Crimson Peak (Worldeater)

The deafening silence of the main room could send the sanest person completely mad, dark coloured curtains kept the fairly large room sheltered from prying eyes, handcrafted wooden doors were held open by two men dressed neatly all in black. The silence was shattered by the sound of horse drawn carriages approaching the Manor followed by a booming voice filled with authority -Move it quickly you Mutts" Michael stood firmly at the sidelines of his new stock of slaves, thick chains rattled with movmemt of a new shipment of Mutts had arrived at Crisom Peak.

The black laced gown was cling on each inch of womanly curve that Emilia possessed, chocolate tresses were pulled up neatly in thick curls that created a blanket effect across her face but those sharp emerald hues rose up, as her husband tugged the line up of slaves into the main room and each one was eyed with curiosity, but she could never find one that opposed her husband in any way they all did, as they were told. Emilia slid closer till she was just on edge of her seat and hadn't spoken just yet.

Michael didn't take much notice of his devoted wife and as he lined the mutts up -Pick one, or two quickly, Emilia Dear-. Emilia ran her tongue up against her top lip in a bare of pearly fangs that neastled on her bottom lip when she offered a smile , but still she waited a moment to see if they were all submissive dogs.

God, they took long. Every second he was in chains was a nightmare in its entirety though in ways not one would usually expected. He . . . was annoyed to say the least and Atlas was keen on showing as little as he could other than the most annoying twitches of his brow. The others weren't so firm as he was, most of them coming from less than extraordinary circumstances compared to him. Since most lycanthropes lived in communities fit for them, most lived fairly comfortable lives until that very moment. Atlas, on the other hand, found this to be typical for him.

The things he had to deal with hardened him to the core, both physically and mentally. He was a head taller than most, arms ripped as well, but not overly large like some muscle-headed idiot. Living on the streets forced him to keep himself between muscular and skinny as to give him strength while still minimizing the necessary resources needed to maintain said strength. While others shook, he stood tall, looking around at all the sights. He figured he could probably kill one of the guards before the rest jumped him, hell, maybe he could have gotten the cunt trying to sell him as well.

But the lady, oh my, that was a different story.

Vampire women were a league different from other lycanthropes, at least to him. They had curves, class, a sense of style, and a dirty mind to follow. Most females in his community were more man than woman. He would have smiled had he not been captured or been trying to kill them for the past . . . well, years. In any case, he still had to keep himself at arm's length and maintaining good slave conduct. Shutting up and staying up as they called it . . .

Either she or the lord would be the first dead.

As she began to pick between them, he looked at her. No expression came, but he was keen on keeping a sense of mystery.

And then he waited.

-Emilia pick wisely, yet quickly I must return- Michael was slowly, but surely getting annyoned -Hurry- it came off like a sharp snarl that was followed in a bare of fangs. Emilia rose carefully from her seat "Calm down lover" she teased ever so lightly, as she approached the line up of fine specimen for a closer look, but only one actually caught her eye "I'll take that one" she pointed at the red eyed beast of a man, yet picked a few others.

Michael unlocked each slave that was picked and forced them down so they were bowed in front of Emilia -I must take my leave now- he settled his gaze on his wife before he finally left, but the mere disappointment, loneliness was seen within those brightly lit hues as Emilia watched Micheal leave.

She eyed each slave off like s piece of meat for slaughter, but there was tinge of desire beneath her heavy gaze and she couldn't take her eyes off one mutt, but train of thought was derailed for only a second as head guard entered the room and started stating rules.

Amon stood tall and firm at Emilia's side, as he spoke -Emilia is the Mistresss of this house and you'll do, as she orders- the muscline authority was like a crack of a whip -I'll ask each slave to stand and present Mistress drake with a kiss single upon her hand followed by your word of loyalty while you live in this house.-

Oh joy. Another cunt telling him what to do. No matter where he went, there was always some bastard that thought he had power in places where he shouldn't. Sure, he had power, but all of it was fleeting. Screw the lord and the lady, that fucker was going to die first. In any case, he kept with the motions, only hesitating when the man told him to give his word of loyalty.

Soon his turn was up and as he walked up to the woman, he gave the man a glare. The other slaves had been meek, uninteresting, and weak. Atlas, on the other hand, was intent on preventing such an image from instilling itself onto him. Instead of waiting for her to lift her hand to his face, he pulled his own into her and helped lift it up. He swore the man was about to shit his pants.

"I don't usually give my word of loyalty, but for a pretty woman as yourself, I think I'll make an exception."

The guards shuffled in place as they heard his words; Atlas prepared for the worst as he let her hand go.