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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 22, 2022 13:24:06 GMT -5
"I only know of one who such a rose is worth naming after, Exalted. Even then I feel its beauty would not do you justice." He complimented, a hint of flirtation existed. However, the Lord of Ghouls was a flatterous and charming being. Twirling a long white lock around his finger, as he nodded to her. She sat next to him, the purple robe was a bit more decadent than her personal one, but he spared no expense. The finest Zeinavian silk weavers fashioned it as he remembered it, which also insinuated he recalled her form and dimensions.
"I see you found the robe, a bit of Moonglade at the Villa. As always, enchanting." He too tried not to stare, a more difficult task for him than memorizing the forsaken arcana of his craft. Bellighul made a mental note, shifting his hat and the collar of his robe as he stood up for a moment. Listening well to her apology as he assembled a small tray of pastries and jams before meeting her eyes as she finalized.
His voice carried into the autumn air as he responded, a bit of shame in his own words."No need to apologize. I can imagine how you must feel...being near me. Often, such terrible things occur in the dead of night by those of fangs and claws. I only wish I had the chance to tell you first, I have not written in sometime. This was due to wanting to surprise you with...all of this. What I have done here." Bellighul looked around once more, the dim light causing shadows to highlight his handsome features, the brim of the hat waving as the wind caressed it up and down. The sound of songbirds provided some amusement but he could not take his mind off of Kamille.
For you, he internalized.
Her next question struck him deeply, one he knew well he must answer but shamed himself further.
"I was not as I am now, but I felt different. Slowly. It wasn't until I reached home that Lunala's gift befell me. I awoke, with a craving no amount of wine or food could cease. But the color of red wine brought about a knowing. I have read many books on the subject of Vampirism and sought out aid...it is when I was nearly robbed on the road that I....quenched my thirst. Since then, there have been none others. Stricken with a dark hunger now, I fear I must either prey on others or die a second time. That is why I seek to control this."
Jacapo led his Nightmare Steed, Prospero, out from the stables on the southern edge of the villa. Its reins were covered in spikes though it lacked a saddle, allowing green flames to leap from its infernal mane. It was skeletal in appearance, uncovered by the veil he often laid upon it. Bolting towards the pair across the grass, scorching the verdant lawn in its wake. Despair did not seem to mind the Prospero's appearance, as it approached her, the two trotting side by side around the large evergreen hedges. The nature of the two suggested camaraderie, perhaps seeing another of its kind brought relief.
Bellighul smiled as he watched the stallion and mare move quickly and gracefully about. Once a glint of sadness in his eyes faded, leaving Kamille's question of aid for a moment to hang in the hair. Not for unwillingness, but he took in his surroundings in deep thought. Knowing now this was the happiest he had been in some time.
A bit of hot tea was sipped, a macaron snapped in half; buttermilk pistachio was his favorite. Jacapo an excellent pastry chef. His eyes met Kamille's as he spoke softly, his long canine visible as he spoke melodiously.
"A favor...merely ask and it shall be done."
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 23, 2022 4:26:32 GMT -5
Kamille had learned to beware of compliments and excessive flattery, but the Lord of Ghouls had a way of getting to her. It's his voice, she thought to herself. That lower, baritone voice that resonated within his chest. The Witch wasn't unfamiliar with receiving extravagant gifts - jewels, clothes, and more importantly, rare books. She straightened up the robe, her hands playing along the hem, not even registering how perfectly it fit her and what it meant for the time being. Mischief made a brief appearance at the table, nearly knocking over the cups and stealing a macaron before flying away swiftly. Such small act of petty mischief felt just right for an early morning nobody even bat an eye. " I appreciate it, it's beautiful. This whole place is beautiful, specially under a different light... To be fair, it was quite a surprise..." Bellighul spoke of his curse, and her eyes rose to met his. The Pyromancer was compelled by his words, despite having so many more questions to ask, wondering if he truly had any answers that would satisfy her. Apparently, it was a gift - a curse? - from his Mother Lunala. Lunala had always been a mysterious goddess for her, even with her proximity with so many worshippers at Moonglade. And Bellighul seemed to love his goddess with such fervor, she could not help but feel slightly iffy about it. The Lord of Ghouls told her how he..... quenched his thirst, just once. Some part of her wanted to believe his story, but she knew it wasn't true. He wouldn't be so powerful, so... healthy looking... if he had only fed once. But the fact he didn't want to admit any further seemed to indicate, to her, he was somewhat ashamed of it. She hoped that was the case, at least. " I want to help you with this.... I will help you. But I need to ask something first." Their conversation last night sparked a realization that had escaped her whole life: her father was a dark mage. On top of being a skilled alchemist, she recognized countless books on Bellighul's shelves, including volumes her father had aspired to have. It was very clear to her now... Her father's madness might have been caused by dark magic, and if she understood it..... She turned her body slightly more towards him, sitting very upright. It was clear it looked like a serious issue to her. " I want to learn dark magic." The wind played with her hair, while she allowed the thought to sink in, before elaborating. She had thought deeply about it during the night. " I trust you. I will say why in time, but right now, if possible, I wanted to learn dark magic. If........ you would allow me to read your books, or....... teach me...... I would be more than grateful." Her last experience with having a Master was not the a good one, so it was no wonder she seemed to resist the thought for a moment. But her goals seemed to be stronger than her bad memories - strong enough for her to endure whatever may come. Another long pause ensued before she was able to speak again. The Witch of Moonglade was not known for owing people - but for people owing her. "...............With...... with what frequency... Do you need to feed?"
Her intention was obvious, deliberate and thought out.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 23, 2022 17:40:17 GMT -5
"If you wish to aid me in, this gift, I would gladly accept help. Another mind is useful in most cases." He knew well that scouring even his collection would take him a considerable amount of time, if Kamille was to look elsewhere or take notes it would be greatly appreciated. He didn't understand the depth of the question however. Watching his roses, he ate half of the macaron, chewing lightly as Mischief came in for another. The raven seemed to like the fragrant ones. He thought of another rose, one of a deeper purple with a sheen mimicking silk as he casually glanced at Kamille. He found her to be his muse in most things, one who could sway him. Perhaps, even change him. Though, this was doubtful as even he was strong willed to a fault.
Her next sentence was met with dire surprise, hoisting himself from a relaxed position and in a bit of a state. Though he remained composed. "Kamille..." He subconsciously reached for her delicate hand, almost into the sunlight. The shade protecting him still. "You mustn't..." he whispered. His blackened heart racing. What would possess the paragon of Pyromancy to delve into his doomed domain?
Yet, he listened closely. Thinking deeply. Her words were melodious as the song of the birds who sang about the villa. Enrapturing. But, he did not lose himself to his emotions, at least not yet and considered what she said. There was a moment at this time, he pondered about refusing. He had learned much since they found the Obsidian Mirror, about himself. He wanted to share it with her, his experience, but her need outgrew his own. Thus, he began.
"If you wish for some knowledge within Dark sorcery allow me to search for you. The call of worlds beyond the stars, the infinite Hells...give me this burden. I have no doubt that you may command the forces of Lunala greatly, perhaps even moreso than I...but I do not want it to warp you as it has me." He stared deep into her eyes, his glossed over in worry but intense as his irises brightened. He now cuffed his cold deathly hand in his once more, not to guide her to a corridor but to express himself. He allowed a brief moment to sink in before continuing. "I will not ask your reasons until you choose to give them and if you are still iron willed regarding learning...I will not say 'no' and will teach you all that I can. But, remember my dear Kamille, that no one merely dabbles in this arcana...most are consumed by it."
Allowing more time to pass, he removed his hat as the clouds began to grey. An incoming storm for the east cooled the air, rustled the fiery hued leaves and bent the stems of roses. The sea air was among them. His ashen hair now flowing within it. His baritone voice was passionate but firm. "That is the end of it; I will guide you through the grimoires and dark lectures but consider it wisely. For your sake...and my heart. You are always welcome in my Villa, what belongs to me, belongs to you. My books are yours to do with what you will."
He was clever enough to understand her motives, there was something in her past. He saw it on her face last night. But she thinly veiled her offer in return as she questioned the frequency of his thirst.
"I cannot ask this of you...it is a Lunar Cycle. A week perhaps, sometimes less, sometimes more. If I am injured, blood will heal but a potion cannot, there is no set amount." He knew he was caught in a bit of a lie, for he did feed only on the bandits but didn't specify if he kept them alive for numerous other feedings. Gone were they now, himself consumed by the Hunger.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 25, 2022 4:38:21 GMT -5
The gift of Ginma was certainly strong in that one, and it became clear there was to wriggling out of that - no amount of soft praise and roundabout warnings would change her mind. When he reached for her hand, she squeezed his, locking it where it was in a firm grip, while her eyes didn't budge from his. Kamille listened without interrupting him, but nothing he said seemed to sway her away from her purpose. In her mind, she had traced her trajectory, a straight line towards her goal, and mountains would turn to dust in her path. That was, certainly, the will of iron that Father Ginma bestowed upon those chosen ones. " I understand everything that is at stake, and I can assure you I will take full responsibility for everything that befalls me. I won't blame you for anything. I promise." Interlacing her fingers with his - her warm, gentle hand with his deathly cold one - she raised the back of his hand to her lips, leaving a soft kiss on his pale skin, as a way to seal away the promise. The sleeve of her robe roled back as she did so, revealing her fair skin. Her eyes never left him, and she was certain he could hear her heart pounding on her chest. For once in a long time, she felt she was making progress - or was it just the idea of being close to him again? Kamille had just truly felt the absence of the Lord of Ghouls once they departed from their time questing together. The Witch had seen a side to the Necromancer she was sure few people had, and for some reason that gave her pleasure. Everyone else trembled before the Necromancer, feared or hated him, but just like his Mother Lunala had more than one aspect to her whole identity, so did Bellighul. Sometimes she wondered how many people knew his side of him... But she wasn't the kind of person to owe anyone anything - she felt physically uncomfortable with it. Much the opposite, she was infinitely more at ease making exchanges. Even with Bellighul, that offered everything she needed with an open heart and with - at least on the surface - no expectations of having anything in return. Everything had its price, and perhaps that was the alchemist in her, the concept hammered down in her head at an early age by her father... A man, she realized, she knew very little about. " You're not asking, I'm offering. I don't want you to be the monster they think you are. I'm willing to help you, in more than one way. Nothing that comes without sacrifice is worth having. I'm sure you can understand that..." Of course, it also put her heart at ease to know he wouldn't be hurting other people, though she wasn't sure she could avoid that. The Gods willed for their nature to be that way, she could almost hear the elder researcher's voice in her head. She only hoped that it was not in the Gods will that she followed into her father's footsteps, tragically, while also trying to save him...
"You've been more than gracious to offer me what you have. And I will, in time, speak more openly about it. I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark for the moment being. As for my offer... I can't force you, but I'll ask you to please consider. It would leave my heart at ease knowing you're not hurting innocent people..."
Kamille squeezed his hand.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Oct 25, 2022 9:53:36 GMT -5
"As you wish, Exalted." He lamented. He thought of the warmth of her lips still phantomly on his hand. Their hands embraced. The Lord of Ghouls knew sorrow well, the darkness he commanded robbing him of happiness. A fair trade, he once thought. To grow stronger in power was paramount before he met her. Now the raven haired beauty was amongst him again, replacing his dark ambitions and scheming with joy and contentment. She had taken a piece of his blackened heart and replaced it with fire and passion. Burning away that which was Bellighul. Finding himself. Who he truly was...
Whatever Kamille desired, he would manifest and if her own heart was at ease knowing many wouldn't die for his own survival.... How could he say no? Her blood for the lives of strangers. That was who the Pyromancer was in life, always ready to endanger herself for others and knowledge. There was still the mark on her neck from the night before, he moved his eyes away from hers and upon it. The hunger grew stronger.
Yet, he tortured himself in his own bloodlust. It became his prison; shackling himself from within. A sacrifice he would make time and time again; rather to throw himself on a spike than harm her for his own gain.
His lips parted slightly, in a near whisper. "We begin your studies tonight. I will introduce you to the Occultus Nocturna, I have annonated and researched it well. With this as the base of your understanding...you will quickly grow in dark sorcery." He however, took on a somber reflection of the man who talked of roses prior. Rising from his chair yet still interlacing their fingers. "But let us talk about other things for now. I would love to show you the herb garden I have prepared, perhaps you will make great use of it with your potions."
He merely wanted to escape the conversation. Knowing well what she would be introduced to in the time to come. Horrors unimaginable. Vile rituals. Blood magic. Yet, the Lord of Ghouls would protect her as he guided her as safely as possible in his tomes of darkness. _____________________ ___________
Two Months Later.
The Lord of Ghouls, robed in fine silk and eyes still squinted, rubbing them as he yawned down the corridor. He had just awoken, a soft smile on his face as he collapsed onto the chaise in the dining hall. Kicking his feet up onto a pillow, he smelled the strong coffee being brewed in the old Zeinavian tradition.
On a bed of coals inside an insulated dish, sand was heated to high temperature in an ornate iron box. A specialized cup with a wooden handle contained water and finely ground coffee, which boiled and hissed in the shallow bath of hot sand. Jacapo then poured the contents into a pewter cup, straining the grounds through linen. Zeinavian coffee was perhaps the strongest brew variant, often one cup was enough and two far too many. The Necromancer sipped it now, reclining on the chaise as dawn broke through the stained glass windows. He waited for Kamille to awaken, as she had been staying at the Villa in her studies of the Dark Arts.
Bellighul had never been happier. Though he was always cautious with his feelings and more than gentlemanly, the Pyromancer had softened his heart greatly in her stay. Bellighul had even begun researching other Domains, finding great interest in Sea arcana. Many new books had been collected, even the rather romantic variety. His demeanor had also improved, though still as theatrical as ever, he had grown rather more...pleasant, with company that didn't share his dapper sensibilities.
Some time had gone by, knowing often Kamille rose before he did, he rose to his feet and bore another cup of coffee. He assumed she was up later than usual, she was incredibly studious. Moreso than even the Dark Lord. He rapped upon the large wooden door of the Scarlet Room, now Kamille's chambers. Though, the door was not locked and creaked open, a ray of light on his black robe. He tried quickly to not look inside, less he stumbles upon a situation but he saw her fully clothed and packing. He knocked again quickly.
He was allowed to enter into the Scarlet Room, Edgar, a Black Quill and one of Kamille's spies was next to her. It appeared as though she was leaving. Bellighul was not made aware of this and seemed puzzled. Setting his cup on the desk nearby he spoke. "Exalted, is everything alright?"
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Oct 26, 2022 5:18:24 GMT -5
And yet she made the sacrifice willingly, without a trace of hesitation, such was the nature of a daughter of Ginma. And also the daughter of a dark mage, as it would become clear.
The herbal garden seemed to leave her absolutely baffled, as she recognized the quality and care that came into tending to those specimens. In fact, it would seem Bellighul took great pleasure in tending to his garden, whether it was his roses or the herbs. She wondered, once more, how many people saw this side to the Necromancer....
Two months flew by. More often than not, Kamille traded the heavier leather and feathery cloak for the finer silks of Zeinav, since the climate was much more forgiving. Not that the temperature bothered her, but it was a good change. She was feeling lighter than ever before, and it was not all due to a change of her outfit.
The Villa was welcoming, and its Master much more so. A change fell upon Bellighul, but if she was to proclaim she noticed it, she would be lying. The Necromancer always had been more forgiving, softening his manners when around her, seeing every need and whim of the Wich met. It was hard for her to say when it all started to add up, when she noticed how she started to behave differently closer to him. She had always been very affectionate, bordering the flirting, with nearly everyone - and yet, for a long time she held it back when in the presence of Bellighul. But now....
Bellighul's happines was contagious, and she seemed to be rather enjoying herself during her stay, encouraging the Lord of Ghouls to pursue other domains of magic when he showed such interest, even going as far as procuring some tomes she knew still wasn't part of his collection to add to it, as gifts. Reading took up a lot of her time: sometimes, it was the tomes of dark magic, but she also seemed interested in the non-magical volumes that started to show up among his shelves.
Kamille also seemed to be paying attention to Bellighul's health, offering for him to feed upon with a certain regularity depending on his general mood and appearance, always with a potion at the ready for her own health. Only once she offered him a chalice, but it didn't seem to sit well with her, since she started to offer him her wrist. She could give him a thousand of minor motives for it, but she knew the truth was that she wanted a reason to stay closer. And a part of her realized he knew that too. After all, the Witch of Moonglade did seem to have a soft spot for monsters and beasts, as it was thought.
The Witch was, indeed, studious. Focused and relenteless, it was clear Lunala also chose to bless her with her dark powers, which made her progress smooth. But more than her studies, Kamille also found great pleasure in learning something else with the Necromancer: at least once a day, Kamille would pester him to play chess with her. She wasn't very good at it, too aggressive in her approach, thinking more in a straight line than by approaching different angles. She was yet to win a match and, the night prior to her departure, she even started resorting to cheating, gently poking at him under the table to try and make him lose focus and make a mistake. It obviously didn't work. And then, Edgar arrived.
Early in the morning, the Black Quill happened upon the Scarlet Room. Bellighul would find the Black Quills to be lacking in manner in most of their meetings: they rarely ever used doors, prefering windows, had very few words to spare with anyone but Kamille, and more worryingly, were known to simply appear out of nowhere, materializing in the middle of a room. The Lord of Ghouls knew their demeanor to be by design, and despite Kamille having an indirect influence under his minions, Bellighul would always be under the impression that the Black Quills would not bend to his will....
"Bellighul?"
Kamille looked surprise by his arrival. Certainly, she hoped to slip through without having to say goodbye. She had always had trouble with the farewells, and although she knew it was rude, she had hoped to be far when the Lord of Ghouls felt her absence, leaving a message with Jacapo. Now that he was before her, caught in the middle of an act that looked like a get away, she felt embarrassed. The Witch nodded to Edgar, and for once he left the room using the door. Bellighul knew she often used the spell Message to convey her orders to her minions, but if often looked as if she communicated her will with just a glance. She took a deep breath. " I have to go, Bellighul. An urgent matter arised in Moonglade." She was lying. It was not Moonglade, but rather still Zeinav. But it related to the very secret she'd been keeping from him regarding her interest in the dark arts. And she was not ready to disclose the details just yet. Kamille lowered her head, ashamed.
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Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Nov 8, 2022 20:53:39 GMT -5
"I see..." He looked at her companion with furrowed brow, his chin raised regally. He attempted some manner of pose.
"It looks as though you must be off quickly. I had wished your friend would have alerted me...Jacapo could have helped you with your things." He used his man servant to cover his pain, to let him know she was leaving. He felt as if he had done something wrong. Again. He was a sensitive man, more than he would like to have admitted. He now toyed mindlessly with the cup of coffee, fidgeting, a trait he slowly was picking up from Kamille. Lifting the cup that was once on the desk to his lips to hide a frown. He tried to remain sentinel.
Why so suddenly? He pondered.
"You would have requested my aid in a matter if it required assistance. I would not invite myself. Yet..." His eyes began to water, though his vampirism gave him a curious condition. His tears in fact, were blood now. A scarlet line beneath his ruby eyes that slowly trickled down. He could not control them, as he mustered his resolve. Bellighul was aware of this, rubbing his eyes as he cursed in Zeinavian silently. Shaking his hair, which danced well behind him, he turned around to look outside the door. The darkness and cobwebs looming. The soft candlight and the strange shadows dancing. Without her, he would return to despair...to his books. To his darkest self. This he knew.
Only in her presence does he feel alive. From the corner of his eye, he spots his mask. Which has since been propped up on the mantle above the fireplace in the dining hall. Calling to him in the night. He felt it staring back at him, as if it was alive. This was the only object that disturbed him but it had grown silent since she came to stay.
"Yet, I wish you a safe journey." He wanted to say, yet I will accompany you.
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Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Nov 9, 2022 22:27:49 GMT -5
The anticipation of their suffering wasn't nearly as great as she had imagined. Maybe it would've been better to leave in the cover of the night, so they could hide their teary eyes and suffer in solitude. She always felt that solitude gave emotions more room to manifest without restraint, and that amplitude was necessary to overcome them, and not linger on them. And yet... His demeanor stirred the tears in her eyes, and she saw herself approaching even before she could take notice of where her feet were taking her. These last two months have gone by in the blink of an eye, so naturally they fell into a routine of studies while keeping each other company... For a moment, she even lost sight of what her life was before that. The last night felt so distant now, when she gently touched his leg beneath the table to tug at his attention... Despite her yearning, their touches were always subtle and gentle and swift - very unusual for the Witch. She respected his own boundaries more than everyone else's, and waited for his responses and openess, but there was always the moment to take a leap. Her smaller hand came to meet his, only so he could pull at him to turn to face her once again. Then, in a gesture that was perhaps more rare than it should be, she gently slipped her arms around his neck, involving him in a tight hug that pressed her whole body against his. He felt very different from the last time, when they were questing together and he had fallen hurt - his body felt hard against her soft one, a layer of muscles beneath his robes she hadn't felt the first time. One of her hands closed tightly on his robe on his back, while the other found his hair. Her voice was strangely caught in her throat, her heart thundering against his chest as she tightened her grip on him. She whispered in his ear: " I'll tell you everything about it when I'm back, okay?" When she pulled back slightly to face him, she had a sad smile on her lips, trying to be uplifting for him, while already feeling a cold hand squeeze at her heart. For a moment, she hesitated. Something she wanted to say, but didn't find its way up her throat when her eyes met his. Instead, she pulled him in to lay a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I promise."
And then, taking a step back for a brief curtsy, she left, as abruptly as she got there.
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