Lullaby

[Alira Drakrul]

Alira was exhausted.

Earlier that evening, she had taught Aedon how to heal himself using her potent blood. He had injured himself at her bequest in order to practice healing, thus revealing the discipline she had in place to control his pain and blood lust. He had felt no pain. He had looked down at his hand impaled on his own sword in wonder. The sight had been horrific and gory, but physically he felt absolutely nothing. Soon after leaving her home, unbeknownst to her beforehand, he had gone to help the rangers with his new sense of immortality. Unfortunately for her, he was far from immortal and while he had been healed by others regularly each and every time he fell unconscious, the constant barrage of pain was nearly unbearable for the old vampire. It had coursed through her tiny body for hours, sapping at the strength she had needed for what was to come.

It was deep into the dead of night.

Alira sat in her office as one of her manicured nails tapped lightly on the desk, the tempo steady and perfectly timed. Her intelligent eyes were darker than usual, the blue resembling the bottomless ocean, unfathomable and profound in their depth. In front of her on the desk, rested on a large unrolled leather map of the city of Yew and its surrounding countryside. Numerous markers were attached to the oiled surface of the map with translucent wax. She sat for an hour, her eyes held steady on the Abbey, calculating contemplation of the situation. Her strong nail keeping perfect regularity on the solid oak desk, the interlude between taps fixed and unconscious in its execution. The darkness that enveloped her sanctuary was silent except for the unwavering sound of her sculptured fingertip.

All at once the tapping stopped and a complete unnerving still washed over the room. The fingernail was poised perfectly, a centimeter above the small indent created in the top of the wood. It stayed there, hovering motionless, for nearly a minute. Alira still staring at the spot on the map, tilted her head slightly to the left as if she were listening to something.

She had felt the strong sensation of surprise jostle the mental thread that currently linked her to Aedon through her blood. She waited, focused and then felt him begin to turn calm again. She had been sending mental waves of soothing calm to keep him quiet and manageable for days Her blood within him allowed him to feel her state of emotional state as she could his. It allowed for the sending of simple thoughts and words. That connection was a boon and a curse. Strong emotions could be difficult for others to block and under the right circumstances, frenzy of another kindred in the network was possible.

Alira took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, centering herself. Aedon had said the ritual would be tonight and this might be the signal it had started. She allowed her mental control to flow like waves upon a jagged shore.

Calm. Reassurance. "Are ye a'right?" she asked.

There was no answer, but the returning waves of calm led her to the conclusion that whatever had startled him was no longer doing so, or that her calming presence countered it.

She inquired with a gentle tone, "Is the ritual about t'begin?"

"Yes, " came his simple answer.

Days ago, shortly before allowing Aedon to take her blood, she had warned all those awake to guard themselves and to use vitae to soften the connection for themselves and their retainers. The blood driven ability didn't break the connection, but it kept most thoughts and emotions as mere background noise. She wasn't sure what to expect with Aedon and how deeply his irrational behavior would go. Bringing insanity or strong emotions into the could spread through the others. What seemed like a logical command would prove to nearly be a fatal mistake.

Alira attempted to bolster her mental fortitude for what lay in store. It was the mental equivalent of battening down the hatches on a ship. Decades of meditation and practice all came into play as she used them to bolster herself against what was psychically about to hit her. Every since Aedon had taken Alira's blood, she had been using her blood to fuel a power often referred to as the transference among her clan. It had been a very difficult discipline to learn, in fact, Alira was the only one of them that knew it. It required a connection of blood between the two individuals in order to be successful, be it via ghoul or kindred. This ability allowed her to reroute the psychic sensations of hunger and pain completely from another to herself. You could never give, only receive. While she could take the sensations of gnawing blood lust or debilitating pain, she couldn't remove the physical damage. It wasn't meant to be used for long periods of time as the ability takes such mental control by the dominant vampire that no other discipline that required mental concentration could be performed. Their blood also burned twice as fast and even non-mental disciplines were more difficult or costly to use. If not used carefully, the discipline could prove fatal to one or both of them. If an individual were to die while connected, the dominant vampire could suffer severe mental consequences, including death.

Alira attempted to mentally flood Aedon with a blanket of calm as if to overwhelm any uneasiness, fear or rage that pain may cause to well up in him. As she did so, she began to move quickly out of her house and towards the north coast. Her haven was silent as she passed swiftly through it, she had been alone. Her walk was brisk, but not inhuman in its pace. As focused as she was, she knew that unseen eyes would notice and her position in Yew might be jeopardized if her nature was public.

In her mind, she hummed the melody of an ancient lullaby to herself as she continued to sending calm to him. It was the lullaby that she used to sing to Portia when she was a frightened young girl. It was also the same lullaby she had sang to her as she had laid in Alira's arms, as her she took her last mortal breath.

She threaded her path through the trees towards Arkon's home. She avoided the flickering lights of the buildings along the way, keenly wishing to avoid any hindrance to her intended destination. Arkon had made her an offer of assistance the evening prior and now out of options, she felt inclined to take the devil's deal. The could feel the panic and anguish rise in Aedon. She attempted to soothe his nerves, to calm him.

A powerful, debilitating spike of pain enveloped her. She gasped involuntary as her eyes flew open wide at the sensation. Shee stumbled sharply into a thick oak tree, bashing her shoulder on its rough bark and tearing at her dress. She felt her knees begin to give in as she could feel layer upon layer of her mental training began to crumble.
She felt her connection to Aedon fade as his life began to fade from his body. Alira commanded him, her tone insistent. She snarled as one of her knees dropped to the ground. "Get up, Aedon. Heal yourself." She gritted her teeth as she felt her own mental awareness begin to fade. The snarl was audible now along their link as she felt anger begin to build at the foolishness of this mortal, "Ye fight t'is or so 'elp me, I will drag yer soul back an' then be the one kickin' yer ass, " she yelled at him. "I forbid ye t'die."

She felt the pain begin to slowly let up and she felt a flicker of relief as she assumed he was healing the damage she was feeling. Her other knee dropped as she put a hand out to catch herself as she slumped to the ground. She began softly humming the ancient lullaby mentally as she felt him burn the last of her blood healing himself and severing their intimate connection.

She felt herself fade into blackness even as he did on the other side of the world.

 

[Baron Arkon]

Dew was starting to form over the ground, it made the grass swish with each stride the dragon made across the ground. The green of the forest glistened like emeralds, and if it were an island or tropical climate a smile might even have formed across the riders face. Instead of the typical sneer that accompanied Arkon every time he stayed upon land. Bane, named thusly for the breed of dragon he was born as, was running a bit weakened this evening.

"I told ye, ye old lizard, not to eat the sheep. But did ye listen? No! Now look at ye. And I swear if'n ye got gas ah'm gonna make ye sleep on de ship tonight."

Bane gave a snort, gliding through the forest with ease. Infact the dragon, lost in its thoughts of its next feeding, would have strode right over the body of the woman curled up on the ground unconscious.

Arkons concentration, however, was far more aware than the Dragon he was mounted upon. Kicking the hide of the dragon to force the beast to come to its senses and halt. The rider slid off of Banes back, boots landing with a thud onto the moist ground. The single reptilian eye gave a scouring glare at the huddles mass of a woman that laid before Bane. The dragon leaned down nuzzling the woman with its snout, attempting to get a reaction out of her before looking back to its brother. "Well? Do I eat her or do we go on home ... I'm still hungry and I'm cranky when I'm hungry" The dragon rumbled under his breath before shaking his head and turning back towards the woman.

"No, Bane, we are not going to eat the woman. She's a resident and I can't have you eating potential voters and diplomats." Arkon, running a hand down the dragons side giving it a pat on the neck before he came to kneel down beside Alira. Bone clad hands gripped her shoulders and rolled her flat to check to see if she were bleeding out or still with them. Finding several wounds that are in the process of healing, and remembering her attack from the other night at the hands of Shiny Arse - Chanticleer.

"Honor less arse hurting women" Leaning in closely the man takes in her form - hands checking her pockets and dress for any loose coinage, weaponry or anything that may fall off during a ride. After satisfied he carefully slipped an arm under the head of the Duchess, and under her knees sliding her off the ground and turning to place her upon the back of Bane.

"You are not serious? I'm to carry two now?"

"No you cry baby, I'll walk you just walk along side me so she doesn't fall off."

Carefully, Bane strode towards the Shipping and Trade customs building. Coming to a halt at the gate he swifted his neck around to make sure the human didn't fall off during the walk. Arkon, however never left the woman's side. The Dragon Mage kept pace with the bane dragon every step of the way, a padded bone gloved hand graced upon the humans abdomen to assure she never jarred during the walk.

Arkon pulled the Duchess off the back of Bane, placing her over his shoulder gently and kicked the gate open of the courtyard, looking back at Bane. "Not completely sure wha' happened to de lass but ah've a feelin` So how about ye stay in de courtyard, bask in de dew and dawn and ah'll check on ye later." The large dragon grunted, pawing at the cobblestones and flowers, curling up like a cat. Those black draconic orbs staring at the gate for any intruders or unwanted visitors he could eat.

Arkon hefted the delicate frame of the woman up the steps and into the office building, a feat in itself traversing through the common area to the more private floor above. He stopped in the living room for a brief instant staring at the couch in front of the fireplace, then remembering her affliction to the flames from the previous night he shook his head. Turning instead to the stairwell that led up to the sleeping chamber.

Entering the bedroom, was a treat for, particularly considering Arkon never used it and rarely stepped foot on this floor. The Dragon Mage kept his business on the main floor and at times in the distillery in the basement. With a nimble, gentle movement he laid the body of Alira upon the imported bed, the silk sheets and fur blankets. His head tipped to the side rather cat-like observing her decor - the dress dirtied, her body barely trying to heal itself and worse for ware.


"You land lubbers, you humans. Dead or Alive, you are all more trouble than ye be worth." Arkon pulled the dark silk sheet up over the dressed form of Alira, unfolded the carved wooden screen to separate her from the fireplace, and kneed before the dead fire-pit. A sharp inhale of breath and a belch as Arkon let lose a long wisp of flames from his throat, engulfing the fireplace to light. This should keep the woman warm from the sea breeze that blows in through the open balcony. Pulling out several exotic dresses made by the master tailors of Yew such as Lady Winny, upon the wooden wardrobe at the southern wall, he'd allow the Duchess to dress herself after she woke up.

With a reptilian grace the man moved from the side of Alira, to the red leather sofa beside the fireplace and slouched in the bask of the fire. A gloved hand leaning against his chin and his eyes drifting off to sleep.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Alira opened her ice blue eyes and looked out into blackness.

"****."

She looked down at herself and saw a carnal glow surrounding her body. Instead of the aura being strong and bright, it was dim and flickered. The faint glow pulsed very slowly as if struggling to perform the action.

"****. T'at canna' nay be good. "

Pain.

She reached up and pressed her hands to her head. It felt as if someone had lodged a hammerpick in her brain and was moving it around. Her eyes crossed a bit as a particularly nasty spike shot through her temple to the base of her neck.

"I'm gonna kill 'im... I'm gonna kick his goddamn testicles up inta' 'is teeth, " she gritted her teeth and gasped aloud at another bolt of pain tore through her head. "I'm goin' t'..." she started, but stopped as a roar sounded far off in the distance. She froze instantly at the sound like a deer caught in a night watchman's lantern light. She could feel her primal side, shift inside of her at the challenge. Another guttural roar broke the silence, but sounded a considerable distance from her.

"I 'ave t'avoid 'it an' give my body time t'heal..." she thought to herself. Her fingers flexed against her head as if threatening to crush her own skull as the pain continued and seemed to worsen momentarily. Still pressing her hands to her head, she stumbled into the blackness. Every fiber of her core wanted her to go towards the sound, to rip out its throat and let its life drain in a flood at her feet. Luckily, logic won out. She shambled her broken body away from the sound and looked for sanctuary in the darkness.

 

[Baron Arkon]

Arkon sat beside the sleeping form of the Duchess of Yew, Alira. Gently dipping the round sponge in the basin of water and dabbing it against her forehead. Each toss and turn, gasping in pain and cringe he would dab her forehead to try and soothe her. Hoping to, at the least, keep the woman from freaking out and killing the help for the shop below. Taloned fingers moved to brush the pale hair from the woman's face, examining her form closely to see if he could judge her condition. Arkon was a Sailor, a Pirate some even say - and they may be right, had little to no medical expertise. However, He knew enough about Kindred from his past experiences to know what she really needed. And the thought of giving her any from himself gave the man a cringe. Especially in her current state - many things could happen, she could keep draining until she killed the subject she drank from, she could kill one and then move right on to himself, or she could wake up after one feeding. Regardless, he looked to the Skree that rested on the Chest of Heirlooms at the foot of the bed. The Skree was named Parrot, a joked about name since every Pirate needs a parrot on his shoulder, except this parrot could breath fire and cast spells while sitting on its masters shoulder. Tipping its head to the side, Parrot bent down pulling at the grobu fur blanket and nuzzling in at Alira's feet, half purring half puffing out smoke from underneath the blanket.

"Damn bird lizard ... worse than Hiryu with making nests huh"

~At least we're smarter than your chicken~ The Skree insulted while nuzzling into its wing pecking at an itch in its scale.

Raising to stand, he dropped the round sea sponge into the basing of water at the Duchess side. "I'm heading out, keep an eye on our house guest, and no biting her toes." Arkon curved around the bed and out the dragon winged doors.

"Hrmph" Parrot puffed, peeking a minute dragon eye out from the fur to the woman under the sheets. ~Kindred taste horrible anyway... like rotten chicken.~ Pulling a wing up over his head while under the furs, the Skree drifted off to the thought of small white chickens roaming about for it to swoop down on and catch to eat.

It was a decent walk across the forest from his shore-side customs house, to the city proper. As he circled around the Yew Mill, he allowed himself to fade into the ethereal, letting the shadows encompass his form. He walked slowly, quietly and with the grace of a serpent, towards the center of the docks. That reptilian eye looking about for his prey. It was near afternoon, and there were no ships being tended to. Any sailors for hire were likely picked up early that morning. He was hoping, however, for a few stragglers looking for work.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Alira wasn't sure how long she had been running. No stars kept vigil in the pitch black that hung above the pale woman. It was as if time held no court here in the realm of Death. Hours could be weeks, months could be minutes. Time was inconsequential and worthless. Every so often the pain would cause her to stumble and bring her to her knees. The pain in her head was no better, but no worse. Her faint sanguine aura was still barely casting a tinge of rose upon her pale skin. She had been here enough to know the aura was representative of something related to her life. Was it an unconscious representation of the amount of vitae she had, or how close she was to dying the final death from injuries? All she knew is she didn't want the light to go out.

She had not heard a roar in what felt like hours.

Just at the far range of her eyesight, she could see a warm amber light illuminating what appeared to be a stone building. She turned cautiously towards it. As she got closer, she slowed down until she was at a broken careful stalk. Every few feet she would stop and listen. All her senses were on edge as she approached the building. Sometimes the memories were nice, sometimes they were not. Sometimes they were accurate and sometimes they changed details. The longer you stayed here, the more difficult it became when woke to remember what was was true and what wasn't.

She studied the building, attempting to find a match in her memories. She found none.

"Is this place one I used to know and have forgotten? Is this a false memory?" she pondered silently as she advanced. She moved with painstaking care as she approached. Every muscle was taut with tension as she crept forward, her body ready to spring into flight if she sensed danger. It was a simple, stone building with a weedy looking garden out in front. A single iron reinforced door greeted her as she stepped upon the stone pavers leading to it. She reached towards the handle and the door swung open with a loud creak of its rusty hinges. Alira instantly cowered at the sound. What else lingered in the dark that heard it too?

Inside was a modest home with a roaring fire in the hearth. The room was empty of any living thing. A table was set for one with a single bowl of stew with wisps of steam illuminated by the warm glow of the hearth Even here, she gave the fire a healthy respect as she moved along the far wall towards the stairs. She climbed the stairs, pausing every couple steps to listen. No sounds came to her trained ears except the crackling fire below. After several long minutes she approached the landing and peeked over the edge.

On a stool at the far end of the room sat a man dressed all in black. His skin was crackled like the surface of a lava rock. Wisps of sulfurous smoke pushed its way out of the larger cracks as if molten fire lay just beneath the skin. One corner of his mouth lifts slowly in a dangerous smirk as green eyes watch her intently. He stares at her so intently, almost predatory as her eyes study him carefully. "You're broken." he says simply. Her brow furrowed at him as if not understanding his meaning and his eyes flickered with mocking amusement. "You're broken, " he repeated. The man reached up and tapped a blackened finger against his temple. "Nobody's home."

She blinked and then snapped at him, "W'at do ye mean nobody is home? I'm perfectly..." A sharp pain shot through her temple and behind her eyes. She gasped sharply, reaching up with a hand and pressed it against her forehead.

"... unfine. Is that even a word? I'm not sure. Maybe. It should be if it isn't... unless it isn't. " a new voice piped up. Alira looked up and focused at the floor near the stool. A small lop-eared rabbit stood on its hind legs looking at her. Black eyes blinked back at her as its nose scrunched up a bit. She tilted her head at the rabbit as it tilted its head back at her as if mirroring the action.

Alira blinked slowly as if attempting to break the hallucination.

"Everything is unfine." it said at her, righting its head back to look at her normally.

A hiss came from her left and she head turned sharply in its direction, Balanced on the stair's banister on its hind legs was a slith. "The lass is obviously unfine, " it said, as it reached up and adjusted a tricorne hat on its head. It walked along the top of banister towards her, hopping over each post knob as its tail flicked for balance. Dark scales edged in reflective silver framed the single gold reptilian eye that looked down at her.

Alira slowly climbed up on the landing, kneeling as she still clutched at her head. "Why is my head hurtin'? Why 'ere?" she asked aloud.

"Where else would it hurt?" offered the small rabbit.

The charred man tapped his temple, smirking at her. "Better fix it."

"How do I do t'at? I donnae' even know w'at is wrong! " she exclaimed.

"You're leaking." the rabbit stated as it reached one paw up and dragged it over one of its lop ears.

"Ye are, " agreed the slith as it leaned closer.

"Leakin'? W'at the **** are ye talkin' 'bout?" Alira snapped at them.

"I don't think you're supposed to leak, " counseled the rabbit. It extended a paw out and pointed at the wooden floor she was kneeling on. Alira looked down and saw a small pool of blood next to her. She paused for a long moment, staring at the blood as if slow to decipher what her eyes were seeing. She looked down at her body, padding it as searching for holes. "Cold. " said the rabbit.

She reached over up to her nose and touched it, feeling for any wetness that might indicate blood was dripping. "Gettin' warmer, " said the slith with a flick of its tongue. A small puff of smoke escapes its tiny maw.

She looked over at the charred man as if for assistance in this new game. He just continued smirking and gave a shrug. She begin to search her head, patting all over until her hands. She was about to snap at her company when her hands touched her ears. She felt the scalding wetness on her hands and pulled her hands away. Looking down at her hands, she could see there was crimson vitae all over her palms. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"Told you that you were broken, " said the scorched man.

"How do I fix it? " Alira asked, her eyes almost pleading with him.

"Hell if I know." he simply replied. Alira growled low and tensed her muscles as if she meant to attack the now laughing man.

She felt a tiny tap on her head and looked up with a growl. The tiny slith was leaning over, its golden orb fixated on returning her gaze. The corners of its tiny maw curled up as it patted her on the head with its tiny claw, "No need to be fightin` darlin' just work yer way through de darkness, ye'll make it if'n ye do nah give in." Alira opened her mouth to respond when a distant roar rumbled off in the distance. She froze instantly. "Run, lass. " the slith said.

Without any hesitation, Alira turned and begun to run as fast as she can down the stairs. As she reached the landing she heard the rabbit's voice yell out from above, "Don't forget to stop leaking!" Alira ducked through the front door and out into the nothingness. She ran as fast as she could, orienting herself in the opposite direction of the roar as tiny droplets of blood fell into the darkness.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Lilian deRylia answered the door and was greeted with a smiling gentleman holding a wrapped parcel. "Delivery for a Miss... " the man looks at the paper cupped in his hand, "... Alira Drakrul" He looked at the dark skinned lady with the metallic eyes, "Are you, Miss Drakrul?"

"No, I'm definitely -not- the Duchess, " Lilian said.

"Well she needs to sign this so I can deliver it." he said as he gave the package a bit of a shake as if to emphasize its importance.

"That's nice." she replied flatly

"Can you get her?" he asked.

"Technically, yes.." Lilian said.

He waited and then his lips tightened as she didn't budge. He cleared his throat and she smiled sweetly at him. "Will you go get her?" he asked.

"No. " she said, still smiling.

He looked a bit uncomfortable as he looked down at his shoes and let out what was obviously a frustrated sigh. Looking back, he forced a smile, "Why won't you go get her?"

".... because you didn't say please." she replied.

"Okay... Will you -please- go get Miss Drak... " he started as Lilian arched an eyebrow as if correct his address, "err... the Duchess... so that she may sign for her package. "

She smiled a bit bigger, "No."

He let out a exasperated gurgle, "Why not -now-? I said please!"

"I didn't say that was the only reason I wouldn't."

"Oh.. by... the... goddamn ... Gods... LADY... just sign for the package so I can finish out the day and go home." he almost screamed.

"Isn't it illegal to forge the signature of another person..." she started to ask.

He bit down hard on his lip.. "FINE, you know what... I'll do it! " He pulled out his writing instrument and quickly scribbled "Alira Drakrul" on the form, then ripped it off the package and shoved the package into her arms. He saluted and turned sharply on his heels, stomping down the stairs. She watched him leave, her face doing nothing to hide her amusement. She quietly closed the door and took the package upstairs to the office. Placing her hand on the door, the glyph turned from blue to red and a soft click was heard. She leaned into the office and tossed the brown paper package into the corner. It somersaulted through the air to land on top of a pile of letters, folders and packages as she closed the door again.

 

[Baron Arkon]

Arkon made his way into the office chamber of the customs, placing a hand upon the lock box upon the desk he waited for his guests to arrive. It didn't take long.

Three swift knocks at the door proceeded by a woman in her mid twenties to peek past the iron doors. "he..hello? we got a message from the harbor master you needed ship hands?"

"Come in! Come in! Yes ... We'll be heading out shortly, ye caught me just in time!" Arkon slung himself into the leather bound chair crossing his right leg over his left and leaning back. "Ye mentioned we, darlin'? How many hands ye bring wit ye?"

"Just me and m'brother, sir. We're lookin' for passage back to Britain via ship, we'll work hard for it to I swear!" She was stoutly, standing an average 5'6" with med length brown hair, brown eyes, and a fair complexion. In fact there was little there to be unique. As the young woman came into the office, behind her came a man obviously younger than her yet taller more broad shouldered and a slight scour on his face.

"Margo we do not need to be here with these sea savages." He was obviously of noble birth, or believed himself to be at the least. "We'll wait on the next trade caravan heading east, at least they are more trustworthy than these merchant pirates."

"Pirates! Lad ah've been called many a thing but ah run an honest business 'ere." Arkon turned to face the sister, Margo, and motioned for her to sit. "A'ight lass, even if ye wanted to take a Caravan 'cross de main road ah can help ye there. We accompany caravans and provide security in turn."

"Chandler sit down and be polite, remember father and show respect." Margo snapped at her younger brother, before taking a seat in the not-so comfortable stone chair across from Arkons leather clad seat. "Sir, a caravan would be easier on us yes, please. We have a farm to return to and wish to arrive as swiftly as possible."

"Fine ... Fine ... t'will be 50 gold each and an additional 10 gold each for security. Always brigands and ambushers tryin' to attack de trade routes these days." Arkon unrolled a parchment providing a list for them to mark their name and desired location. "Make ye mark and we'll get ye suited up darlin`."

"Merchant, Trader and Savage. I'll not trust you, sir, and your price is far to high." Chandler crossed his arms and stared down at Arkon. The brother stood a good 6ft tall, with a long sword strapped to his belt and now that Arkon observed, wore a rather unique leather tunic. Obviously thinking himself ready to take on a fight.

"Very well .. 100 flat, and we'll wave your security fee .. ah'm sure ye be worth it" Arkon gave an over dramatic grin leaning forward to tap the parchment. "But ye still gotta sign ... after all ah'm gotta keep a log for de govnahs eh?"

Margo leaned forward, picking up the green quill and placing a mark for both her and her brother. "Thank you Captain Arkon, and I apologize for my brother. Some are born with manners ... some need them beat into them."

"Ah couldn't agree more darlin`. Shall we head up stairs and get ye two suited for travelin'? Arkon swayed out of his chair and headed to the oriental sliding door. "Follow me y'two and we'll suit ye up for travelin`."

"Don't you try any foolishness now good sir. Or I'll run you through in your own home." Chandler placed an even hand upon the plain sword to his side.

"Chandi you behave yourself of I'll slap you good." Margo turned to Arkon. "Again I am very sorry for this, he has been moody ever since he was told we were returning to Britain." Taking her brothers arm she pulled him around the table to the Captain, following his lead.

Arkon lead the two through the common room, past a secured wooden door and in a dimly lit stairwell leading up to an open balcony. The open balcony gave an eerie light from the evening twilight to flood down the stairwell.

"Beautiful..." Margo whispered under her breath, moving to the couch at the base of the balcony. Chandler stepping past Arkon to the balcony with his sister.

"One day we'll get you a proper house with a proper view sister, but first we must tend to our indebted land back ...."

"Chandi? What is it?" She never heard the words that caused her brother to stop in his place, Margo turned to smile at her brother only to be faced by the fear stricken paralyzed form of Chandler staring down at her. Then with a shriek and a burst of blood a thin blade from behind came through her brothers neck splattering blood across the smaller woman's face. All the while she could only stand in terror while her world came crumbling down before her.

From behind her brother, in the twilight of the moon, she could see the single golden eye glowing. The knife pulling out of her brothers neck and the body of the man falling with a thud to the balcony floor. Reptilian grace, he moved up to the woman and with the whispered words 'An Ex Por' Freezing her in place. "Ah promise to make this quick darlin`, An trust me ... it be for a good cause." Arkon whispered up to the paralyzed form of the girl, standing before her he slid the thin blade of his knife up under her left arm, and with a final deflating her heart with the tip of the blade.

Margo, never had a chance, she never let out even a cry. She collapsed against the ruby chainmail that the Captain wore, and with a black arm he wrapped the girl up and carried her into the bed chamber.

Padding the girl down he removed her ring, 105 gold coins and a plain dagger. Placing them in the foot locker at the base of the bed. And then leaving to bring the body of her brother in. On this one he manged to find only 55 coins and the cheap sword he kept to his side. Tossing the sword to the side, he pocketed the gold and drug the man to the side of the bed where Alira laid.

Placing a hand upon Alira's jaw, he exposed her teeth and leaned the opened wound of Chandler against her face. He held the boy there while coddling the head of the Duchess so she could get as much of the substance as possible. Once he was satisfied that the brother had been successfully drained, he tossed the body aside and brought over Margo. Slicing the wrist of the young woman he placed the wound over Alira's mouth and proceeded the same.

Once he was satisfied that the Duchess was successfully fed, he took the arm with the gashed wrist, by the hand, and drug the woman to the opposite chamber leaving a small streak of left over blood on the floor. Lifting the limp form of the woman up he tossed her under the paintings and went back for her brother. Dragging Chandlers lifeless body by the hair, he tossed him on top of his sister and turned to face the smudges on his floor. "Blast it ... that's gonna be a b'ch to get out."

Lifting his head he gave a call out "Parrot! Clawdia and Chaka! Get your asses up here now!" Through the open bedroom balcony flew in the minute skree dragon, landing on the edge of the bed and looking down at the smudge of blood. "I did NOT do that, I swear!"

Arkon glared at the Skree and smirked. "Ah still want ye to help clean it up ... and get dese bodies out to de ships hold, we'll use'em for Kraken bait tonight."

Padding through the door came Clawdia a massive white tiger, and her mate Chaka an equally impressive black tiger. Gesturing to the blood smear they gave it a whiff and with their rough tongues began to lap up the mess. Arkon moved to the bathroom and brought out several hand towels, placing them beside Alira and began padding the blood off her face. "Ah pray ye be nah dis messy when ye awake ..." Staring down at her clothing, with nimble fingers he began to undo the delicate ties that did the top of her dress, assuring himself that there was a corset to keep her chest still covered. He was a pirate but he knew the Duchess kept her dignity high.

Once he pulled her the top of her dress down, he let it flow about her waist and tugged the black silk sheet back up to her neck. "A`ight now, darlin' Lets hope that'll help keep ye a day or two."

Picking up the used towels from the bed, he tossed them into the fireplace and crashed back into the sofa pulling out a flesh bound book.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Many hours passed and the roars seemed to fade into the silence and still she continued running. She played the scene at the stone house over and over in her head.

You're broken... Everything is unfine... You're leaking.

She reached a hand and touched her ear as her legs kept driving her on. She could feel the hot wetness and suspected that she was still bleeding from her ear canal. "That can nay be a good sign. I ne'er learned medicine outside magic, but I suspect the issue is wit' my ... " her thought was cut off as another lance of pain streaked through her skull. She gritted her teeth as she forced her legs to move through it pain. "... 'ead. All the pain I took mus' 'ave damaged my brain. Unlike most o' the other organs, we still use t'at one. I 'ave ne'er experienced such a thing outside o' physical injury. " She had learned when she was a fledgling to repair torn muscles, knit skin together, heal broken bones and burn poison away using the vitae in her body. She could even given enough vitae and time regrow an arm. This was a completely unfamiliar injury and she was perplexed at how to fix it. With tissue damage, you put the pieces together and or rebuild tissue. Was psychic damage healed the same way? "If so, my body -should- try and heal this if it has enough vitae.... ****."

That was a problem.

She wasn't dead. "Well... nay dead... dead. " she said as she smirked to herself. If the blood from her ear and the head pain was subconscious evidence of her psychic injury, her body wasn't repairing it either. "The fact I'm still here means someone mus' 'ave found me before dawn." she said, aloud this time. "I only hope it is someone who is on my side..."

In the distance, she spotted another building basked in artificial light from a phantom moon. This one, she did recognize. The Sparrow's Feather of Skara Brae.

She approached it without any of the caution she used at the previous building. Finally, she could rest. She had found sanctuary in this unforgiving night. This was home. This is home

She climbed the stone steps and opened the doors. The interior was bathed in warm light from enchanted lanterns that hung along the walls. The wood counter stood there with its row of stools. Dark stone tables peppered the room with cushioned chairs tucked in neatly. There were stacks of kegs behind the bar holding imported alcohol from all over the region as well as a couple heated kegs of emergency blood. She walked around the counter, snagging a pewter mug from its polished surface. "I wonder..." She placed the mug under the keg and turned the spigot. Blood poured into the mug, sloshing against pewter and threatening to cascade over the edge. She put the mug to her lips and took a drink expecting the taste of old, stale blood that was typical. She blinked. It tasted sweet and fresh. The taste of copper coins danced on her tongue and then the warm slide of fire down her throat.

It was a chocolate chip cookie... an orgasm... the sacrament of the divinity... in one divine mouthful.

She started to chug. Refill after refill. Mug after mug. She emptied both kegs in a scene of gluttony and raw desperate need.

She collapsed on the floor and leaned back against the bar as she let the mug roll out of her hand with a loud clatter onto the wooden floor. She felt better, more at peace than she had been. Had she been mortal, an after sex cigarette might have been on the menu. Instead she heard a low hiss and a raspy laugh. She looked up lazily in the direction of the noise. The damn slith was peering over the counter looking down at her with its golden eye. He belched out a puff of smoke down towards her and said, ". "A`ight now, darlin'... Lets hope that'll help keep ye a day or two."

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Several days had past since she drank from the kegs. She still had a headache, but now it was tolerable and only rarely flared up. An undercurrent of pain in the background of her never-ending thoughts.

She had not gone outside the building, even to the garden roof that she know lay above. Even her old private quarters at the Sparrow's Feather had not been blessed with her return due to the path outside to enter. Her sanctuary was now a prison against the fear of what lay deep in the darkness. She had glimpses of ghostly figures moving throughout the house. Murmured voices and laughter, the sound of a young child crying. Alira did not know whether they were real memories or illusions from her damaged brain attempting to keep her from the madness of isolation. The slith has disappeared. She was alone, her only companions were the sounds of a clock downstairs and the sound of her endless pacing upon the cold wood floor.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"How long 'ave I been 'ere? Obviously, I am nay dead." she paused in her pacing, "Am I? What actually happens to the soul when the final death comes?" She had heard religions and cults spout of eternal damnation and of salvation that only tithing to their church could provide. She had once worshiped a God and had gotten staked by her sire for her transgressions. What your soul snuffed out in a blink and your awareness gone? Did Death devour you and **** your soul back out in the world as the next thing born? She started to pace again. Am I to be tortured from now until eternity, running until I no longer can? Until I willingly submit to its jaws?

She heard voices again. No.... a voice. She couldn't make out the words. They were muffled and garbled as if she was listening underwater. She stopped pacing, turning in a circle to try and figure out where it was coming from. Her delicate neck curved and strained as she attempted to listen.

 

[Baron Arkon]

It had been a productive evening, with Parrot watching over the Bathhouse, and his tending to Hun`ep after an interesting event of the woman getting drunk.

Arkon lounged back in the couch that rested beside the bed, in front of the fireplace. A glass of wine rested upon the headboard of the bed. The Pirate had a book tucked under one arm, and he brought it to position, turning the pages to where the red silk bookmark rested.

"Ah, A Light in the Dark, A`ight now darlin' where'd we leave off from last time?" In hushed yet direct tones, he began to read aloud to the Duchess as she slept, if nothing else he wanted the woman to know she wasn't alone and that she was being tended to.

A tale of Skara, Rangers, Wisps and Death. His accent faded as he read, giving an almost noble and proper enunciation of the words as he went. Flipping pages he recounted the occurrences of the book, giving his own opinions about what the book portrayed as he thought fit. Almost a story within a story!

It seemed almost like an hour had passed, reading was an enjoyment he secretly kept to himself. His collection of books spanned a multitude of subjects from what seemed a dozen different worlds. He had taken extremes to keep his books safe as he moved from city to city through the years, first collected as a young sailor in Cove so many years ago.

Closing the book he placed it upon the couch beside him and rose to check on the woman unconscious in his bed. "Hope ye be a'ight, ah can hear the headlines now 'Duchess found dead in Pirates bed'."

Sliding with a reptilian grace to his feet and slide across the floor to peer out the open balcony in the corner, am idle hand reaching up to pet the feathers of the actual parrot there.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

She strained to hear the voice. She ran upstairs, spinning around and listening. It didn't sound any louder. "Maybe outside, " she thought. She ran out on the balcony without any memory of what might wait outside. She listened intently, tilting her head ever so slightly. It still sounded as if the voice was muffled. She called out, "Can ye 'ear me? Who is t'is?" She strained to listen, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. The voice was still speaking, the cadence sounding vaguely familiar. She balled up her fists and screamed, "Can ye 'ear me? " She fell on her knees, screaming, "Pleeeeease! Hear me!" as her nails dug into her flesh drawing blood. She paused and listened, the ebb and flow of the tone was unbroken.

In the far distance, a roar rang out in the darkness and Alira froze.

"Please, please... no... ****! ****! ****!" Alira said as she scrambled to her feet and fled back inside. She quickly began extinguishing all the enchanted lanterns as fast as she could. She sat behind the bar and waited. Closing her eyes, she focused on that comforting voice that had now regularly intruded on her dark world. For a brief moment, she thought she could hear it more clearly, "Hope ye be a'right..."

<><><><><><><><><><>​

In a home along the coast of Yew, a woman's head turned ever so slightly to that same voice.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Alira awoke angry and pissed off, consumed by the hallucination of a nightmare. She was being threatened by another vampire seeking to take what was hers. She wanted to bring it to its knees, to drain it and more than that, consume it. Diablerie was not only frowned upon in kindred society, it was akin to cannibalism. It was a conscious act that went beyond merely killing a vampire, it was the rendering of their soul and power as your own.

Claws gripped the ground as she turned to face it, growling a warning. She positioned herself defensively attempting to center herself with her adversary. The beast and her self were one in this fight. They both wanted the pretentious upstart to know pain, to feel it gurgle against their teeth as they ripped its throat out. She flexed her claws as the figure started speaking, the voice firm and calm. She couldn't understand, all she wanted to do was silence it. Rage. Blood. She bunched her muscles and then ... something gave her pause. The beast within her went still as if smothered by some unseen blanket.

She growled at the figure who was continuing to speak to her, holding its hands out to the sides as he began to approach her cautiously. She retreated slightly, still growling. With the dual rage of the beast squelched in her mind, she could focus on the words with greater clarity, "Easy there Duchess... I'm not gonna harm you. Just calm down"

"Harm me? Hardly. How could it e'en begin t'hink t'at it could challenge me? I... " her mind paused unnaturally as the calmness that had silenced her beast began to seep into her brain. She snarled in protest and fought against as she could feel it fog her mind, softening her desire to murder the challenger. The enemy slowly sat down next to her as her claws flexed. She wanted it dead, she wanted ... Arkon ... dead?

Alira shook her head at the confusion at the overlap of reality and nightmare. Arkon took the moment to place his hands over hers. He interlaced his fingers to attempt to keep control her deadly claws if his discipline failed to keep her subdued. She growled at his touch, staring at him with a predatory gaze. The vampire appeared as Arkon faded again. She flexed her claws attempting to focus on the desire to use them on his flesh.

Arkon's face appeared again, close to hers, "Come on duchess.. those are my imported silk sheets.. I paid good money for them and you are going to rip them."

She shook her head again as the nightmare slipped back into the darkness, "His sheets? I'll show him w'at I think 'bout his sheets!" her mind snapped.

He saw her eyes narrow, "Do you know how much those things cost?! I gotta butter up Winny with expensive imbuing ingredients to get me more cloth" Her icy blue eyes focused on his single golden reptilian eye defiantly. She tightened her tendons, flexing her claws as deeply and violently into the sheets and mattress as his grip would allow. The rip of silk cut the tension like a knife. She lifted her chin slightly as if in superiority as he grimaced.