#roche and orianna on an adventure

[ladysunbite]

Through the haze that cloaked her like the shroud of snow she heard the murmurs of blood, of his blood, of her blood. It was even more murky than reading thoughts, but the general drift was clear. Argh, that was the usual trouble with humans. Nor kind, nor keen. Not even her child. The ground they danced upon was slippery at best and social blunders were inevitable. Especially when you let someone close enough to rip your neck open. What an irony. The sun-eyed wanted to say something, but the metallic taste filled her mouth. The a frown crossed her forehead. If her Temerian felt his pride bitten, she had it no differently. Only her own body was playing against her, to add spite to further disgrace. After a short consideration, the cultured vampiress took a twig from the ground and began writing upon the fresh snow. I AM TO DIE TONIGHT. LA COMPASSION HAS BEEN PROVIDED FOR. V. IS... That was the first time she allowed herself to look at her wrists. Both were adorned with wide bracelets tonight. Underneath, however, the sight was not beauteous. Maimed flesh, healing in sacred pattern, with bits of bone, incrusted with symbols not of this world. A sign of ascension. Pain gripped her temples, it took all her pride not to whimper or to moan like a little whimpering animal, a prey. They both had been prideful, that was a trait she liked in the wolf, the man. With a flash of a hand, the speed of a voice, she garbed the first bottle that slipped into her grasp - clawed, when she meant it not, what a slip of decorum - and took a generous sip. "Argh!" it was that brew she got for the Temerian, something from his motherland. The stuff was vile enough to let her fangs shoot out. It was a miracle she did not break the bottle here and there, but instead covered up by offering her companion - shocked, probably - a bowl and a goblet, both graciously filled. Shaming the preferences of others wasn't the refined vampiress' habit, after all. It was never her desire to demean him either. Never. Their relationship was strained and full of sharp corners, but contempt, a true acid contempt of a predator against a prey, a master over a slave, she never willingly showed or genuinely felt. Otherwise, Vernon Roche would have been dead long ago. If anything, Orianna would name her crime as being over-protective. She realized it only now. Betwix her desire to research his curse for her own means, have him kill for her as any sworn sword would, there was also an ever-present wish for his company. That's why she kept the collar, when it was all said and done, bore the offending scent of wet fur penetrating Mandragora's chambers. That's why she let him go in the end, least the reasonable, strategic part of her mind would win a parley and declared their questionable blood bond null, if he slipped and broke the laws he was never aware of. In the name of overweighting benefits of vivisecting the werewolf at the underground laboratories of Tesham Mutna, to gain the knowledge that would allow her to control humans more efficiently / find a cure for her ailing children. The temerian brew had one positive point, however. More paint banished the lulling arms of oblivion the sun-eyed was slipping in. For how long, there was not possible to say. ...IS BUILDING A TRENCH THERE.

Every child had a different way of battling the grief, and the girl had hers by its throat, keen on making at least one home safe. Even if the mistress wrinkled her nose at the ugly landscape, it was better than having her bashing her head against the walls and blooding her knuckles, wasting such a sweet sweet essence, or planning to run away, after Francis and into the maw of her own second death.

YOU WON'T FAIL ME IF YOU LIVE TO SEE THE SECOND CONJUCTION. CAREFREE AND DRUNK. LIKE AT THAT FEAST WHEN YOU ALMOST ATE ALL THE GUESTS. The recollection brought shaped her thin lips into a crescent. Few could appreciate his singing voice when he was literally howling and spotting a wolf's tail. The rest of him was human, a cryptic foul language included. For a wink of an eyes, just for a wink Orianna allowed herself to lean against the tree truck, and bask in the warmth of moonlight. What a curious sensation, that weird exhaustion, her bones felt like glass, like the cutting smiles of the stars.

What the fuck was she thinking, how was that a way to end a contest against someone, to merely find them and slap them around the head several times and just plop yourself right down onto them and sit on them, what on earth was she thinking with that, as if that was the right way to fight, and fragile, heck that had fuck all to do with it, he was humiliated with her antics and the way she had won the contest, even with the knowing she had.

That there was nothing he could do against her, she was a higher vampire, he was not, a wolf or not, he could have been a mage, someone from the wild hunt, heck he could have been a witcher, with an army with him, it mattered little, she was a higher vampire, the conversation in fighting someone like her, truly started and stopped there, she cannot be defeated nor killed, so the entire thing in fighting her and thinking you would win, was rather pointless and foolish to boot.

“Nope.” He said as he would get up and shake himself side to side for the moment to get the snow and the dirt right off him and back onto the ground where it truly belongs and nothing more than that, he was not harmed, by any means, he was just really fucking pissed off with her and that was a fucking problem.

“Work with Francis, have you hit your head.” He said, as he would plop himself down and sit there, panting, his back hurt, his head hurt, she had tossed him around, slapped him about and then she had the nerve to sit on him as well, great. This night just keeps getting better and better with each passing moment and now she had the balls, the fucking balls to ask him to forgive, forget and then work with this little shit of a man instead of pinning him down and eating his fucking face off him and ending his life, she was truly asking for far too much.

“You need to go and recover, go to sleep and heal.” As he looked at her and then away, if she was going to drop down here, he would leave her ass in the snow, he was not going to aid her this time around. He sighed and would get up again and walk over to her and look her up and down. “For old times.” And nothing more than that, for nothing other than the shit they have been through over the years.

“I’ll find him and work with him then and the girl as well, I’ll get her back.” If this was her trying to help, then he will finally shut the fuck up for once, stop fighting and being angry and pissed with her and listen, find her son, kill a prick, rescue a girl, the same old shit he used to do countless years ago, fucking hell, right back into the action already as he would nod his head.

“I will not fail you.”

[ladysunbite]

The sun-eyed vampiress reappeared a few feet away, more moonlight and bone than flesh and blood, as she made a small bow. Apologizes were due and given. The fur, warm and heavy with odour of a beast-yet-not-a-beast was still echoing upon her hand. It was easy to forget, in a moment of passion and reminiscence of the past, that her wolf was a human in a savage skin. And humans were, oh, so fragile. Men... terribly irresponsible, all around here when she had so little time. At last the concept of sand in a glass, the hungriest scourge of all living things of that world was biting at her toes and everyone seemed insistent on being difficult. Francis, blinded away by guilt, ready to walk into any maw that would break his spine and release him. Vernon, gobbled away by the strangest menagerie of desires, not of life and not of death. And her little ruva... "Have I...hurt you?" Orianna had always taken a special pride in her voice, and even her songbird's throat was failing her now. By the great fucking Unseen. It sounded like all the things that crawled at the edges of the night, carcasses of rot and lowly longings. Out of tune. Weak. No. Ancient... "If...you seek revenge...so desperately...unite with Francis. Both of you...want to kill...the same man, it sss..." the blood tickled down the porcelain chin. The king of beggars put the wrong man on the throne, and the man thwarted him in the process. One kraven for another, both seemed eager to massacre without a true need, and all of her children loathed such behavior as a potential for a quick grave and an in-breed weakness. Or was it not the betrayal that railed Francis Bedlam, but the image of a child rocking back and forth on the rope, alongside a woman? The scene resurfaced in his bloodstream again and a again, like a refrain from a song, drilling into her own temples now. Little Francis, for all his sharp and sly ways was a Toussaint-breed, and thusly sentimental. A bad quality for high politics. The snowy-white of handkerchief could not contain all the crimson that floated from her throat. Bleeding was too personal, and she did not want a farewell of naked feelings and all the weaknesses big and small piled upon the Temerian's plate. There were tails to tie tonight, before the sun-eyed was truly done, not to play a scene from a romantic play under a full moon. "No... happy ending... for you?" there was a pile of fresh cloth at the bottom of the basket that was placed in front of the wolf, the man. Clean bandages, foul smelling potions. A knife. And a small locket with two different locks of hair. She had to pry it from the beggar king as if it was his literal heart. He and the girl grew close, despite the gory beginning and a bucketful of ill-placed guilt from his side. Once the king of beggars thought the trinket was all to be left of Val once her father was back in the picture, he clung to it. Like a child.

She was a monster, the wolf the man was correct, but she was not petty or cruel. That knowledge she would not give away, to spar the two men upon a chessboard. In her own way, both were under her care. Thusly, the problem. "Are you...sure?" mayhapse, Toussaint poisoned her blood no less than it did Francis Bedlam's. Secretly, the cultured vampiress desired to play not a divine judge, but a benevolent godmother for the happily-ever-after. Sentimentality be cursed.

He was done with this, with games, with talking, he was done with all of it and was seeking out his own way to make things right within the world, before he was picked up and tossed down into the snow and then slapped on the face.

What.

“Hey!” At the slap to his maw as he would shake his head and shake the snow of himself as well as he looks up. “The story has changed, you speak nonsense.” It was confirmed, he had done the deed, what was this, trying to backtrack and stop him from doing what he had to do, as if he would even listen to them anyway and follow their lead, he did what he wanted, when he wanted and when it came to the art of killing, there was little if anything at all that would even stop him.

“Hey!”

At the second slap to him and the words that followed.

As he was hit twice now and remained there and listened, if this was the part where it was meant to be a lesson, how shit he was for a father and a partner, been there and done that, he was not there for them, but the deaths of them weigh all the same on him, crushing him and keeping him down always, he merely did not need for them to poke and prod and remind him always of what had happened and how the one time he ought to have been somewhere to be able to do something he was not and that was what eats away at him and annoys him more than anything else, he was not there when he was needed.

“Understood.” As she moved and perfected and sat on him. “Ofh!” As he hit the ground, legs spread out and his face in the snow as he manages to pull it out, shake it about and spit out the snow all around him for what she had done, he was pinned down and if he fights back, struggles or merely does anything that would be against her wishes, she would make things worse.

“Hey, right! Stop that!”

The third slap across his fuzzy muzzle, was three too many for his tastes, as he nods and nods his head, right, he gets it, he gets it, his ears where up and flicking, his tails as wagging back and forth in the snow, he was listening now, he understands and knows what she was saying and what she was doing.

“I get it, I get it.” 

Not wishing to see what else she would do to him if he ignored her, fights back, or made an insult against her and her family at all, was something that he did not wish to test, he was bested, like that and his head was being slapped side to side and toyed with as if he was a young pup and not someone who has lived too long, fought for too much and was beyond sick and tired of it all as well as he leaves out a sigh.

“Right, off me.” As he growls and would struggle, he was not a sofa, to be plopped down upon and sat on, she was breaking his spine and keeping him under here and trapped, he gets it, he gets it, he told her he fucking gets it, he will just skip over to the last person on his list and try and gain some form of satisfaction from that at least, to kill the fat fucker then who had done everything to make his life as shit and awful as possible, he would deal with them and them alone and that at least, fuck would she have a problem with that, was that fat prick who served the king, betrayed him, got him killed, became a spy and then an underworld boss, let me guess, did she know him as well, was there no one at all she would allow for him to hunt down and eat and slaughter them.

[ladysunbite]

Why so professed love always made fools out of men? Deaf fools, to boot. Before the wolf, the man made a few leaped down the path, the hand closed upon the scruff of his neck. The body was lifted into the air and the crushed down upon the earth, not hard enough to break his spine. Although oh, it would be so much easier... Then a slap upon his maw. "Ready to listen? Francis Bedlam is not responsible for the death of your lover. He did not give the order, or strung her up upon that tree. He merely arrived too late to get both out of the noose." the blood did not lie and she had to soil her mouth with a few deep gulps to get the head and tail of the northern politics, its mad kings, ambitious spy masters and beggar kings. What a mess. Another slap. 'It was not his duty to save them. It was yours." The cultured vampiress shoulders' heaved. Breathing was not necessary for her, not the same way ii was for humankind, and yet her body craved a sort of relief. Trying not to kill was much harder than to kill. And her new found power was growing, clawing out of her veins, healing her faster than ever before...but it was erratic. The foglets would not leave the mountain even with her demise, at least that was seen to. Cleverly worded orders and vows went a long way, as long as the beastial force, as she was well schooled in both, thanks to her play-pretend at a lady. "Understood?" it was harder to speak now, her throat was convulsing, her face shifted into a maw and back, her hair flying in disarray, flowing down over the wolf's fur, as she was perched atop him, pinning him down. it seemed she had overdone herself at last and to what end - her soldier was as unhappy and as foolishly determined to self-destruct as before.

Burn the city, break your own neck...what does it matter to those idiots - selfish, drunk on their feelings, their self pity... The third slap was, in line with the previous two, not enough to break his bones, but it stung more acutely. As if it was more personal. "Getting fucked would be more pleasant...than dealing with your tantrums...verily," the knives and claws in the underlining of her voice. Was it because of the wound that it sounded more raw? Was she giving her anger a free reign, tired as she was? Her breath smelled of metal and pomegranates.

She was starting to annoy him now, a reminder why their interactions are both limited as can be and also spread apart but numerous years as well as she finds a way to get right on his nerves time and time again and this was one such moment as well.

“You gather children like golden coins.” He commented, so it was within that reason that someone such as herself had no right to speak to him about anything at all when it comes to children, Val was his and his alone and he would do what he believed to be the right course of action for her, which was to remove himself from her life at all costs.

“I am not talking to you about any of this.” Everything she had said went through one ear and went right out the other as he was not going to entertain a conversation about blood and family ties, about respect and also the most important thing within life, the need and want to settle the score with one another and he had a major score to settle.

“One horrid deed and then one good deed, does not create balance, nor does it wash the blood from his hands, he is no child if your own.” He barked at them and would step back for the moment, those eyes would narrow right on her for the moment as he was not within the mood at all to play any of her games with her, not in the mood to tolerate her and not in the mood for the little verbal back and forth she had going on with him here and now, none of it was interesting to him at all, not a shred of what she said was going to matter to anything at all, nor anything she was trying to do.

“Then you are a coward, a cheat and nothing more than a monster.” A growl formed as he backed away from her a little bit more, shuffling backwards to remove himself from her and the space between them. “You are not mistress of the mountain nor do you control the falling snow and the raging storm.” Which was what was happening all around them, so far up they were.

“Get fucked.”

He said as he turned fully around, a flick of his tail and he was gone, he was not entertaining her nor was he playing her games, he was not from these lands, he was not born here, he did not pledge himself to her nor anyone else, her laws and customs mean shit to him in every single possible way to him and he would do as he wished, when he wished and how he wished to do it as well and he was not going to stand there and be spoken down towards, make to feel small, weak and powerless, and along with it, made to feel as if he had no choice within anything to do in his life.

Ves was dead.

The vampire had confirmed the deed was indeed done by that man, he had not been sure, just rumors and whispers, but the vampire had fucked up and told him everything he needed and now, he was moving, running down the mountain, through the falling snow, the thick gathering of endless white that reached the top of his head, he cared little, this wolf he was, made running, moving, adapting and living in such a place, so much more easier for himself, as he bolted down, she said it was impossible, he would not make it, that tonight was the night all things come to an end, he must have missed the memo, as he told her he had one more job he wished to do, one more task, one more kill, one more fucker who needed to be found and killed before anyone had any ideas about ending him and he will make it.

He will escape this place, with or without her aid, he was not the type of person to ever admit defeat and allow it to happen as he would move quicker and quicker down the side of the mountain.

[ladysunbite]

"We are lucky it wasn't years, trust me," something sour and unspoken shifted beneath the immaculate face. Fear. Not of the man, the wolf, the child in front of her. It would be a simple story otherwise. It looked alien and out of place on Orianna, like an ill-fitting dress. A step-child of that world, wasn't she given a free run of it? Kill-whatever-you-will. They should end it quickly. She was even grateful at his outburst and a snap of his jaws, a silly and craven gesture. It brought her mind to present matters swiftly. "The blood does not lie. Not to me. Are you reluctant to believe me because you shun fatherhood? " A good hostess always hides behind a smile and a chore. So the refined vampiress did, slipping into setting their makeshift table for another course. Another set of precious plates and sharp cutlery that looked like fangs under moonlight. It took all her composure not to press hard upon her eyes, with both hands, till the darkness beneath her eyelids spilled out, down pale, gaunt cheeks and into her heart, calming its unearthly bit. What a shame would be to let Temerian see her like that. "I am rather curious to know your reasons, for I was under impression humans - at least, you - value their children as a...mmm...memento. Would it be different if she was a boy?" Orianna's questions were not mockery or idle chat, there was something akin to deep curiosity in her gaze, a craving for knowledge that amidst all confusion found pleasure in discoveries of odd. "Forgive me, I regress. I am afraid we do not have much time for me to lament an ill-fated choice of a gift. My answer is no." arms folded upon her knees, the refined vampiress cut the last word with imperious, detached coolness. "According to the law, Francis saved your kin. Even if he killed your beloved with his own hands, with clear intention to do her harm, which he did not, Val's life weights more. For she is of your blood. And according to my very partial, private judgment Francis is my child." before the man, the wolf could react in any way, the sun-eyed extended a hand forward, something arresting and ancient in her gesture. Before him, upon the snow, eyes dark as the night, skin white as the snow, hair crimson as blood, was no refined mistress of Mandragora. It was a Judge, a step-child of death and time. "But all of these doesn't matter, Vernon. I own you a debt. And that I intend to pay in full. You see...what you desire, truly desire is not my help with the revenge. I am very sorry I did not see it earlier," the previous vision had shifted and fallen, as Orianna slipped a cloak from her shoulders, her voice grew low and warm. If there ever was sincerely and kindness in her, it was peaking betwix her skin and bones, that human masquerade, right now. "If you think of leaving the mountain, do not. The fogs around are full of foglets, you shall not pass..." the words spilled like wine, one could have thought the sun-eyed gave a lover's vow not a promise of demise, with such sad, soft, moon-light like smile.

"You crave death, my dear Vernon. And I shall be yours. As you shall be mine tonight." click clack, the forks and knives formed a perfect little army for two besides several servings of dessert, the cream looking colder than snow, the seeds of pomegranates like droplets of blood. A capricious luxury, to get pomegranates so late in season. And besides stood a very unsuspicious bottle, a destiny-knows-very-procured bottle of beer, usually favoured by Temerian soldiers. By the looks of it seemed the refined vampiress had to scourge the dark market to get one, such care and confused contempt read into her gesture as she put out the bottle upon the cloth on the ground.

"...So eat and drink, for it is the last pleasure for both of us, my friend."

Of course he was alone, you only had to look around this place to know that you only came here, to get away from everyone else, or to merely finally at long last, meet your end of your life, and right now, truly he was not all too sure which one he was seeking for himself.

“It has been months.” He commented to the refined vampires, as he would shake his head, like this, up here, within the snow and the mountain, to try and live and hide from what had happened, from her and what she called master and from the duchess and her forces who would demand blood for someone harming her.

“You actually came here with news for once.” As he looked at her, but not once did he stop for the moment, as he would circle around her, look her up and down, take her all within and ensure that there was no tricks, no games, nothing, to ensure that she was not here to take his head in return, he might not be able to kill her, but this far up the mountain and on the spot that they had first come into contact with one another, he can make things, like they once were.

He can leave her torn and dying in the snow.

“You and your fucking children!” As he snapped his jaws at her heels, just out of annoyance and nothing more than that, how many of these fucking bastards did she have and how many spreads through the world aiding her, fucking hell, she was such a pain in his ass.

“No, those are for the actions of others, hands to pretty and clean to do the deed himself, signed the papers, gave the orders, made it happen, sold them out. Ves is dead, Val as well, you know the saying an eye for an eye, a life for a life, I am owed two, and you will deliver.” Raised by a higher vampire, the value of life, a good raising, the fuck was she talking about, he knew her, he knew what she was, how she worked, how that twisted mine would shift and spin.

“You lie.”

He knew she was either lying or telling the truth, it was just hard to know which was which with a cunt like her, but what she said, if it was true and Val was alive, it did not change anything at all, what did she expect for him, to go and find her, bring her back, be a father to her, that was not the way this story goes, he had no right, the mother was dead, killed, all because he had not been there for Ves when she again needed him the most, everything that had happened to her within her life, was because she had put all her trust and faith into him and he had failed her, over and over again, time and time again, finding new and creative ways to just, fuck everything up for her. As he would shake his head.

“The child and the beggar king.” He comments as he walked back around to be before her, tempted to pin her down and see how quickly she can heal, when he starts to eat her faster than she can grow back the missing pieces of herself. “I want him dead, I’ll do it myself, but if you care so much, your methods will be quicker, mine will not be.” As the man still had to die, despite what he had done, Ves still was hanged and killed and he was not letting that go ever.

“You kill him, or I will.”

[ladysunbite]

"So do you," Orianna's gaze slipped across his frame, looking for any wounds. The temerian looked well and...brooding. As usual. Another blessing under a skin of a monster. "You can shed your wolfskin, I am not going to hurt you," the refined vampiress arched an eyebrow. Was it truly necessary to make her underline all the simple truths again? "Eat and listen. Until the very end." storytelling was her guilty pleasure, she took a special pride in it, and her children coaxed stories out of her with more fervour than they begged for sweets. However, a freshly cut throat limited the pleasure. It seemed the wolf, the man was getting his desire for once. But not before she would get her little bite of revenge set the scene properly. To comment on her age with nary a shame, what a crude way to greet a friend!

"Francis Bedlam is one of my children. I suppose you have already guessed that," the basket was opened, painstakingly slowly. The tartan was set on the ground, below the tree, under the glittering gaze of the moon. The refined vampiress took another chunk of time, before she dropped another crumb, stretching the pause as she was setting out the golden dishes with the meat, cooked bloodied, goblets of wine, forks and knives, fresh gem-like grapes and baked trifles in an intricated pattern, as if a figure in a dance, viewed from above. "My charges do not usually kill the young, or mothers. The perks of upbringing, you may call it." Another crumb. "Something in your story did not add up. And yet I know you for being brutally honest."

And another.

A leaf of thyme was placed upon the chunk of meat and, satisfied at last, she had beckoned the werewolf closer. Why he shunned that form was still beyong Orianna, he seemed to control it well and looked as mangy as with his beard. "My bedridden state allowed me to have a proper talk with my...with the King of Beggars, as you call him. You see, he returned to Toussaint with a company. A small girl, whom he begged to be placed in my care, for he had a very good memories of the orphanage and deemed it to be the safest place for the child, whom he felt obliged to protect for the reasons unknown to me." Orianna poured the words languidly, drop by drop, as if it was a strong drink, the same way she poured the rich, dark wine into their goblets. It looked black under the moon, just like the ribbon that snaked around her throat.

"You know where I am leading to, don't you? She curses just like a soldier, although she looks very little like you, to my eye."

A complete and utter cluster fuck without a shadow of a doubt, that he had dropped the ball with Orianna and caused so much issues and drama, because he had thought for the moment, that the best course of action one could make would be to carve her head from her body to make it a more simple task to transport her with him and seek out the target he was hunting, unaware that Orianna.

Was truly a creature that was beyond his wildest dreams and not something to be fucked around with, the old saying ringing true, fuck around and your going to find out.

What was time to him now.

Losing track of it and going into hiding then and leaving Orianna, to keep himself as far from the unseen as possible, he didn’t understand the inner workings of the higher vampire culture, but someone like Orianna, had to have a master and had to answer to others, if he had no hope within hell of ever truly killing Orianna, what chance did he have of doing it to the one who created her, the one she kneels before, the one she calls master, so he went to the mountain and he would go into hiding.

Waiting for her.

“You are alone.” Indeed, he caught her scent on the winds, only one person would be able to make it this far up the mountain, through the snow and winds to reach this spot, he had expected knights, or hunters, something, anything, but it seems that Orianna has spun another story once more to twist and turn things to how she wished for them to be.

“You look younger, don’t lie to me, you would have cut my head off as well, only difference is, I cannot heal from such a thing.” As he made his way closer to her, and circled her, looking her up and down and making sure, that Orianna was not here to kill him, then again, if she had, she would have came to the cave when he was sleeping, killed him in his sleep, or waited for him to die of the elements and lack of food, seeing as what little was here, Orianna had pointed out, he had killed it all and eaten it in his wait these months for everything to settle down.

“Speak Orianna.” As he spat out, no games, no bullshit, if she came all the way here for news, it better be fucking good, he was less than thrilled with her as well, look at him, this is what happens when he was around her, he submits, she gains a loyal dog and he is trapped until her tasks are done and all he wished for one time, was for Orianna to fucking do something for him, instead, he is saving her ass, killing for her ass, serving her ass and getting nothing other than complete and utter grief.

“Make it fast, you have a long trip back down tonight.”

[ladysunbite]

Orianna loathed the spot. Verily, it was a good strategic move - if she knew Roche at least a little. The only thing that stood assuredly was that he wasn't dead, the blood did not lie, she would feel. However, it did not change the fact that the abandoned barn sight, for all the picturesque view at Beauclair it offered, held a very distasteful memories for her. No wonder humans try to make death a pageant. It probably washes away all the crude associations of the weakness. Walking to and fro beneath the tree, like a ditched lover, she felt more and more stupid. A dark red cloak, and a basked upon her arm, a peace offering. The last week, she counted the time extra carefully, took its toll on her - all the plotting, explaining away the blood and the ravaged room, the mess in the courtyard, trying to rein her household fears in, while trying not to feed upon any living and breathing person that entered her bedchambers, as she was bedridden, the ugly wound across her neck like a ruby necklace. Even now she had to wear a thick velvet ribbon to hide the healing scar. Her body felt weaker, her skin too tight, like an ill-fitting dress. The wolf, the man could be far away now. And she slipped away from her own house, risking her healing, and the next meeting with apa... for a shadow. "At last. I thought I would have to eat all the treats myself," a familiar silhouette approached from the darkness.

"I congratulate us. Even if I am a little cross with you," Orianna tilted her head upon one side, her voice flowing like a rich wine, low and smooth. A crescent of a smile cut into her cheek, paler and sharper than usual. Strangely, it made the refined vampiress look much younger. On the other hand, it could be an effect of happiness, that settled upon her features like a golden dust. Something she could not hide before it was too late. Well, there was nothing to do now than show all her cards. "...I have news for you. Good ones."

Fucking hell.

This is why he knew this was a fucked up idea, they would be at each other’s throats sooner rather than later, it just so happened to be a heck of a lot sooner than expected for them to begin to take shots at one another and for him to carve her head right off her body and plop it down onto the table as if it was a decoration or the centre piece, the final part for the table set and the entire time she was talking, yapping away and bitching in his ears about what he had done.

“Even you answer to someone then –”

As he looked down at her and would nod his head for the moment, was she calling her master, was her master calling her, or had he stepped to far, that she would go feral on his ass and rip him to shreds and devour him, even if he had given in to what he was, what he truly was, would he even stand a shred of a chance, hardly, she was a higher vampire, he was nothing at all when matched against her, the conversation truly started and ended right there and then.

He moved and would take the head from the table and pick it up and would listen to her commands, put the head back onto the body carefully as well.

Well no shit!

He moved as she listed of her commands and he would do what she had asked, moving around quickly and making quite the mess indeed, but he was racing against the clock then, he had fucked up again, a running theme it seemed for himself and her when they cross paths with one another, as he did the tasks she laid out by ending it with laying her down and putting her head back where it ought to be and turning quickly.

Farewell?

He said nothing as he fled to the courtyard then next and how he tried to get the horses to calm down and settle, but to nothing at all, as he was on a clock then, something was coming them, something that had her concerned, as he would move then and kick the gate down and make a run for it then, running as quickly as he can, up away from her estate and to the ridge that overlooked it as he crouched down and watched.

He could see nothing out of the ordinary, not could he see anything strange, but her warnings where clear to him, harming her, and hurting her, had he broken some vampire code or something along those lines, he was not sure, never wanted to learn them, never cared, but he was on a race now against the time.

So he gave into the urges.

He looked a the moon and allowed it to claim his mind body and soul, without a horse he was fucked, so he failed and gave in, allowed it to take him, hold hm, change him, down onto all fours as he transformed into that hulking creature of darkness, of fangs and claws, of the wolf he loathed and he did as she had commanded, to make his way on the winds to the mountains, leaving his weapons behind, torn clothing and all, to make it look like, whomever had been here, had been killed after an assault on her.

So he fled to the mountains then instead, moving as quickly as he could to reach there through the darkness and the winter winds, to make the climb like he had done so many years ago when they crossed paths, if she had any sense and wits, she would know where he was truly going, the place where it all started, where they crossed paths, where he had found her wounded and hurt from an attack of a witchers blade and he was trying to find, food for the night, instead he found her and dragged her back to her home.

Fleeing right to the mountain and reaching it, knowing that no human would follow, even they wanted to, without time and preparation, it was nothing other than a death sentence and little more as he found the cave then, that had been home so long ago for himself, no one else has been here since he left and found her, as he would go within, and he would remain there then, if she died tonight he would leave, but if she lived, he would know, she had a habit of defying odds as well, and if she lived, when.

Well when everything calms and settles down as well, he will either find her, or she will find him and she can see, how quickly, he had given up and become the monster she knew he was, just like herself, they where fated and bound to one another, until one of them finally dies.

[ladysunbite]

"You stubborn, impatient, self-pity drunk...IDIOT," Orianna licked the blood from her lips. It would have sounded more polite if she just cursed, the prim non-profanities sounded all the worse, as they were infused with a nasty feeling.

"Happy now?! Oh, you don't even realize..." that was the truth. He didn't realize what a mess he put himself into. And she was a bad master, if her temerian was so keen on putting a leash into her hands and casting their roles like that. All the sign of her body giving way...all of those instincts, she missed. How? A milk-fanged fledgling she was not, weak into oblivion neither, drunk with blood or lust - also no.

The refined vampiress hissed, cast an iron-heavy, frosted look at the temerian, then shifted the gaze at her body, a pile of of velvet and gore against the wall. Strangely, she was not feeling any pain, only the heightened state of bliss, all her senses spoke of pleasure and it was hard to keep her mind focused, whence the initial pain of having a head being separated from the neck subsided.

Vernon put her head upon a tray. That was rather...respectful. Touching even. Still, the table she did not forgive him. Nor being such a... The sun-eyed gave a sigh of frustration. The dangerous frown upon the marble forehead disappeared. For all the loneliness and strife of having to navigate the word without family or bounds, sometimes it was far more dangerous...to have one.

"Listen to me carefully...," no, no, don't think about it. don't think what is going to happen, not the darkness again, the dripping water, the blindness, not the gardens, what he is going to do if he knew...the panic tasted like bile down her throat, as it took the refined vampiress all her control to school her voice into a calm tone. "Take my head and put it against my neck. Watch the claws. If it does stick, we are more lucky than we deserve." "If it doesn't then...we are fucked." "OH!" at first it was the body that began shaking uncontrollably, she saw it from the corner of her eye, the claws retracting to and fro, scratching the floorboards. Then her head swooned in a sweet little confusion, then teeth began to chatter and pursed her lip, the sting shaking her into the present. There! The revelation cut through her at last. The cursed blood. The cursed blood was like a drug...that's why she didn't feel the grip of death. Emielwouldbesocuriousaboutthis...

That's why they still stood a chance. "Then take two keys from my girdle - one with a brass bat atop, the other a small ivory one. Use the brass one to lock the study door. The ivory one opens the bedchamber. Put my body and the head on the bed there, close the baldaquin. It would give you some time before the alarm is raised." there, she began to shake again, cold waves washing over her body. Was it that play-pretend at dying this world graced her kin with, a familiar experience she burned out of her memory? Or her fear at what would happen, if her pain slips over and out, if what sleeps underground felt her agony, as he was well-equipped now, she was to be the next, she fed on the elder for moths now, he read her like a book, her children alone, madragora abandoned, the temerian, foolish little soldier, foolish little wolf with a human heart....

Orianna bit into her mouth again, so hard her tears filled with tears and continued, hoarsely.

"Unfold the ivory key, it opens like a fan. Use it to get to the secret stairs behind the tapestry, they would lead you into the inner courtyard. Get two horses from the stables. And then ride out of Toussaint. Do not stop. If the weather on the mountain is foul, go for it. You would stand a better chance. Do not rest until you are out of the Duchy. Never return. They will slay you. If I die tonight, you are never to return, Vernon." "I don't want to see you torn to shreds before my eyes. Do you fucking understand?! First, the head. If it doesn't work, the keys!"

“Shut the fuck up.” As he didn’t want for her to speak nor to react, the window was a small one indeed and he knew, how fucked he could be if she thought, enough fucking around and just tore him to shreds and left him for dead – and it was confirmed with that mocking and insulting voice that she had, a reminder that he was way out of his league, even if he had a witcher, a dozen wichers here, what sort of chance would any of them have here.

“A dozen, maybe half of that.” That she could have ripped him to shreds and ended his life before he even knew what the fuck was going on and could mount some sort of defence against her.

Now even now, he could shift his eyes and look around for the moment, well fuck. So hungry for revenge and so in need for blood as well, that he had walked right into a fucking trap, he had walked right into her home, her lands, her realm where she held all the cards, she always held all the cards and everything that he did.

Pointless.

Worthless.

Stupidity.

“You know nothing of my hardships nor what it was like for me, to live a life on the streets and fight every single day, unlike you, I did not flash my tits and hold out my hands to get everything given to me, I worked for it.” Harder than anyone else, men bigger, stronger, faster than him, which only meant that he had to be more, cunning, ruthless, and brutal in his methods, to fight fire with fire and to do anything and everything he could do, that was possible to be done to always be the one to come out on top at the end.

He continued despite her words.

To cut her head from her body and yank it off as he stepped back and breathed out, he was tired and drained, hungry as well for blood and flesh, the calling, how it claws and itches now more than ever, the moonlight and the mistress of the moon and how easily done it would be right now to give within and take it for himself, as he sighed and raised her head upwards and looked into her golden eyes.

“I have nothing.” As he commented. “One master or another, I told you, I am done.” With it all and he would not listen to her temptations, for the chain, the collar, the cage, to be back here, never again, he did his service, that was all he did was serve one master or another, now this was for himself and nothing more as he looked at her, just for her to tell him what he needed, she knew where that idiot was, she knew and was fucking around with him, she could have told him the moment he arrived.

“Ah shit.”

When was the last time she had ever shut the fuck up and be at a lost for words, whatever was happening, he didn’t think, it would be wise to be holding her head like this as he moved and placed her head down on a tray on the table and stepped back for the moment and away from her, stepping further away, fucked up this time, without a doubt.

“Fuck …” He muttered as he reached for his sword and would draw it out, whatever was happening, he was fucked either way, he needed to ensure if she was going to kill him, or something else, that he could fight and he would go down swinging.

[ladysunbite]

"Bravo! And you said the old Vernon was dead," her little smile was as keen-edged as the blade he pushed against her throat. True, his discovery was a premature one, she would have preferred the letter to be uncovered after the temerian told her his part of the story. Still, the man, the wolf followed the trail of breadcrumbs. Left just for him. Did he truly believe she would use her private seal for something she wished to be left a secret? Tsch. "You got the trail correctly, but you are wrong about the end. Stop chewing on your sweet, self-indulgent desire to die for a second and think. How many times this evening could I have killed you?"

"I have counted at least...mmm...six," the night watch behind the walls of Mandragora, the household guards, the poison in a jug of wine he gulped blindly, her own claws, her own teeth. It was harder for the crimson-haired vampiress to actually catch the bolts into her flesh and give Roche the performance his broken heart craved. A little graceful totentanz. "Your hardships at the young age are the exact source of your weakness. You bristle at true kindness, true care," the knife was cutting through the gentle skin of Orianna's throat, deeper and deeper. The air was heavy with the perfume of her own blood. And Roche's blood that carried her scent. Wasn't it a habit, that she and her little temerian somehow always ended their first meeting after a separation at each other throats? "King, who as any proper ruler, was destined to use you and betray you for the good of the realm. Your beloved, whom you saved, but instead of giving her a shelter far from war, dragged into the eye of day-by-day massacre. The monster you gave your life-blood to... and begged to tear you to shreds for your kindness." the words, she presumed, would hurt much worse than putting fingers into his wounds. A necessary cruelty. The dirt of words, the seethe of wrath, the thick veil of contempt - all of that usually led to one thing, if one was not too squeamish to reach into the very gory, broken, bleeding heart...

"Argh!" she would remind him of that hand in her hair and her fucking favourite broken table...but all of it, all the brutal or refined games of power was but a distant hum to the refined vampiress now.

Their gazes locked. The eyes. Oh, Orianna's eyes was full of sympathy, of warmth, without an ounce of the usual, polished restraint or piquant pretense. Blinding as the sun, it its overwhelming acceptance. "It should not be like this, Vernon. You have a home now. You will not be left to die. Not again." it was a lullaby so many of her children craved, and something she was ready to give. Not as much as of her hedonistic drinking habits as...ever-compassing benevolence, known only to the divine. A loving monster, maiden, indeed.

"That's why I...the letter...Francis...my chi..." something babbled at her lips, as Orianna struggled against the words.

By the great Unseen. Not now.

Orianna a name so horrid, it made him gag each time he had to speak it as well, as he set about to the task of getting himself washed and cleaned, taking care of everything that needed to be done before he was sorted, washed, cleaned, changed, his swords on him, his blades, his crossbow as well, but what were they even now, to the claws and fangs of the creature he was, they where like toothpicks, fucking weak little toys compared to what he had.

Yet he was doing so well as well, fighting so hard to get to where he needed to be, to what he had to do for all of it to slip through clawed fingers as he would come back down and stand before her for the moment, looking at Orianna and knowing if she had not been a higher vampire, he would have snapped her neck and made it look like she had fallen down the stairs, that was how much she got on his nerves. 

“Fuck up Orianna.” As he snapped at her, he did not need his balls busted nor did he care for insults, fuck Orianna and her little amusing words, maybe she was not used to it, but to him she was no true noble lass, even if she was, he would speak to her, like a piece of trash on the side of the road, or like the whore that he knew she was, Orianna was a fucking monster, and that was not just an insult, she really was a fucking monster that he hated doing buiness with.

“You know, my entire life Orianna, has been a fight, when I was born, tossed into the street, left there to die, son of a whore, that was what I was, had to fight, every single day, to stay alive, and within the gutters, you learn things.” How to fight, how to steal, how to do what needed to be done, the blind witch was right, he was not even human from day one, he was like a wolf, who knew how to hunt, steal, kill and above all, how to lead as well, but leading was over with, he got everyone killed, but his other set of skills, he has only improved on them.

“You do this enough times, you can notice things, the window is open, it was not before, the desk, there is a droplet of ink, that was not there before, and one sheet of paper is missing, and the candle, was not lit when I first arrived.” For her letter, the envelope, her seal with wax and her ring pressed into it to let her little fucking friend know who it was from, that and his hearing, since coming here, has improved as he was cracking, he heard the movement of wings, smelled prey as well.

“Orianna, you fucking bitch.”

As he paced around the room for the moment, and would look at her, hand on the table as he shoved it out of his way, sending it crashing into the wall as he would slowly make his movements to circle her and ready himself. “Francis, not many people know his name, little prick.”

He walked towards the table that she would have written the letter to the person as he stared down and would take the chalk out of his pocket and place a sheet down and begin to lightly trace over it, to try and copy the words she had written, but more who she wrote it to as well.

“I know he is within this land, and I know he is hiding and I know you did something behind my back, you broke your record this time, you fucked me over within half an hour of me arriving, normally takes you days to do something like that.” He gritted his fangs as he would turn around, he could not get the full letter she wrote, but it didn't matter, she either knew Francis, or someone close, and he doubts she was asking him to come here to be hacked to pieces.

“This is why, I didn’t want to come here.” As he removed the crossbow quickly and would fire at her, the bolt hitting her and pinning her into the wall and then, the next and the next, another, four sent to pin her into place as he was quick to reach her, blade to her throat as he pressed it against her, yeah, he cannot kill her, but try and regenerate when he carves the head off her body and sticks it within a bag and travels with it as he quickly cut through, carving through the flesh and bone to cut her head off and as he moved, gripping it by the hair and pulling it up to stare at it.

“Need you to work with me, not against me, your much more manageable like this, not here to be captured, I just want Francis and nothing more, take me to him, and I’ll leave, you will never see me again.”

[ladysunbite]

Sometimes rage was necessary to clean up poison from the heart. "And it is exactly why you are still alive," Orianna patiently kept her distance, and brushed the pecks of dirt from her dress, where his hand tried but in truth did not quite reach her. Instinct were instincts, and her body was less easily surprised than her mind. A favourable outcome for both. Watching from the corner of her eyes as he raged, showed the fangs and dripped even much more blood upon the marble. The droplets looked like scattered haematite beads under the moonlight. "I am on your side. I do not seek your death. I do not try to use you in a way that would undone you. Nor do I make light of your loss, even as you have rightly put it, there is much I do not understand." opening up in such a way, being sincere in such a hollow manner, was much more painful than any wounds that he could inflict upon her and the words fell cold and heavy, as she looked upon the man, the wolf. "What else do you need me to put into speech to banish your suspicion?" the sun-eyed was annoyed angry, even if her voice was a rival to the coldness of marble, and she herself was not unlike the statues in the garden below - distant, perfect, unmoving. Her temerian appeared at her doorstep without note, looking no better than a vagabond, practically dying in his fragile mortal skin...and he expected her to watch him bleed into oblivion or tie his own noose while she did what...nodded over her goblet like a good hostess?!

While all he needed to do was simply ask for her help. Any time during those years his fate spun another thread of nightmares for him, he could have sought her, asked for her. They were bounded by blood, she would not been able to deny him. Nor truly would she want to. They were loyal to each other, were they not? That was something humans in their petty, weak minds could not comprehend, eaten away by their little fears, trembling in their hides, waiting to be used by the simple grace of her brethren having a longer reel of totentanz with time. Foolish, foolish mortal eter... Fuck...

Her mind halted as the refined vampiress realized it was a profanity Roche had taught her. "Vernon..." Orianna closed her eyes and sighed deeply. After all, it was her plan to let him blow the steam of, not to be caught in it herself. "Vernon, listen to me. It is not your fault. No matter how much you want it to be..." she approached, donning as much a human-like gait as was possible, moving heavily and slowly, but did not reach for him this time. Standing there with her neck naked within the reach of fangs, claws or simple hands should have spoken much more than flowery words and promises both found treacherous.

"None of it is your fault."

It was a suicide mission.

Yet he could not stop, he loved Ves, so much. Found her all those years ago, saved her life, oversaw her training himself, took something raw and broken, made it sharp and deadly, gave her the means to fight back, gave her command, a title, a place and went everywhere with her.

“You don’t understand, not this time, not this.” Ves was dead, the child he never knew, dead. Hanged for crimes, that where his own, both of them killed, and how he had carved through the men who had done it, the people who had watched with delight and done nothing, he found there remains, still hanging from the tree and he buried them, and since then, he has been killing all across the land, to find those who made this happen.

He was not going to stop.

“I forgot what a bitch you are.” As he snapped back, taking a cloth, cleaning his face and then throwing it onto the floor, no matters, nothing, he was a brutal man, a direct man, a cold, killer who had become so much more, something else, this fucking curse, everyting, so much bullshit, as if someone takes delight in making his life as shit as possible, as if it was a good story.

FUCK THEM, AND IF THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE WRITING THIS STORY.

FUCK THEM BOTH!

“You know what I didn’t miss.” As he cleaned himself up. “The fact that always, you are right.” with her words to him, fucking Orianna, the fuck was her deal in reminding him, could she not lie to him once, good job, you did well, not your fault, nah would not be Orianna if she was not the one fucking salt all over him to make everything sting a thousand times more, but she was right, he denied it, snapped his jaws, revealed sharp fangs and loathed them, and he was truly doing so well for once.

“Fucking hell.” As he hit the table with his fist, at her nails digging into his flesh tightly, a sharp pain as he almost went backwards off his chair and onto the ground, all the fighting, the murders, everything and he had brought a bloody trial all the way to Orianna own home as well, right to her front doorstep.

“You got one day.” As he commented, pushing his hand into Orianna, open palm as he shoved her away from himself, he was not the type of person, to care about, rights and women, Orianna was a cunt, she would get a crack in the nose and a slap across the face if she kept pushing him, he knew he fucked up, he knew he was fucking close to death, he knew he could heal, he just didn’t want to, he didn’t want to be what he was, but he had no choice as he looked down.

Fucking vampire.

Fucking werewolf.

Match not made in heaven, fucking hell.

“Fucking hell Orianna, I thought we where over this shit, you owe me, remember!”

Or did she need a long history lesson, who saved her ass, when she needed it the most, who pulled her out of the mess she was within, despite everything, that debt was not paid and he was cashing in on her now, wanting her aid, or was Orianna going to be another cunt, who would not respect there word and seek to kill him rather than work with him when he cashed in.

Didn’t work well, for everyone else who betrayed him.

“Fine, one day, then we leave.”