ɪɴ ᴘᴜʀsᴜɪᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ☾ ◐ ◯ ◑ ☽ {ᴏsᴛᴇᴏ x ᴢᴇᴘʜʏʀᴀ}

[Zephyra]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖ ꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦​ ℑt was late in the evening and the moon was already high in the sky, the sharp curve of its waxing crescent phase shaped like the blade of a farmer's sickle. Faint light spilled across the trees and mountaintops that towered off in the distance, but in town the streets were illuminated by ornate lampposts that speckled the land around Elantria Castle, soft orange glows radiating from the fires within. The hustle and bustle of the capital had begun to settle down now that the young and the elderly had retired to their homes, seeking the warmth and respite of their beds as the witching hour approached. Only evening laborers and ladies of the night remained, with the latter few attempting to attract the company of the former as they finished up their business and headed to their abodes. Lucia had left behind the high, pointed peaks and grand halls of Oracleis Cathedral to pursue her mundane tasks hours earlier. As one of the Sisters of the convent, she spent her days offering up prayers to the goddess Oracleis, the most widely worshipped deity in the Light Kingdom. Attending sermons and working the confessional only accounted for a small portion of her overall duties, however. When she wasn't cleaning up around the cathedral or helping out in the kitchens, the young woman was often tasked with running errands for her Sisters out in town. Perhaps the wine cellar needed to be restocked, or a nobleman had requested a house call for his sickly wife. Today, it just so happened to be that many such chores all converged at once, leaving her the prime candidate for them. It wasn't until after sundown that she'd finally finished off her long list of errands, the day ending with her exiting the tailor's shop while holding bundles of fabric in her arms. Does Sister Elinor really need this much? She wondered, the little bell above the door tinkling behind her as she pushed it open and left the establishment. As a petite girl of only five feet, her head barely came up over the pile of them, orchid-hued eyes sharp like blades as they reflected the lack of amusement she felt at being relegated to 'pack mule'. Sure, she was just some nobody orphan that the church had taken in, even clothing and caring for her free of charge — but would it kill them to give her a break sometimes? Sighing, Lucia made the trek back to the cathedral, wisps of silvery-lilac hair fluttering behind her with each step she took. As a Nephilim, her eyes glowed faintly in the dark, yet they still didn't make it any easier for her to see. She navigated the cobblestone paths by lantern light, her dress providing little in the way of protection from the cold night air. A shiver ran through her, but she only straightened her shoulders and pushed ahead, her footfalls the only source of noise emanating from the deserted street. The quiet was... unnerving. Surely there should have been at least a few people that were still awake and about? Stilling herself, she stopped next to a lamppost and looked around, straining her pointed ears for the faintest sound. Without warning, the flames in the oil lamps lining the streets all died at once. Plunged into total darkness, she quickly dropped the fabric she'd been holding and cupped her hands, a sphere of holy light shifting and undulating as it materialized in her palms. By now, her pulse was so loud that the quickened tempo of her heart was all she could hear, her blood rushing faster as it pulsed through tensed veins. There was a presence in the dark— no, multiple of them, a whole cadre of figures stalking her from the shadows. How could it have taken her so long to notice? "Who's there?" Her voice was like ice and needles, the radiant aura of her magic only spreading so far. Anything could be lurking in the crevices between buildings or beneath the leaves of a nearby weeping willow tree. "Show yourselves." Her demand was heard. Out of the corner of her eye, an outline was approaching her at blinding speed, the glint of metal catching her eye just before she whipped her body around to evade it. A throwing knife lodged itself into a signpost behind her, the tip of it dripping with an iridescent purple liquid. Poison. Somebody was trying to kill her. Without stopping to negotiate, Lucia immediately took off running, the long trains of her dress whipping in the wind that rushed past her. Her boots struck the ground hard, heavy breaths accentuating each movement she made as she exerted herself beyond what she was used to. As one of Oracleis' disciples, her life was a peaceful one: conflict was often nothing more than something she'd read about in history books or the squabbles she'd witnessed between her Sisters in the order. Elantria itself was a safe, tranquil place — bathed in the golden light of the sun, it was home to many of the light races that inhabited this world. Attacks against the royal guard or those out in the pasture weren't unheard of, but she'd never personally been targeted by any malicious entities for any reason whatsoever. She was merely a humble follower of the goddess, a half-celestial who posed no threat to anyone. What could anyone possibly have to gain from assassinating her? There was no time to question her assailants' motives. A charred, smoky scent hit her nostrils just before infernal flames danced across her peripherals. Demons. Fiends weren't permitted to enter the Light Kingdom, but that didn't stop their kind from trying to infiltrate and corrupt those who were pure of heart and holy, the embodiments of everything they despised. Lucia spun on her heel and summoned divine flames of retribution, their golden light casting out the dark fires of the abyss. It wasn't enough to spare her completely, however. She let out an agonized scream as hellfire caught her dress ablaze and began to lick up her skin, the burning sensation ten times worse than any normal magic. It managed to leave a nasty reddish burn along her thigh before she was able to put it out, the flesh around the area turning blackened and necrotic. Hissing through clenched teeth, Lucia's head snapped up to examine the figures approaching her. They were cloaked and unidentifiable, but she could tell that they were all from the realm below. One of them had been utterly consumed by her holy fire, his body burnt to ash and scattered to the winds while not a single one of his companions lifted a finger to help him. Down there, they believed in culling the weak, for one had no place in such a cutthroat society if they were without power. Such a callous ideology was almost disheartening to see in action, had the stranger not been trying to burn her alive moments ago. "Kill the Nephilim." Their leader commanded the remaining three, his fist clenching as he summoned an obsidian blade in his grasp. Horrified, Lucia realized that it was made of diabolic ore from the Realm of Undeath. Wounds garnered from such a blade would not be so easily healed, even in spite of the celestial blood that she'd inherited from her ancestors. The four of them advanced towards her, their murderous intentions so overpowering that they were practically tangible. With a choked gasp, she leapt backwards before his weapon could slice her skin open and shot a beam of light into their midst. The demons scattered to avoid it, but the girl was resilient, her magic continuing to pelt them in a desperate attempt to keep them back. A bloody struggle ensued between opposing forces, one angelic scion versus four demon spawn, their shadows stretching towards her in an effort to snuff out her light. She was stronger than them, but their numbers were greater; add onto that the fact that she was at a disadvantage after nightfall meant that she was fighting for her life just to keep up with these beings. Though she was cornered and fatigued, one still remained. Her movements slowed with exhaustion, his blade kissing her flesh as it drew line after line of her sanguine life force from the soft tissue it buried itself into. Her magic grew weak as her blood loss continued to worsen, the rapier of light she'd been wielding fragmenting into glowing shards before disappearing entirely. Panting heavily, Lucia hit the floor when the demon kicked her onto her back, his dark blade piercing through her torso and embedding itself into the solid stone beneath her. "Aaaaaaagh-!" The scream she let out ripped through her vocal cords, but it was cut short by the blood that rose up from her throat and spilled over her lips. She choked on it, coughs racking her body as the man dug his sword even deeper into her intestines. Her fingers twitched as they rested at her sides, the luminescence of her pupils beginning to fade into a dulled gray. Beneath her attacker, she lie in a puddle of her own blood, her ivory dress stained crimson and torn by the sharp edge of his blade. Lucia tried and failed to sit up, the thrum of her pulse slowing to a crawl as she gazed up at the stars above, watching as they swirled around in her blurred vision. Am I... dying? She was too far gone to fear death anymore. Instead, her heavy eyelids began to close, a single tear escaping her lashes as it slid down her cheek and soaked into the cracked earth of her final resting place. "... Why...?" One word was all she could manage to rasp out, a single question meant for the ears of her killer. But would knowing the reason for her demise really bring her peace? He slid his blade out of her flesh in one motion, flicking the blood off of it before returning it to its hilt. "You're the last of Cordelia's lineage. When you meet her in the afterlife, you ought to ask her that." Cordelia... She'd never heard that name before. Her head slumped to the side as she breathed in painfully, barely registering the way that the man turned his back on her and left her for dead. So she did have a family somewhere out there... At least now she might finally get the chance to reunite with them. Embrace me, Lady Oracleis...​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Osteo]

✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣​ 𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔜𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔄𝔤𝔬​ "We can wait no longer; we must wake him if our people are to prosper once more." Blood Knight Commander Matthias Dracul commanded the Thralls to open the ancient sarcophagus, where an old and powerful ally had been resting for centuries. Centuries ago, the dark forces of Mortisian marched on the land of Light and engaged in a bloody war that lasted for twenty years. On the eve of what would be considered the last major battle of that war, the Grand Marshal had been gravely wounded by an ambush of Celestials. Angelic beings intervened in the war and turned the tides of battle as all hope had been lost for the mortal races. With the Grand Marshal too wounded to continue, he was taken away by loyalists back to Manor Drakenhof, where he was sealed away in the dark magic of Undeath in a sarcophagus in which he would heal from the holy wound. During his defeat the powerful figure known as the Monarch, the Progenitor of Vampires and King of Mortisian, had gone missing along with Cordelia. His Celestial lover was kept a secret from the courts of both dark and light save for those closest to him. It has been nearly three centuries since that final battle in which the tides had turned in favor of the mortals and the forces of darkness were driven back into their corrupted and dead lands in which they would rule and reside for the next three centuries without doing anything more than typical raids and skirmishes. No one held the power to unite darkness once more to march as they were left with their own squabbles and bickerings. Matthias Dracul's hope was that the Grand Marshal had recovered from his wounds and would be able to take the throne that the Monarch had left behind. Replaced now with a Council of Demons, Vampires, Werewolves, Unseelie, and other dark beings that either fought their way to the table or through wealth and corruption. The dark sarcophagus crunched with the heavy slab of stone shifting off. Magic seals broke as the dark magic began to seep out from the cracks before the Thralls would push the stone sarcophagus as the heavy slab of stone crashed into the cobbled flooring. A blast of dark magic exhumed from the opened sarcophagus as a blast of powerful wind caused the torches that lined the walls to flicker before being snuffed out with darkness enveloping them. Matthias dropped to one knee with his head lowered in respect, a hand over his cold heart. Light blue hands, nearly pale in color, crept out of the darkness of the sarcophagus and crabbed the edges before a beautiful and dangerous figure emerged from the darkness. Dressed in fine silks, the cascading white hair of the Grand Marshal framed his face elegantly. With the touch of a feather, his feet landed on the ground, and his eyes opened to reveal the blood-red hue that gazed down at Matthias. "Welcome back, Grand Marshal; I hope you have recovered from your wounds. I apologize for disturbing your rest, but we cannot wait any longer if we are to save our species." Matthias would be the bearer of bad news. How the war had ended over three centuries ago and that the Monarch had disappeared with no confirmed body being found. Even in these three centuries of searching and exhausting resources, they had found nothing and it only emboldened the other forces of darkness to begin taking power away from the Vampires and overthrowing them from the court. "There is much for us to discuss. Currently, we have moved your sarcophagus back to your stronghold, Drakenhof Manor. Those still loyal to you are waiting for your return. Shortly after your wound that forced you to retreat from the war..." Matthias hesitated a moment. The Grand Marshal was the one closest to the Monarch, his most trusted advisor and general during his reign. "...the Monarch disappeared. We never found a body, nor have the mortals celebrated his defeat and death. It has been over three centuries since your wound and his disappearance, and I have exhausted extensive resources in searching for our long-lost King, but I've failed you..." Matthias would continue to give his report on the last three centuries to his master, in which the man would listen in silence. The Vampires had been split into two factions. The Loyalists were still loyal to the Monarch and the Grand Marshal, and the insurrectionist led by Lady Isabella von Bergow. He would report on the demons and other races that have become more prominent in the council and the skirmishes that broke out between the dark races. Vampires were dying, and without the Monarch, a 'True' Vampire could not be born -- a True Vampire could only create a Thrall where the Monarch could bestow someone with great power and alter them into a true being of darkness. There were less than thirty True Vampires that remained. Many members of the Blood Knights, a prestigious and elite group of warriors that only accepted True Vampires into their ranks, had been split with the division of the factions, but Matthias stayed loyal. "That is all there is to report, My Lord." Matthias would raise his head with his red eyes open to gaze up through the darkness and see the outstretched hand towards him, gesturing for him to rise. "Rise, Commander. The Unholy Capital has fallen into disarray with my absence, and the loss of our Monarch is of great concern. You have done all that you could with what you were given. Yet we must find him, my old friend, I will take his power for myself and restore order to our lands before enacting our revenge on those that opposed us years ago." ​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣​ 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔇𝔞𝔶​ Viktor Novak, Grand Marshal of Undeath, watched in silence from the darkened alley of Elantria. His research brought him to the city of Light, where he searched for the offspring of Cordelia, a Celestial, the lover of the Monarch. Cordelia had been very close to the Monarch and learned many of his secrets through their affairs. She had been by his side with loyalty even during the war, but Viktor would not rule her out as being a suspect of why his friend had disappeared so long ago. These past two years, as he regained his power and set up his networks once more in search of information, he had found through reports that Cordelia had vanished as well. Reports also detailed that she had offspring and descendants, but many of them had been mysteriously killed or disappeared entirely. It raised suspicions to him and his only hope was that they were not all dead and that one descendant still survived through the hunt of their bloodline. His intelligence had brought him here, where there were rumors of a Celestial descendant working for the church, but he had little to go off of. It appeared that his luck had turned. Demons had also been tracking his target and making their hunt spectacle. Viktor followed in the shadows as he watched the battle between the two parties, looking for confirmation in which he would act and save Nephilim from her fate, but he needed to be sure that she was worth saving. It was only when the demon had confirmed his intention to leave the woman behind for dead he would make his presence known. Dressed in armor as black as night with an equally matched cloak wrapped around his figure, he would appear from the shadows behind the demon. In a sudden draw. What looked like a sliver of moonlight cut in a horizontal line, and the demon's body slumped to the ground as its head rolled away. Separated from its body, Viktor's sword would sing a quiet song. A beautiful silver blade that shone like the moon above. Not even a speck of the vile ichor stained his blade as it slowly returned to its scabbard. "Cordelia's descendant, you will not die here today. From here on, you will be entering my service." Viktor's crimson orbs flicked down to the fading woman who was clinging to the last threads of her life. "Matthias. Keep watch." He gave an order that the Commander would appear from the shadows just as Viktor had done moments ago and stood guard at the entrance while Viktor knelt down next to Lucia. She was weakened from her fight, and her loss of blood was leaving her on death's door. The scent of her crimson liquid was sweet and potent, holding the familiar smell of Celestial blood, though diluted. She was indeed the descendant of a celestial, but whether she was related to Cordelia, was still to be determined. Leaning in with another whiff of her scent, he would bring his canines into her neck and drink from her blood while returning some of his own darkened power. Healing her of her wounds and bringing her from the brink of death, he would remove his mouth from her neck and watch as the blood loss and corruption that coursed through her body would be too much for her to handle, and he watched as she passed out, but not dead. "We are finished here, gather her and let us return to Drakenhof Manor. Her Celestial blood will fight the transformation, but being so close to death and losing so much of her own blood, she is incredibly weakened. Turning her into a Thrall.... may not be so simple." Viktor's eyes would cast down to the slumped Lucia before he would stand up and walk away from her. Matthias unwrapped his cloak from his body and wrapped it around Lucia before the two had departed from Elantria, returning to their base of operations. The journey back home took two days, and Viktor would keep his blood and power from waking her too early. Instead, he kept her intentionally in the sense of limbo until they returned to Drakenhof, where she would be stripped and cleaned by Thrall servants and put into her own chambers. Various options of dresses and articles of clothing had been laid out on the bench inside her chambers, as well as the dresser was filled with more and a grand walk-in closet of fine dresses. Matthias was stationed outside of her chambers, waiting for her to awaken from her slumber. Her body would hopefully take to the dark blood of Viktor and her transformation of becoming a Thrall, or a partial Thrall, would be completed. ​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

hexcodes

Viktor Novak - 4587a2
Matthias Dracul - d93506

 

[Zephyra]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖ ꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦​ A shadowy vignette began to close in and darken the edges of her vision, her damp lashes fluttering as the world around her grew distant and cold. Death was so dark, so lonely... It felt as though all of the strength in her body had been sapped away and now she was nothing but a hollow vessel fated to pass from this world before she could even truly experience life. But then a glimmer of hope appeared — it was a voice, masculine and calm yet carrying with it an undeniable aura of power and authority. Whoever this austere gentleman was, she vaguely registered that he was not one of her attackers. Lucia forced her eyes open so that she could look upon his face, but all she could make out between the darkness and her tears was long ivory hair and deep crimson hues that glowered down upon her. Clutching at her chest and coughing, she lifted her other hand to reach out and try to touch him. "Wh-who..." Her voice cracked, pain contorting her features as she felt two sharp, needle-like points prick her neck. Unable to muster the energy to scream, all she could do was whimper softly as he drank of her essence, his frosty lips against her skin sending shivers down her spine. Lightheaded and on the verge of passing out, she clung onto his shirt collar until sleep claimed her at last, her grip waning moments before her hands fell to her sides and she slumped against him. Having fallen into a state of unconsciousness, the young woman remained limp and seemingly lifeless as the man's attendant carried her through the streets of Elantria, the sound of her faint breathing serving as the only indication that she wasn't a corpse. Yet in her dreamless state, she would begin her transformation, her celestial blood fighting back against the vampiric taint that had begun to corrupt her body. . ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ . ​ Two nights came and went before Lucia finally awoke once more, her restless slumber broken suddenly as the world around her became real and tangible. As her vision came into focus, she lifted her head somewhat and looked around, a slight groan leaving her lips before she blinked the grogginess from her eyes. The room that materialized around her was not one that she was familiar with, and based on the decor she was almost certain that it wasn't anywhere within Oracleis Cathedral or the surrounding area. She sat up, her palms pressing down into a soft mattress draped with furs, the familiar sinking sensation of dread forming a knot in the pit of her stomach. Aren't I... dead? She looked around the chamber one more time, dazed and in sheer disbelief at what she saw. Or was it all a dream? The assassination attempt felt too real to have just been her imagination, and if it had been a dream then that wouldn't explain how she ended up in some unknown house. Her throat burned with a strange, intense thirst, the kind that water could never hope to quench. Shaking fingers ghosted over her neck where she traced them along two small holes, the stranger with pale hair briefly resurfacing in her memory. What was it that he'd said back then? ``Cordelia's descendant, you will not die here today. From here on, you will be entering my service.``​ Panic drove her from the bed, her legs swinging over the side of it as she ran to the window overlooking the grounds. In horror, she realized that the shadowy lands stretching out beneath her were not a part of Elantria at all; this was the Realm of Undeath, and it was no place for a Nephilim. Her breathing sped up, her hands frantically roaming over her own body only to find that the burn marks and the stab wounds had completely vanished, nothing but smooth porcelain skin left in their wake. Everything was back to normal, and yet, nothing was even slightly normal. Ignoring the clothes that had been laid out for her, Lucia crossed over to the door leading out of the room in nothing but the flowy alabaster nightgown she'd been changed into. She didn't want to think about who was responsible for undressing her or what had happened to her bloodstained dress — right now, all she wanted to do was escape this place that she didn't belong in. A sharp intake of breath preceded her hand resting on the doorknob, apprehension at what might be out there slowing her movements. For a few beats, she held that breath, her white pupils dilating as she turned the handle and heard a gentle click from the other side. It was unlocked. Summoning her conviction, she flung the door open and stepped out into the hallway, her head immediately tilting towards the presence lingering outside of her chambers. Unlike the man she'd seen in her trance, this one was blond and more human-looking, though his ruby gaze was just as sinister. He, too, must have been a creature of the night. Although she wasn't thinking straight, she had to remind herself that her apparent captors had clothed her and completely neglected to chain or lock her up at all. In that case, perhaps she was free to leave at her own leisure... First, though, she was determined to get some answers. When their eyes locked she put on her best intimidating glare, undeterred by the fact that she had to angle her chin just to look up at him. "A-are you the one who brought me here?" Lucia coughed into her fist, attempting to regain her voice despite how incredibly dry her mouth felt. "What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself or I'll strike you down where you stand." The threat didn't seem quite as menacing when she was still wobbling around and adjusting to moving again after days of rest, but it was issued in earnest, her narrowed lilac jewels boring holes into his visage. She wasn't entirely sure she could make good on that promise in her current state, but in her Lady's name she would most certainly try if he gave her reason to.​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Osteo]

✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣​ "Until I gauge her importance, I want you guarding her, Matthias. Whoever those demons worked for knew her lineage. Someone could be after her to silence her bloodline and keep the Monarch's position from us until we know our enemy she will be under close watch." ​ Guard duty would typically be beneath someone of Matthias's status, the Blood Knight Commander, but he knew the importance of Lucia's existence and her significance to his Master. He would guard Lucia with his life and protect her from any threat until Viktor no longer deemed her necessary, and if she would not comply with becoming a Thrall then she would perish like those before her. She was necessary, for now, and it would be the wisest course of action for her to understand that quickly and use it to her advantage as best she could while not pushing too far and causing her new Master to become annoyed with her existence. Matthias was in more casual wear now that they were in the safety of the Manor and back within the lands of Undeath. Dressed in regal fashion, he wore a deep red gambeson with a red fitted coat overtop and buckled around the waist, and golden inlaid buttons snapped together. Golden trim work edged the seams of the red coat, and around his waist was a deep brown belt attached to his scabbard, on which his left hand rested upon the pommel of his sword. Traveling down, he wore fine-fitted trousers of charcoal black and matching boots. One could easily mistake him for a nobleman of the human realm if not for the deep, piercing red eyes and the ominous aura that exhumed from his presence. The sharp canines indicated the true nature of Matthias and his eternal youth. He had been standing watch since she arrived at the Manor in which mindless Thralls, at the command of Viktor, had stripped her down and cleaned her of any dirt and grime of the alleyway and travel. Her wounds had healed on their own thanks to the infusion of blood and her own celestial bloodline. Placed back into a nightgown that covered her -- he was expecting her to come out of the room dressed in one of the fine silk dresses that were offered, but instead, Matthias would turn his eyes and head to meet the open door with Lucia in the frame still in her nightgown. She spoke with confusion in her voice and even lauded a hefty threat at the Commander, who could only let a small smirk play on his lips before settling back into a neutral expression. One of professionalism. "You were incapable of even defeating your assailants and were on death's door. If you couldn't handle such weak demons, you would not even stand a chance against me." He spoke from experience; being centuries old and the Commander of the once proud and elite guard of the Monarch, he would not fall to some half-breed so easily, even with her divine blood. "Come. Your new Master will explain everything to you, but we will be going now. You are to meet with him upon awaking, even in your nightgown." He wouldn't give her the chance to change now. She would only look for a way to escape this place out of fear and unless the confused woman wanted to change in front of Matthias, then they would be going to meet Viktor now. "He is in his studies in Drakenhof Library. He spoke of you not becoming a typical Thrall, which is true. For now." Matthias turned his back to Lucia and began to walk down the illustrious and ominous halls of the Manor. Elegant decorations and paintings lined the walls; ornate pillars were lined with gold plating and jewels. She was taken through the Manor, deeper inside until arriving at the library where two guards were posted in red plate mail and adorned helmets. They parted the doors open, and she was to go in alone and meet with Viktor, as Matthias and his guard would stay outside. "Go. Don't keep him waiting." With a final word and a nudge forward, the doors closed behind Lucia as she was left in an expansive domed library within the Manor. Bookshelves are so tall you would need ladders to get to the top shelf; an untold amount of knowledge was here in this place. Some books are so rare they were forgotten in time. In the center of the room was a grand table lined with books, maps, inkwells, and parchment paper strewn about the hard oak surface. Sitting over the table, scouring through pages, was Viktor Novak, who saved her and then enthralled her into his service. He was dressed as finely as Matthias in similar attire, but his colors dappled more into a black base with jade green seams and silver buttons. Piercing crimson eyes peeked up from the pages to rest upon Lucia's own orbs. His posture adjusted, and he slid back, leaning into the back of his cushioned seat as he slowly closed the book he was reading to put his attention on her. "Descendant of Cordelia." He addressed her, unaware of her name and seemingly uncaring to learn. "Approach, and tell me. Do you know who I am? Or have I slept for so long that my name no longer strikes fear into the mortal's hearts with a creeping chill of dread?" Viktor's voice was steady and low. It was cold, but at the same time, it held a strange sense of warmth. Comforting and deep like it would drown you with his tone. Once a Pale Elf, he still held the elegant grace and beauty of his kin, but those once soft pale eyes were deep with crimson power. His presence before her held a connection. A connection of servitude lingered under the skin, the blood of him that fought to dominate her celestial blood. It was thanks to her half-breed nature she wasn't under his complete control to command whatever he desired or needed from her. She was his Thrall; even if it was only partial, she would still feel the effects of his magical blood taking hold of her. The Grand Marshal of Undeath, he led the armies of the Monarch into the mortal realms and wreaked havoc in the lands. Conquering Kingdoms and burning his way through their homes before that fateful day when everything changed, and the armies of Undeath were pushed back into the darkness of their realm. "Tell me. What do you know of our Monarch, King of Undeath and Progenitor of the Vampires." He was gauging her reaction and response. Her knowledge of her own lineage and how familiar she may be with his kind. He wanted to know if the answers he sought were in her mind or were in her blood. ​ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Zephyra]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖ ꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦​ It seemed as though the stranger was a man of few words, yet each one was chosen carefully, his attempt to intimidate her admittedly landing a bit better than her own. Her frown deepened, a venomous retort brewing on the tip of her tongue moments before he breezed past the topic, his nonchalance leaving her stunned. The circumstances as to how she'd ended up here were questionable at best, and she wanted an explanation immediately. However, he proved tight-lipped in that regard, only issuing some cryptic promise that her new 'Master' would explain everything. Lucia wanted to plant her feet and demand for him to spill the information himself, but he was already heading in the other direction, the expectation that she would follow more implied than anything else. "Hold on a minute!" She hurried after him, her lilac ponytail bouncing along behind her. "Who are you talking about?" The blond did not elaborate, but she found herself hanging onto that last part of his sentence, turning it over in her head as she tried to remember what she knew about this realm. A Thrall? Isn't that... When they made it to a pair of ornate double doors, Lucia stopped behind her escort, her hesitant gaze taking in the sight of the guards that stood at attention outside of the room. Whoever this estate belonged to, it was clear that they were quite wealthy and likely powerful, to boot, if they could command the obedience of so many warriors. She was more than a little anxious as the doors creaked open to reveal a vast, impressive library, one that likely even dwarfed the Grand Cathedral's own. To think that so much timeless knowledge was locked away in a place like this... The comfortingly familiar scent of books and fresh ink washed over her as soon as she stepped inside, though she found herself momentarily distracted by the way she was nudged across the threshold, her head tilting to glare daggers over her shoulder before the door was closed in her face. And now she was locked inside with someone who could be considered an apex predator among his kin, a vampire so ancient and forbidding that he rivaled the old King himself. Standing in his presence, the young woman could feel the weight of his power like a thick, heavy blanket had been draped over her. The air was ripe with it — but rather than turn back with her tail tucked between her legs, she took this time to study him, her expression shifting from one of disgruntled confusion to pure curiosity. They locked eyes and she held his gaze, the sight of his sanguine orbs and snowy hair bringing back those hazy memories. His beauty stole her breath away — so deceptive was it, for it masked the true wickedness that festered in the hearts of every shadow-dwelling bloodsucker. Hearing him address her by a title that felt strange and wrong, Lucia paused, the slightest twitch in her brow betraying her discontent. He hadn't even the decency to introduce himself or ask for her name, the self-righteous way in which he spoke vexing her, as though he considered her beneath him. Ignoring his compulsion for her to obey, she stayed right where she was, the silvery sheen of her nightgown reflecting rays of the soft lanternlight that danced across her face and bathed her in an autumnal glow. "I do not know your name, no. I should think mortals of the past fools for supposedly having feared a creature like yourself." She spat vitriol, her initial aversion to him amplified by the passive effects of his blood attempting to gain control of her mind. That irritating, needling sensation of the power he tried to enthrall her with only further fueled the fires of rebellion within her. "I've no idea who this Cordelia is, and all I know of your Monarch is that he fell at the hands of mortal kind ages ago after initiating a war he couldn't hope to win. Invoking his name here will do nothing for you, I'm afraid." Oh, but she wasn't afraid in the least. In fact, she was already stepping up to his desk with conviction in her eyes, her brows lowering in dismay. Even in a seated position, he was hardly any shorter than her, but she still took the opportunity to look down on him from her elevated angle. "And who do you think you are to issue orders to me, sir? You should be answering my questions. Why have I been brought here to this blighted kingdom? If you answer honestly, I may leave here without invoking the wrath of Lady Oracleis upon you." Despite who she was speaking to, Lucia showed no outward signs of trepidation, as determined and headstrong as her ancestor had once been. On the inside, however, her heart was beating fast, while an affliction far more unsettling had already begun to plague her newly-transformed vessel. Goddess, I can hardly bear this burning. Is this the accursed thirst? She hissed internally, the thought of drinking blood filling her with disgust despite the fact that she craved it so. To feed off of another went against everything she knew and everything she believed in, but she was tempted to bite down into her supposed "master's" flesh regardless, if only to see him writhe like a worm beneath her. No, she would not accept him as her superior. Not now, and not ever.​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Osteo]

​

✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣​ If it was not for the blood that coursed through her veins and that she may be the key he needed in finding the Monarch and to bring himself to ascension, she would have been killed on the spot for her brazen display of feeling powerful. Viktor could be a patient man when needed, but he could be cruel and heartless, especially for those deemed unnecessary and only by the grace of the celestial blood that she knew nothing about had saved her. "It does not surprise me the mortals have written their own history in how the war played out for them, or the history on just who I am -- but I intend to rectify that mistake very soon." Viktor pondered carefully while his eyes deepened in their crimson hue and bore into Lucia with such a burning intensity it could be felt in the air. The sickening aura began to exude from Viktor, the magical presence he was using to crush her in the moment, to bring fear into her mind and heart and make it hard to breathe. As if she were underwater, drowning slowly, gasping for the next piece of air, which would never come. The moment would feel like an eternity, but in the same breath, it was over, just a passing moment, and she would be able to breathe once more as his eyes would dim back some. "I'm your Master, Grand Marshal of Undeath, Viktor Novak of Mortisian, and current ruler of the Vampires." He was next in line if the Monarch was to pass on, but he was to inherit the powers of the progenitor. With the lack of the Monarch's body and whereabouts, it left Viktor unable to assume the role truly, and it brought chaos to the place he called his home and Kingdom. Demons and other beasts now running amok in the council, believing they are to be the ones that rule in the Monarch's stead. Even in all of his power, Viktor could not contest the Council openly now. He was weakened by the Celestial attack from centuries ago, and his body was still recovering from such a grievous wound that he had to play politician. Once he was properly restored and possessed of the Progenitor's powers, he would bring the others back in line. "I have chosen you as my Thrall because of your lineage. Cordelia is your ancestor. Centuries ago, she was the bedmate and companion of the Monarch -- both disappeared around the same time after the war." Cordelia claimed to love the man despite his dark ambitions and goals; sides of dark and light coming together, she stood by his side even when her own kin rose up against them. Unless it was all a ploy and Viktor never saw through it. "Research on the truth of what happened to him has bore no fruit, and so I turned to his lover and her children, but strangely, all of her descendants have either disappeared or been killed off. They live in fear and hide the truth of their lineage. You didn't even know who you descend from, and I'm sure it has been a secret to you your entire life." Even if she knew nothing about the woman he was chasing after, the answers would be in her blood. Blood was a powerful thing after all, and those of powerful beings carried more weight and importance, and just her blood alone could unlock doors unseen. "It appears that the Raisu Clan has caught onto my plans and research and began their own, but it was thanks to them I was able to find you. They tried to have you killed, to keep me from learning the truth and hoping that I fail in my search of the Monarch and return the power of this land back to its rightful rulers." He was willing to teach her the truth about the world and about what happened centuries ago. She would have read nothing like those books in the Cathedral, which were filled with lies and biased victories. Their secrets in which it would attempt to hide all evils of the world and the cruelty of it all. "Cordelia and he had a small manor away from the Capital in which they would enjoy time away from the politics and council. I'm sure secrets were built into that home, secrets only one of they could open together. My blood is not enough to open these doors, but with our blood together, I am sure I will find a lead." It was all speculation on the part of him. Research for the better part of two years and the centuries he had spent learning from the Monarch, and knowing the kind of man he was. The detail he put into secrecy and always leaving behind answers if you looked hard enough, and so far, Viktor had found nothing but broken threads. This was the last thread he could grasp at the moment, but it was the one he felt assured in being correct after previous avenues had failed him. Gracefully, he raised his fist from the armrest of the chair he sat in and brought the closed fist to his cheek, resting it against it while keeping his eyes directly on her. Intensity still burning bright as he expected more defiance from her. Defiance he would snuff out if need be. She was already infected with the curse, with his blood. She could deny and fight it all she wanted but she was a vampire's thrall now. She could never go back to her old life and she would be hunted down by Viktor's enemies all the same if he did not protect her like he was doing now by hiding her within his own home, letting the council believe she had died at the hands of the assassins and that they were victorious. It would give him more time to continue his search while the triumphantly boasted to themselves and his absence at the council. ​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Zephyra]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖ ꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦​ Lucia's brow furrowed at his claim that the history she'd grown up learning about was, in fact, a falsehood. Despite herself, she scoffed, dismissing his words entirely. Of course he would try to manipulate her into believing his lies— he was a goddamned vampire. Their entire livelihoods were sustained through trickery, charming witless mortals with honeyed words and empty promises just to get close enough to drain them of their lifeforce. To give any credence to his statement would have been foolish indeed, and yet... there was, perhaps, a small part of her that doubted herself. Even she was skeptical of the church's teachings from time to time, but to admit as much would have her labeled a heretic. Whatever the case, this man — nay, this monster saw fit to put on a show of the power he held over her. Her orchid hues widened in shock, a terrible, gut-wrenching sensation of fear causing her knees to buckle. She fell to the floor, her whole body shuddering as her throat tightened and her lungs ceased to draw in air. Panicked, she grasped at her neck as her lips parted in a soundless cry, her blood rushing through her ears like the waves of a deep, dark ocean. His cruel display nearly had her believing that she was dying for a second time, but when his power mercifully released her and the oxygen flooded back into her airways she began to cough, so weakened by what he'd done that she couldn't even stand. Never in her life had she experienced such intense, crippling dread. It was somehow even stronger than her near-death situation had been the previous night, and he'd been able to inflict it upon her without lifting a single finger. All it took was one look into those glowing red eyes to bring her to her knees. Her tormentor continued to speak, his indifference to her suffering striking a chord within her. He named himself Viktor Novak, her new master and the previous Monarch's successor, in title if not in blood. His was a name that she did vaguely remember from the old texts, for he was once considered a right-hand man to the King before he, too, went missing without a trace hundreds of years ago. But it wasn't right— he was supposed to be dead, killed during the war by celestial forces. How could this be possible? Even more disturbing was the revelation that this supposed ancestor of hers, Cordelia, was a celestial that had eloped with the King of all Vampires. Her head was spinning with the information he fed her, every piece adding another layer of confusion on top of her growing vexation. If she was truly a descendant of this mysterious woman, then why had she been kept in the dark about it all her life? Did her family think that abandoning her and leaving her ignorant to her own bloodline would keep her safe? Look how that turned out, she thought bitterly, her teeth clenching. In just one night she'd almost been assassinated, kidnapped, and then enthralled by Mortisian's heir against her will. The last two decades of her life had been spent as a servant girl for the church, and now she'd just been passed from one owner to the next. Viktor ended his speech by insinuating that he intended to use her to get access to the old Monarch's manor in a bid for the throne that would see the vampires once more claiming dominion over the dark realm. Once she'd finished catching her breath and composing herself, Lucia straightened, her fists curling in her lap. She angled her chin upwards to cast a hateful glare in the vampire's direction, her stomach still roiling from the twisted punishment he'd given her. "... My name is Lucia. I am not 'thrall' or 'Cordelia's descendant'. I am a Nephilim and a disciple of Lady Oracleis. I am not your slave, and if you wish for my cooperation, then I would advise you to keep your tainted magic to yourself." She growled, her legs shaking as she rose to her feet. If it weren't for the fact that she was being hunted by demons and the horrific ways in which her sire could torture her into submission, she would have already turned and left right back the way she'd come. Instead, she was forced to confront the reality that there was nothing left for her to return to. If she tried to go back to the cathedral in her partially-transformed state she would be swiftly eliminated by the elite exorcists that protected the grounds. If she tried to escape into the shadowy lands beyond, the creatures of this realm would surely tear a being of light such as herself to shreds. No matter where she went now, there would be a target on her back. Her own lineage and Viktor's bite had all but ensured that. "As far as I'm concerned, you're speaking utter nonsense. I can't even thank you for saving me, seeing as you only did it for your own self-interest..." She crossed her arms over the bust of her nightgown, withdrawing further into herself. Beneath the tough outer shell, she was still a frightened young woman who was completely out of her element. She had no idea what plans the pale elf had for her, but he seemed far more callous than benevolent, at least from their current exchange. "But you must know how to reverse this curse. I know I'm not a full vampire, so I can still have my humanity restored, right? Tell me how to do that and I'll help you with whatever you need. I saw your manor, you already have plenty of other thralls; you certainly don't need me." She shook her head, acknowledging that it would greatly benefit the both of them if this connection was severed sooner rather than later. He probably didn't want a servant that he couldn't fully control, and she didn't want to be bound to some beast that thought he could rein her in with brutality. "If you won't agree to that, then I refuse to go with you. I'll fight you every step of the way, and believe me when I say that I won't stop until one of us is dead. Is that agreeable to you, Master?" Venom dripped from her words as Lucia addressed him without an ounce of respect, seemingly hellbent on rejecting whatever claim he had over her. Sure, he could threaten her with more pain, but he couldn't actually force her to do anything she didn't want to do. Knowing this, she felt like she had at least a little bit of control over the situation, and she intended to use it to her utmost advantage.​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Osteo]

✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣ 一 ✣​ He cared not for what her name was. She only had relevance to him because of her blood and her ill temper to realize the situation she was in only grated on the nerves of the man who held her fate within his palm. Her blood was the only reason why she still breathed long enough to speak those words to him. If not for it, she would have had her tongue removed and let her bleed out before snuffing out the life that she so stupidly was throwing away. She demanded that he provide her a cure if she was to aid him -- as if she had a choice in the matter of serving him. Her blood may given her resistance to his control over her for now, but there was no way to know if it would stay that way or the longer she lasted as his thrall, the further she may fall into his service. "The amount of thralls in my service is of no concern to you, and they are nothing but eternal slaves to do my bidding. I will not tell you how to reverse vampirism just because you demand it out of your blinded anger. You have provided nothing, and while I currently perceive value in your bloodline, that is all you are to me -- blood. If I have to remove it from your very body and store your essence in a phylactery, then I will do so." Despite his words he was actually rather calm even if his blood was boiling with anger. His palms gripped the top of the armrests, the wood creaking underneath his strength as he slowly rose to his feet and straightened himself to his full height, towering over her from the end of the desk he stood behind. His crimson hues pierced down at her, his jaw clenched for but a moment before he blinked, and the hues dimmed in color, and he composed himself. While he was composing himself and working on just what he should do with her. The door opened, and a thrall entered, a beautiful and eternal woman dressed in a fine silk dress walked in with a pitcher. She spoke no words, but by her appearance, she was a Snow Elf, just like Viktor was. Someone of his own kind, perhaps even someone he once knew in his life before becoming the Vampire that he was today. Her mind was gone, empty eyes that once twinkled with a vibrant light were now dull and lifeless. She moved to begin cleaning and filling up his goblet with wine. Programmed and scheduled to clean and provide service at intervals even with the tension that brimmed in the air, and Viktor paid her no mind. "Until you prove you have a practical use to me, I will guarantee nothing to you. Your blood may not even lead me to anything, and if that is the case, then you have no purpose to me, and I will not hesitate to end your very existence for your defiance. You are alive because of my benevolence instead of draining you like a pig for your blood. I hoped you had knowledge of your ancestor but it seems you are a blind fool who knows nothing, so my hope rests in just your blood - blood that is not required to be in your body." He continued to speak as he slowly walked around the corner of the desk. Now, closing the distance between the two, he slowly approached. "But." He led on, his tune lightening as he stopped in front of her, and almost out of thin air, a scabbard appeared in his open palm. It was ornately designed, inlaid with silver and gold trim and details fitting of royalty, a relic of ancient times. His left hand gripped the sword's hilt and drew it from its scabbard to reveal the silver blade. The blade was simple compared to the scabbard, but it was of the highest craftsmanship. The quality was that of experienced blacksmiths from an ancient race. "You spoke back to me, and perhaps it is because of my long slumber, but I'm feeling lenient to your defiance. So I will give you an option, Lucia the Nephilim." The silver blade radiated a strange power. One that would tell Lucia's blood that it was nothing but danger, a weapon designed to destroy holy and unholy beings without mercy. It would be like her body was telling her to run, but he wouldn't let her as he grabbed the sword by the blade and gestured the hilt towards her for her to pick up -- even if her body told her she would be burned holding the weapon. "You wish to fight me if I don't agree to your terms. Then take up my sword and try to strike me down or you can come with me to the manor in which the monarch and your ancestor shared and see if you have any worth to me. Prove you have value, and I will provide you the means to release you from your blight. Even if your blood leads to a dead end, how willing you are to help and search will also give your the opportunity for freedom." He waited for her decision. Testing her resolve and hatred for his existence and what he has done to her or if she would listen to what her own senses may tell her even with this sword. She wouldn't stand a chance of even harming him. ​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​

 

[Zephyra]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖ ꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦​ One thing she knew for sure was that the threats he leveled at her were not empty ones. Even if she'd just met this man, she could tell that he saw her as nothing more than a pet, or worse, a bug. In her heart she knew that he wouldn't hesitate to squash her if he deemed it necessary, but at the present moment had probably determined she had more use to him alive rather than dead. One wrong move and she may keep her head... too many and it could spell her end. The color drained from Lucia's face as Viktor stood and faced her, her purple hues scaling the mountain of his frame to settle on his pale, composed features. He did appear somewhat spindly upon first glance, but his height and his aura alone were intimidating. She tried to play it off like she wasn't completely taken aback by it, but she didn't feel as confident as she had before now that she had to crane her neck just to meet his gaze. While the door opening didn't seem to capture the vampire's interest at all, the sound of someone entering had the young woman turning her head immediately, her eyes widening when an unexpected guest walked in. She said nothing and didn't even look in their direction, but from her appearance, Lucia could tell that she was a beautiful Snow Elf. Her appearance made her look like a noblewoman, but her subservience to the man before them was immediately obvious, a practiced, almost mechanical feel to her motions. Another thrall, but unlike the Nephilim, she hadn't retained any of her spark. Lucia felt herself shiver at the sight, her eyes drawn to the lady like one might be drawn to a crime scene. It was morbid, but she couldn't look away. That is, until Viktor once more demanded her attention with his sonorous tone, the glare she sent him accompanied by the feeling of being plunged into icy waters. She bristled at his harsh words, almost as shocked as she was infuriated that he dared talk down to her in such a way. If that was how he wanted to play, then it seemed her hopes of getting out of this quickly were dashed. His change in posture alerted her to his approach, her body retreating from his as she took a few tentative steps backwards. Still, he closed the distance between them until they were close enough to touch, her wary eyes flickering from his face to the sword that materialized in his outstretched hand. Holy fire sparked in her palm as she clenched it at her side, ready to retaliate at a moment's notice if he turned that blade on her. In an unexpected turn of events, Viktor offered her the handle, his gaze unwavering while he waited for her to make a decision. Her lips parted in surprise, words failing to take shape as she simply stared down at the elaborate weapon, so much power and history coursing through it that it was nigh tangible. It seemed an ill omen, however, whispered promises to bring her to ruin dancing along the edge of its silver blade. Her fingers twitched, tempted for a moment to reach out and take it from him. This could be her chance to kill him, perhaps liberating herself and all the others in the process. She didn't know much about vampirism, but maybe if she destroyed the one who turned her then she would truly be free of the curse. However... Who am I kidding? Lucia thought, the golden flames fizzling out almost as quickly as they'd appeared. No matter how she looked at it, there was no possible way she could defeat him at present. She was on his turf, surrounded by his underlings who would jump to his defense at a moment's notice. Furthermore, he boasted the ability to cripple her with a single glance— something that seriously hindered her chances in a one-on-one fight. This was obviously a trick. Reason told her that if she was foolish enough to reach for the weapon, then she would likely not live long enough to even regret it. She simmered down like a blaze doused with water, her head turning to the side in clear refusal. "You should just say what you really mean, monsieur." Her eyes narrowed at him as she relented, yet her impudence endured. "You've decided that you'll kill me if I refuse, yes? Knowing that you have the upper hand, you string me along with the vague hope that you might help me if I do everything you say..." It could hardly even be called a 'deal' with how heavily it weighed in his favor. With this, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. She'd been thoroughly outplayed, but who could blame her? He had at least a few hundred years of experience under his belt in comparison. Lucia ran a hand through her somewhat disheveled tresses, tossing lilac strands over her shoulder with a sigh. "Fine. Either I accept or I die, right? I suppose my choice should be obvious, then." Some of the tension in the room had dissipated, although she was anything but pleased with the result, her angelic eyes half-lidded and unamused. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly gung-ho about it, you see, I'm not used to men being so forward about their intentions to murder me." It was a bitter jest, but not one she expected him to appreciate. For a moment, she watched the pale elven maiden go about her business, the thought of becoming like that shaking her to her core. Complying was safer, for who knew how much longer she would have the free will to do so? "Before we go anywhere, I'd like to request some water... and a moment to sit down, perhaps. I can't remember much, but it feels like I've been asleep for days. I'm parched." She touched her fingertips to her throat, brows furrowing slightly when she felt the bite marks that had turned into scars. "How long was I out, anyway? I wonder if the abbess is looking for me..." Muttering to herself, Lucia glanced out of one of the windows in his study, her thoughts returning to the life she'd left behind. She had no true family to call her own, but there were people out there who would notice her absence, surely. When the time came, would she return to the cathedral or choose to go her own way? She peered up at Viktor, wondering for a moment if he, too, had been in her situation, once. Her focus shifted to the door. There was no point in searching for humanity where there was none.​ ─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ─── ⋮ ✧​