For the love of a vampire: In the Mansion

[Anonymous]

This is the sister thread to "For the love of a vampire: In the Forest" which was created to avoid confusion! Well, pop in sometime and hope you enjoy the stay in Damien's luxuriously decadent crumbling abode.

Just don't give his location away as he is being hunted by humans...and vampires. The former because he isn't human, the latter for the secret that he is supposed to possess in his bloodline.

[Anonymous]

The way to the mansion was hidden; if one had no former knowledge of its existence then it was virtually invisible. Few people knew about the secret gap through the brambles, the small twisting path where you had to fight against the undergrowth, and if the forest didn’t claim you then there were still the nettles, brambles, and the low overhanging branches of poison ivy, all waiting in the darkness to swallow you up.

If one persisted, then one would eventually come out into an open space; a clearing of scrubland. Even when Damien had first found the mansion, the high stone walls surrounding it had long since been destroyed by the elements. They still remained, forming a border around the gardens inside, but it was clear that once upon a time they had been great walls.

Damien set the girl gently down, and proceeded up the winding path to his abode. They walked silently side by side, past the small cultivated flowerbeds, the sculpted hedges, the half broken gothic fountains. Wild rose buried her thorns in camellia’s delicate scents; lilies swayed in the breeze. In the corners and around the edges, near where the forest began, bare skeleton trees raised their gnarled fingers in greeting, and strange pools oozed and slimed something green. But here, in the middle of a gothic nightmare there lay a paradise, a country garden and an old, once respectable mansion that Damien had fashioned to his every whim.

The mansion; a place of hidden secrets, crumbling decadence and magnificent treasures from an age long past. Damien had come across the disintegrating building very early on in his afterlife, and had fallen in love with each lump of stone bit by bit. Green ivy sprawled across the stones, waging a war for control of the old grey stones, and many windows were boarded up, even broken. If one stepped inside they would enter a great hall, as a rotting red carpet unfurls before them. A staircase spirals up; the stained glass window highlighting the ornate carved banister, throwing beautiful colours across the decaying splendour.

Damien led the girl to a wall and searched for a panel. There was a click, and part of the wall swung back to reveal another, secret staircase which spiralled down.

“My lady,� he gestured for her to approach. With a small click of his fingers, the torches evenly spaced along the walls burst into flame. He descended further down, after her, and resolved to make the girl a bowl of soup or something to numb the shock she was still evidently suffering. She hadn’t said a word since they’d taken off. He thought he’d sensed two other beings, but there was nothing he could do for the wolf now. He was too weak to force him to change, and hoped with all his heart that the wolf could keep the other beings at bay and regain enough control to shift back.

Both ghostly figures reached the bottom, and came to Damien’s inner sanctum, where everything was lit by candlelight. The first thing Damien noticed in the lavishly velveteen room were huge portraits and paintings. Each one a painting of him.

Damn! He’d never expected visitors in the past but now…he hurriedly grabbed some drapes and threw them over as many of the portraits as he could. But it was too late; she’d already seen. Damien could only watch as she lifted up a drape and traced her fingers over the paint, over his features. Every single brushstroke still as brilliant as it had been when he’d been captured in life. She turned to him mutely.
“I…� he backed away. Her large eyes stared at him, curiously, wanting an explanation. Damien caved in and closed his eyes, sighing.

“Every single painting here of me was painted by the great artists of the world at that time.� She looked at him, wanting more. Always wanting. He plumped out a velvet cushion and reclined in an armchair, still sighing. His face was hidden by his hair, but it made him seem ever more angelic in the warm milky light.

“All of them were created when I was still alive.� He shuddered, and a tear slid down his face. “I will go now, to make you some soup. No doubt you have witnessed some things that no girl of your age should ever have to. Please, sit and rest.�

And with that, he was gone in the blink of an eye, with only a small shuddering sob to indicate that anything was out of the ordinary.
 
((Hmm, my creative muse has reared his head…I might go and sketch Damien’s mansion…oh and this post may be edited later...after food.))

[Anonymous]

ooc: Guess I'll go after you then. Let’s see what I can do this early in the morning, heh. That’s some good writing there btw. Sorry this is so long, didn't mean it to be, lol. I think I'm going to play Arashel in the other thread finding out information until he is forced to return to Faraday's side)


Arashel, where did you go? Faraday thought as she felt her body being led down unfamiliar territory. She looked behind her, her eyes searching the darkness for any sign of her friend, worried that he might have been found out and had been hurt. But what had Arashel told her the first time they set out together in this bizarre and dangerous land? He was an elf, and no matter what situation he found himself in, most elves had strength, stamina, and agility that most other kind didn’t possessed.

She recalled a memory some weeks ago when he proved this true after having left her to watch camp as he went hunting to bring them food for the night. Her one great weakness was worrying about him, after all he was the only one she ever called friend in this lifetime, no matter how funny his face got when he would get angry with her, or how many times he teased her when agitated by her delicate nature. That night he didn’t return for many hours. Faraday sat there by the fire her eyes darting to the woods when an unfamiliar cry or howl would tear through the night. It had been frightening and she had gotten so worried and scared she had jolted from her spot and went running into the dark forest unsure where she was headed. Her mind bringing to life the shadows in the forest, which became strange dark predators to her, branches tugging on her hair transformed into pale long fingers reaching out for her. In a cry she felt her body falling, thrashing about until she hit soft, cold ground.

To this day Faraday couldn’t recall how many hours she had sat in that scary pit with broken bones and the scent of decaying animal carcass her only company. But when she woke with the sun blinding her from above, she had found Arashel standing over the pit staring down at her until all she could do was look away from his piercing gaze. The look he gave her; Faraday couldn’t grasp exactly what Arashel was feeling towards her at the moment. She was sure he would be angry with her, but he didn’t say anything as he made a quick leap down the twenty-foot hole, landing gracefully beside her. With one quick swipe she was in his arms and flying out of her prison into fresh air and sunlight.

They had stood for some time side by side as he had brushed the dirt away from her, pulling out dead leaves and other things Faraday didn’t recognize from her long locks of hair. She didn’t look pretty he had said, although there seemed to be relief in his voice, his eyes soft with care as he fussed over her. After that he had walked away, Faraday’s mind leaping to that image of him soaring to her rescue. It was unbelievable! She had never seen anyone do such a thing, or be so graceful. Even with all the darkness penetrating his soul, there was still something bright and unwavering about the elf.

After that Arashel had sworn that he would teach her to be stronger, to be able to survive on her own if need be, and make sure to teach her the ways of the world. But so far that teaching hadn’t gone much of anywhere except for what the elf called “common knowledgeâ€? about what was safe or dangerous in the forest, and how her own naive nature could get her into trouble because she was too trusting. Trusting strangers had been one of the things Arashel was most displeased about. What she was doing now was probably getting to him. Faraday could tell Arashel didn’t trust the stranger who was leading her into this maze of beauty and decay. She had spent so much time with the elf that she could read almost every emotion on that beautiful face of his as if he was telling her directly what he was feeling all the time. If he knew this or not she could not say, but the elf had a way of expressing himself that showed mostly on his facial features.  

 Faraday jerked her head back to the present as she felt her body being set down. She stood and watched the blonde man, following him, unsure what to say and unsure what would happen now. Excitement seemed to blossom inside her, a new feeling she hadn’t felt before. It made her skin tingle, and every sense heighten until all she knew was the scent of the man in front of her, and the feel as ivy brushed up against her ankles as she proceeded through the man’s home. Perhaps he will be the one to help free me? she thought.

Then she was descending down, down into darkness only lit by the torches along the wall. She only became fully aware when her eyes found the paintings. Quite taken by them and not sure she understood what they represented she turned to him. Then her eyes fell to the ground. It was rude to stare at what the man felt was private, unbecoming of her to question anything in this man’s home when he had been so kind to take her in. But it seemed she didn’t have to ask because he began explaining himself.

Still alive? What ever did he mean? Faraday watched him but like a little lost kitten she was behind him, almost as if she became his shadow, then…he was gone.

She tried not to cry and spun around, not quite sure which direction she had come in. Always was like this, wasn’t it? Always someone else, who had to watch out for, the weakling who couldn’t even feed herself. A frown creased her brows, upset with herself for being so weak. Then her mind drifted again. Still alive? Why couldn’t she get those words out of her head?

Something made her stop. The scent of…blood? No, her mind was playing tricks on her, and she felt a part of this house beckon to her. Her eyes half-closed she numbly headed down a corridor. She was suddenly lost in a maze of hallways, but her feet had a mind all their own as they patted softly on cold ground. She stopped short before an open door and curious at what had drawn her to this place she stepped inside a bedroom that was decorated lavishly in dark silks and satins, a bed large enough to fit at least two or three people, if not more. The bed looked inviting. She hadn’t slept in a bed in so long; her body was aching to slip under the covers. She looked down at her appearance suddenly at the thought of spoiling such beautiful sheets and pillows. The muddy and torn clothes, the unbathed scent on her…she began to undress until she was completely naked alone in this grand room with her long hair spilling over the curve of her buttocks. In the corner of her eye she spotted something that resembled a robe, quite too big for her but she shrugged it over her shoulders anyway, even though she fought to keep it on her and it didn’t cover much and left her legs and shoulders bare to the coldness that enveloped the room.

Abandoning the robe that was too heavy to carry she sat down naked in front of a large fireplace, her knees pulled up to her chin as she tilted her head side to side, a playful smile on her face. She was happy not to be sleeping outside for once, and perhaps if she, what Arashel called, "played her cards right" she could get the man to draw a bath for her.


(ooc: Yeah, left her naked. She doesn't understand really and is used to people finding her clothes, lol. Hmm, I assumed there was a bedroom nearby, so I didn’t quite describe it much if you want to use it later)

[Anonymous]

((Wow, your post was so lovely!))

Damien bustled about in his kitchen, banging and clattering as he prepared the soup. It was an old kitchen and used to be very big; however after a few renovations Damien had made it smaller, and a lot more cosy. The grey stones still remained, but with the crockery and plantpots he'd added the kitchen had a more homely feel. There was a window opposite the door that had been boarded up since he came, but now...with nervous anticipation, he hefted the wooden boards away, coughing as a cloud of dust mushroomed. A nail fell, then another...and...a few rays of meagre light managed to find their way from the late afternoon sun through the trees, to his beaming face.

A sense of accomplishment overwhelmed him, and he breathed in deeply, satisfied as the rays carressed his tender face. Whilst the vegetables were simmering, Damien had a peek in his entrance room with the now covered paintings to see if the girl was still there. He half expected her to be...ah well. And he didn't even know her name yet.

And what of the werewolf? He was taking his time. Damien decided to go check up on the wolf...after he made sure the girl was OK, and hadn't been wondering to the less favourable parts of his mansion...

He had to admit, his mansion was a fun place to explore. Once, when he'd regained his sanity from a particularly long spell of madness, he'd reawakened as a child does, unfamiliar to his surroundings. Slowly, things came back to him, like when he'd woken up in the forest, but whilst he'd been in the liminal space between waking and conscioussness he'd explored the mansion with the curiosity of a tiny child.

Ducking into every room, his eyes roamed the ornate rugs; the fancy bedspreads...the grand piano...exquisite ornaments he'd collected over the ages, books...the rooms were a period work of art. Not quite belonging to any age, but from a different era nonetheless.

He ended up in the hallway where there was no carpeting, where the faint smell of blood always permeated the air. His senses told him that the girl was down here somewhere. Why? There were deeper darker rooms nearby, rooms he’d bolted shut and made as secret as possible, rooms that he just wanted to forget. He continued to follow the faint scent of the girl…but no…she’d turned back, probably lost now in the maze of halls…ascending a staircase…the chandelier sparkled…flowers…it reminded him of sunny happy days…he stopped.

She was in one of the master bedrooms. He pushed open the heavy oaken door tentatively, and peered in. Blushing, his eyes took in the muddy clothes tossed unruly over his bed…his robe, not on the hook anymore…and averted his gaze from the naked figure with her knees pulled up to her chin. He hadn’t seen anything he shouldn’t have, for her hair was wrapped around her body. She was sitting in front of the fireplace absently, as if waiting for a miracle. Well that fire wasn’t going to light by itself!

She still hadn’t noticed him yet. Damien coughed, and he swear he saw a playful smile cross her lips as she met his nervous eyes that wanted to be looking at anything but her. “Are you alright?� He stammered.

He bit his lip as he came in. The girl obviously needed a bath. He hurried into the ensuite, which was tiled with white angels and had a beautiful tub with silver angel taps. He plugged in the silver bung and began to run the bath, humming a tune to himself that had haunted him for centuries. The broken melody of no words, so delicate that he had spent half a century composing a piano version of it. The air began to mist; he placed the bubble bath nearby and wiped the vapour from the mirror. He could bathe later.

“Oh…I have run a bath for you…I will go see how the werewolf is doing. Please excuse me.� Blushing again, he bowed and left hastily. “Wait a minute!� His head popped back in. “I never caught your name?�

((Don’t worry, describe at your will. Just think of decadence ^^…oh, and Damien’s going to pop back into the forest for a bit to see how things are going on but he will be back to reply.))

[Anonymous]

Faraday turned and her smile widened when she saw the beautiful man standing there. She stayed still as he went into another room, her head turned to listen to what he was doing. When she heard the sound of running water she had stood up, almost as if a child were bouncing around happily, hands clasped together.

Then he was gone. Faraday’s smile vanished for a split second until the stranger popped back in. Then she ran over to him threw her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m Faraday,� she said smiling up at him, allowing her fingers to linger at the nape of his neck for a moment before letting him go. “Please come back and talk to me when you’re done and join me!� she said waving at him as she hurried and leaped into the tub, laughing as water sloshed about the floor and bubbles tickled her nose.

Happily, she began washing her hair, having a hard time doing so since her hair was so long. She picked up a comb, not sure how to go about this...after all it was someone else who had alwaysed washed and combed her hair out for her. She had no clue where to start. But determined she painfully tugged on the knots, crying out when she tore some of her precious strands of hair out. She stood in the tub suddenly, looked at the table nearby--a sort of cart that held a bunch of oils and soaps--and found a bottle of hair softener and lathered it on, laughing as she sqeezed the bottle too hard and soft paste flew all over her belly and breasts.


(ooc: Yeah, she’s used to taking baths with her maidens when she was a Djinn, she doesn’t really quite grasp that men and women don’t bath together…)

[Anonymous]

((I dunno...I think Damien would like the chance to bathe with another woman again...though he'll fiercely deny it...))

As Damien flew back towards the forest, he tore through the undergrowth like a bullet which caused honeysuckle and all sorts of wild fragrant plants to get tangled in his hair. Rose thorns scratched his arms- the other wounds still hadn’t healed yet…but he barely felt the pain as his mind raced through the events of only a few minutes ago.

He’d blushed so fiercely at the soft touch of the woman, who’d introduced herself as Faraday. When she’d flung her arms around him, he stiffened and had to swallow a few times, especially after she kissed him on the cheek. Without meeting her eyes, he stammered, “D-damien, pleased to meet you,� and was about to gently prise her away from him when she let him go…but not without letting her fingertips trail on his neck. He shuddered abruptly, the memory too much for him.

Thoughts flew through his mind. How could anybody find him attractive when he hated himself so? How could anyone stand to be touched by flesh of the undead? He stared at the smooth pale skin of his hands and lashed out, punching a ragged hole into a rotting tree trunk. The splinters caused tears to come to his eyes, and brought him back to his senses.

Where was the werewolf? He stepped over a corpse cautiously, ears pricked for any sound of the lumbering zombie. Damn…the wolf still hadn’t finished with it yet. Just how strong could an animated corpse be? Wait…there were other beings here. All tearing away and eating the corpses. He avoided turning away in disgust instead his eyes took in the other two beings…one was a wolf…the other…some spawn with markings all over its body. Damien sighed to himself. What the hell was he? A magnet for freaks?

In the distance, he heard the call of the hunting horn, and he shuddered as he felt the tiny tremors in the ground, the pitter patter of hunting dogs; the whinnies of the horses, the smell of sweat on leather whips. And the men. Why me?

“Why?!?!?� He fell to his knees, head buried in hands once more, and systematically began to fling every shred of corpse as far away as he could, wailing, “why!� like it was a mantra. A shadow fell across him. Looking up, he gazed into the empty eyes of the zombie, and in a fit of rage, he slashed at it, ripping the head off of it and throwing it in the direction of the oncoming mercenaries. The head sailed over the forest tops, blocking out the sun for an instant before disappearing into the trees a few hundred metres away. This was followed by a few yells…

“Look, all of you, I know you can understand me so look at me.� He waited until he’d gotten everyone’s attention. “There is another legion of hunters approaching, and if they are as strong as the first legion were, then it will be very difficult to overpower them, no matter how strong we are, for they have weapons that shoot fire and can kill from a distance.� He didn’t think any of the beings here were very magically orientated, so even though they all had speed and strength, he wasn’t sure how much use they’d be against a foe bent on their extermination.

If he were still human, then perhaps he would feel the same hatred and prejudice towards anything non-human. In fact, he did still feel the hatred, only now it had simmered down to a weary acceptance. Damien resolved to find out whom or what was killing all the villagers so that at least he could be in peace.

One of the beings snarled angrily at him but he glared back. “If you want to stay here then that is fine. Anyone coming with me to rest and recuperate?�

Without waiting for an answer he stormed back to his mansion.

((Cross-posted to both sister threads ^^ Hmm...maybe you could so another flashback in your post? And how is dear Arashel doing? Lol.))

[Anonymous]

(ooc: "A magnet for freaks?" lmao. Love it! Quickie post for Arashel. Cross-posted this to both threads too.)


Arashel paused as he sat happily in a tree watching the action, a hand raised as he toyed with the strings of his puppet. Then without warning the strings went taught, then limp. He frowned and blew into his curled up hand, the white spidery strings vanishing in a small puff of smoke. Him again? Arashel’s frown deepened. And here he was having so much fun! He hadn't been able to do something like this for weeks, and was able to dump Faraday off his hands for the moment. He sighed, his shoulders falling as if the weight of the world was too much for his. He didn't want to go back to Faraday quite yet, not really concerned at the moment--at least he tried not to think of what kind of trouble she was getting into. Then again he thought his eyes suddenly popping open as if he had been woken up from the dead. She did burn down his home, and pretty much destroyed it! All because she was curious! His face scrunched up into a fury of emotion and he stood up suddenly only to be painfully thrown back, his life chain rattling as he went falling to the ground in a heap of leaves. He sat up quickly, feeling the chain tearing at his skin and realized he needed to get closer to her or he was going to tear them both apart!

Moving quickly, still invisible to the naked eye he made a dash for where she had went, not really finding himself impressed with the place. After all, he had seen much better looking pieces of art and furnishings. He was an elf after all. And had lived as a White Elf for more than half his lifetime. He walked carefully into this vampire's home, arms folded across his chest as he checked the place out, not caring to disturb or undisturbed anything in this unnatural environment. He stopped as he stood in front of a covered painting, waving his hand in front of him as a dark gust of wind threw the cover off and he saw what was behind it. It did so with the others, and then making a disgusted sound made his way out of the room, not caring to step on the covers he had just tossed aside.

Better find out what lurks in the shadows of this place, he thought heading down a corridor which held the distinct flavor and scent of blood.

* * *


Faraday sat in the warm steamy tub leaning on the edge playing with a gilded angel as she thought about everything she saw today. She really hadn't been able to look away. She did it mostly not to look like a coward, but when it really showed who she was how was she capable of hiding her true nature? The shock had died down just now, but she pushed back the images of horror to a place in her mind she rarely visited, and forgot about them the best she could. Not that she could forget. But thinking about something else right now would cheer her up some.

She let out a sigh as her wet fingers traced the cute little handles, the hard cold porcelain of the tub reminding her truly that she was all alone in this world. Her eyes dimmed suddenly as a memory came to her that formed new tears that fell to the bubbly water. That had been it, hadn’t it?

“I can’t be with you Faraday! No matter how much I want to!�

Faraday’s mind lingered on the memory as she found herself standing in her old room again, facing a man who was pleading with her.

“Please Faraday, you’ve got to let me go,� he said removing her hands from around his neck. "It isn't right. You know that. Loving a Djinn is a sin! This town would skin me alive if they knew I was even up here!�

Faraday turned away from him, not wanting him to see her tears. “But I love you! I can’t help these feelings!� She suddenly turned to face him, lip quivering. “I can’t help it that I’m in love with you!�

The man didn’t say anymore. He just simply shook his head. “It was a bad idea for me to meet you here. I can’t come to visit you anymore.� Faraday stared into his eyes that were once full of love and admiration, but now were cold as the floor she felt underneath her feet. “If you were not Djinn, there would be no question, you would have my heart.�

Faraday gasped as he made a hasty retreat out her bedroom window, disappearing into the night.

With a cry that tore at her throat Faraday was back to the present, clutching a hand to her beating heart.

Why had that memory come back to her? She put a hand to her face, water running down her arm. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe Garet had been right. She had a duty to be the holy symbol for her people, yet…she couldn’t shake these real emotions. No, she hadn’t wanted that. She was tired of being forced to do and say what everyone told her to, being manipulated to live her life sheltered, never having known family, friends, or even real love. The kind of love that she swore she saw in Garet’s eyes the times they spent together in deep conversations, or the first time she flew into his arms and he had looked down at her, cupping her face gently wanting to kiss her. He had loved her, right? It couldn't have been a lie?

Faraday threw her face into her palms, not able to stop the tears from coming. She was so selfish. But, she thought tearing the image of Garet with his new wife away from her mind, how could it be so wrong to love someone so much? She submerged her head completely in the water, holding her breath, trying to will these painful emotions to stop, wishing she could just drown them all away forever…

[Anonymous]

(OOC: Cross-posted this to the mansion. My apologies for the craptastic post...)

I held onto the wolf's shoulders to avoid falling off, whimpering softly as pain shot from my shoulder up my neck, wing and arm. My eyes rolled into the back of mye head and I could feel myself almost faint.

The arrow I'd been hit with in wolf form was still there although the flame had long since burnt out, leaving only the blackened shaft of the arrow which had been broken off during the shift back to my humanoid form. The wound seemed to have closed over during the change, but I could still feel the tip of the arrow, a charred peice of wood that sharpened to a point at the end, embeded in my flesh just above my wing. The wound would probably have to be reopened later to remove it.
 
Her voice in my head brought me back to my senses. I blinked as my eyes readjusted to the light again.

"Thank you," I said into her ear, my own voice so weak that it was barely audible.

I hoped she wouldn't have too much trouble supporting the extra weight. I was startlingly skinny, and, not unlike a actual bird, I had a lightweight skeletal structure and hollow bones so I would be light enough to fly.

Barely able to lift my head, I glanced over my shoulder before I spoke...

...And didn't get a chance to say what I'd intended to, because another sharp stab of pain silenced me. Unable to take it anymore, I buried my face in the the fur of her shoulder blade and everything went black.

I woke up facedown on the floor of an unfamiliar building, still in agony. Dark, brilliant brown eyes scanned the room with slightly blurred vison in search of anyone else who might be around, and in the process I happened to see...walls. I was usrrounded by them. I shuddered in fear, panic visible on my face as I tried to sit up but fell forward again.

"Where am I?"

[Anonymous]

Vivian wandered through the mansion still in wolf form. It was huge. Still felt like a cage though. She sat down next to the door of the room the boy lay in. Maybe she could help him control his wolf form. It seemed like it was a curse for him. She licked her paws knowing they would soon be hands. The sun had to be coming up soon. Her sadness started to come back. She had forgotten she would become human again.

A whole new problem came to mind, how was she going to find clothes? She rose up off of the ground and felt the pushing and pulling of bones.

 Great. This must be really funny to someone

 She tried to run but only fell to the floor as she twisted and her fur sucked back into her body. She had a green and red glow about her. Then he lay there completely naked in the fetal position on a cold floor of a mansion.

This is very interesting.

[Anonymous]

Katamai peered up at the mansion that was slowly but surely bowing it's face to time. She had trailed the wimged man and wolf through the forest, truly wanting to help but it had seemed to be under control. Well, she thought frowning slightly, control is a relative term. The poor creature still had an arrow shaft sticking out of his back. Having finally given into the inevitable, or more rather been forced into the inevitable by her own traiterous body, and feeding had ironically restored her mind. She felt more like herself then she had since.....no, no, I don't want to remember. I just want to forget.

Most vampires had at least once experienced weakness in their previous lives. They had lived and breathed she mused as she watched the dappled sunlight play over her marked skin. She had been many things in her life: a pariah,a slave, a weapon, and most recently a runaway. Despite having been somewhat distracted she had caught the blondes look of utter disgust as she fed. He was right. Throughout it all she had always remained a monster. Born a monster. And her sould cried for it. A soul, that by all rights she shouldn't have. Sleep

Another thing she'd deprived her body of for too long and was going to have to pay the price for. She'd certainly learned her lesson there. Three months of running and trying to live off small rodents had left her......unbalanced to say the least. Insane, Katamai, they would call you insane. Crazy, looney, pshychotic. She rubbed dejectedly at the blood now dried to her skin, too tired to give in to the sudden urge to cry. All she wanted to do was close her eyes! I cant sleep out in the open, with my luck i'll probably be eaten by a pack of rabid wolves. In we go then. At this point it wasn't a matter of trust but one of necessity.

Katamai nearly fell, stumbling through the doorway as her body began to shut down. It was all she could do to raise her head and look around. She instinctively sought out something out of the way. She was going to end up comatose for a while and layed out in the middle of a hallway could be awkward. She pulled open a small narrow door that proved to be some sort of large closet, storage room occupied only by a few boxes and a good amount of dust. Hmmmm, I wonder...... the room started to spin in front of her eyes, then, nothing. Her body hit the floor with a dull thud.

[Anonymous]

Damien wound his way up the path, satisfied. Two out of the three beasts were following him, which wasn’t too bad. As for the one with weird markings…it seemed to have vanished off of his radar. Pushing open the door, he felt the pulse of the mansion, and paused.

The eerie presence that had been with Faraday- blush- was back. He felt the presence acknowledge him, then flicker out like a spark. He would have to question Faraday about this. He found the secret switch again, and led the others down the spiral steps, nodding once to the stranger who was carrying the winged man. She was a good person.

At the bottom, Damien’s eyes widened in horror again, as those paintings were once again exposed. How could this be? He smelt no trace of Faraday…so it must’ve been the other presence. His lip twitched, ignoring the gasps of the others as he threw the drapes back over the decadent works of art. There would be no reckoning for that other presence, necromancer, spirit, whatever it was.

“Stay here and rest, for I have made some soup.� He could barely conceal a smile as he noticed how tired the female wolf seemed- the winged man was already unconscious. His smile vanished abruptly as he saw the arrow wound, still sticking out of the man’s side.

Hurrying away, he stooped under the low stone entrance and went back into the kitchen, where the fresh smell of vegetable soup wafted across the air, permeating his senses. He turned off the heat and began to ladle out four bowls. Absentmindedly, he sent his mind probing for any intruders, and was surprised when he detected the other being. She hadn’t made it far, for she’d fainted in…his broom cupboard? No, she’d wandered off to a part of the mansion that was unused, which he kept derelict for show in case of any intruders. He would have to call her down with his mind.

More than once he’d taken a proverbial look at himself in the mirror in his mind and had asked himself- Why am I doing this? What do I have to gain? Nothing, he answered firmly, just the sense that I am doing something…right. Something I would’ve done…if I were still the me of centuries ago. So then, you are going to go back to living out a lie? Trying to pretend that you can go back to being human?

Damien slammed his fist down. “No! Just having emotions and the ability to sympathise doesn’t make you human!�

But it is what separates you from the monsters, is it not?

I feel…like I belong.

Any illusions he had had about still returning to the human world had slowly crumbled from that previous attack in the forest. He’d made his bed with the monsters, and there he was to stay. He didn’t think he could ever get that look of hatred, the pure utter loathing out of his mind. Those mad foaming eyes would haunt him in his dreams, and this is what he wanted to return to? Boy, he was probably more human than those mercenaries were.

He placed the soup bowls- he’d ladled another one for the being upstairs- on a silver decorated tray and headed back into the room full of paintings where he placed it atop an old harpsichord.

The wolf had changed back…into a rather attractive woman at that. Staring at the two unconscious bodies lying on the floor- he averted his eyes from the female werewolf’s- he thought about how good it would be to paint again. His fingers itched to hold another brush, but he stopped himself from becoming too excited. If I paint then I will slip back into my old ways…I will be living out a lie…my lie…

He sighed and glided back up to the master bedroom where Faraday still lay, splashing around. Her voice carried all the way down the corridor, and he was surprised by how pure her notes were. As he knocked, she stopped singing, and all he heard then was the swish and swash of the water and the quiet crackling of the bubbles popping.

“Faraday, the others are here so I suggest you should get changed. You may use the bathrobe, and any other clothes you find in this room that suit your fancy.�

Peering in, he caught her smiling face…but her eyes were red. Puzzled, he ducked back out of the bathroom and was about to ask her if everything was alright, when he stopped. Whatever it was, it was her business and he had no place in interfering. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t comfort her. As she stepped out of the bedroom he smiled awkwardly and handed her a comb as they walked down the corridor, back towards the living room.

The two beings were still unconscious. Lip curled, Damien noticed the dirt and scuff marks on the floor. Good thing the floor wasn’t carpet then. He indicated that faraday pull up some cushions and make herself comfortable on the low couch.

“Now I have to wake them up,� he murmured softly.

Cracking his knuckles, he strode over to the harpsichord, and after gingerly testing the stool he sat down, flicking his wavy hair back. A look of anticipation passed over his face, for it had been a while since he’d last played. Being undead for many centuries gave you the chance to pick up a few extra talents. Such as interweaving magic into music. And so, as he played, the delicate strains of baroque music filtered through the mansion like sunlight, gradually causing the figures to stir, and eventually, awake. The other being would find herself moving towards the source of the sound, without knowing why. He imagined the look of confusion that would appear on her face. And if she was dangerous to his personal health…he tested the darker pedal notes tentatively, before slipping back into lulling melodies and haunting crescendos.

((Urk, sorry for the length. Hoep that left enough to respond to ^^))

[Anonymous]

Faraday  did what Damien said, pulling up a few cushions and plopping down on the couch with them.

Faraday wasn't quite sure what Damien meant by waking the up, but soon she realized how he would do that, the music calming her suddenly as she rocked her head back and forth. Soon the weight of her world lifted and she watched the beautiful one play his heart out, tears coming to her eyes. So  beautiful she thought unable to look away.

Arashel found himself drawn to an extremly dark place. A closed door painted red with black roses and vines. He licked his lips in anticipation and knew it would be locked. But no bother he thought raising a hand and forcefuly pulling the lock free with his magic. The door opened with a slight click and he made his way inside, suddenly stopping as he looked up at a gigantic painting of a man, with the face completly blurred out as if some giant hand of god had erased this person's face from existence on the canvass.

[Anonymous]

((ooh! Loverly Posts!))

There a dark forest surrounding Vivian. She kicked in her sleep. She had forgotten clothes and had become overwhelmed exhaustion and passed completely out on a strange mansion floor, nude. Recta stepped forward from the forest in her dream. His dark orange yes standing out in his raven black fur. He barked then howled at her.

She rose to her paws and barked back happily and ran over circling him once then tackling him. He sniffed her and backed away. She looked different then she had as a reglar wolf. She was larger the bulk of her fur was black but it had straks of dark blue fur and it all shined different oily colors when light hit it and bounced off of it. Her bright blue eyes shown in the darkness and seemed to emit light. He backed further away.

You're human! She shook her head. but the sun n the dream came up rapidly like it was in fast forward and ater a flash of color she was a human curled on the forest floor. She turned and walked away.

RECTA! Then music seemed to enter the dream. It was beautiful. Her eyes fluttered open and she turned over stretching out and looked at the large harp. She completely forgot about hte fact that she had no clothes on and began to stand up and wander over to him.

"That's amazing. what is that?" she asked sitting down next to him, not even noticing the other person in the room as she watched his fingers move over the harp.

[Anonymous]

The sound of a fist being slammed and the blonde man yelling woke me up. Damn, this guy was a little insane, wasn’t he? He was talking to himself! Ah well, no shame in that…he probably had his reasons. Then his words sank in to my mind.

No, having emotions certainly didn’t make one human. I mean, I had emotions, didn’t I? And the ability to sympathize…? Maybe human emotions were different? No, humans could be monsters just as easily as anyone else could…

My bloodshot eyes darted nervously around the room. I usually tried to hide my fear of enclosed spaces, but I was tired and my defenses were down. The walls were closing in on me!

I heard blondie come in, but he must have thought I was still unconscious because he didn’t say anything about me panicking. He left again and soon after returned, bringing the girl with him this time. Then he cracked his knuckles and…

What in Satan’s name was he doing? Hey, I could sit up! I drew my knees up to my chest, curling into the fetal position, and notice for the first time that the wolf who had carried me had changed back- and she was naked? Why the Hell was she naked? I mean, my clothes always got torn to shreds when I transformed, but I never ended up completely naked! And why wasn’t there any blood?  The transformation was really gruesome, there was always lots of blood!

Help! I’m trapped in a room with a ceiling and walls and a mentally unstable guy and a girl and something I can’t quite pin a name on and a naked werewolf woman and probably that tattoo girl but I can’t see her and why the Hell is blondie playing a harpsichord and now the woman is standing up and there are still walls everywhere and I don’t like walls and…

“AAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!!!� I screamed suddenly, my mind going too fast and not waiting for me to catch up to it.

[Anonymous]

Just then Damien noticed that a very naked Vivian had come to sit by him, and was running her fingers over the ivory keys of the harpsichord. “It’s…a song I wrote from a long time ago.�

Suddenly an inhuman shriek tore the air and Damien stopped playing abruptly. What in the name of hell was going on? The winged man had his hands over his ears; both eyes closed, and was lying in a foetal position screaming his heart out. Shit! That wasn’t supposed to happen.

The music was supposed to wake them up…but it seemed to hurt the winged man, and he was unstable enough as he was. He had begun to hyperventilate, and…

Damien threw Faraday a despairing glance, but she was lost in lala-land. Damn…he should’ve known that the music would have different effects on non-human beings. Damn. He had to keep calm. Lashing out would do no good for anyone, especially not the winged man.

“Please…don’t panic.� OK, that was pathetic but it was a start. The man hadn’t heard him and had begun to thrash around.

He turned to Vivian urgently. “Shit, we need to get him calmed down now…or…Faraday…please snap out of it!�

In his mind’s eye, everything went quiet. He saw the mysterious presence take on a humanoid shape…an elf…that turned to face his astrophysical self with a smirk. His astrophysical self’s eyes widened, taking in the giant canvas…the open door…and rested on the elf’s smug face again.

“You.�

((Lazuli- maybe the elf was a necromancer dude that vampires had tried to kill in the past and Damien recognises him?))

[Anonymous]

Faraday’s eyes snapped to attention. She watched the scene in horror and then noticed the music had done this to the poor beast. She didn’t know what Damien wanted her to do so she did the only thing she could do. She stay seated and started singing a soft, heartfelt melody.

The light that was inside her flowed from her chest into her throat, lighting her ever so slightly with golden light. The music continued on, and she pushed all her feelings, the peace inside her into the song. She thought about what she wanted to make happen with the song.

To still the heart.

Stop the tears.

And a small part of her wished...

And I…I want them to love me…

The strong determined side of her pushed through the darkness and Faraday’s words were sweet perfume, a fragrance that erupted from the deepest parts of her soul.

Think of me
think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye.
Remember me
once in a while -
please promise me
you'll try.

When you find
that, once
again, you long
to take your heart back
and be free -
if you
ever find
a moment,
spare a thought
for me

We never said
our love
was evergreen,
or as unchanging
as the sea -
but if
you can still
remember
stop and think
of me . . .

Think of all the things
we've shared and seen -
don't think about the things
which might have been . . .

Think of me,
think of me waking,
silent and
resigned.

Imagine me,
trying too hard
to put you
from my mind.

Recall those days
look back
on all those times,
think of the things
we'll never do -
there will
never be
a day, when
I won't think
of you . .


<center>  * * *</center>

Arashel glanced back over his shoulder realizing he had been noticed.

A small smirk.

With a wave of his hand the painting disapeared, and a small glass sphere appeared in his hands where he had trapped the painting.

And then he vanished...



(ooc: I love the idea! Well that would make sense if a vampire wanted to kill a Necromancer. Hmm. *goes off to find a reason*

The song is from Phantom of the Opera, lol. I was listening to that song while writing and thinking, yeah that’s what’s she singing! lol.)

[Anonymous]

Vivian's eyes drifted over to the twitching boy on the floor and was drawn out of being distracted by the harp. She started to rush over to him then realized she was quite naked.

"Perhaps..do you have something that would fit me?"

She ran over tugging a blanket off of the couch and wrapping it around her body. She blushed deeply her ears turning red. Then she walked over to the boy and touched his head with her hands. And spoke to him in his mind.

It's all right. You are among friends. I will look after you.

Her eyes searched for his hoping to make him feel more combfortable. Then the girl on the couch started singing. Her eyes drifted away from the boy and to the girl. She had such a beautiful voice, the song was wonderful as well. It made Vivian feel much more at ease than she had for a long time, very peaceful. It was perfect.

These people aren't going to hurt you

She sent to him returnign her thoughts to the boy. Then she saw the flash of someone in her brain. Recta.

Human are weak! They are nothing to us they don't matter. So many emotions, and to what end? Their death and sorrow.

She almost dropped the boy but shook the image of Recta away. She put her hand back on his head and it felt like fire was cutting through him. It was almost like his wolf half was an influenza. Blood was everywhere they needed to dress his wounds now. She had luckily learned a lot early on about cleansing wounds and fixing things she had stayed with the village doctor after the wolf attack on the village.

"We need to lay him on a bed or something. Get him a washcloth for his head he is burning up and something to clean these wounds."

A frown creased on her forehead. She felt sadness leak in her heart. This boy felt the same way about being a wolf the way she felt about being human. He seemed so young, far too young for something like this to happen to him. She wished she could do anything to put his heart, mind, and battling spirits at ease. She remembered being a young pup and how carefree she was. She wondered if he ever experienced that. She stroked his head gently her heart breaking.

Their death and sorrow Vivi! That's it. They seem to have no joy that is not misplaced too many complications. They are worthless creatures. We are lucky not to be among them.

[Anonymous]

(Sorry I took so long to reply…emotional issues…)

Bloodshot brown eyes rested for a second on the eyes of the wolf lady, who had wrapped herself in a blanket, before resuming their frantic motion. My ears, the only part that remained of the wolf, flicked in the direction of the singing girl. Her voice was soft, comforting. Too panicked to talk, I formed my thoughts into words, hoping the woman who was trying to calm me would hear.

I know they won’t hurt me…I’m sorry. I’m frightened of closed spaces. I can’t help it.

Shaking, I folded one wing around her, the wing closest to my injured shoulder still hanging limp by my side. Shame reddened my cheeks at the thought of my weakness- I had never clung to anyone for reassurance before. But then, perhaps that was only because I’d never had anyone to cling to…?

I looked up, startled, when she almost dropped me. Her eyes looked…distant. I looked to the blonde man briefly, wondering if he knew what was wrong with her, but his eyes too seemed empty. A sudden heat pulsed through my blood as my own memories returned to the surface of my consciousness, memories that had haunted me for years now.

A tiny boy stood behind a tall, shadowy figure. Wings grew from the child’s back and his ears looked like they should have belonged to a wolf. Deprivation of souls had resulted in him becoming transparent like a ghost, but his eyes still burned like fire, piercing the thick black night like a knife would have pierced flesh.

The faceless figure asked the boy in Aquilan: “Hazetu dah sar isja?� (“Why have you come here?�).

The kid gave no reply, his intense dark eyes blazing in the meager light of a pale crescent moon. He took one silent step toward the unfortunate soul, who seemed to have a sixth sense that alerted him to the child’s intent. Fear lighting his face, he whirled around to see the child. His eyes widened when he beheld the faded frame of the boy.

“Xezt asta siy! Ihz, damma dah siere esxcat threi kellut?� (“So young! Child, why must you rob me of my life?�).

“Sedi siere kel.� (“To live.�), the kid replied matter-of-factly. He reached out suddenly and seized the other’s wrist, welding their souls together so he couldn’t escape the iron grip that childlike hand had on the man’s arm. Both figures stood motionless for a moment, seemingly suspended in time as a mental struggle took place between them on some unknown spiritual plain.

Now opaque and completely solid, the boy let go of the newly lifeless body, guilt turning his heart to lead. So far, two had died to keep him alive. How many more would join them? Every few years, it was the same deal- this man was partially to blame for his own death, as he had ventured out at night in the village knowing humans were easy prey. But the first…he’d only been a newborn then, much too young to decide on either life or death. Looking back on the choice that had been made for him, the five-year-old boy smirked. The expression made him look much older than he truly was.

“Kellut sar yix, ze kellut siere mesta.â€? (“Life it was, and life I choose.â€?), he said aloud to himself.  

Upon hearing the woman’s voice again, my thoughts returned to the present time and I realized for the first time that it was not only shame that had brought a tint of crimson to my pale cheeks, but a fever as well. Fatigued to the point of numbness, I was vaguely aware that my wounds had started bleeding again. How much blood had I lost?

For the first time since before my transformation from wolf to birdboy, my pathetic empathy illuminated her mind for a second before flickering out like a candle. She was sad, and she wanted to lay my troubled mind to rest. Burdening these three kind people with my mental instability seemed somehow wrong, but I reached weakly her steady hand anyway, my own arm and the rest of my body trembling uncontrollably.

Unlike in the memory, there was no struggle except for the one taking place between me and myself. My purpose this time was not to drain her soul but to feel some comfort in her compassion. There was nothing demonic about it.

[Anonymous]

Once again, everything faded to black, until it was just the beat beat of Damien’s animated heart, beating in the background. A spotlight shone as he and the elf…Arashel stared at each other in the face off…and then the little bastard disappeared…taking…a sliver of his soul painting with him! Damien’s eyes narrowed as he felt a sharp pain in his heart, which passed ever so briefly, much to his relief. What was the necromancer’s game? Was he trying to control vampires now?

Sniggering silently, Damien laughed at all the unfortunate beings who’d chosen to hide their souls in treasured objects, only having them stolen. He wasn’t that stupid. That damned painting of his contained nothing but his conscience, much like the story he’d read in a novel many years ago. But still…some things were meant for him only, and damned was he if he’d even think of letting the elf get away with it.

Back in the living room, Damien’s misted eyes focused back on the present. Yes, the Faraday girl had heard him! At least some things were going right. And…he could always use the girl against Arashel…

He gazed at her in a new light. What had once been a harmless carefree girl was now the bridge between him and the scourge of vampire kind. Necromancers…they all deserved to burn…or to have their souls taken. But he couldn’t continue with this train of thought, when he heard how sweet and pure Faraday’s voice was. This beautiful angel surely could not be the carrier of the plague?

Settling on the now covered Vivian, he nodded twice as he heard the mental exchange of thoughts pass between her and the winged man. Another capable being too.

But all he could think about was his faceless painting, and how much of his soul he had actually poured into it. Damn them all! He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the hot burning in his throat that would give way to tears if he didn’t control himself. Why was he so freaking emotional?!

The winged man was now holding Vivian. It seemed he too had had a lonely existence. A flit of a memory passed through his mind- Damien couldn’t grasp onto it, but it was enough o know that to get on the wrong side of this man would be disastrous. He was now glad that he had made an attempt to help him in the woods.

He had to convince Vivian and the winged man to help him, for he alone wouldn’t be strong enough. Maybe he was underestimating himself, but he had been a victim of persecution for over a thousand years and some habits die hard. Who knew what kind of powers he could’ve had if only he’d let himself go? If only he’d accepted himself?

Pushing away from the harpsichord, he silently carried the steaming mugs of soup and set the silver platter on a long low ebony table, still deep in his thoughts. Why had the elf showed up now? How could he have lived for this long?

Snapping out of it again, Damien coughed, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “I…erm…had some vegetable soup prepared earlier that might take your fancy.�

He disappeared swiftly and reappeared again with a basket of fresh loaves. “I have bread too. Help yourself.�

He settled back nervously, and waited to see how they would take his hospitality, whilst mentally scanning the vicinity for any sign of Arashel. He would have to interrogate Farady soon, and explain the whole situation to the others…if he could trust them of course.

((Gonna create an OOC thread for discussion etc ^^))

[Anonymous]

(ooc: I just realized this (blame needing sleep). Faraday didn’t hear him. She can’t do that sort of thing, lol. I’m a bit confused where you got that from? I was going to keep the secret between Arashel and Faraday a secret for a while. She was staring at the wolf people in horror. Anyway umm, I didn’t want Faraday’s secret to be revealed yet, but it already happened so I’ll work with it. Just wanted to know where you got that from, lol, confused me.)


Faraday stopped singing and stood up, tears in her eyes. She looked at Damien and then went over to him and put a hand at his arm. “Are you okay? You look…distressed. I’m sorry if it was…�

But Faraday never got the chance to finish what she was about to say. Something caught in her throat at that moment and she fell back a step, a horrified look of pain on her pretty little face. She reached out and grabbed a hold of Damien’s sleeve, clutching the material into her shaking hand, but that wouldn’t do her any good as she went flying back, being pulled by an invisible force all the way down the hall and into the darkness.

“Damien!� she screamed reaching out to him as she was swallowed by the darkness of the halls.

 Faraday clutched at her life chain deep within her heart that was connected to Arashel and screamed as her body tumbled through the hallways and stairs. She was being dragged, knocking over stands and being slammed into heavy furniture. Arashel was on the move, but why hadn’t he come back and told her he was going? Why didn’t he warn her? He knew if they were too far apart this would happen. And her soul could be ripped out of her body completely if he didn’t stop. The life chain would break!

Why hadn’t he come back for her?


Indeed, Arashel knew he hadn’t come back for Faraday and he struggled as he ran through the corridors of the mansion seeking out other pieces of this vampire’s soul. His own part of their life chain held firmly in his hand so it would not tear from his body. He was possessed again by the thrill of obtaining those pieces of soul, the thrill of his necromancy making his face seem suddenly inhuman, insane. Yes, there was another piece nearby, but its call to him was so faint.

He stopped and panted, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He then realized perhaps his moving was a mistake. If Faraday were in the presence of those others, they would definitely might figure out something about her connection to him. And perhaps track him down.

I need to hide my presence once more. Only this time...deeper.

And he did, his body vanishing as a black billowing cloud of vapor took its place.


Faraday gasped as suddenly her body came to a hault in one of the hallways. Where was she? How far had she been pulled? Where was Arashel? He had to be still close by.

All she knew was she was in the worse pain of her life as she curled her bruised body into a ball and passed out...



(ooc: Faraday is free to be found btw. Just left her in any old hallways)