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A Familiar Face (YrkMena)

Lorence

Lorence

Planetoid
Joined
Jul 28, 2009
Black robed figures march down a long, dark hall. Single file. Keeping in line like good little soldiers.

Their heads hang low, faces now obscured by their hoods. Their pace is hurried. As if what lay at the end of this corridor had an offering essential to their lives. In a way, it did. But their lives would be last thing to worry about.

At the end of the hall was a door. It was large, ornate, and could only be hauled open via one of the iron rings that hung from their fronts at roughly chest level. This door stands in a room. High ceiling and far spread walls. The corridor had opened here abruptly. Directly fed into it like a plastic tunnel into the side of a hamster cage. Not but a single light illuminates this landing area. A dull glow radiating from a dying candle hanging from the aforementioned high ceiling.

The figures reach this room.

The lead figure stops. His pair of subordinates come to a halt at his left and right, but not level. They remain half-behind him in a clear vote of submission to the superior official. Behind them, two more of the figures stop. Further back, and to the side, this forming a chevron shape much akin to the flight of migrating birds. The lead figure produces a pair of pale-ish caucasian hands, which are then used to push the hood of his robe from his head. Revealing a head of long, blonde hair bound with band of black elastic. His eyes are blue, cornflower to be exact. His boyish features are complimented by these facets of his appearance, to form a whole which seems much younger than he actually is. Then again, this was true of most of his kind.

He had indeed lived far past his appearance of just over twenty years, but not by much. By terms of his kin he was still quite young.

"Desmond. Darious. The door, please." The man spoke, not moving a muscle. At he beckoning the two figures furthest to the rear moved quickly. A second had passed, then their pale fingers curled around each respective iron loop, lifting them, before pulling hard..
 
All was quiet for a moment. And then the flutter of wings announced her arrival.

Shortly, a small brown bat darted through the door and landed on the floor. The bat perched there for a moment, her small, furry chest heaving from exertion. She had just flown halfway across the state. She was allowed a minute to recover, she figured. Her vision was blurry, so she saw little more than fuzzy shadows. Her little nose twitched, scenting the air. It smelled familiar, but then, she'd been to this den before, many years ago.

But there was another familiar smell, one that made her little heart pound that much harder.

Once she'd caught her breath, she gathered her wings against her small body. The shift had gotten so much easier with age. In mere seconds, the bat was gone, replaced by the slender, petite frame of Gabrielle. Her scarlet curls tumbled over her shoulders, covering her breasts, but the rest of her was laid bare: the pale skin, flawless except for a couple scars barely wider than a hair on her ribs and stomach; the sweet flare of her hips; the lean lines of her legs. But she did not try to cover herself, for that would be a sign of shame, and shame was weakness.

She held her head high as she faced the robed vampires. Her gaze held on the leader, on his bright blue eyes. She remembered those eyes well. But she gave no sign of it, not even in the slightest twitch of her full lips. Her oval face remained impassive, her green eyes cold. Finally, she said, "Do you plan on leaving me here to freeze and starve?"
 
The figure directly to the leader's right went to move. An arm rose, however, stopping him.

The blonde Vampire worn a grin of malicious intent. Cornflower hues running over the pale curves of the female standing before him. A full moment of ocular groping passed before his gesture fell back to his side, and the figure proceeded to Gabrielle. The robe would be handed to her, then the servant would bow and retreat.

By then, Ethan had turned away, his hood turned back. Hiding his face from her view. He wore an expression that was a mixture of pleasure, distress, and fear. She was so beautiful, and yet at the same time so terrible. Ethan could not believe she was here. The night in which she had sired him still lay fresh in his thoughts. The stinging kiss, fear of death, bliss of rebirth. A full night of passion and love, then the next morning she was gone. Seemingly forever.

Ethan had been crushed. Heart-broken and scared, he had run, travelled. Eventually finding this den here. Needless to say, they accepted the wayward Vampire with open arms. A few years went by, Ethan climbed the ranks of politics, and here he was. Facing the woman whom had abandoned him so long ago. Or, rather, he had his back to the woman whom had abandoned him.

Ethan's hand trembled as they entwined their digits with one another. With his back to the visitor, he took a moment to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, then faced Gabrielle once again. Hopefully, she would be robed by now, and Ethan's shock will have worn off.

"Welcome, Miss. Please follow me. The counsel would like to speak with you." Ethan said, quickly. Gesturing to the hall that lay behind him, before turning away from the female once more to proceed back into the darkness.
 
Gabrielle dressed once the robe was handed to her. She didn't rush, because that was another sign of shame and weakness. When Ethan turned back to her, she was pulling her curls from beneath the robe and scattering them over her shoulders. She straightened her shoulders and dipped her head a little. "Take me to them."

Her stomach twisted a little. He did remember her. She knew a sire's influence was strong, but she'd hoped...well, that he'd latched on to someone else. A surrogate sire could be just as influential if the youngling took to the surrogate right away. But whatever had happened in the years since she'd turned Ethan, nothing had erased his memory of her.

Perhaps she would speak to the den's leader about his delinquence in offering her clothing. She was, after all, a visiting delegate.
 
After a hundred feet or so of dark corridor, another, larger room would appear. This one clearly a place of importance, as it wasn't quite as dark or abandoned as the previous room. More robed beings sat in long wooden pews before a group of five red cloaked people, whom stared down at them. The classing courtroom setting, yes.

A large figure approached Ethan as he arrived, and pulled him aside. The two of them sat in a pew toward the front. The blonde Vampire put his hood back up, and his head lowered. The large figure sat on the side opposing Gabrielle, thus not obscuring her view of him. The other four welcoming figures sat further down the pew.

The center red cloak would beckon Gabrielle forward.

"Den Mother Gabrielle. I hope my herald suited you?" He said, head raising, allowing his old face to be viewed in the dying fire light.
 
"Passable, given his age," Gabrielle purred. She walked the short distance forward. She bowed her head, further than she had to Ethan but not far enough to shift her shoulders. "It is a pleasure to return to your den." A diplomatic greeting, and little more. Pleasure would never describe her thoughts at visiting this den.

But she had her duties, and it was her turn to travel between the dens, sharing news and policies. She smiled, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. "I bring you warm greetings from our high father, Nehrill."
 
Behind Gabrielle, the other Vampires watched her with wonder.

Ethan's head remained lowered, his eyes focused upon the floor betwee his feet. His thoughts were a mystery.

Meanwhile..

"Ah, wonderful." The Father said, his gnarled and wrinkled face contorting into what I guess you could call an expression of joy. "I am so very glad to hear he is still with us. Is he well?" Nehrill cast a wayward glance at Ethan, and his grin fell ever so slightly. A second later, however, this tiny hit of disdain was gone. Drowned in joy.
 
Gabrielle's smile was briefly genuine. She did have a fondness for the father of their race. "He is very well. Still feisty and hunting on his own, as always." There were younger vampires who'd retreated to their dens, relying on younglings to bring them meals. But not their father, and Gabrielle respected him for it.

"But in truth, it had been a long night, and I did not hunt before leaving the last den in fear I would not make it here for sunrise. Might I be so bold as to ask leave to replenish my energies before we continue with our meeting?"
 
Nehrill nodded. A flash of devious intent flashed across his eyes.

"Of course." He said, arm raising and he, himself, stood. "Ethan, take Miss Gabrielle to the room we have prepared for her." With that, the Father then sat once again, as the other red cloaks turned in to speak with him privately.

Ethan stared up at the elder with bewilderment. Standing, he tried to protest, but ultimately could not muster the bravery. Slowly, he turned to Gabrielle. Swallowing, the youngling made his way down the row and into the center way just behind his sire, gesturing back toward the dark corridor they had come from.

"This way, please." He said, sans conviction.
 
Gabrielle turned to follow Ethan. Once they were out of the room, she spoke to him matter-of-factly, her voice lowered. "If I had known you would be such a meek creature, I would not have bothered turning you. Do not act surprised, youngling. I remember you well. And I wish I did not."

Even if Ethan looked back at her, all he would see was the same impassive expression.

"I will tell you this: showing your weakness will not allow you to rise further in the ranks of the coven. A councilman must be strong, unflappable. It will make you a better hunter to observe instead of reacting."
 
Ethan refused to look back at her. He withstood her berating as if she weren't even there, thus his life was made that bit easier.

They went ten feet down the hall, the Ethan turned left abruptly, a second hall would be followed for another fifteen feet or so before the youngling stopped. Gesturing to a door that stood to his right.

"This will be your room during your stay, Miss Gabrielle." He said, in a monotonous tone.
 
Gabrielle caught his chin, forcing him to look at her. She studied him, her green eyes covering every inch of his face with an intensity that matched, if not surpassed, his earlier examination of her. Finally, her eyes narrowed. "You shame me," she said simply, turning hard and slipping into the room.
 
Ethan's eyes fell upon hers, and he froze. He words stung more than the sun ever could. This was clear by his shocked expression.

As she walked away, his nostrils flared, and he snapped back into reality. The gears in his head then began to turn. Thoughts forming into a grand scheme.

She wanted a strength?

He'll give 'er strength.
 
Gabrielle shut the door behind her and sighed. Her shoulders sagged a little, now that she was alone. Alone, she could show any sign of weakness she wanted. She ran her fingers through her curls, working out any tangles she found. She'd been there barely ten minutes, and already her stay was incredibly awkward.

Maybe she should have stayed with the youngling. Then he'd have had a chance of maturing properly. But no, he would have dragged her down.
 
Ethan remained outside the door for a moment, then departed.

His hood was raised as he dissapeared into the dark corridor.
 
Gabrielle lay down in the room's coffin, her appetite long gone. She would regret it tomorrow, but the last thing she really wanted was to do was wander the streets for prey. Too much work. She closed her eyes, intent on getting in a nap. Or perhaps just falling asleep until evening.
 
/scenetransition

The sun rose and fell.

There was a knock at Gabrielle's door. Five light strikes of it's front in quick succession.

Upon opening the door, Gabrielle would be greeted by a young girl in street clothes.

"Miss Gabrielle, Father insists that you attend tonight's procession." She said quickly, before rushing further down the hall.
 
Gabrielle rose easily, refreshed from her deep sleep. She shook out her bright curls with her fingers as she followed the girl. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she'd missed hunting last night. She really hoped the procession wouldn't take too long, as they often did at her home den. She just might starve to death.
 
The process was huge.

Pews filled with black robed figures. Room illuminated to daytime brightness. The red cloaked figures stood at their lengthy desk, gazing down at the multitude that gazed back up at them, in suspenseful silence.

Father Nahrill was the first to speak. Gesturing to Gabrielle as she entered the auditorium.

"My children. Please welcome to our ranks a visitor from far away. Den Mother Gabrielle."

Many pairs of eyes fell upon her as the entirety of the coven's members gazed upon the beauty that was she. Ethan's were missing.

"Please, Madame, join me upon the dais." The Father said, with a gesture to the chair that sat immediately to his right.
 
"I would be honoured." Gabrielle proceeded to the front dias, her head high and her shoulders squared. She didn't scan the audience as the did, knowing there were far too many vampires here for her to know and remember in such a short time. And she didn't want to look for Ethan. She stepped up on the dias and joined the den's leaders.
 
There was a hushed applause.

Then, the Father continued.

"Children, tonight, I am sorry to announce that there have been more attacks." He said, tone solemn. "Desmond Curtis and Thalia Verne have been slain." With these words, a quiet uproar took the room. Hushed voices had risen and now spoke volumes. It took a full five minutes for the Father to regain control.

"Also, Ethan Drake has not yet returned from his nightly feeding, and I fear the worst." Another hushed roar washed over the large group of Vampires. The loudest voice came from the large cloaked man that he had sat beside him the previous night.

"Children! Children! We must'nt make irrational decisions! I hear your woes, but we must act with a cool head and a steady hand."

The room fell silent once again.

"Now, who shall volunteer to search for my missing son?"
 
The barest hint of a frown passed over Gabrielle's face at the mention of attacks. But when the leder vampire requested volunteers to search for Ethan, Gabrielle dipped her head. "I will gladly offer my skills, in hopes they help bring the youngling home safely."

But before she went anywhere, she would interrogate the den's leadership carefully.
 
"I, too, shall search for the boy."

It was the large man. He'd stood up. His face was angry, and hairy.

His large, yellow-irised eyes fell upon Gabrielle, and narrowed. The slightest hint of a growl arose in the man's throat. It seemed like he wasn't fond of her. This was an accurate assumption, if judged by the aforementioned action of clear hostility.

"Ah, Wulf, excellent. Please accompany Miss Gabrielle." Father Nahrill ordered, and the imposing figure bowed obediantly.

The Father turned to Gabrielle.

"Wulf is one of my most trusted warriors. He will serve you well." He said, with a genuine smile.
 
Gabrielle studied the brute, carefully masking her final assesment of him: a mountain of muscle and bone, a vampire of limited, if effective, use. She would much rather search on her own, limiting unnecessary external distractions, but she was not as familiar with the city as she should be. A guide might be beneficial.

And, who knew? Perhaps she'd cross paths with whatever was picking off the local vampires.

Gabrielle gave only the slightest nod of her head to Wulf. "Very well," she murmured.
 
The large man turned, and headed for the dark corridor that lead to the main entrance to the hidden temple. When Gabrielle caught up with this man, she would not receive the same vibe as she would from a fellow Vampire. It was different. More.. feral.
 
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