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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 11, 2022 16:53:22 GMT -5
Despite the hardships, the vast desert of Zeinav have been gentle to the Pyromancer so far. Unlike most people, however, the scorching sun couldn't do much to make her uncomfortable, and as she turned her eyes to the sky, watching as it approached the line of the horizon, she hoped that Solaria would bless her with a couple more hours of light. She would need his light on her path now.
A vampire, she thought to herself. She had already met a couple before, but none seemed to fit the legends as much as this one; the macabre tales of bloodsucking villains, who would seduce beautiful ladies to drain their lives. In the back of her mind, something still tried to warn her of the unusual nature of the chain of events that she just went through. There was an effort made in the sense of opening a line of communication with Zeinav - and while there were some options available, she wanted more. She needed friends from Zeinav. Important ones. And this man that approached her looked important enough: he called himself the Oberver, and he offered her an obscene amount of gold to get rid of a vampire in the middle of the desert, so she was suspicious - and rightly so!
Taking her eyes away of the sunset, her other view was a grim one: a large property, with a creepy looking castle - and the only way to it was a small pathway that would probably be taken by the tide soon. This better go right....
Mischief was already flying around the property, making a preliminary survey of the place, but he didn't seem to find anything worth noting - everything was quiet, no one seemed to be around. Was it abandoned? A grumpy neigh brought her attention to her other companiong, Despair. The nightmare steed was terrifyingly loyal, her fiery mane waning like the water that engulfed her hooves. The tide would soon swallow the path to the castle, she needed to go sooner rather than later. With that in mind, she urged the steed to move forward, splashing water all the way to the front gates, where she would dismount.
The air was salty from the sea, fresh, and even if she didn't feel the cold, she felt a chill running down her spine. Pulling her mare by the reins, she moved forward, quietly, cautious, intendind to find a safe, discrete place to leave her mare before entering the mansion's front door.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 11, 2022 18:07:35 GMT -5
An autumn night was upon Kamille. The tide has swallowed the cobblestone pathway to the villa, dark masses of sharks now swam where she once walked. Seafoam struck the jagged rocks that looked like spikes rising on the western edge of the island. A powerful gale began to roll from the easterlies that traversed over the sea, carrying with it the smell of brine. It would become an enticing scent as the winds blew through the vineyards and the expansive rose gardens. Yet, as the blackthorn hedges remained verdant, the sparse decorative oaks and maples had turned into yellow and a deep red on the property liken to flames.
A set of iron doors, well patinaed from sea wind and age, stood sentinel in the looming shadow of a draconic fountain; spewing water from its fanged maw. A Kamille neared, one door began to creak open. A voice announced.
"All are welcome at the Villa of Lost Souls."
The door remained ajar. A strange black mist trickled from the foyer and out into the open air.
As Kamille would wander into the villa, a shadowy figured peered down from the balcony. The lonely tower coated in moon light. __________________ ________
The foyer walls were adorned with numerous smaller paintings, illuminated by various candles with dancing fires. The paintings, mainly portraits displayed a assortment of people, those of the upper class to the sun beaten farmer and sailor. However, a fire was lit mysteriously in the dining hall, well within view, as the darkness was overtaken by a soft orange glow. The mantle held a rather large and imposing portrait; that of a Zeinavian man.
The man was turbaned, his skin chestnut and bejeweled with fine rings and a necklace of gold aqnd precious stones. Dark chocolate eyes seemed to gaze at the onlooker. Wrapped in silken robes, the man seemed to dress regally yet, the fashion was foreign and antiquated.
Yet, as the painting seemed to stare; so did a shadow.
In the far corner, covered by Cloak of Shadows, a being escaped the light of the fireplace. Scarlet eyes appearing like twin orbs floating in the nether.
Why did it have to be her? He pondered.
The hardwood floor creaked loudly from his position as he then navigated down the hallway, her beautiful face concrete in his mind.
As well as the blood in her veins.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 12, 2022 8:07:29 GMT -5
It felt like walking into a trap, into the den of a monster. She left her mare by the front gates, losely strapped to the bars, knowing full well the beast was capable of either snapping the reins or dragging the gate behind her.
"All are welcome at the Villa of Lost Souls."
"..................I'm sure."
The Pyromancer stood before the door, looking around the property, yet without spoting the figure watching over her. It looked desert, not a single soul - not even a lost one. With a deep breath and renewed courage, she stepped into the castle.
Everything was quiet, but she leaped when the fireplace was suddenly brought to life, roaring as if it had been alight for hours. Her heart raced wildly, a feeling akin to fear threatening to take her reasoning. The flames shot some light over a painting over the mantel, and she felt drawn to it, like a moth to light.
Kamille was positive she never met such zeinavian man before, but his traces looked familiar. Her eyes traced the line of his chin and jaw, the memory just out of reach...
The creaking of the floorboards startled her, and she suddenly turned, with fire already crackling in her hands, but there seemed to be nothing.... less ethereal to be damaged by fire. She was deep in the lair of a prowling monster, on behalf of a stranger - a suspicious stranger, really! - and it all just amounted for her to reassess the choices that had brought her so far. Deep down she knew why she agreed to it: she didn't want that thing, that monster, to hurt other people. If he had been prowling around Moonglade, there wouldn't be the need for a gentle nudge in its direction for her to take action. She would just act.
It dawned on her, as she glared the darkness down the corridor, she'd have to have some semblance of a tactic if she wanted to face this vampire at his own lair, which was not her strong suit. If the Master of the Villa didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found.
Her intentions and courage renewed, the chill that crawled down her spine subsided for a second, which was enough for her to come up with one of the craziest - possibly dumbest ideas. Trying not to make a noise, she undid the clasp of her fancy, feathery cloak, allowing it to slide to the floor with a soft swoosh of the fabric. There was no doubt in her mind now that the Master of the Villa was messing with her, so she assumed she could return the favor.
Pulling her hair to the side, as to expose her neck and shoulder, she raised a clawed hand to her bared skin, pressing against her soft shoulder.
A soft whimper and a slow trail of blood started to run down her shoulder.
An obvious lure - and yet she heard of those monsters to be prone to a frenzy-like state when in the presence of blood. And when he came, he would be done: flames twirled and licked at her figure, her eyes burning iridescent with fire. Her Inferno Form was ready to take such monster by its bloody vice.
A risky gamble.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 13, 2022 1:28:18 GMT -5
The door to the Scarlet Room remained aloft, a slow creak resonated in the darkness of the hall. The trail of a long black robe gliding across the floor was the last to pass its threshold. His pallid palms struck the desk, looming over a large black figurine; an icon of the darker nature of Lunala. It was the aspect of chaos and destruction, mother to the creatures of the night. Several arms lowered spears and swords, a long tongue was ghoulish and many eyes gave it a spider like gaze. He stared at it, ruby eyes glowing like stoked coals. Slowly he turned the figure around, the large stone screeching on the wood as it showed its reverse; a veiled beautiful maiden clutching a crescent moon. His blued lips parting slightly, pearl white canines extending down as he spoke softly.
"Lunala...anyone but her, I beseech you. A thousand lives if you spare but this one." Ashen hair hung like a curtains, masking his almost whispered plea. The air was frigid, far too cold for autumn, his breath visiible as if in the dead of winter. He remembered her kindess in Moonglade. The warmth of her fireplace and meal as she looked upon him without pity ot hatred. She listened to his stories, his tragic tale over wine long before he regained his wealth from the ruins of Ahriman. He knew coin made false friends and worse enemies but Kamille was different.
"Am I not your chosen, Maker of Night and Shadow? This gift...your favor bestowed this upon me surely, yet am I to be a thrall to it's will?"
This predatory, wolf like drive beckoned him. A thunder deep inside his chest, his blackened heart. His blood lust was beginning to subside, gazing from the room into the gardens beyond the window. The stillness was meditative. A slow peace befell him as he rose from his desk, as if the weight of intense starvation was lifted. He attributed this to Lunala.
Yet, Kamille had made a ill timed mistake.
The blood that streamed from her neck incited a monsterous and overwhelming sense to feast. The Necromancer faded into a red mist, his form dissipating towards the floor and rolled phantasmally out the door and down the hall. It coursed through the dining hall, the orange glow of the firelight upon it only to have the room blossom in a bright light as Kamille became engulfed in her inferno form; illuminating it and along with the corridor. The mist swirled in the Inferno Form's light, the blood seeming black beneath the flames glow.
The spiraling mist quickly took form as it danced upwards, revealing the Lord of Ghouls in his physical manifestation. Black robes now contrasting the scene and his alabaster skin hot from merely her vicinity. He slowly outstretched his arm, his stunning face lifted regally, in an attempt to take her hand. His words resonated in the chamber, body stricken with intense heat as he neared and spoke in his deep baritone.
"Kamille...look upon me with those eyes like star fire, am I not Bellighul, last of the Banu Enaza? Hold my hand without fear as you did in your home so many moons ago...I know your kindness and your heart as you know mine."
He would perform his Beguiling Charm if she did so, in attempts to put her violence at ease but also getting closer.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 15, 2022 4:08:54 GMT -5
The voice......
It was familiar, bringing forward memories of a storm, wine and stories. She knew it.
".............Bellighul?"
Her recklesness had its price, for even if her plan might have worked against a lower creature, a sharper wit might be a challenge to seduce with a drop of blood. Hunger consumed him, but not to the point of erasing his predatory tactics. Or so she thought, because she couldn't know what was actually going through his head.
A part of her knew she lowered her guard the instant she heard his voice. A low, calm, seductive voice that connected to something at her core - but it could be just his bewitching abilities. He extended his hand and the fire faded, first from her figure, lastly from her eyes. And when the fires of the earth faded and the light dimmed, one could see the stars. They swirled in her eyes, hypnotic and enchanting on their own right, like the most beautiful blue nebula. And they were fixed in his crimson eyes, bewitched in every sense of the word.
"What are you doing here?"
Her voice was distant, yet she took a step closer, her mind completely unaware of that. Like a moth attracted to light, she leaned towards it without taking notice of his charm, or the change that befell him. Some part of her mind knew, but she refused to acknoledge it. She raised her hand, as if to touch his cheek like he remembered. Mischief cawed at the window, his calling breaking something inside her, as well as the silence that fell upon the manor.
Her hand hesitated, a few inches from his face. A fat, lazy drop of blood briefly followed her collarbone before running down her chest and dissappearing inside her blouse.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 15, 2022 14:07:44 GMT -5
His blackened heart thundered within his broad chest, the blood that trailed down her neck was alluring and intoxicating. He could smell the metallic tinge of copper and iron even from afar. He senses heighted to the peak of humanly possible, albeit his eyes betrayed him often; revealing full well he was certainly more. Even before vampirism, he was undead, now just taken to the extreme.
"This is my estate, Exalted and you now, my guest."
Bellighul eyes narrowed onto her neck, yet, he willed himself not to act. A powerful thirst had befallen him, yet, Kamiile would be safe so long as he could control himself. He was no mere thrall or Vampire spawn, his change was unique but still he suffered from the Sanguine Bond. The Lord of Ghouls drew his hand upwards to wrap around the smaller hand of the Pyromancer whose hand had loomed near his cheek. Lowering it slowly as held hers in his as he guided her down the cooridor.
"If it would please you, I would love to show you my library. It is there that I will tell you of this...dilemma were are presented with. Misunderstandings and slander, to be sure."
The Tomb King's vile charm had worked, bewitching the Moonglade Witch herself with his own hex. Every the gentleman, he took her to the wonders of the Scarlet Room. From floor to ceiling the grand chamber was adorned with all manner of decor hued in shades of red. Three walls covered in cluttered and overflowing bookshelves and a fireplace with a set of chairs near a orante gold leafed fireplace. It functioned as a sitting room as well as a bedroom as an elaborate four poster bed veiled in crimson silk stood at the far end, flanked by a vanity mirror and chaise. Her hand in his, he released allowing her to marvel as she pleased and puruse at her whim whilst he sat upon a large wingback chair; watching her intently. When she would be finished or some time went by, a moment or so, his baritone voice carried throughout the chamber.
"Tomes of most ancient lore and Dark Arts reside here...my collection is ever growing. Every day I grow stronger in Black Magick and I owe it all to this room. Though, you may find other, more beautiful things here...I dare say, no Necromancer yet has this breadth of knowledge available." He spoke proudly, and frankly a bit arrogantly. Yet, he spoke a good deal of truth.
"Yet...I feel you came with another purpose. One I would be happy to hear about." His voice changed slightly as he reclined back, pressing his robe against the support of the chair. He seemed inquisitive, not interrogating but there was a pecuilar interest that seemed to draw out candor from the Queen of Fire.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 16, 2022 10:44:51 GMT -5
It was really bad luck to hurt guests under your protection, the common folk said. And still, maybe she should have been at ease by that, for only a damned soul would hurt an invited guest under their own roof.
Only a damned soul...
The Witch couldn't possibly know of the conflict inside the Master of the Villa's head, but she saw a glimpse of it in his eyes. Even bewitched, some part of her registered the uneasiness, the fight that took place in his heart. But yet she followed along, just partly aware of her own feet.
Her hand squeezed his, as he guided her to his library. It was a direct paralel to when he happened accross her doorstep, and he found himself surrounded by her tomes and scrolls of ancient knowledge, her warmth and hospitality. He'd been weak that time, seaking her as well as shelter from the storm. Now, he was the one inviting her in, even if her intentions when going there were less than friendly...
The vampire.
Even if her aggression was held at bay, her reasoning still processed the information in the background, shoved aside once again when they entered the Scarlet Room.
Kamille wasn't foreign to big and opulent libraries, but this one was different. The nature of this books felt... familiar. Without even noticing when his hand left hers, she walked over to the shelves. Her eyes lighted up in recognition to some volumes - not horror, not disgust, but recognition. She knew those books, she'd seen them before - she grew up with them. Her slender fingers ran over their spines, a small nostalgic smile curving her lips. Memories long forgotten, buried deep, were brought back to life.
Mischief cawed.
His gentle fluttering wings were heard by the window, where he now sat watching the scene unfold. Kamille looked over to him, and suddenly remembered her mission there.
But things have changed. Turning once again to the Master of the Villa, her gaze hardened once more, she stood in front of him.
"What is the Observer to you?"
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 16, 2022 15:11:35 GMT -5
"Ahhhh, the Observer." He couldn't help himself as a look of disgust overtook his beautiful face. He tone heavy and almost mocking. Bellighul rose from the chair and paced across the room as he began his next short monologue. His robe trailing behind him across the black and crimson rug.
"I wrote a theological thesis some time recently; 'Of Owls and Snakes', which opposed the coformist view of the pantheon. The Observer, is a title within the Solarian Temple in Zeinav City, which did not take kindly to me comparing them to reptiles. Especially snakes...slithering sun bathing creatures with forked tongues and venom in their mouths." He proposed, his metaphor indeed cause a stir within the religious community. Zealots on both sides penning various defenses and attacks in retaliation. The fireplace glew against his form, he traced his finger on the gilded mantle, the filagree dancing with light and darkness. He seemed in thought, perhaps a fair share of further theology filled his mind. The others being the blood of a gorgeous woman in his wake. His heart continued to thunder, whilst his eyes turned from the fire and upon her; her form against the shadows of his collection.
He continued. "Lunalans are the owls, Exalted. We do not bite the ankles of the common folk but rid the vermin that plague them. Even snakes."
Bellighul knew approaching her, even hexed by his Charm would have to be a slow and cautious endeavor. SHe was far more powerful than him, but he intended with all his might not to harm her. The statue of the Dark Maiden in the corner, he stepped at a snail's pace, but his grace and beauty seemed almost panther like. "I was denounced as a heretic and a radical for my thesis. While also bringing unwanted...attention...on myself."
"They may well have revealed to you my...condition. As it is. No less paying you handsomely for my extermination. How full their coffers are from the tithes of the poor." More malice poured from his blued lips at the second sentence. His hatred for the Solarian Temple extreme to the point of obsession.
His admission, even in a round about way, begged more information, as he watched the Pyromancer's body language. His heart beating quickly, not all from the pains of a dreadful thirst but also his adoration for her. Since that stormy night in her home, he thought of her in the reflection of his wine. The thought of her perfume was nearly as powerful as his lust for blood."I'll have you know that I do not wish to be bound by this curse...through dark magic it was given, through dark magic it can be changed."
"Although Vampirism as it is, has it's benefits...the hunger is all consuming. Wine has grown dull and almost flavorless." His jest was ill timed, given the severity of the situation but nonetheless coupled with a charming smile. He dabbled with a wine screw in his hand, setting it back on the desk. Yet, he was being truthful, his fondness for wine had slowly faded. The aromas persist but became water on the lips, a fancy of his taken away.
"You are too kind hearted to not see my nature beneath what I am and I believe you can help me."
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 16, 2022 18:21:02 GMT -5
Kamille was not foreign to the squabbles between religious zealots as they were. She saw it multiple times at the capitol, and even her Master would sometimes find himself in need of pleasing one entity or another for some wordy jab thrown around. She understood it... What frightened her was that Bellighul sounded like a zealot himself.
But she knew this man. They fought alongside before. He catered for her debauchery and petty quests, he listened to her stories over wine and pies. The man she knew was honorable, even if his methods would raise an eyebrow from most people. But wasn't that the way she acted too? With soft words and poison? Perhaps she was even more roundabout than him, that showed the full extend of his dark magic.
And now...... a vampire......
Truth be told, she met vampires before, and was pleasantly surprised with their good nature. It shouldn't be a sentence life... or undeath. It was a lot to take in, he could see it in her face - it was a complicated face, of one weighing her options, searching her heart for her moral compass and her memories alonside him.
Maybe it was his hex, but fire rose from her chest when he flashed that smile. She turned in an attempt to hide her fluster, only to face his collection of books. It didn't escape her that he wanted to "change" his curse, not cure it. Maybe it was just his wording? She doubted it. Kamille could assume the power the vampirism could bring, and maybe it was a good way to go about it. There was no cure that she knew of or heard of.
Really, there was a lot of information to take in, and more still to pry. Maybe she should take her time. She came in with the resolution to kill the vampire, but now everything changed. The Pyromancer felt the Lord of Ghouls approaching, yet made no movement to turn. Her eyes fell on the spine of the books before her.
"Are you telling me you're trying to find a cure? Within these books? I recognize them... History of Hexes, Plagues and Curses...... Rituals of the Black Sun... Anatomy of Nightmares... My father had these books in his collection. He got really angry when I burned his copy of Beyond the Veil of the Nether by accident..."
A small smile curved her lips at the memory.
"If there was some sort of cure in books like this, it would already be known. What are your expectations from now own?"
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 17, 2022 12:41:53 GMT -5
The Pyromancer faced towards the bookshelves and scanned the titles, reminiscing on times of old and her father's collection. Bellighul had no such memories, aside from vague and blurry mental images. Yet he was strongly attached to his former life, feeling as if in undeath he was in limbo. Perhaps, that is why he spends his days within this room, attempting to connect to the past to find himself, more than advancing in dark magic. Yet, he had done so rapidly. Still cautious, his booted steps struck the hand weaved rug loud enough so Kamille could hear his position. He loomed somewhat behind her, his height allowed him to look over her shoulder easily. Yet, her raven black hair cascaded down her back, just as it did in Moonglade and the times in King's Valley. He traced her hair with his eyes, still compelled as ever to comb it with his pallid fingers.
Yet her words took his mind and he smirked as he spoke. "Your wisdom and deduction never fail to impress me, Kamille." His voice boomed behind her as he stepped even closer. "Beyond the Veil of the Nether is extraordinarily expensive, only available by request as the text must be written in the blood of aberrations. Beholder blood is not easy to come by...and degrades quickly. I would be very upset as well..." He brushed his barrel chest against her shoulder, Vampirism turning his formerly frail form into a well muscled physique. His fingers too, danced on against the threads of her cloak, before he pulled the aforementioned book from the shelf. It's leather was supple yet tanned from the hide of an aboleth; dry without the mucus membrane that covered the horrible monstrosity.
He flanked her as he opened the tome, a strange hiss emitted from the pages as he flipped through them. A stiff page, he licked his finger tip to pull it forth, his extended canines bare for a brief moment. "It seems your father invited the domain of the Dark Maiden into your residence...one must be careful however, as it also invites damnation and madness, if great care is not taken. Such is the power of tomes and grimoires of fell sorcery." He spoke plainly, unaware of Kamille's history and background regarding her father.
The Lord of Ghouls, always roundabout in his thoughts and intentions, finally answered her question.
"Just because there hasn't been a cure known does not mean it does not exist. Further, Vampirism is a curse, but I will it to be a benefit...deteriments aside, they can be staved off...for some time at least." His eyes narrowed, red as coals and slowly placed the book back into position as he jabbed at another domain. "Light spells and their mages pride themselves on healing, surely they pour over shelves and scrolls for such cures...yet, are to afraid to stare into the dark to find the nature of what they abhor. Often, that is where advancements and ideas flourish as one must understand how a plague is made in order to fend it off."
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 18, 2022 9:19:42 GMT -5
The gentle breeze that slithered in by the window played with her hair, spreading her alluring scent through the room, reminiscent of roses, earthly wild flowers and slightly sweet berries. If there was a sound in the room, she could not hear it, her mind suddenly retreating to a spiral of thoughts his words sent her into. Wherever she was, for a brief moment, she was not there. And she was certain her heart stopped beating that minute, all else in the background fading to give way to her musings.
It would explain a lot if she was to accept her father to be a mage from the dark domain. It would explain her childhood and how he shielded her from his own magic, it would explain his condition, and why he fell back into alchemy in his later years. And why he was retired from his post at the King's Council.
After all, Moonglade, the homeland of Lunala's worship and a great deal of many mages and wizards from the dark domain, was also the place of birth of her father.
And her own as well.
The present time suddenly pulled her back into reality, and she realized, with a shudder, how close he was. If her heart had stopped beating for a moment, now it returned with full force, trying to crawl up her throat. He reached out for a book, so close to her she knew he could hear her heart racing wildly. The book he showed her was just as she remembered, and while her father would mostly refuse to show her most of the books in his collection, sometimes he obliged - and sometimes, she would simply sneak into his library and read without him knowing. At the time, she didn’t understand most of it, or the nature of the contents - but now, under a different light, it became clear.
Once the book was safely put away, she turned and contained a gasp as she truly noticed how close he had come. The way he spoke of the magic domain of the Sun God was worrying, but not in the least her priority at the moment. She was trying to see in front of her the man that had come to her house and slept on her couch; the one that grunted and complained as she begged him to not kill some ooze or another. That frail man that first took off his mask seemed to be gone, and she still didn’t know what to make of this one in front of her.
"Maybe I should go... I... I don’t want to..."
...to what? To get caught in this drama between the worshippers of Solaria and Lunala? To kill him?
For some reason, she couldn’t find the will to look into his eyes. After all, she basically burst into his house with the intention of burning it to the ground alongside him - much different than when he came to see her in her home with a basket of asorted goods and wine, pleasing her with his stories. And even if the storm wasn’t coming - yet - she knew some part of the path to the Villa would be underwater in no time. It was best if she sorted out that situation fast.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 18, 2022 14:37:46 GMT -5
The look in her eyes caused him strife, how painful it was to see the luster in her irises fade as he seemed to reminensce on something that haunted her. His eyes quelled in brightness as well. A look of somberness on his handsome face overtook the pride and arrogance he felt just a few seconds before. She avoided looking at him. He knew why. Bellighul was once weak, physically speaking. More skeleton than man as thin flesh covered bone tightly. It was a pathetic existence in his eyes, that which he once was, now, he was physically imposing. Beneath the robe hid statuesque muscle, magnifying his unearthly beauty. Yet, could not replace the despair and loneliness that dwelled within his heart.
He eyed her for a moment, her words striking him deeply. A wound surely, but his selflessness in regards to the Pyromancer was unique. He loved nothing but his books and himself, until...
"I see." His baritone voice carried within the Scarlet Room. His head hung low and eyes shut, a courtly bow was presented to her as he made his way from her person and towards the desk. "I fear the pathway is beneath the tides, Exalted. I lack a boat to have my servant get you and your steed across safely. Yet, I swear...to Lunala herself and upon this figurine, no harm shall befall you." His hand clutched the black stature, lifting it from its post overlooking a heap of papers, ink wells and quills. He carried it off, slung limp in his pallid hand. He did not sulk as his words, collection and form did not impress as he intended, but from the pain of her being worrisome in his presence.
The Lord of Ghouls reached the doorway, turning his head but not his eyes towards her. He avoided the blood trailing down her neck, but more strongly, the look on her face. Something was hurting her, took her from the present. It was his doing, or so he convinced himself.
"Jacapo will bring you a fine meal, the harvest season is upon us. His quail with figs and orange sauce is phenomenal along with whatever your heart desires. I will do anything in my power to have you on the shore tonight, I will call a raven to the lighthouse if need be." He have her repose from his person, leaving the Scarlet Room as he set down a large wrought iron key on the end table clearly in view.
A few moments later, Jacapo carried a large silver platter, covered with an ornate silver dome and set it on the dragonchess table between two chairs. His voice was more airy and western in accent than Bellighul's.
"One of master's favorite dishes and a bottle of white wine and spring water for your pleasure." The dome was lifted, revealing its contents. His pumpkin head seemed to mimic the expressions of man magically, a large smile appearing on the orange gourd. "I am at your service, as is everything within the room. My Lord says you may be traveling tonight, I will see you to the edge of the villa and signal a boatsman to ferry you to shore. But..." He hesitated, looking backward for a moment before almost whispering. "You will find no lodging more hospitable in all of Zeinav, please.." He pointed to a large armoire and vanity mirror. "Gowns of silk brought over from my Lord's favorite boutique and I believe a purple robe was handmade for a certain Pyromancer on his request from memory." He seemed to wink and excused himself, but hurried to open the window overlooking rows of roses and allow Mischief to come inside the chamber. Shutting the door to leave her alone until she called for assistance.
While this exchange happened, Bellighul sat upon the chaise in the dining hall, wine on his breath as he watched the fire dance in embers a-plenty and stared for a moment of his turbaned painting; reflecting on what he once was.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 19, 2022 6:31:50 GMT -5
There was pain and hurt in the body language of the Master of the Villa, and she knew it were her words to cause it. She needed time to process everything so far: she had come across that place, in the first place, to kill a vampire. And yet, the day has turned on her, and she saw herself invited into the hospitality of an old friend. Not only that, but in some degree, he seemed to be waiting for her at some moment. A purple robe? A warm, rosy hue colored her cheeks. Now, she felt so embarrassed to refuse such invitation, when he was trying so hard to make her feel welcome.
Once Bellighul and Jacapo were out, Mischief flew in, landing on her shoulder.
" What should I do, Mischief?" Whether the raven understood it or not, he flew over to where Jacapo left the plate, attracted by the shinny dome. After a minute longer of hesitation, she made up her mind.
Taking a piece of paper, quill and ink from the desk, she sat down and started to write slowly, pondering every word. Once she was done, she rolled it up.
"Mischief, do you want to earn a shinny?
The Villa probably wouldn't be as silent as it usually was, anymore. A few moments ago, the fiery mare seemed to reach the end of her patience. She pulled her reins and nearly took the gate with her, but merely snapped her reins where they were tied. From there, she proceeded to casually stroll through the place, as if she owned it, refusing angrily any touch but her Master's. Inside, the sound of fluttering wings filled the darkness, as what seemed to be a part of the darkness itself condensed to the shape of a raven. The light caught in Mischief's wings made his feathers look glossy and shinny. The raven quickly learned where Bellighul was, and promptly flew to where he was, perching up on his arm. He carried the piece of paper rolled up, but refused to let go without a shinny, bullying the Master of the Villa for his services.
The letter read as follows:
Lord of Ghouls,
I hope my behavior can be excused on account of the situation I find myself in. I would never have believed my target to be my old friend, and if I did, would have never agreed to this. Yet, I invaded your manor and insulted your hospitality. I hope you can forgive me.
There's no need to bother for a boat tonight, as I do not wish to be even more of a nuisance. Once the tide receds, I'll reassess my situatuon and hopefully see myself out. I'll accept you offer at lodgings for the night, if you'd still have me after all. I'd be more than willing to pay for my stay in a way you may deem fit. I trust your judgement on that regard.
Once again, I'm sorry for the disraught I have caused, and I hope you can find it in your heart to accept my apologies. As the morning comes and the tides retreat, I'll re-evaluate everything.
From your friend, Kamille.
And the day she started hoping to kill a monster ended in very unexpected terms: with her meeting an old friend, eating of his food, drinking of his wine and sleeping on his guest bed and wearing clothes that were not hers, a damned book by the night stand as her bedtime read.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 21, 2022 11:22:52 GMT -5
"Ah! Ms. Kamille, the master is in the northern gardens currently. Breakfast is an assortment of scones, marmalades and hot tea. If you would like, I can guide you there or if you wish, take in the gardens at your leisure." Jacapo said joyfully. He walked quickly over the cobblestone, the shadow of the draconic fountain providing subtle shade upon the large iron doors. Bellighul had received her letter the night prior, his melancholy overtaken by thankfulness to Lunala. Awaking early, before dawn, he had ventured out into the gardens to tend to his beds. Whether Kamille wandered alone or was escorted across the vast premises was up to her.
What she would find however, is numerous smaller gardens landscaped and meticulously groomed. The autumn weather spreads warm hues of leaves across the lush grass between the beds, whilst chrysanthemums bloomed of peach, white and gold lined borders with tall purple grasses. His roses however, were the main attraction. Every color found in nature was present. Various shades of red importantly but also unique hues of sherbet orange and lillac. Speckled white, two tones of white and red, deeper hues of purple and some varieties had over sixty individual petals; unusual but prized by the Necromancer.
"Good morning Exalted...I hope you slept soundly." A large black umbrella shaded him from the sun, yet, he wore a large brimmed ebony hat to guard him further. His ghostly skin contrasts his attire wearing a black morning robe with golden floral stitching. He bore in his hand a curved gardener's knife, meant for grafting- merging a stem to another root system. His greatest passion was making beautiful things, although the dark arts were his to command, flowers gave him the most pleasure. He was close to the villa, a number of climbing roses bloomed upon the stone walls behind him.
Now in his hand, was a dark rose, a muted violet whose petal edges curled wonderfully in almost black.
"This is a varietal I have been breeding for some time. Purple roses are rare, I've been selecting them for petal count and dark hues. In time, many generations of flowers, I hope to be the first to create a naturally black rose. One day, I will plant them at the base of a new Ahriman." He rested the gardener's knife down on the wooden table and sat upon a chair as he twirled the stem between his fingers. His face brightened as he smiled wide, scarlet eyes dancing at the thorns. He looked over to the Pyromancer, still with a slight smirk as he exhaled.
"I've thought often about names for the hybrid, Jacapo has suggested fine names such as 'Necromancer's Ellegy' and 'Hymn of the Night'. Very fitting, yet I found them to be a bit forward for something so beautiful." Pressing his other hand against his cheek, resting his arm on the chair's support, he mused for a moment. The scent was fragrant, musky and floral. It brought memories of his time before rising in this life. A time he both lamented and desired. Steam bellowed into the air from a ceramic mug, his morning tea almost untouched.
"I believe I shall call it, 'Kamille'. As it is dressed in black, an enchanting scent and stuns those who look upon it. It is poetic, I rather like the name."
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 22, 2022 9:52:21 GMT -5
Dawn brought a new feeling to the Villa. While dusk had chased her into believing the place was the den of a monster, she woke up in the house of a friend. Equal amounts of shame and sadness took her when she realized her mistake, and even worse, had the host feel rejected. She should make up to her mistake.
"Thank you, Jacapo. I think I can find my way, don't worry."
Neighing softly, her mare also came to greet her, lowering her muzzle for Kamille to pat her fiery mane. While Despair seemed to understand something about manners and didn't make an effort to ruin the flowers, it was impossible to keep her strapped anywhere, so she roamed around the Villa at her hearts content. The flowers were safe, but the grass, a hedge or two weren't.
Following along and leaving the mare behind, she couldn't help but notice the variety of flowers and the beautiful colors, trying to contain herself as to not pick them up. Bellighul had made a passing comment on his love for roses, but she didn't picture him being a gardner himself. Upon seeing him with the umbrella and large hat, she contained a laughter, until the reality of the picture truly hit her: he was a vampire. The sun hurt him. The laughter quickly faded from her mind, and she approached, the purple robe fluttering behind her. It was a perfect fit, even more luxurious than the one she had at home, which made her think he had expected her visit at some point.
"Good morning, Bellighul... Yes, I slept without trouble..."
Which was true, actually. She didn't believe she would. Such a twist of events...
A small smile curved her lips as he explained about his intentions with the roses - he clearly loved them, as well as Ahriman, and she found comfort in knowing the Necromancer had a soft side and could have his heart beating for something other than himself. She stepped closer to the wall to smell them, taking care of not displacing a single petal. When she heard the name he wanted to give the roses, she felt the blood and warmth rushing to her face. She didn't want to assume, but still...
"You must know a lot of Kamilles to have such a good impression... May I?"
She indicated the second chair next to his, and once he gestured for her to sit, she did. Under the sunlight, her robe had a slighly different feeling to it, the sun adding golden speckles to her starry eyes. For a moment she hesitated, looking at him under a different light as well. It's been a while since they last met. Were his shoulders broad like that before? When she realized she'd been staring, she looked away, her face still burning.
"I guess we need to talk, Bellighul..."
As always, straight to the point. She couldn't wait a minute longer to get her thoughts out of her head.
"First... I need to apologize for what happened yesterday. Rarely ever did I jump into something like this without doing my research and blindly trusting someone. I'm sorry."
Kamille did look into his eyes as she apologized.
"Can you tell me what happened? You weren't....... When we were traveling together, I never..... noticed... this."
He was different, it wasn't her mind playing tricks at her. When they parted ways, after questing through the marsh and hills, she had pulled him into a hug. She had a vague idea of his physique then - and it wasn't what she was seeing now, covered by a thin layer of his black robe. Once again, she refrained from staring.
"And......... If it wouldn't be asking much.... I wanted to ask a favor...."
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