A few weeks after her wedding Lady Flavia Syron, as she now was called, was invited to the wedding of one of her best childhood friends. With the permission of her kind mother-in-law, Flavia attended to the wedding reception ball. The ball was glorious, the ballroom filled with guests in glittering outfits and with smiling faces.
Flavia needed some time to laugh and have fun after being forced into a marriage of her own with a man she did not love. She and her female friends laughed and danced with each other.
The group of young, beautiful girls were soon discovered by other men, who started flirting with them. Flavia giggled and flirted back, but it was all in very modest forms, just stolen glances and secret smiles.
The young girl suddenly felt as if something... or someone was watching her. She turned her head and looked around, but she couldn't see anyone. So why did she feel so... watched?
A man. Clad in a black cloakwith crimson clouds imprinted on them was attending the party, his entire body hidden by the long cloak. A handsome face with smooth features and a pair of odd, red yet intruiging and beautiful eyes. A neutral and stoic expression caused an aura of mysticism around him. An aura that made him look untouchable.
Yet his gaze crossed Flavia's for a brief second. The odd and handsome man would smile gently at her, before turning his attention elsewhere. Little did she know her mind, after such short glance, was his target of amusement tonight.. A prey. Yes. A new fledgling? Perhaps. Amusement? Most certainly yes.
After a brief talk with some of the notables, Acheron turned to Flavia, walking over with graceful and light steps. A hand would extend from the cloak as he reached her. A soft hand grabbing hers as he bowed down, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand in greeting. "Acheron Whitemoore. A pleasure to make your acquantaince, my lady." He imprinted the smooth texture of Flavia's skin in his mind. This was certainly going to be amusing. His hand retreated back into the black cloak, hiding his features underneath. All she could see was the cloak and his face. With another touch of his illusion magic, he attempted fof Flavia to be more nervous. To become flustered at his presence.
Oh, how he enjoyed bending the weak to his will.
Flavia's eyes sparkled as she caught a short glimpse of the handsome man in the long cloak. She sensed the aura of mysticism around him and wondered who he was. She whispered with her friends, but they didn't seem to know the man either. The man smiled at her, but then turned away. Flavia blushed when she met his gaze, wondering why she suddenly felt so excited.
My husband must never know of this....
Why her husband must never know, she did not know herself. She had told her mother in law, Lady Syron, that she was invited to her best friend's wedding. and Lady Syron had allowed her to leave home to come here for the ball. Surely her husband would be understanding when Flavia wanted to be with her best friend, wouldn't he? Flavia decided to wait with the worries until she returned home. What could possibly happen to her here? In this ballroom with guests in glittering outfits, the candles shining from every candleholder in the room...
Her heart skipped a beat when the handsome stranger came towards her, his footsteps graceful and light. She blushed when he bowed and kissed her hand so gallantly, and she offered him a deep curtsy like she had been raised to in formal situations.
"Lady Flavia Bathory-Syron. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Whitemoore," she replied, wondering why she all of a sudden felt so flustered.
But in the back of her mind she already knew the answer. She had a feeling her husband would not like it if he ever found out that another man kissed Flavia's hand in her best friend's wedding. Even if she didn't know her husband very well yet, she already feared his reaction, even if this meeting with the stranger was completely innocent.
"What relations do you have to the bride and groom, Lord Whitemoore?" she asked, trying to start a conversation. "I am the best friend of the bride, which is why I am here. We have been friends since our early childhood."
"Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine." He said, giving another warm and gentle smile to the woman, lowering her hand gently. Intentionally letting the contact between their hands linger. A gesture that would be able to say a variety of things. And that would cause at least an awkward situation. Acheron shook his head slowly. "My apologies." He said, pulling his hand away from Flavia's again.
"I am a close friend to the groom. I helped him out several times in the past." He smiled gently, tilting his head slightly.
Flavia smiled and blushed as she received a warm smile from the young man in front of her. His hands felt strong and warm against her own, and she was confused by the fact that she enjoyed his touch. She didn't dare to think of how her husband would react if he found out about this...
"It's okay," she replied when he pulled his hand away from hers. "No harm done..."
At least not if my husband didn't see us....
She listened and nodded when he said he was a close friend to the groom, having helped him out several times in the past. "The groom - he has a habit of getting in trouble?" she asked, concerned for the future of her best friend."
He nodded slowly with the same gentle smile. "Ofcourse there isn't." His hand dissappeared underneath the cloak once more. He shook his hand slowly, the raven hair gently swaying to his movements. He closed his eyes as he shook his head.
"No, he is a good man. He was merely met with some misfortune in his past." He said. "I hoped I didn't inflict any discredit on my friend." He said, the red eyes testifying of genuine and legitimate concern.
Flavia wondered why she felt disappointed when Acheron retrieved his hand and hid it under his cloak. She felt pretty annoyed with herself. Why did this stranger have such influence over her? She didn't even know him...
Offering a somewhat trembling smile, she nodded to his words. "Ah, we can all have misfortune," she replied, remembering her own unwanted marriage and the husband she had been forced to marry. She had no right to judge the groom, and she hoped he would be a good husband for her best friend.
"No, it is fine," she assured the man she was conversing. "I am certain he is a good man and that he will be able to make my best friend happy. I just tend to be a tad overprotective since she is like a sister to me..."
"Understandable." He smiled the same gentle smile again. "It is merely natural to care for those close to yourself." He nodded slowly to enstrengthen his argument. "It is a beautiful trait. Although a treacherous one aswell. When you remain vigilant over others, the possiblity that you forget yourself may arise." Acheron chuckled softly. "Tell me, my lady. Have you forgotten yourself?" He asked, smiling warmly once more. A simple question. Yet a myriad of answers and emotions.
Flavia was annoyed by her own reactions to Acheron's smile. Why did she feel so flustered? Why did she blush like a young maiden every time he smiled? She was a married woman now, she was supposed to stay loyal to the husband her parents had forced on her.
Flavia fanned herself rapidly with her fan, hoping that the handsome man in front of her did not notice her blushing - and if he did, she hoped he wrote it off to the heat in the room rather than his own presence.
A soft smile lit up her face for a moment as he spoke of caring as a beautiful trait. She agreed, as she remembered the kind face of her childhood nanny, who did her best to raise Flavia like her own child when her parents had no time for her.
Her face reddened even more when Acheron asked if she had forgotten herself, and the fanning became even more rapid.
"I... errrr.... I......" she stuttered, in a manner that only could be taken as a "yes".
He did notice the blush. A he knew why. Yet Acheron kept the same composed outlook, acting as if he hadn't noticed. He merely smiled gently in return to her own soft smile, folding his hands underneath the cloak. He breathed in slowly to formulate his own answer, before he was called upon. He smiled softly towards Flavia. "My apologies. Lord Daracen wishes to speak to me. And he does not like waiting." With a short bow, he turned to where he heard his name being called. Acheron.glanced back at Flavia, the gentle and soft, red eyes crossing hers for just a momentt. "Untill we meet next, my lady."
At that, he broke eyecontact and walked off.
Flavia felt confused. Why did this man have such an effect on her? Not even her own husband had made her feel like this... Though she had to admit that her husband had been forced on her, chosen by her father - not by her. Besides, she doubted her father knew what her husband put her through behind closed doors when the young couple were alone...
A part of her felt relief when Lord Daracen called on Acheron Whitemoore, the other part of her felt strangely disappointed. Why? She did not like the effects he had on her. She was a married woman. She was supposed to stay loyal to her husband. Even if - she was sadly to admit - she doubted this loyalty would be mutual.
"Oh," she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Well then, don't let the good Lord Daracen wait...."
She smiled and gave him a deep curtsy as he walked off, before returning to her girlfriends to chat and laugh with them. The group of young men had come closer, now surrounding the young women as they exchanged pleasantries in a nice conversation. One of the men politely asked Flavia for a dance, and she gave him a deep curtsy and followed him to the dance floor.
Acheron was talking with a group of notables, including the groom. A pleasant conversation, occasional laughter coming from the group. They seemed to be having a good time as they talked, being poured wine and such. Yet, after a while, the halls were silenced and the performing group silenced themselves.
The dance of the bride and groom. A glance affirmed his suspicions, someone else had asked his prey to dance. Unforgivable. A weak-willed mind. His primary objective was not the joy of dance or company. No. The disgusting thing wanted to touch his prey, sleep with her. A disgusting and vile man such as him. The very nerve. It was unforgivable. Acheron looked forward as the bride and groom started their first dance. His smile widened only a slight bit as the man that asked Flavia to dance grew pale, apologised and left without a word. A haunting image was what placed in his mind, one that sickened him. One that threatened his dear old and beloved mother.
Acheron put on his oblivious guise, glancing at Flavia, arching an eyebrow and walking over. "Seems like your partner left, my lady.." He merely stated softly with a gentle smile. He looked back at the dancefloor as the bride and groom finished their dance. Acheron raised his hands from his cloak, starting to clap. Soon, the entire hall was applauding the two.
Yet, the applause slowly died down as more people joined on the dancefloor. "May I have this dance, Lady Bathory-Syron?" He asked, bowing slightly, extending his open palm for her to be guided towards the dancefloor if she accepted it, his other hand folded behind his back.
From her place among her group of childhood friends she could see the stranger talking to the group of notables. She wondered why he had such an influence on her. Why did she turn her head to look in his general direction just by the sound of his voice? In the back of her mind a tiny voice gnawed: She was a married woman now. She was supposed to stay faithful to her husband. Flavia tried to tell the voice that she was faithful. She was here to celebrate her best friend's wedding, nothing more. The tiny voice laughed, as if it knew something Flavia didn't.
The dance of the bride and groom. Flavia enjoyed the sight of her best friend as a bride - being just as beautiful as Flavia always knew she would be on her wedding day. The groom looked into the eyes of his bride when they were dancing - and for the moment it looked like the two newlyweds were deeply in love with each other. Flavia wished she could have a dance like that in her own wedding... But she knew it was impossible. Shaking off the depressing thoughts, Flavia clapped her hands and applauded the bride and groom when the dance was over.
The young man standing by her side got a funny face expression and seemed clearly uncomfortable as he stood there. Excusing himself to Flavia, he rushed off, and she looked at him for a brief minute, wondering why he had to rush out of the room. Then she shrugged and forgot all about him for the joy of seeing bride and groom kissing each other.
Her cheeks flushed when Lord Acheron returned to her side, and she offered him a trembling smile. Again she felt slightly nervous, wondering what was wrong with her. She had never reacted like this because of a man before - not even her husband during their first meeting.
"Who?" she asked when she heard Acheron's comment, then remembered the young man who had asked for a dance. "Oh him! He isn't my partner, I barely know him. He just asked for a dance, and I didn't think I could say no to a relative of the groom... He looked a bit green when he left though. I hope he's alright..."
The smile returned to her face as Lord Acheron bowed slightly towards her, asking for a dance. "It will be my pleasure, Lord Whitmoore," she replied and gave him a deep curtsy before placing her tiny hand on top of his, allowing him to guide her towards the dance floor.
"Ah.. I see." Acheron chuckled slowly. "He looked the type of person that would have you ending up with bruised toes.." He stated with a soft smile. "I imagine he will be." He nodded slowly. His face not deviating an inch from his friendly and social guise. Internally, he was frustrated. Perhaps he had to snap the man's mind and turn him into a vegetable for touching his quarry. But it would cause distress. Frustrating.
Acheron stood up straight again, his hand gently gripping her hand and guiding her to the dancefloor gently. His other hand appeared from the cloak, putting a hand on Flavia's waist as he slowly started to waltz along with the slow rythm of the music, keeping Flavia at a respectable and honorable distance. Yet he remained smiling softly, looking at her and guiding the dance.
Flavia laughed when Acheron spoke of the type of person that would have her ending up with bruised toes. "Perhaps I should thank you for saving me from dancing with him then," she said gently. "Bruised toes do not go well with this type of dress, do you think?"
Little did she know what would happen to the runaway dancer who had tried hitting on her in Acheron's absence. Just as little as she knew what Acheron planned for her. She was just a young woman, happy to be out on her own and celebrating her best friend's wedding.
Placing her hand on Acheron's she allowed him to guide her to the dance floor, blushing lightly as his other hand was placed on her waist. Even if he kept her at a respectable and honorable distance she had a bad feeling, thinking that her husband would be furious if he found out that she was dancing with another man. But she forced herself to smile back at the other man, allowing him to guide the dance as she waltzed with him.
"I do not think it would fit with your dress. It would also cause a rather funny walking." He chuckled slowly.
He noticed the blush, the soft smile only widening slightly. "My apologies, lady Bathory-Syron. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?" He asked, his concern genuine. The smile slowly fading. Yet he kept leading the soft and gentle dance. No doubt that he was adept at it.
Flavia laughed heartily as Lord Whitmoore joked about a rather funny walking. "You may be right," she replied, her eyes sparkling after their funny jokes.
She looked up at him and shook her head when he asked if he made her feel uncomfortable. "Oh no, not the least," she replied with a smile, her blushing deepening as she lowered her gaze.
My husband on the other hand....
She shook off the thoughts of her husband, not wishing the thoughts of him to ruin her best friend's wedding. This was a day for happiness and laughter, not for tears.
"It feels a bit hot in this room," she told Lord Whitmoore as she fanned herself. "Perhaps some fresh air would help?"
His prey was flustered at his presence. This would only grow more and more interesting. How he looked forward to making this woman collapse. How interesting it would be to destroy her entire life. His thoughts were called back to the room again as he nodded. "Do you wish for me to accompany you?"
Flavia felt the heat of the room unbearable. The air felt tight, and the perfumes of the other ladies smelled horrible while mixed together in this tight air. Flavia fanned herself rapidly while every fiber of her being pleaded for some fresh air.
She smiled and lowered her head when Lord Whitemoore asked if he should accompany her. So far he had been kind and galant towards her, so what could possibly go wrong? There wasn't much that could happen to her on a balcony when there was a crowded ballroom right inside the windows.
"If you wish," she said as she took a shaky step towards the double balcony doors. "But don't let me keep you if you have other duties to attend to..."
He shook his head with a gentle smirk. "This is a party. I have no duties here. And what manner of gentleman would I be if I left you on your own?" He chuckled slowly, the dance slowing down and ultimatly stopping. He went over to the doors, opening them for Flavia.
Flavia smiled when he spoke of having no duties here. It was true that he was dressed like a gentleman and not as a servant. So it would be an insult to mistrust him. And it looked like the bride and groom had disappeared out of the room for some privacy shortly after the dance, so her duties here as the bride's best friend was over. Her husband would care for her now.
"I am done here for tonight too," she said. "The bride's maid has done her duty, delivering the bride to the groom. I think it will be okay for me to pop outside for some fresh air now. It is so terribly hot in this room..."
As Acheron opened the doors, Flavia thanked him and stepped out on the balcony. The night air felt cool and refreshing and she moved towards the stairs leading down to the garden below. A little stroll through the garden on a moonlit night could hardly hurt her, could it?
"Ah, this feels much better," she said as she enjoyed the fresh air, placing her fan back in her handbag. She wouldn't need the fan out here in the garden.
Acheron merely followed her outside, nodding. "You are welcome." He said as he stepped outside with a deep breath, smiling gently. "I can understand why you wanted to go outside. It became rather.. Suffocating." He said with a gentle smile as he followed the woman down the stairs. "A beautiful garden." He said as he walked with Flavia.
"Do tell me, lady Bathory-Syron.." Acheron chuckled slowly as they entered a more secluded part of the garden. "What if I were to tell you I had my eyes on you this entire evening." His face turned a tad colder. At last he could throw off this disgusting mask.
At last. It was time to claim his quarry.
Flavia smiled as Lord Whitemoore followed her outside, grateful for having the protection of a gentleman. He was dressed like a noble, he looked like a noble, and for the moment there was nothing in his appearance or his behavior that would make her believe he could be anything else. But then again, that was what she had thought about her husband too, the first time she met him. How wrong she had been then...
"Yes, the air was a bit... stuffed... inside," she replied as she enjoyed the fresh evening breeze and the sight of the silvery moonlight bathing the landscape. As a little girl she had been watching the stars for hours, marveling about the wonders of the universe....
Once she stood in the garden, she leaned down to smell the roses, so beautiful and fragile in the pale moonlight. "Yes, the garden is beautiful indeed," she agreed as she savored the scent of the roses. "Do you like flowers, Lord Whitemoore?"
She arched an eyebrow in surprise when Lord Whitemoore told her he had his eyes on her this entire evening.
"Why, Lord Whitemoore," she laughed nervously. "I am flattered of course, but I am a married woman. My husband would not like to hear of this... Perhaps we should return to the house..."
"Yes. I do like flowers. Though I prefer Nightshade." He said with a soft chuckle. Taking several steps closer to Flavia. Blocking her escape routes. Getting into her personal space.
He let out an amused chuckle. Properly baring his teeth for the first time in the evening. Showing sharp fangs he possessed as a vampire. Stopping as his own body pressed against Flavia's. "You can run and shout for help.. But no one will hear you.. Or see you. Run and everyone dies. I am not in the mood to play chase.." He whispered softly in Flavia's ear, raising his hand. "I just need to snap these fingers.. And they die.. Your well behaviour for their lives.. A fair trade, no?"
The razorsharp fangs brushed past her cheek, clenching at her throat, but not breaking skin yet. "Do tell me.. Everytime you looked at me.. You grew hornier and wetter like a common whore.. Was that because of my charm.. Or because it was because you saw me as a temporary.. Or even permament escape from your husband?" His voice sounded soft. Gentle and out of place with what he was actually saying.
Flavia's eyes widened in childlike disbelief when Lord Whitemoore claimed to prefer Nightshade, as she had read about this flower and knew it was poisonous. "Nightshade?" she asked. "But why would you prefer such a deadly flower?"
As she looked up at him she was surprised to see him so close. She stood up from her crouched position in front of the flowerbed, trying to keep some distance between him and herself. She didn't like her personal space to be invaded and tried to take a step back to avoid it.
Her eyes widened when she saw him baring his teeth, razor sharp fangs that caused her to gasp in horror. His body was pressed against her, and she tried to avoid the contact by taking another step backward. But for each step she found there were less places to run. She was trapped.
Her eyes widened in terror when he spoke of how everyone would die if she tried to run. Her best friend, looking like a princess in her wedding gown - and so happy with her husband. The children she had seen at the wedding, so sweet and innocent as they played around the wedding guests in their best outfits. Were they supposed to die because of her? She could see their little faces, their eyes brimming with tears, their lower lips quivering as if they were about to start crying....
"What do you want, Lord Whitemoore?" she asked. "Why such terrible threats to innocent lives? Please, don't hurt anyone. I don't want anyone to suffer..."
She shuddered as she felt the razorsharp fangs brushing past her cheeks, again making a move to try keeping at least some distance between him and herself. Her eyes widened with shock when she heard the language he used to her, her cheeks flushing with shock and anger. Nobody had ever spoken to her like this before!
"How dare you speak to me like this," she hissed, her eyes sparkling with suppressed anger by the humiliation of being compared to a whore - whatever that was. She could hear from his tone that it was not a compliment. "I will tell my father about your impertinence!"
"I want many things, Flavia." The vampire slowly chuckled as he released the vice grip of his maw around her throat. "One of them.. Being your blood." He followed up, letting another slow and gentle chuckle pass his lips.
"How dare I?" A slow smirk crept on his face. He raised his hand, treating the insolent woman to a rather brutal backhand. "You.. Nor your standing. Your family. None of those hold any power here. Is that clear enough for you?" He gently stroked a stray streak of hair away from her face. "I could outright kill you.. Consume you and leave as if nothing happened." He chuckled darkly. "Or I can make you a fledgling bound to my will.. That does seem the most amusing of the two. See how much.." He chuckled slowly. "Weight your claim carries.."
Flavia's eyes widened when the man spoke of wanting her blood. What would he want with that? There was nothing special about her blood, she was just a young girl who happened to be born into a noble family. After two years of marriage she was not a virgin either, so what use could she be to him?
"My blood?" she asked. "Why would you want my blood? Except from your giant fangs revealing your true nature... I wonder what the groom will say when he finds out..."
The brutal backhand threw her head backwards, and she gave a sharp yelp of pain, a warning that she would scream if he hit her again. She got that treatment often enough from her husband.
"I will have it known that my family are among the most powerful in this city," she said as she rubbed her cheek. "If anything happens to me, my father can make your future here very brief. His brother is the Captain of the City guard, and quite skillful in his job."
She frowned as he spoke of consuming her and leave as if nothing happened, glad that her uncle was such a good police investigator. So far he had solved all the murder cases he had received through his job, and she was certain that he would not hesitate to arrest Lord Whitemoore if he even suspected he was behind Flavia's murder.
"You will not get away with this," she growled as she looked around to find a way to escape. But she could see no way to get out of this. She was trapped. "Besides, it makes no difference to you what I choose. You will do what you want no matter what I say. You are just as cruel as my husband..."
Comparing someone to her husband was the worst insult Flavia knew.
His gaze went cold. "Do so, by all means. We will see who answers your call." He said, giving her another backhand, one with even more force behind it. A sick grin pulled over Acheron's face. "The most powerful?!" He chuckled slowly. Amused by this very sentiment. "And you think.. That you're the first woman I approached in this city? They know next to nothing.."
He put a finger on her lips. "Oh, my dear Flavia.. I will get away with this.. And you haven't seen the extent of my cruelty just yet." He let out a slow and gentle, yet evil laughter, grabbing her chin, his lips close to touching her ears. "I will destroy your mind.. This day.. Your husband.. Will merely become a pleasant memory.."
Flavia gave another sharp yelp of pain when Lord Whitemoore gave her another backhand. "Ouch!" she cried out, touching her cheek as her eyes brimmed with tears. "Do you have to be so brutal? Why must all men be such dirtbags? Are you so weak that you have to use violence towards women to show what a man you are? Are you that puny? Men who hit women do so because they are weak! They have no brains, no intelligence and uses their muscles instead of arguments."
She growled towards him. "I don't care how many women you have or what you do to them. But you will not treat ME like a common tart of the street, you hear me? I am of noble family and I demand to be treated as such!"
She glared at him as he grabbed her chin, another growl deep in her throat as he threatened to destroy her mind. So typical of men to think women had no brains of their own. But the threat about her husband made her will crumble. Perhaps it was her father's words that did it - the words about a war starting between her family and the family of her husband if she left Rasul's side. She could not stand the thought of being the cause of innocents dying.
"Fine," she growled at last. "I will do as you say - even if I despise your methods. I do not care for your threats or your use of force and violence, Mylord. It is not the way of a proper gentleman. If I am to do as you say, you will remember this and treat me as the Lady I am. Do you understand?"
His hand grabbed around her cheeks as she ranted about all men being scum of the earth. Normally. He would not care. But one thing had hurt his pride. Calling him dumb. Unforgivable. This common whore called him brainless. Oh. How delightful it would be to break her jaw and tear it off right now. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her cheeks. This bitch would pay for calling him dumb.
And yet, she remained annoying. "You annoy me.." Was what he growled. The hand on her cheeks went to her throat. Slowly applying pressure. So frail and weak.. Just one flick and her neck was broken. The woman growled something inaudible. Acheron sushed her slowly. "My dear.. Dear Flavia.. You are not in a position to make demands.. To me, you are nothing.. Nothing but an extensive piece of amusement.. A piece of meat that makes for dinner.. If I wish to call you a common whore.. I will."
With a slow chuckle, his hand ran up her cheek. "Now do answer my first question.. Were it my charms.. Or the opportunity of escaping?"
Flavia smirked as she felt Acheron's grip tighten. Men always became more violent when she had managed to hurt their pride. Her father had been that way, her husband.... and now also Acheron Whitemoore. She felt a small satisfaction that she managed to get under their skin for all they had done to her.
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" she said calmly, her eyes peering into his.
She felt strangely cold and calm when he spoke of her not being in a position to make demands, and her lips curled in contempt.
"I make all the demands I want," she replied in an ice cold tone. And as long as you call me a common whore, I will choose to call you a stupid idiot. You are nothing to me either. I have had men a thousand times better than you."
She smiled when he returned to his first question. "It must have been the opportunity of escaping," she murmured. "For you have no charms...."
"What truth has left your lips?" He asked. Him being an idiot was not true at all. It was a pure and disgusting lie. Just the very word used in his presence was insulting. "You'd be best to tone it down, my dear Flavia.." He purred slowly, the grip changing to a soft and lingering touch to her cheek. A soft and warm tongue ran across the length of her neck. "Hm.. I must admit.. You do taste a tad different.. Sweat.. Perfume.. But also.." He chuckled slowly as he licked his lips. "You are enjoying these touches.."
The same hand on her cheek trailed down to her shoulder. "Ah.. That does say an awful lot about your resolve.. Does it not?" He chuckled slowly, the hand shooting up to her throat and squeezing it shut firmly. Not killing her but making her pass out again.
As she would wake up, she would meet the same dancefloor where the bride and groom were. Silent chatter and concerned looks down at her. A soft grip on her hand. Acheron's eyes looking down at her with great concern, his facial expression only affirming this.. "Lady Bathory-Syron. Are you alright?" It would seem like she had merely passed out during the dance.
She smirked when he asked what truth had left her lips. It was true her voice could be sharp and her words unkind, but she was merely a reflection of how she was treated. If anyone called her something she didn't like, she would call them something bad in return. She didn't like being called a whore, he didn't like being called an idiot. As long as none of the words were spoken, they could both be happy. She knew that one day her simple philosophy might get her into trouble, but it had worked so far.
"I am sorry, my dear Lord Whitemoore," she smiled. "I apologise, if you promise to do the same. I tend to have a sharp tongue when I am met with words I do not like..."
She had to admit he could be quite charming, especially when he changed his strategy to the soft, lingering touch. If he had touched her like this all the time she might even have fallen for him. But she knew better than to tell him that....
A soft gasp escaped her lips when he allowed a soft and warm tongue to run down the length of her neck, and she had to suppress a soft moan. She felt a strange craving inside her, a yearning for his touch - but she had a feeling that he would like this too much if she told him.
She blushed when he said she was enjoying these touches. She could not deny it, as her nipples had hardened by his light caresses, and it could be seen through the light materials of her exquisite dress.
A light squeeze towards her neck caused her to faint, and when she woke up, she was back in the ballroom, without any memories of what had happened only moments before. She opened her eyes and looked around her with confusion. Then she met Lord Acheron's eyes and smiled a bit embarrassed.
"I must have fainted," she said quietly. "I am sorry for causing such trouble..."
A sigh of relief escaped him as Flavia explained herself. "You said it was too warm.. When I was escorting you outside.. You fainted." He said as he helped her up with a gentle hand. "Perhaps it'd be better for you to call it a night." He said with the same gentle smile, the people around them tending to their bussiness again, having witnessed that Flavia was indeed alright.
Acheron looked into her eyes. "I can escort you home. If you please." He said with the same gentle smile. Yet his eyes were different. Aside from the lucent red on black that was oddly welcoming and friendly. Soft and warm. It seemed almost as if there was pity or sadness in them.
Flavia nodded when Lord Whitemoore told her she had fainted. She always did when the heat became too strong for her. She had never been physically strong. She gratefully took his offered hand, allowing him to help her back up on her feet.
"Thank you, Lord Whitemoore," she said, blushing from causing such a fuss in her best friend's wedding. "You are right, maybe I should call it a night... It is getting late after all..."
She looked into his eyes when he offered to escort her home, glad to be in his company for just a little bit longer. She had already forgotten the scenario in the garden, now she only saw his welcoming and friendly smile. "Yes please, I would be grateful if you escorted me home, Lord Whitemoore," she said. "My wagon should be waiting for me in the stable... My coachman Joe is there, tending to my horses..."
He nodded curtly as she accepted his offer, taking her arm into his and walking out with her. Acheron took a deep breath as they stepped out. "Ah. Fresh air." He said to himself before looking at Flavia with a friendly smile while escorting her to the stables. "Tell me, Lady Bathory-Syron. Have you forgotten yourself? I did not catch your answer earlier."
Flavia smiled when she allowed him to take her arm, and she followed him outside as they stepped out. The fresh air felt wonderful against her warm skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy it.
"Wonderful," she smiled. "It was really stuffed in there... I am glad the party is over, though I enjoyed seeing my best friend getting married..."
She walked slowly towards the stables when Lord Whitemoore asked her if she had forgotten herself.
"I suppose I have," she admitted. "Being a Lady of a large Mansion craves all my attention, and I also have a husband to attend to. When he is busy with his work..."
She paused, unsure of if she should share with him that she also suspected her husband to have other women.
"Well, I have always been told that a woman's duty is to look after her home. I rarely get time to think of myself, so I think I often forget myself..."
"I see.." He arched an eyebrow, nodding slowly. "That is a pity. A woman like yourself deserves no such treatment." He chuckled slowly as he stopped in his tracks, looking around. "He is cheating on you?" He asked, as if guessing her thoughts.
She lowered her head, feeling tears burning behind her eyelids when Lord Acheron kindly told her that a woman like her deserved no such treatment.
"Thank you," she said. "You are so kind. I wish more men could be like you..."
When he stopped in his tracks, she stopped too, looking up at him when he looked around. She blushed deeply when he asked if her husband was cheating on her.
"I think so," she admitted. "He says he will be gone on business meeting with certain persons, and then, when I go out shopping, I see the person he is supposed to meet with shopping with his wife at the market.... Why would he lie about a business meeting, thinking I wouldn't find out?"
There was a hurt undertone in her voice. Not heartache, as Flavia didn't love her husband. No, it was more hurt pride - that her husband obviously thought she would fall for his lies. She didn't know why she spoke so freely to Lord Acheron about her personal problems. Perhaps it could be the wine, perhaps it was his special powers that lulled her into a false sense of security, thinking she could trust him.
"I mean - there's no use pretending is it? He never loved me, and I weren't exactly thrilled either when our parents forced us together..."
"Hm. I see." Acheron put a hand on her shoulder as he turned to her. "And such a pretty thing.." He shook his head. "A pity." A soft finger trailed down Flavia's cheek. "But. Alas. There is no way for me free you.. Unless.." He started walking again. "Unless I can arra-" his talking was interrupted by a dry stomp. Acheron coughed as blood ran down his lips. His face paling.
His eyes went weak and faint as he looked at the assailant. Pulling away the knife wrenched in his gut. Flavia could identify the man as her coachman Joe. Before he darted away.
Flavia blushed when Lord Acheron called her pretty, lowering her gaze when his soft finger trailed down her cheek.
"You are much too kind, Lord Whitemoore," she said. "My husband says I only get what I deserve...."
She listened intensively when he spoke of a way for him to free her. She looked at him with hope in her eyes - was it even possible to free her from this unwanted marriage? She could only hope...
"How?" she asked. "How is it possible to free me?"
The next scenario happened so fast, and since it was dark she didn't see clearly everything that happened. She heard the sound of a dry stomp, and let out a squeal of fear when she saw blood running down Lord Acheron's lips, his face paling.
She saw a man running away, he looked very similar to her coachman Joe. "JOE, STOP!" she called out, but he darted away.
Whimpering with anxiety she turned to help Lord Whitemoore, hoping it was not too late.
"Lord Whitemoore, are you alright?" she asked, filled with worry for him. "I can take care of your wounds if you like.... I have medical training..."
Acheron pulled a disgusted face. "It's.. Too late.." He said as he felt his last strength fading. His head slumping to the ground weakly as his last breath left him.
"There she is!" A loud voice thundered through the streets. Before the rapid stomping of several feet over the cobblestone street. "Get her!" Was shouted. Followed by a loud smack from a heavy baton on the back of Flavia's head. Knocking her unconcious.
When she woke up, she'd be in the bright lit ballroom. Met by Acheron's warm, yet concerned eyes. "Lady Bathory-Syron? Are you alright?"
Flavia's eyes widened when she saw Lord Acheron slumping to the ground. "Don't give up yet!" she pleaded, trying to give him first aid.
But as she was kneeling by his side, she hard a loud voice thundering through the streets. Her eyes widened. They didn't thing that... that SHE had done this? She never got a chance to react before she heard a loud smack and everything went dark.
When she woke up again, she woke up in the bright lit ballroom - again. She pondered if she started getting allergic to ball rooms. But she smiled somewhat confused towards Lord Acheron when he looked at her.
"Lord Whitemoore! I thought you were dead! What happened?"
"Me? Dead?" He shook his head with a relieved smile. "You said it was too warm.. When I was escorting you outside.. You fainted." He said as he helped her up with a gentle hand. "Perhaps it'd be better for you to call it a night." He said with the same gentle smile, the people around them tending to their bussiness again, having witnessed that Flavia was indeed alright.
"Come. Allow me to escort you home.."
Flavia looked confused when she saw the relieved smile on Lord Acheron's face. She was an intelligent young woman, and now she was suspicious that something was wrong. She was not in the habit of fainting so many times in a row - nor had she ever been crazy. She could do a lot of things not suitable for young ladies, yes, but she was still sane.
"I think I have seen this scene before, Lord Whitemoore," she said. "Besides, I am not as fragile as I look. I can take care of myself.... I think I better see myself out this time, thank you."
She knew she was impolite for declining his offer, but she didn't want to see anyone getting killed again. Then she preferred to walk home on her own...
As Flavia stood up. The entire room went dark. Every feature hidden in complete darkness. It seemed like the floor dissappeared underneath Flavia's feet. Falling into the dark abyss. She'd hear antagonised screams and cries of pain as she fell. After a while. She smacked against a solid floor. Splattering to her death. Including all the pain of every bone in her body being shattered.
Yet she managed to wake up again. Meeting Acheron's concerned and warm eyes. The ballroom and all of the guests gathered around. A scene that was completely the same as the previous. "Lady Bathory-Syron? Are you alright?" He asked. Again.
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Ooc: I'm having loads of fun with this. Though tell me when you get sick of this loop xD
(OoC: Flavia can only react so many times to the same scenario played over and over. So I pull her out of this thread. Sorry. Hope you have fun with Mr. Whitemoore)