Her head turned at the sound of the door opening. Her beloved Nythanel entered the room, one arm linked with the man of the hour himself: Raymond Mulder. Raymond was a middle-aged hunter of the supernatural they’ve made acquaintanceship with over these last few years as they've slowly laid the groundwork of their Empire. Her Kingmaker, she secretly called him. He was very tall, relatively handsome, though he seemed always exhausted. No doubt were she to take a sip, it would be cheap coffee instead of blood. He was very no-nonsense and took his… community service very seriously. In exchange for helping him with cases, he supplied the ash - or perhaps if they were lucky enough, the vitae - of the kills he and his partner made. His partner in crime no other than her beloved older brother, Joaquin. They both had believed the other dead for nearly two decades, reunited at last... forced to act distant and aloof with the ever watchful though thankfully clueless Raymond acting as Joaquin's chaperone. Tonight the hunter would be giving them his latest loot, Joaquin no doubt sitting in the car again. Maybe Nyth would distract Raymond for her just a bit, and she could slip downstairs for a brief moment… Nyth smirked, letting go of Raymond and walking quickly towards her. In Spanish he cooed, “Joaquin is absolutely pouting down there. Miserable as always.” Of course, her darling knew exactly what she was thinking. He always did. Her hand quickly went to her mouth, covering her smile as she tried and failed to hold back her laughter. It was so exciting to think about Joaquin suffering without her beside him. Him thinking about her and wanting to be with her, tortured by their lack of touch despite being so close again. Their separation renewed her affections like crazy, and it also renewed her absolute delight in him being miserable - at least when it came to their being apart. His loneliness made her own loneliness worth it. It turned the room into an inferno every chance they got to meet. It was like being home in Mexico again… It won’t be so much longer now. As Nyth drew near, her hands reached out. And then, his forehead bloomed.

She felt the impact of viscera against her before she realized what had occurred. The follow up crack of a gunshot rang throughout the room. Glass was shattered behind her, the bullet somehow missing her. She felt a twisting pit in her gut as a silent scream wracked her body, and she tried to rush forward to Nythanel but she wasn’t close enough. Her best friend’s corpse hit the ground like a doll and she wanted to tear herself apart in grief as she stumbled to him.

As if granting her wish, she felt the deep impact of something sharp stabbing into her chest, its aim true as it struck her heart. She had never experienced paralysis before, and she felt panic and terror as her entire body refused to obey. A prisoner trapped behind muscle and bone. She immediately fell forward thanks to the locking of her legs, and landing nearly face down the stake was pushed further inside of her. Every inch thoroughly felt. She wanted to scream and call out and cry at the agony, but who could help her now? Somewhere downstairs was Joaquin, would he even know what happened? Will they ever be together again? She had never expected her spirit to fare well whenever she finally achieved Final Death. Her frozen, outstretched hands landed with a thump inches away from Nythanel, who now was missing half of his stunning face. The eye unmarred by Raymond’s gunshot stared back at her with a milky distance. Her own eyes were held open by the paralysis, and though they couldn’t move she could still see enough. The blood seeping into the vinyl, a blurry form of the Hunter in her periphery.

There was silence. Agonizing silence that made the air thick with awful anticipation. Then she could hear Raymond finally exhale, hear him messing with zippers and making the wait even more unbearable. She wished he had just granted her the gift of a quick death like poor Nythanel. They could be together sooner if he had. But no, he didn’t seem to want to grant her that luxury.

“They are not people. They’re monsters.” She heard him mumble to himself before she could hear the sloshing of liquid and quick steps. There was the sound of an unscrewing lid, the awful and familiar scent of gasoline. Oh God. Oh God. Inside of her body she motionlessly, wordlessly screamed. Her Beast as trapped as she was, it felt like it was trying to rip out of her skin but it was no use. Animal! Animal! You’re going to burn me and I have to watch and feel every moment of it, you bastard! Bastard! It made her entire body want to tremble and shake as she felt the liquid pour over her, the awful scent burning inside of her head, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t move and it was painful! It burned her eyes and poisoned the inside of her mouth and singed her nostrils. Even with a body not living it soaked and stung and hurt. Her rage was so strong, her terror so real. Not even the stake could hold back the tears she wept as blood dripped down her cheeks and mingled with the gasoline. The gas, the blood, poured onto the floor and mixed with Nythanel’s cooled vitae - its watery black color staining her arms and dress and soaking her She could not look up at his face, but Raymond’s shoes stopped dancing around and the pouring also ceased. She couldn’t even grit her teeth in anticipation for the fire as she waited for the noise of a lighter. The striking of a match. Instead, she got something worse. Justification.

"I…" His voice warbled slightly, he couldn’t even kill them with confidence and it made her sick. Her vitriol was absolute and deep, and she wanted to rip him limb from limb. Dead forever. Obliterated. I hate you Raymond Mulder. I hate you! “We both know what you are. I don't know how much of it is your fault. What is the beast controlling you or you acting on your own. But that doesn't stop you from being what you are, and I'm sor-" In another moment nearly as fast as the gunshot that took Nythanel, there was a thundering and sickening crack as Raymond’s speech was cut short. He landed with a satisfying, dull thud on the floor beside her. His legs were slightly twitching, she could not see his head still, but she could see another pair of legs now that Raymond had fallen. The new person wasted no time taking their weapon continuously to Raymond’s upper body. Over and over again they grunted and spouted obscenities as they hit and hit and hit. Her tears continued as she recognized the voice. Joaquin roared furiously at Raymond’s now lifeless corpse, pulverized like butcher meat. His strikes still not yielding. “You bastard! Motherfucker! How dare you! Bitch! Motherfucker- Fucking piece of shit motherfucker - fucking -” She could not call to him, and in her silent atrophy she waited for him to calm down and work it out of his system. Still forced to stare at bloody shoes and half of Nythanel’s face. Soon the weapon, a piece of scaffolding pipe it seemed, was thrown to the ground and her body was jerked upwards off of the floor. He turned her over, the lamplight directly in her eyes as he frantically looked her over. His face was streaked with blood splatter, his eyes were wild and his hair was matted, one of his large hands pushed her sopping hair out of her face. He was beautiful. “Fucking Christ Noa. Oh Noa-”

Wasting no time, Joaquin leaned in and kissed her. She was covered in brain matter, in gasoline, in blood, in bone, and his lips still desperately tasted her. Her blood red lips would strengthen his affections even more, thanks to whatever quirk her Embrace gave her. He may never let her go now. The moment would have been so delicious were it not for every other awful thing this night has thrusted upon her. The stake, Quino. The stake! Take out the stake for God’s sake! Nythanel has been shot! Free me! There's no time for this! He pressed his body against her and slipped his tongue between her parted lips, and there was a brief moment where she thought he would actually have her here and now. But the wood handle of the stake poked him in his own chest, and he was pulled out of his feverish stupor. “Shit, fuck, okay let me just-”

They both knew stakes didn’t kill, and he tried to be gentle as he wrenched it from her. Her body reacted violently as complete motor functionality returned. She shook and she trembled as if seizing and she let out a loud and inhuman scream, slowly feeling herself react to her brain’s commands again. Her forehead touched to the floor and her hair covered her like a soaked blanket as her fingernails dug in and she felt everything primal bubble up and overflow. She screamed more, and more, and more, and when she was tired of screaming her gaze went to Raymond’s corpse. A pancake for a head now. But it wasn’t enough. That wasn’t punishment enough! “Fucker!” She roared, the words escaping her that she hardly spoke. Vulgar and crass. She leapt at the body on all fours, her manicured nails digging where bone had split skin. Tearing at him and beating him and biting him and draining with her mouth what still warm blood was left, but lacking the real satisfaction of his pain. He was dead, he was no more. Joaquin stole her kill. Joaquin stole it. Her eyes looked to Joaquin who had scarpered to the other side of the meeting room’s table. He was frozen in place, his expression stoic as he waited for her to calm down. He stole everything from her. How much of her now wouldn't be if not for him twisting her and twisting her and- “Noa. We gotta go.” His voice was so gentle. Her body continued to shake, and she wanted to lunge at fresh blood. Giving someone real suffering was so close. She wanted to inflict this agony onto someone else SO badly. “I hate him!” Her voice was ragged, ruined, childish. She was sobbing and her legs were barely able to hold her up. Her Beast like a little girl who couldn’t get her way. The feeling of being utterly helpless. Of true paralysis. Nythanel's injury. It was all her fault. All of this was her fault. Nythanel was hurt and it was all her fault.

“He’s gone now. He's dead. You’re safe. We have each other now. For good this time. No hunters. No family. Us.” Joaquin reassured her, staying back and speaking softly. “You’re safe. I love you. I love you.” He kept repeating I love you, it made her want to collapse. “I- I just...” She looked down at her bloodied feet, saw her best friend, her soul mate, half blown away. Her Beast seemed to roll in on itself as she tried to will it back. There was just so much to do. Her beloved... Maybe there was still time. "Joaquin, we need to call Julian. We need to call the Family. I need to fix this."

[crownedinmarigolds]

OC Kiss Week - Final Day! - Nythanel and Sydney - Thinblood Revolutionaries in Love! Ahh Nyth and Syd, perfect for each other save for that pesky vampirism problem they both have wildly different opinions on. When it's the right person at the perpetually wrong time. My final quick sketch for OC Kiss Week! I'm proud I at least got five out of seven days done!!

[thesixthplaneteer]

Did a thing because everyone is making a big deal about like smooching and romance and stuff right now. (It's me, I'm everyone.) Here is Nyth's romance chart! Original by @_Mythir on Twitter!

Nythanel is a very open Trans Gay man that is very unabashed in going after what he wants. In the modern times he is very disillusioned with romance. Several very deep and meaningful relationships ending terribly and the fact no one could compare to his best friend, soulmate, and wife Noa. He has just lost interest in romantic attachment. Fun hookups and flings? That's different. He might be undead but his flesh still yearns for the touch of others, a side effect of being Thinblood. Thanks to his responsibilities in the family he gets to get out a little and mingle but it's mostly business and boring people. sometimes he wants to spend some time with someone interesting, masculine, and willing to top him respectfully. If such a person comes into view he might pursue them if his responsibilities don't get in the way but don't expect to be elevated beyond a contact in his phone.

[thesixthplaneteer]

Oh this is something I actually think about!

Ralph has a small routine when he awakes from torpor. Habits left over from being in the Army and also he shaves his head so he showers every night if possible.

Nythanel showers every night and has a full routine, (skin care and all) he is very keen on taking care of his body even if it's not 'necessary' also he works with blood and chemicals often so he doesn't want to walk around smelling like whatever thing he was cooking up. He is also all too aware of the mutability of thinbloods so he doesn't want to risk any lasting damage to his body beyond what he has done to survive

Harrakhty will soak in a perfumed bath if his schedule allows or if he is going to be around a lot of mortals that night.

Carmichael mostly just stands in the hot shower as a desperate attempt to feel warm again.

Godwynn washes himself old school. A little bit of soapy water and a rag. He doesn't see the point in fully bathing especially if he hasn't done anything to get dirty. But regularly washes his hands and face with the above method. (He misses communal bathhouses)

I wonder cause vampires don't sweat at all

How often does your vtm character take a bath or shower?? That's such an interesting thing to think about

[thesixthplaneteer]

It was uncomfortable to ask this of Noa, especially with everything they've been through and how strong their love was for each other. Unfortunately he craved a form of companionship he didn't want to ask her for, he wanted to get fucked. It wouldn't be fair if only he got to have someone else to have this time with. She deserved to have someone that would fulfill those needs he couldn't as well.

Doing this together made it feel more right. Making it into a sort of game. They each had a card to fill out and cast out into the world to see who or what it attracts. Nythanel frowned at how shallow his wants were but despite his best efforts his body still lusted.

"Let's see what comes of it." Nythanel thinks to himself. "If it's a mistake or no one takes the offer then maybe this Bad Dragon store I've heard of will having something to sate me." ~~~~

Please feel free to respond and RP! It was fun to think of what Nyth would want! Using the template remade by pocketmemes, but original template is by d3vilbabi3 on Twitter! (Warning, VERY NSFW Twitter)

[crownedinmarigolds]

My husband's half-drow and Shadowheart!!!

[thesixthplaneteer]

30. Harsh whisper pls!

Thank you for the ask! sorry I'm a little late getting to it but it has been bouncing around in my head all day. Write-up below the pic!

Context: Nythanel is currently still going by Nathaniel. He arrived in Las Vegas not long ago and is about to meet with the magisters of the Tremere chantry, the place he thinks he belongs.

A pair of art deco doors loomed before him. His heart beat faster. A despised bodily function given it was meant to be stopped but with the thought of everything promised beyond these doors how could it not beat faster? He took in a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Are you ready?" A calm voice asked from behind him. His heart nearly burst free of his chest but, he held onto his composure and turned to see the owner of the voice. His sire. His lover. "I think so, I'm just-" Nathaniel's voice caught in this throat as Sebastian grasped his shoulders. No matter how many times they've touched it still stole his breath away. Sebastian leaned down toward him. A good luck kiss maybe? Nathaniel thought. So bold in the atrium of the chantry. "Don't embarrass me." Sebastian said as his grip tightened uncomfortably. The harsh whisper shattered the illusion of the warm and caring man he loved. Sebastian brushed down the shoulders of Nathaniel's coat then turned to the doors. Nathaniel felt dizzy and nauseous with anxiety, more functions he despised, only more of himself to hate, more of him that needs to be fixed.

[thesixthplaneteer]

I would LOVE to tell you about my OC. I have many WOD OCs but my baby boy is Dr. Nythanel Glenn Loken phd. On a research trip down in Mexico he met a man that changed his world. Starting off with sweeping romance and following through with miracles of science, Nythanel was smitten. In unfortunate circumstances that his sire (a Tremere) claims was a product of experimentation Nyth came out a thinblood after his embrace. The turmoil didn't stop as soon after his embrace his best friend Noa was also due to be embraced by her father (a Giovanni). That in itself was fine, Nyth was excited for her to join unlife but the ceremony was cut short by a Sabbat raid forcing Nyth to flee with one of Noa's uncles and an embraced but not yet re-awoken Noa. For years and years after there were ups and downs as he an Noa navigate the new world they find themselves in together. Fun facts: Nyth is a big Lord of the Rings nerd. He can speak and write Elvish. This heavily influences his view on vampirism. Not seeing himself and others as monsters but as beings above mortality like the Elves. His blood is thin but his ass is fat Nyth likes boxing and He even beat a Brujah fledgling in a straight fist fight (lucky ass rolls on my end)

now that I’ve gone on a following spree of wod blogs I can start my TRUE evil agenda:

tell me about your wod ocs. that’s an order I want to see them I love love love wod ocs