#btr: ysabelle

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART IV: THE BLOODMOTHER}

written by @bebemoon. 

tag list: @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules​ @vampirkaninchen​ @blubbingbeautifully

[Smoke To Choke]

Ysabelle felt as though she had only just shut her eyes when she was woken by the sound of shouting.

And even before her eyes flew open, she knew-

The Stench overpowered even the stinging scent of smoke and burn and accelerent.

Dropping to the floor of her bedroom, she first threw herself over the bed to rouse Lia, while at the other end of the house, the shouting continued-

At the same time, someone began banging on the bedroom door with open hands, then fists. "Mother! Mother!"

Lia turned over, her eyes half-lidded. "Wha-?"

"Get up!" Ysabelle ordered, throwing the duvet back. "The house is on fire. Get up, unless you want to be charred to ash."

Lia swung herself out of the bed, still sleep-addled. "Is someone at the door?" she wondered.

Ysa threw her hand in the direction of the window- and the panes unlatched and flew open, sucking the curtains out into the purpling morning air. A billow of smoke from the floor below entered through the open window like a malefic spirit, swirling over the bedroom floor.

As she crossed the room to the dividing curtain, she commanded, "Out the window. Now. Wait on the roof."

"What about you?" Lia asked, anxiety colouring her voice.

Ysa stepped through the heavy drapes and into the foyer where the incessant banging was coming from. "I'm right behind you," she called. "Go!"

The door rattled with the force of the banging. When Ysa finally unlocked the door and pulled it open, Angelika threw herself inside and slammed it shut behind her- pressing her back to the wood with a moment's relief on her face.

"Mother," she said, stepping away from the door and taking Ysa by the wrist. "The ground floor is engulfed- we can't get out that way."

Ysa allowed herself to be led beyond the drapes. Somehow, she only had one question for the girl. "Did you see Amare?"

"I don't know," said Angelika. "I think she's with Granny Zhang- She's gathering everyone on the south roof."

The Bloodmother was not an alarmist, customarily. There was not much between heaven and earth that frightened her. But this very well-timed trap...

She took hold of Angelika and ushered her over to the open window. "Out," she ordered. "Quickly."

The slip of a girl did as she was ordered and ducked out of the bedroom, onto the roof.

Ysa went to retrieve Catala's bottle and the loaded handgun resting in the drawer of one of the nightstands before following behind.  

-

"How did they find us?"

Ysabelle, Angelika and Lia were crouched at the roof's edge, overlooking the snowy front lawn- which was turned a pale blue in the early morning light that had begun to bleed over the horizon.

It was now easy to see that the house was surrounded by Wolves, both in the guise of man and Wolf. A few dozen going by the sounds of their hearts...and great, fetid Stench.

Ysa could think of only one person to blame- the only one she was aware of who had had any contact with one of Wolf-kind recently.

"Is Nessa with Zhang?" she asked Angelika, who was on her right.

Angelika shook her white-blonde head. "I don't know."

"What are we going to do? The sun's coming up," Lia whispered.

Within the house came the unmistakable sound of a cave-in- a loud crash of cracking wood beams and shattering chandeliers.

Ysa had the thought that perhaps it was for the best that Maminot was dead. Seeing the beloved house in a heap of ash would have devestated her to death anyway.

"We can't travel by shadow in daylight," Angelika muttered. "Can't fly either."

Below, the Wolves waited, shifting restlessly with folded arms and admiring their destructive handiwork. The bulging men were armed and the Wolves, trembling and keyed-up for a fight. G*d in heaven, the Stench was overwhelming Ysa's ability to think properly.

Zhang's voice, thick with unusual anxiety, sounded over the house's conical spires. She was still gathering her sisters to her on the opposite side of Bilitis House.

Ysa would have shouted back to allay Yinmei's worries, but she didn't want to give her position away to the dogs below.

Some laughter came up from the lawn- laughter at Zhang's panic, she imagined. Wrath encased Ysa's stomach, boiling her insides red until it was the only colour she could see.

There was no time to waste. The sun was arriving.

Ysa pressed Angelika and Lia back from her. "The garage," she told them, "is the only shelter we have left. If you can get there without being noticed-"

"What about you?" Lia asked once again. She was wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas leftover from her mortal life. Still crouched barefoot and hugging her arms, she seemed very small and helpless.

Ysa got to her feet. "I will...buy you some time over here while you two go over the roof to the others-"

Already the other two were protesting, but she cut them off with a gesture of her hand.

"-and tell them to make for the garage."

Lia set her jaw. "No."

"No?" replied the Bloodmother. "Get over the roof before I delimb you both."

Angelika, who was very much used to the way of things, simply nodded. She took Lia's arm. "Come. Mother has spoken," said the girl.

Lia emitted a helpless sound, her pinkening eyes going wild. "You'll meet us?" she demanded.

In spite of everything, Ysabelle suppressed a grin. "I will meet you."

With her arm still being held by Angelika, Lia wrenched forward to kiss Ysa before they bounded off into the thick black smoke hanging over the house.

-

Ysabelle poised her finger over the trigger of her firearm, taking aim at a large bald man with a tattooed face.

Dog food, she thought. And pulled the trigger.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART II: THE BLOODMOTHER}

written by: @bebemoon 

outfit ref: n/a, see the above image .

tag list: @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules​ @vampirkaninchen​ @blubbingbeautifully​

Soundtrack: AMOR EST MORTIS, susanne sundfør

[THE FAVOURITE]

"MISSING ELDER MYSTERY DEEPENS"

Beneath the headline emblazoned on the front page of the Halacre Herald, there was a photo of a toppled vehicle in a densely wooded area. The caption mentioned that it had been discovered up in a cluster of trees but had fallen through the forest canopy after the authorities were called.

And it was found to have belonged to the Maminots, who had been missing a week over by that time.

Zammurad had taken her "clean-up" duties a little too far.

"What does it say?" Lia asked softly.

Darling Amaelia was beside Ysabelle as she read the newspaper at her vanity. She had taken up a silver-handled brush to run through Ysa's long, dark hair, and until she spoke, she had been humming something under her blood-sweetened breath.

Ysabelle folded the paper and placed it on the vanity table. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "The authorities are wonderfully dim," she replied flatly. "Zammurad has managed a confusing scenario- I doubt they'll be able to suss anything further."

The authorities had, of course, shown up to Bilitis House asking questions since it was the last known location of the missing Historical Society elders, but Ysabelle was able to successfully divert the police- bending their senses in a different direction. Well, several different directions.

Still, the mortals weren't the only ones to be dealt with.

Poppy was still confined and under heavy guard. Last Ysa spoke with her, the girl had revealed her utter unrepentantness regarding the knotty situation she had created.  

"I need to send Poppy away," Ysabelle said to her own dark-eyed reflection. "She is a threat to this coven's survival as long as she remains here. The Wolves are circling as it is."

Lia paused momentarily in her brushing. "I think Poppy's awful for having placed you under so much stress," she said, her tone strangely tender. Her bronze brows furrowed then. "And you've been so forgiving... . She deserves much worse, in my opinion."

Ysa's eyes drifted upwards of her own reflection to regard the ghostly-pale woman standing over her bare shoulder. The flesh of a white rose, the intense jade-stone eyes wreathed in gold-

Amaelia was still overcoming her bloodlust, but there had been much improvement in her over the past days. She was no longer in constant, blood-curdling agony (though, it still came and went, contorting her body disturbingly when it did come). The whites of her eyes had returned, her fangs were finally retracted. And, strangely, her hair was becoming steadily more pink. It was subtle against the fawn-colour, but nonetheless, she seemed to be pinkening- even her brows and eye-lashes were changing.

It was a pleasure to have her Amaelia back in lucidity, her gentleness and devotion returned. The awful gutting Ysabelle felt while watching Lia become delirious and wretched with pain caused her a sort of anguish she could hardly name- could not recall enduring, not even when Amare had clung to her like a petrified child ages ago.

Ysabelle leaned forward to prop her elbow on the vanity table. She rested her chin in her palm and continued to watch Lia as she brushed her hair and slipped her fingers through the dark, silky tresses with each stroke.

Little by little, the pair started to grin, and their grins deepened through the mirror. Knowing one another's thoughts precisely.

"The house is so still with everyone away," said Lia, a suggestion in her tone. Her voice was soft and her reflected eyes half-lidded as she slid her fingers about The Bloodmother's throat. She leaned closer to place a kiss on Ysabelle's shoulder...

And when she did, something heavy and cold thumped into Ysa's back.

Ysa reached over her shoulder to grasp whatever it was- a familiar pendant on a necklace that Lia was wearing.

She turned fully in her chair to face the consort, never releasing the pendant. "What are you doing with this?" she asked firmly.

"I...found it among your things, in a dusty little chest," Lia replied innocently. She gestured vaguely to the armoire. "I thought you wouldn't mind since it was so buried-"

"Mistress?"

Lia started at the sudden appearance of the cherub Weep-not, who, unlike his bald brother, had been blessed with a mop of golden curls. The angelic feature was greatly juxtaposed with his wretched little visage.

Ysabelle exhaled impatiently. "Yes, what is it?"

Weep-not waddled closer, his eyes cast downward. He would have possessed more confidence with his faithful porcelain doll companion, Marguerite. However, the word was that she was indisposed, of late- whatever that meant.

"Mistress," he began again, "I do not wish to disturb you, but Mr. Durwin is back. I s-spied him through the drawing room window."

Bothersome man.

Roland Durwin was Paulette Maminot's older brother and the man that sold Bilitis House to Ysabelle in the first place. Dutifully, he had shown up on the house's doorstep each night since the police informed him that they had cleared its inhabitants of any culpability in his sister's disappearance. Durwin, it appeared, was not convinced. He wanted an audience.

"Persistent, isn't he?" Ysa muttered, casting a glance to the draped windows. "Go. Leave him to me."

"Yes, Mistress," Weep-not mumbled. He executed something resembling a bow before backing out of the room through the heavy drapes.

Ysabelle, not overly concerned with the mortal on her doorstep, then returned her attention to Lia, whose fair features had fallen into worried lines.

"I would prefer it if you did not look through my belongings," said Ysa, her tone mild. She reached out to retake the ancient rock crystal pendant into the palm of her hand. It was in the shape of a scarab beetle.

Immortality, resurrection, transformation-

Unbidden, Amare's voice swept in an echo through Ysa's mind. It has the hue of clear moonlight.

The Bloodmother cleared her throat of emotion before continuing. "I was going to give this necklace to Amare," she explained. "She admired it, and I wanted to pass it on to someone who would care for it as I have. Before I could gift it to her on the anniversary of her death, I was forced to put her to sleep... . Since then, I've kept it safe and tucked away... . Not unlike Amare."

Lia, lips apart, pressed a hand over her still chest. "I’m sorry, I didn't realise-"

Ysa quelled her with a wave. "It is a beautiful necklace," she said gently, a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. "Someone ought to wear it."  

Lia beamed, her green eyes alight. She clutched the delicate, braided gold chain to her chest and half-spun herself on the balls of her feet. In the midst of her thrill, she seemed to have a sudden revelation and paused, sweeping blushing hair out of her speckled face.

"Could I see her?" Lia wondered. "Amare, I mean."

"What for?" Ysa asked.

Lia dropped herself into Ysabelle's lap. "Almost everyone's in Bay Haven tonight," she said, low. "So there's no one out and about in the house to threaten to 'make my bone dust into baubles'-"

"Zhang," Ysa guessed.

"-which means you can let me out just this once to look around, right?"

"And you want to start with Amare? I doubt Sabine will allow it," the Bloodmother replied.

Lia's brows lifted. "Can a servant like Sabine disallow you from anything?"

Ysabelle emitted a small noise of disgust and pressed the other woman out of her lap. "You do not need to manipulate me," she chided but only half-heartedly. "You had to know I would take you."

-

(Soundtrack: LE CYGNE, camille saint-saëns)

[SLEEPING EVIL]

Amare's chambers were strung in sheer drapes, gathered and hanging over every corner of the room, obscuring everything like an ethereal, ebbing mist. It would have been dark within, save the flickering candlelight, but the gossamer brightness of the drapings caught the moonlight pouring in through the uncovered windows, lending the space a great deal of soft light.

Sabine did allow Ysabelle to enter Amare's chambers, and Lia along with her, but only after assurances that the newest coven member would not touch her sleeping mistress.

The servant walked briskly ahead of the pair and moved one of the veils of gossamer aside, revealing the bier and bed of Amare wreathed in golden candlelight. Amare, too, was covered completely in a sheer shroud, her form and features just visible beneath the white film.

Lia wasted no time. She gathered the skirt of her nightdress and stepped up onto the dais to lean over the sleeping form bedded in dahlias and orchids.

Sabine stood in rigid silence just behind Ysabelle. The woman was noticeably tense, but Ysa assumed she was anxious due to Lia, a virtual stranger, being so near Amare.

"You needn't be so alarmed, Sabine," Ysa said without turning to face the woman.

She kept her eyes on Lia, who, even as a mortal, seemed to possess the curiosity of a child. She could be almost alien-like in her fascination with beauty, with finery...with blood. Her eyes would become large and her lips would part with a soft gasp...

Ysabelle pressed the image down. Cleared her throat.

When Lia flicked the shroud back from Amare's face, Sabine started forward with a scolding behind her teeth, but Ysa held her arm out to prevent the servant from performing any violence.

"Be still," said the Bloodmother. She was not curt, only good-natured. After all, protectiveness—particularly over someone she loved as her own child—was not a sin in her book.

"She's beautiful,” Lia breathed and laughed. “Like a doll.”

She sounded like a little girl in a toy shop.

Silence reigned for several moments following. Outside, the moon disappeared behind the clouds and plunged the chambers into near-darkness. The candles haloed the scene on the dais. Everyone was still.

Finally, the moon reappeared and Lia turned away from Amare’s sleeping form. The crystal scarab gleamed at her sternum in the moonlight.

“Could you put Poppy to sleep like this?” she asked, stepping down from the dais. “Actually, why haven’t you put Poppy to sleep?”

Ysa folded her arms. “Putting Amare under nearly killed me. She fought it—it was weeks before she finally succumbed and the spell took hold,” she said. “And then it took months to recover from the effort. That was years ago. Aged as I am, I do not think I have it in me to do it again- in particular with Poppy, who once assured me that she would have the Devil himself devour me ‘from the toes up’ if I ever tried to do the same to her.”

Lia lifted her eyes to the ceiling pensively. “Couldn’t Zammurad assist you? Maybe if you both tried-?”

“Lord Greggor is searching out a new bride,” Sabine quietly put in.

Ysa looked back at the woman. “Really? What happened to the last one?”

“The Lord said that she’s missing,” replied the servant.

Given Greggor’s portliness and inability to stand on his own two feet (indeed, his servants carried him around on a covered palanquin), the usual underworld gossip was that he devoured his brides on their “wedding” night.

Ysa was certainly angry with Poppy, however, she did not want to see the girl sold into marriage and eaten.  

The Bloodmother released a sigh. “It’s a discussion for another time, then,” she told the two women. “Sabine, thank you. We will let you return to your duties. Ah- actually, if I could make one more request of you-?”

Sabine bowed her head. “Anything, my lady.”

“Has your mistress been fed yet?” Ysa wondered.

The servant shook her head without raising it.

Ysabelle smiled. “Fantastic. I have a loose end that needs tying off,” she said. “There is a man outside the front door- tend to him, won’t you?”

-

Soundtrack: WHEN THE LORD, susanne sundfør

[AWAY FROM THE DARK. SOFTLY...] 

The Bloodmother dreamt as the sun rose: 

Ysabelle could see them standing together by the window,

but she could not make sense of it.

Why would they two be together? How did they come to be acquainted?

The shorter of the two figures was livid with bloodstains, her face was slick and glistening with blood, her hands were gloved in it. She wore the crystal scarab,

but she was not Amaelia.

The taller figure, a broad-shouldered man, naked to the waist, was concealed in shadow,

Nonetheless Ysabelle knew him. She knew his stench, she knew the way he carried himself. She could hear his heart thrumming, almost humming with the hunt.

They were together, but it was impossible. Impossible.

“Mother,” they said.

Impossible.

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART III: THE BLOODMOTHER}

written by: @bebemoon

outfit ref: i can’t draw to save my life, but i tried ! so, here is ysa’s eros costume for the ball- metal armour chest strap, pearls and gold harness, four diaphanous trains/veils hemmed in white feathers to mimic eros’ wings, golden armlets and thigh band. bow and quiver of arrows for good measure. yoni-out, as promised.  

tag list: @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules​ @vampirkaninchen​ @blubbingbeautifully

[PESTILENCE IS A REDHEAD] 

"Cyborée told me what you and Yinmei want to do."

Poppy's jaw was set. She never seemed more like a child, standing there barefoot and fuming after being informed that she was disallowed from attending Greggor's party.

The Bloodmother used her foot to kick aside the tantrum-made wreckage covering the floor of Poppy's bedroom. Splintered wood, ripped bed clothes, down feathers, shredded books, shattered and bloodied glass. Even the brand-new chandelier was hanging by a thread. The entire room was completely destroyed.

Poppy stood amid the chaos with her hands behind her back, an arist displaying her work in a gallery. She, not unlike her dwelling, was in disarray. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes wild. Her clothes were ripped from being caught up in the swing of a firepoker- which was rested in what was left of the bed.

Ysabelle sighed, her eyes roving the walls now denuded of their golden Chinoise panels. The remnants lay curled and crumpled on the floor. "Do tell," she muttered, distracted.

Poppy tightened her teeth. "You're planning to put me to sleep. Just like Amare."

"Oh, I would never," replied Ysabelle. "If you were unconcious, who would be here to cause me endless inconveniences?"

Poppy died a child. Of course, she had existed well past her teen years, but she was frozen in the mindset of a fifteen year old. She still threw tantrums when she didn't get her way, and whatever she wanted, she took without a moment's thought. Years with the Coven, and Ysabelle felt it was for nothing. Nothing had settled her. Poppy didn't care any more for her sisters than she did Paulette Maminot.

And, with Ysabelle's agedness apparently catching up with her, she couldn't see herself tangling with Poppy any longer.

The girl shook her head. "No, you can't," she said, her voice cracking. "You can't."

Ysa said nothing. Her dark eyes were pinned to a dark red stain on the rug underfoot.

"You can't," Poppy repeated, low. "If you even try, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Ysabelle finally gave her gaze to the redhead, but she did not lift her voice. She turned her body slowly. "I am curious."

The girl looked away, her jaw clenched.

"Threaten me, Popelina?" said the Bloodmother, her voice soft yet unholy. In a blink, she was before the girl, taking her pallid face between her thumb and forefinger. Her nails dimpled the flesh of Poppy's cheeks. "My eyes have seen much and I have faced grotesqueries no one, certainly not you, could imagine."

Poppy remained still, her eyes downcast from the Bloodmother's.

Ysabelle could overlook certain things, but to be threatened by someone she had moved heaven and earth for on more than one occasion, had threatened the survival of her Coven-

It was like being spit at over and over.

"A spoiled brat with the cognitive capacity of a pond leech, I do not fear," said Ysa, and she released Poppy's face, leaving behind a pair of thin lacerations that healed over almost immediately. "Do not forget, I rescued you from under the Shiveleys. And all you have done since to repay me is routinely step out of line."

Poppy's face was pinched with distaste over being handled. She eyed Ysabelle but wisely kept silent.

Ysa turned away, her mind already made up. "You have your wish," she said. "Get dressed."

Though she was not looking at Poppy, she could feel the tension lessen. She said, "You mean, I can go to the ball?"

"Yes, you can go."

Poppy was baffled into a few beats of silence. Then: "Why-"

"Oh?" Ysabelle lilted. "Shall I explain myself to the likes of you?"

With the prospect of a little freedom looming near, all defiance had melted away. The response was quick. "No, Mother."

The Bloodmother went to the bedroom door and knocked to be let out by Zammurad who had been keeping a watchful eye on Poppy over the past few days.

Before Ysa left, she told the girl, "I will send someone to fetch you."

-

[A LITTLE PARTY] 

The night deepened, and the Coven, in all their costumed finery, gathered in the garden to travel as one.

By flight, it would've taken some time to reach Lord Greggor's island. Therefore, the method of travel was a simple step through space and shadow, through a world known only to the half-dead. And, in a blink, where once the Coven of Bilitis House had been standing together in their own frost-ridden gardens, they now stood on a broken stone terrace that was being gently lapped by the night-black Adriatic.

Even over the din of the sea, the sounds of string music and lifted voices could be heard. Beneath the salty air, an unmistakable, redolent scent.

Ysabelle, in the (un)dress of the god Eros, gathered Lia to her side and led the group up a set of ancient steps to a loggia where shadows moved here and there, appearing and disappearing in pairs. Hushed voices tickled the ears of the undead.

Beyond the loggia, the moon lit a courtyard of spindly trees and a massive, ornate fountain where dozens had gathered in mirthy spirit. The smell of blood was strong there, and already much of the Coven was moving away from Ysabelle, drawn towards the fragrant scarlet waters spilling from the mouths of stone fish and the breasts of nymphs, staining the white stone tiers dark. Vampires were swimming in the fountain, splashing in it, screaming delirious in it, unaware of all else around them.      

Even Lia, her butterfly wings shivering on her back, was being lured away, but Ysabelle held her close to her side. The blood fountain was nothing, she was certain, compared to whatever was to be found within Greggor's villa.

Once they passed through the courtyard, only Zhang, Poppy, and Pixie remained with Ysa and Lia. The five stepped through a stone archway and into another walkway with worn mosaic floors depicting bloody rituals and bacchic scenes of debauchery, most of which was so perverse as to not be suited for the eyes of...well, anyone. And the awful string music swelled in their ears as they neared a marble terrace with rows of Ionic columns, lit with warm light spilling out from within the villa.

In the light of the lavish villa entrance, a raving cacophony of raised voices and hellish strains met them first, followed by the overwhelming scent of blood. But that was to be expected.

Then the wide open spread of the banquet hall, brimming with warm-lit bodies in outlandish, ancient raiment and one or two wearing comically-costumey minotaur heads (and not much else along with it). Dancing, mostly, but there were quite a few...feasting, as mortals were present. Most of their young eyes were unfocused and wild. Drugged, Ysa guessed.

To the living present, the villa must've smelled terrible.  

At the head of the only table was the host, Lord Greggor in the animal-skinned attire of Dionysos. He could not be missed for his girth was not something at which any mortal could survive. Nonethless, he was ivy-crowned and glittering in golden baubles, surrounded by his surviving brides (who were all dressed as nymphs in airy chitons). Two of the women were carrying around amphoras of blood to serve the guests, while another pair bore golden trays of what could only be desribed as "viscera" for their husband.

Ysabelle leaned into Lia so that she could hear her over the noise. "I need to speak with Greggor," she said into Lia's ear. "Stay close to Zhang."

Lia only nodded. Her bright eyes were all over the place, attempting to take the entire scene in.

Zhang, on the other hand, appeared as through she would've much rather plucked out her own eyes than spare a moment to watch over Lia. But she would do it if she had to, at the Bloodmother's behest.

Ysa mouthed a quick "thank you" to her friend before taking hold of Poppy's wrist. "Come," she told the redhead. The music was screeching insistantly now.

"We must greet our host."

-

[SEND IN THE WOLVES] 

As Ysabelle led Poppy through the crowd of revelers, Poppy's head swiveled every which way- her senses pulling her in every direction.

"Why do I have to greet him?" Poppy asked, raising her voice as they slid through a tightly-packed group of Vampires.

Ysa pretended not to hear.

They reached the table, and Greggor spotted them immediately. He chortled, setting his belly into motion, and seemed to have an epiphany. He gave a small hand signal that apparently released his wives from his side for they all stepped away as Ysa and Poppy came forward. The brides left the hall together, tittering excitedly among themselves.

"My Lord," said Ysabelle pleasantly. "Eros greets you."

Lord Greggor regarded her costume and chuckled again. Then: "My Lady is daring as ever."

Ysabelle brought an openly beumused Poppy forward, ignoring Greggor's comment. "Lord, I heard of your recent loss," she said, pressing her hand over her chest to indicate her sympathy. "I wanted to offer mine and my Coven's condolences."

Greggor's grin slowly faded into an expression of profoud wistfulness. "Morbida, you mean," he said on a sigh. "She was...a disappointment. You must know how difficult it is to find true companionship at our age. I suppose we had little in common, but...she never gave me a proper chance. I had to do what I did."

"Anyone who would treat you so poorly deserves their fate," Ysa lied. "If there's anything I can do to help-?"

The corpulent Vampire brightened immediately. "I am searching for someone new, to take Morbida's place in my heart and mind," he said. His beady eyes did skip to Poppy but only for a moment. "If you know of anyone suitable...?"

Ysabelle feigned a little gasp. "It's fate, my Lord," she pronounced, indicating Poppy at her side. "Popelina would be perfect for you. What do you think?"

"Mother," Poppy uttered sharply, clearly panicked. She could not outright reject him. Greggor's ego would not stand for it, especially before all of his peers- there would likely be violent reprecussions if she spoke against him.

Lord Greggor beamed, ecstatic. "Eros indeed. Do you know, I was just thinking the same," he laughed. He beckoned Poppy with his swollen hand. "Come, come, my dear. Come stand next to me. Let us get to know one another."

Poppy hesitated, but helpless, she eventually did as she was told.  

Ysabelle regarded the pair with false softness. "A match if I ever saw one," said she, spreading her hands.

She did not intend to give Poppy over to Greggor, she only wished to frighten the girl into better behaviour in the future. Before the night was out, she would perhaps see that some things were worse than being put to sleep for a few years. 

Greggor motioned to one of the trays left behind by the brides, and Poppy, indignation colouring her aura, leaned over the table to take up a handful of gore to feed the Lord with her own hands. It was an upsetting scene for anyone to witness.

Ysa turned away as if to leave the table, but Greggor called her back.

He said, "You might want to stay put, my Lady. I have a surprise that I think you might enjoy. My brides are fetching them now."

Out of politeness, Ysabelle remained at the table while Poppy continued to feed Lord Greggor. Surprises, she did not care for. 

Across the hall, she could see Lia who was being twirled by a mortal, and by the looks of it, it was not anything the mortal wished to be a part of. She twirled and twirled, her butterfly wings fluttering prettily behind her. Then, without warning, she snapped at his throat. 

At the same time, a terrible stench was growing. And there was a sound that would set any Vampire on edge. 

Ysa wasn’t the only one to hear and smell it. Almost everyone was craning in the same direction now- towards the back archway the brides had disappeared through earlier. 

The music continued on. 

And a moment later, the brides were back, but not alone. In a display so strange, Ysa could not have concieved of it in her most diabolical nightmares, the Lord’s cackling brides appeared holding thick silver chains at the ends of which were thickly muzzled Wolves. Five, all together. Restless and tugging at their restraints, but impressively, being tightly controlled by the brides, some of whom were at the reigns of more than one Wolf. The biggest, for instance, seemed to be limping, but was still being held by three women. 

The Vampire and mortal crowd responded instantly by backing up, murmuring sharply and cursing among themselves.  

“What is this?” Ysabelle demanded. 

Greggor bellowed in laughter. “My friends!” he shouted jovially. The music stopped then. “A treat! You see my brides captured these fellows on a hunt- and I thought I might share their triumph with you all!” 

A smattering of applause followed that, but for the most part, the Vampires were wary. 

Sensing this, Greggor added, “Come, come, my friends. There is nothing to fear- these dogs are wrapped securely in silver! Pathetic, aren’t they?” 

Some agreement went around the room. 

“Tonight,” sang Greggor, lifting his arms with some doing, “we take the mutts’ heads!” 

At that announcement, the Vampires roared with approval. The music and dancing started up again. 

The brides went to chain the Wolves in the courtyard so that they could be observed by the guests. 

“And how fortunate,” Greggor added to Ysabelle, “to have the fabled Mother of Wolves present for such an important event.” 

Ysa watched the prisoner Wolves being paraded through the hall, being hissed and laughed at... 

No good would come of this.   

[mermaidmafia-official]

{ PART I: THE BLOODMOTHER }

written by: @bebemoon​

outfit ref: for the party .

tag list: @ayzrules @interluxetumbra @vampirkaninchen & @blubbingbeautifully​

The Bloodmother of Bilitis House was preoccupied with the floors.

As evening was settling in and the house was beginning to stir and creep with her sisters and daughters, she discovered that the petals still needed to be strewn in the foyer, over the newly-refurbished wood flooring, and there was nary a helpful cherub in sight.

The Bloodmother- called "Ysabelle" familiarly- stood on the bottom step of the wide foyer stairs pondering the naked floors. The house held the aroma of blood almost romantically, and the rose petals were necessary to somewhat hide it from the historical society mortals who would be arriving soon- along with (and utterly unbeknownst to them) some...prominent underworld figures.

Ysabelle clutched the banister with one hand, her bony hip with the other. A disaster was inevitable, but she still wanted those roses strewn.

"Vavassour." A velvety voice from above.

Ysabelle tipped her face up to see a ghostly figure in a curtain of inky hair leaning on the staircase banister overhead- someone spying with a scarlet eye.

"Zhang," Ysa said in lieu of a fitting evening greeting, and dropped her gaze once again to the foyer. "Have you seen either of the cherubs? Tonight of all nights, they decide to shirk duties when I gave them the strictest order to-"

She paused her tirade, feeling something light touch the top of her head.

Looking up, she could see Zhang was now holding a fistful of rose petals, as if her palm was slit and bleeding. "Chatham passed his rose chore off to me," she said languidly, and dropped a few more petals from her hand directly onto Ysabelle's dark head. She rested the side of her lovely, clear face against her free hand. "He said he did not have the time."

Ysabelle swiped the petals from her hair and turned to head back up the steps, trailing loose hair and billows of dark blue velvet robes and sleeves. "Did he say what was so pressing that he could not obey his mistress?" she asked.

The most Chatham would ever get from Ysabelle was sucked teeth or perhaps a drawn-out sigh if he was being particularly vexing. He, like his brother, was too childlike in mien, as most cherubs were, for Ysa to ever muster any sort of genuine dislike towards him.

Yinmei Zhang listlessly lifted herself from the banister as Ysabelle approached. A basket of rose petals sat on the landing at her feet.

"I did ask," said Zhang, "but he told me I ought to mind my own business." She then gestured at the basket as if there was nothing for it. “It’s really not a bother. They smell lovely.”

Ysabelle reached out to lightly flick her old friend's bare collarbone- a ridge of ice beneath pristine snow. "You shouldn't allow him to boss you," Ysa said as she began to move away. "After all, frail and aged as you are, you're hardly suited to labour- your bones could turn to dust at any moment. Do let one of the younger girls handle it."

"Yes, why not have your new little friend do it?" said Zhang, her tone less playful than Ysabelle's had been. She turned her head just enough to sharply eye the other woman. "It seems the least she could do after keeping the entire house up all day long."

Ysa paused, and after a beat, turned back to Yinmei. She wanted to ask...but thought better of it.

They weren't usually at odds. However, since Amaelia had come into the house, there had been the occasional bite to Zhang's retorts. Her feelings were not unshared by others in the Coven, but she was the only one who ever dared to openly second-guess Ysabelle's actions. Yinmei's disapproval was already well-noted, and Ysabelle was resolute in her decision to take Amaelia into the Coven.

And so, the two old friends were at an impasse, making their usual shared preoccupations...strained.

Ysabelle stood for a moment, wondering. Then, finally: "I hate to think Lia is disturbing your peace, my dear. I will see what I can do."

With that, the Bloodmother turned back into the corridor, leaving Yinmei to her rose petal chore.

-

[AN INTERLUDE WITH A CHERUB]

Ysabelle did not have to wonder where Chatham had gone for much longer than it took her to return to her room.

She stepped into the private parlour, golden-lit by firelight, to find him planted on a tasseled foot pillow on the floor, looking very like a horrific dog show contestant with his small gargoylish figure, gnarled digits, and fleshy little wings. Not to mention the rancid rat he was enjoying. Ysabelle understood immediately that the cherub must've hidden it from his brother, forgotten where he stowed it for a few days, and only just remembered it-

Hence the shirking of his rose petal chore.

"Here you are," said Ysabelle, closing the black bedroom door behind her. She pointed at the cherub seated and merrily devouring his foul treat. "What do you mean giving your chore to Grandmother Zhang? Her bones are older than yours and mine."

Chatham swallowed and adopted the expression of a distressed demonic toddler. "Mistress," he complained, clutching the half-eaten rat to his chest. "Well, I hate the Granny, and you know I do. Besides. Besides, I found my rat and I was hungry, and I hate chores like I hate Granny."

Ysabelle hummed. "I should've punished you more when you first came to me," she remarked. "You'd behave better. What have you against Yinmei?"

The cherub bounced his goblin feet, thinking. "She said I'm rotten. And I think she's ugly," he replied, pulling a face. "The ugliest woman I've ever, ever seen, I think."

"She's right, though," said Ysabelle, folding her arms. "You are unforgivably rotten. You and your brother. In any other house you'd be beaten with a fire poker for being a layabout."

Chatham appeared scandalised. "Mistress!" he wailed.

Ysabelle waved the creature off. He went into hysterics at any criticism, no matter how small or harmless- and since positively no one in the house found him the least bit pleasant, he was hysterical most of the time.

"Be silent, Chatham," Ysa chided, turning away. She flicked aside the heavy drape dividing her private parlour from the bedroom. "Amaelia still sleeps."  

-

[OVERHEARD AT THE HOUSE WARMING]

"A truly skilled Blood-Weaver can portal through a living being."

"I don't follow."

"It's just as I said. Crack a chest, step in, and come through another warm body-"

"In...spirit?"

"No, in flesh."

"Sounds messy."

"Oh, it's ghastly."

-

It was much later, well into the house-warming, before Ysabelle laid eyes Yinmei again.

They were supposed to be posturing as wives for the benefit of the mortals from the Halacre Historical Society. A Vampire undetected is well-fed, after all- and the very last thing she wanted was to alarm the entire town. These days, people employed the Wolves to take care of their Vampire problems-

They couldn't be too careful, as far as Ysabelle was concerned.

Yinmei was being interrogated in the drawing room by the Historical Society's head- a squat woman clutching a black bag beneath her tweedy arm. She was quite out-of-place among the other attendees. Yinmei rather looked like a tall, benevolent alien in contrast with the woman.  

"Ah, there you are!" said Zhang over the little woman's head. She had spotted Ysabelle passing through the foyer. Zhang raised her dark brows pointedly, an S.O.S., and beckoned delicately with her fingers for Ysa to come join her.

Ysa slipped her free hand into the pocket of her tailored trousers and stepped across the drawing room threshold, thumping her walking cane on the refurbished wood floors as she went.

"Dear," Zhang began with false cheer, "this Paulette Maminot, the head of the Halacre Historical Society." She introduced the small, be-wigged woman before her. She continued, "Paulette, this is my wife Ysabelle."

Paulette offered her hand to Ysa, palm down, like a duchess. "How do you do?" she said sourly. Her face somehow became even more lined while regarding the women together. "You two are married, then? My, my. How modern."

Only the mannerless insulted their host right away- she didn't even wait until the end of the night. Ysabelle leaned on her cane and grinned. "Oh, yes," she said, "for several, blissful years now. Have you met the children? They should be-"

"Actually, we were hoping for a tour of the house," the old woman interposed. "My father used to own this property- it's been in my family for ages. I was disappointed to know that my brother sold it. I see you've...taken the liberty of changing a few things. Thank goodness you kept the original flooring."

"Oh, what a shame," Zhang said, her tone light but her posture rigid. "The floors are the last thing to be dealt with. We just cannot agree on what to cover that old wood with. I say grey cork or perhaps vinyl."

"But I just adore shag carpet," Ysa put in. "It speaks of luxury."

Zhang lifted a shoulder covered in white lace. "You are right about that."

Maminot's face crumpled with displeasure and her colourless lips became a thin line. Eventually, she cleared her throat of bile and readjusted her pocketbook under her arm. "Well," she sighed, the notion of Bilitis House covered in shag having cost her both mental and spiritual strength, "burn it down for all I care. Shall I gather the others for the tour?"

Ysabelle held her free hand out, indicating the foyer filled with milling guests in black with leering eyes. A pulse, a warm perfume, would never go unnoticed in that crowd. One only hoped the other elders had not been lured away somewhere.

Maminot stalked out of the drawing room without another word, but /not without giving her disapproving gaze to Egon Schiele's "Two women embracing" as she went.

"Paper, scissors, stone," Ysabelle said once the old woman had gone. "The loser plays tour-guide."

Zhang pulled a face but nonetheless held her right fist out.

-

An hour past midnight, the house was filled with the voices of the damned and fiddle-cry from the dimly-lit ballroom- sounding like a shadowy thing hidden in fog, just out of view.

Zhang was still leading her tour (having lost the best two out of three) while Ysa continued holding court in the drawing room, but Maminot's griping was still audible to the ears of the undead.

(She did not care for the overly-ornate moulding in the corridors, nor was she happy with the "funerary" black doors. Even more incensing was the fact that Zhang was barring her from entering most of the rooms. The fact was, it was for her own good. Poppy ["The Devourer"] was locked in her rooms to avoid staining the walls red. Amaelia, in the throes of fledgling bloodlust, was under lock and key for the same reason. What the little fool didn't know was that some of those black doors kept a nasty end at bay.)

"I think I would have eaten her by now," ["A Collar of Spikes"] commented. She was leaning against the drawing room wall in head-to-toe black leather with a chalice of Rosenblut in one hand. Her dark eyes were rolled upwards, listening to the conversation taking place two stories above them.

Angelika ["ЛЕДЯНАЯ ЖЕНЩИНА"], seated on the arm of the dark velvet sofa, took a sip of her own chalice and came away catching her bottom lip in her bloody teeth. (Ysa wondered if Rosenblut gave her memories of her life as a human- or if it was only human blood that caused the flashbacks?) "Truthfully," she said in her small, tinkling-bell voice, "I don't like the black doors either. Makes me think of...decay, rot. Nasty things."

"You're drinking animal blood, 'Lika," ["A Collar of Spikes"] reminded her on a smirk. "You are a nasty thing. What difference does it make, anyway, what colour the damn doors are? We should all be out flying, driving- not stuck here with these stodgy, old elites and mortals."

[”A Collar of Spikes”] was at her best when leaned over a dimly-lit pool table, pool-stick against her ribcage. 

Ysa slowly released the tension in her spine and let herself sit back in her chair, expelling the ineffable pressure of the evening. Lately, she had been experiencing small spells of fatigue that she couldn’t recall ever feeling before. It felt like being wrung out, pain included. And she suddenly wanted to be alone.  

She dismissed [ACoS] with a flick of her hand. “I release you, dear. Go enjoy the night- someone ought to.” 

[ACoS] didn’t tary. She drew away from the wall, put her chalice down and righted her black leather jacket. “Thank you, Mother, dear,” she said, and about-faced to the window, which she threw open and promptly jumped out of- taking wing on the night air. Gone. 

Only a moment later, the sounds of discord resounded through the house, coming from upstairs. At once, Ysabelle drew to her feet.

- 

[THE SCENE]

Zhang was shouting over someone else’s distraught shrieking. And the smell was unmistakable, luring throngs of party-goers to pack the stairs- 

When Ysabelle arrived on the steps leading to the third storey corridor, it was as horrific as the over-powering smell led her to believe it would be. 

“I tried to stop her, Ysabelle!” Zhang was frantically saying over the screaming. Her cheeks were speckled red- like gory, little freckles. “It happened so quickly!” 

Her arms were full of a red-headed girl with thrilled eyes bright as pomegranate jewels. Her emerald velvet dress was soaked in dark fluid from neck to belly. The white lace collar was turned crimson. A pair of matching coral hair combs hung loosely in her hair, having come loose in all the tumult. 

Poppy. She was screaming and raking at Zhang’s pretty white gown, catching at the lace and tearing the beads away. Her fangs were extended to needles and there was hardly a speck of pale skin to be seen- it was slick with blood. 

And it wasn’t one or two or even three, but all of the Halacre Historical Society strewn in the corridor. Poppy still had a hold of Maminot’s wrist, clutched in a death grip. 

Ysabelle wanted to know how this had come about. She had put Poppy away in her rooms, knowing something like this would happen if she was permitted to roam. Ysa had even struck the door with a Blood-Bind to keep her safely within- not even another Blood-Weaver could have undone the Bind.

The scene was confusing, but Ysa didn’t have time to ask questions or feel her bones brim with dread-

They would have to hide this. 

She and Angelika flew to Zhang’s side, helping her wrest the girl back into her rooms for the time being.

Ysabelle slit her palm, left to right, using her thumb nail and raised her hand to the black door as Poppy threw herself against the wood on the other side, jolting it. Ysa struck the wood at the same time and felt a heavy energy, like thick chains snaking about her arms and into the very wood of the door, locking it fast against the girl within. Instantly, the violent banging from inside ceased. 

Finally, the corridor fell silent...save the murmuring crowd of on-lookers packing the staircase. 

Ysa felt weak, light. She went to her knees at Poppy’s door and placed her forehead in her hands. Something wasn’t right.

“Mother?” Angelika said softly.

“Send for Chatham and Weep-not,” Ysabelle sighed as she lifted her face. “Have them clean this up.” 

“And the bodies?” Zhang inquired. 

Ysa rose to her feet slowly and pressed her healed hand over her stomach. “Burn them.” 

[mermaidmafia-official]

“a jewel of blood and moonlight” -delmira agustini

aesthetic mb for THE BLOODMOTHER, Ysabelle Vavassour .

[mermaidmafia-official]

EVENTS. {btr}

@vampirkaninchen @blubbingbeautifully @interluxetumbra & @ayzrules

o8 february; intro

WITH renovations complete, the Coven elects to hold a house warming for all of their underworld friends...as well as the local *historical society- who’ve annoyingly invited themselves and haven’t the first clue as to what they’re willingly walking into. Ysabelle is asking that everyone put on a nice, wholesome front for them and pretend at an upstanding mortal family with two mothers...as well as a bevvy of strange relations, in order to remain a welcome presence in Halacre. And, of course, she asks that all members of the historical society leave Bilitis House in good health- which means positively no feeding on them. Transgressors will be dealt with. 

Enjoy all the blood blossom bonbons and Rosenblut (animal blood with rose infusion) you can stand before the party inevitably- whether Ysabelle likes it or not- putrefies into gore and blood sport. 

At least try to wipe the mortals’ memories...   

*The Halacre Historical Society is really just twelve elder mortals with an enthusiasm for Halacre's macabre history- which, in large part, was centered around Bilitis House. Evidently, the house was the site of a plague hospital in the late 18oo's and hundreds died on the grounds.

16 february; mortui vivos docent

[A COLLAR OF SPIKES] has organised an underworld street race three towns over in Bay Haven, and the attendance should be in the hundreds despite the snowy weather (-Vampires don’t feel the cold anyway). The bay is completely frozen over- and [ACoS] apparently feels that the track needs something slightly more unforgivable than tight turns on slippery asphalt, so a portion of the motorbike race goes straight across the ice. Mortals are apparently allowed to participate, so the crowd might be witnessing some legitimately lethal racing this time round. 

**Race occurs by night, of course. 

[mermaidmafia-official]

BTR: NAMES AND F/C’S~

i keep forgetting to name everyone ! if you haven’t chosen a name (and f/c if you’re going to use one), please add to this so they’re easier for everyone to write ! ^^ 

THE BLOODMOTHER, Ysabelle Vavassour (Mariacarla Boscono)

A FACE LIKE A ROSE, Amaelia “Lia” Vesci (Sara Grace Wallerstedt) 

BLOOD GETS IN YOUR EYE, Yinmei Zhang (Rowena Xi Kang) 

SLEEPING EVIL, Amare de Vavassour (FKA Twigs) 

THE GIRL IN THE WELL, Dorcas O'Hanley (Jean Campbell) 

THE DEVOURER, Popelina “Poppy” Woodville (Tess Mcmillan) 

MORETTA MASK, Maddelena da Canal (Marina Nery)

ЛЕДЯНАЯ ЖЕНЩИНА, Angelika Lebedeva (Aurora Aksnes) 

HEAD & BODY, Cyborée Doillac (Lara Stone) 

REGINA UMBRA, Zammurad [Unknown/Vavassour] (Jasmine Tookes)

A COLLAR OF SPIKES, Nessa ‘Pixie’ Lynch (Krysten Ritter)

FUNERAL FEAST, Camille ? (n/a)