「R」【𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓】「IC」『REDUX』

[Dire Hoef]

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BLOOD BY NIGHT

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『ACT 1 - Eve of the War』

10.12.2152 — Thursday 12th, October 2152 — 9:15 PM BST

The Blackwood Estate - Kent

The world, in its current state, was gloomy and unrelenting in its pessimism. Though Lord Hilton Blackwood, honestly, enjoyed the pessimistic atmosphere that hung over Greater Britain. The country’s state of centuries’ old ruin made that more appealing to him. In fact, he had collected antiques of his father’s father’s time on Earth. All of it, to the vase that stood on a hallway stand to the small cog trinkets that make up a machine, was appealing to him.

However, there was a storm outside. A storm that had been raging for the past couple of hours; seemingly showing no signs of stopping. These storms were always concluded as the result of vampyres tampering with mother nature. As if they were not satisfied with what mother nature turned them into. Now, they had to go ahead of violate the one that created them in the first place, but that is beside the point.

Lord Blackwood, often referred to as Lord Kresnik by his peers and those that revere him, was expecting quite a few honored guests tonight. Apparently he was to host a dinner party for the most prominent nobility of the House of Lords. Although, this was to steer their attention from the ultimate stagnation that is occurring at this very moment. The vampyres and the humans are not on good terms with one another. Any smart political analyst would know that. Hell, even Lord Blackwood saw this coming a mile away. However, being the center of political attention meant that he had to keep a public image. So, this dinner party was what was going to increase that public image.

Though as he pondered what he was going to say, Preston came in with footsteps that were almost too silent for him to pick up on. But, Hilton knew his brother and his antics like the back of his hand. So this wasn’t anything special.

“What is the matter little brother?” Hilton switched his thoughts to the momentary situation at hand: Dealing with his younger brother.

“I couldn’t sleep.. I—I had a night terror.” The sound of distress in his voice carried emotional weight.

“What was your night terror little brother? Was it about mother?”

Preston shook his head as his footsteps added more weight to themselves, stepping further into the study. “It was about who I am..or.. What I don’t want to become...”

Hilton, not taking the time to look at his younger brother, raised a brow in confusion. “What you don’t want to become?”

“Yes,” Preston took a minute to collect his thoughts, “I am a Midnight am I not? And...as a Midnight I am part vampy—” Preston falls silent as he saw Hilton raise a hand in protest.

“I know your troubles, and I despise them.”

“But brother I—”

“No little brother. You must understand that I do not wish to talk about your...darkness... Any longer. You are you, and nothing can change that. What must be done now is holding up mother’s dying wishes.” Hilton stood up from his recliner and slowly walked over to the window where he could see the world collide with the violence of the storm. “I tell you brother,” he turned towards him with a look of seriousness, “Do you believe that you could do what your night terror shows you?”

Preston steps forward, but stops mid-stride to see that seriousness grow more into anger the longer he stared. “N—No brother. I.. I don’t think I have the capacity to kill people..”

“Well a part of you does,” Hilton said aggressively, “And that part mauled those poor innocent people!”

There was an awkward silence.

“You must fight that side of you Preston. You must. Never let it seep out of the bones that we call human. For if you do, I will have no choice but to put you down myself. And.. As a brother and a dear friend I do not want that for me or for you.”

Preston nodded in agreement as he turned to the door to exit the room. “Oh,” Preston stopped at the door, itself, before turning his head over to Hilton, “I heard some startling news coming out of Parliament..”

Hilton’s shoulders grew tense as he took a seat at his desk. “Go on.”

Preston fully turned his body to meet Hilton’s tense gaze, “Well y’see,” he took a deep breath, “It seems that the representatives within the House of Commons are pleading for a revision of the treaty for the treaty did not cover the London Maulings.”

Hilton’s expression evolved from anger to tense to relaxed. He felt that he could breath easy on this issue.

‘Neither side shall purposely attack the other unless it is in self defense or to obtain necessary nutrients. Humans reserve the right to kill any vampyres who are too far gone, and vampyress are only allowed to hunt Dynamos and Nontrons,’ Hilton glanced over at Preston, ‘Midnights fall into both categories’ rules...’

Preston turned away from Hilton and left the Lord of the House to his lonesome.

Hilton leaned on his right arm as he stared over at the fireplace that was still flicking in tempo with the crackles of thunder and the flashes of lightning.

He’d sigh softly as he pulled out his notebook from his desk and scanned through the numerous passages he had written since he had obtained the notebook and fell on a specific passage that he read intensively:

“It was... Never my intention to relinquish him of his duties, but he had stepped upon the grounds in which I had specifically laid out for my servants. No stealing from the pantries. Never. And, what happens? Sebas stole from the pantry. His excuse? He was feeding a family of seven, and needed extra food to scrap them by another night. However, I had told them the moment he was caught that he should of had told me that his family was starving. I am caring to my fellow servants, but to see him step behind me without even telling me his issues was heartbreaking. I, honestly, wanted to help him. But nothing could save him from the judgement that surely followed after his crime was brought to light.”

“Come to think of it,” he said pondering out loud, “Sebas was discovered to be a Midnight trying to feed his seven grubby little monstrosities.” Hilton had a look of disgust as he began to scribble out some of the sentences that showed sympathy towards that monster. ‘Damn those fucking vampyres..’

Though as he was doing this, a knock came at his door and out from the door came his primary butler, Gerald. “Ma lord,” he paused as he scanned the room to find Hilton sitting at his desk, “We have prepared the dinner party at your request.”

Hilton came up from his scribblings and nodded with a soft smile to him, “Very good Gerald. Tell Hilda and Rosary to prepare my formal wear. I expect my guest to arrive shortly.”

Gerald nodded solemnly, “Yes ma Lord.”

Gerald left Hilton to his lonesome once more.

‘Well.. If it means that I have to flaunt myself before the important players, then I must do so.. My policy must reach their ears.. I cannot fight this alone..’

He stood up from his seat and walked over to the fireplace closing the outward hatch before stepping over to the door of his study, leaving shortly after giving a quick glance over his achievements.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

9:15 PM BST

Central Dominion of Greater Britain Headquarters - London

Dear Watcher,

I know you hadn’t expected a letter from me so soon after the C.D.G.B’s latest blunder with the London Maulings. However, certain pieces of information has recently come to light, and I couldn’t help but share them with you.

So to get right to the point. It’s about that pack of lycans I was following for the past week. I noticed that, since lycans have a set pattern to their hunting sessions, this pack, in particular, has been operating rather close to London in a sporadic sort of way. It was as though they were being ordered by some third-party alpha. Intelligent lycans are a rarity amongst their species, but to see them move in such a fashion is certainly startling. In fact, I believe that I and my agents are starting to come to the conclusion that they’re planning something. They’ve been using the underground sewer systems under London during the past week. Though one of my agents found breeding grounds in some of these lines...

I can only assume the worse, but will maintain surveillance until something else happens.

Sincerely,
Agent Black

A decrepit sigh left the chapped lips of the Watcher as he set the letter down on his mahogany desk.

He was aware of what was going on and suspected foul play, but this letter had confirmed his suspicions. He was going to investigate the lycan movements himself, but with this recent political blunder on the part of the humans, he couldn’t freely move as he wished. Even more so, he couldn’t freely move with what the Queen was going on about. Though, he had said that he would look into the matter concerning the London Maulings but that investigation hasn’t turned up any solid leads. Just pipe dreams and false suspects.

However, before he could finish his thoughts a flash of lightning brought him back to reality; a cold reality at that.

He looked around his office before settling his hollowed eyes upon a vampyre that was sitting right in front of his desk waiting for his response to the letter.

The vampyre, with an appearance that would make any man quiver with pleasure, seemed rather unhappy with the current state of affairs. She glanced at the Watcher up and down repeatedly before finally opening her mouth, “You’re honestly not going to say anything about the letter? Nothing at all?”

“Calm yourself Agent Orange,” the Watcher said intuitively following the flow of the conversation, “Need I remind you what kind of assignment Agent Black is currently on at the moment?”

Agent Orange crossed her arms with visible displeasure, “I know what assignment Agent Black is on, and I want to know your thoughts on it. Shouldn’t we do something about these lycans? Lycan attacks have increased since the London Maul—”

“Watch your tongue Agent Orange,” he snapped even though he turned his hollowed eyes away from her and to the letter, “Speaking that atrocity here in these walls is strictly forbidden. You do best to remember that.”

“My apologies my Watcher,” she bowed her head slightly in contempt, “But my statement still stands. They’ve been increasing since that day, and we haven’t done enough to eradicate those abominations.”

“Hm,” he pondered the letter for a moment before giving his thoughts, “Do you remember what made you a part of the League?”

“My exceptional skills and intellect?”

“You had spunk. You had a fire unlike anything I or the administrators had ever seen. That is why we have given you the name ‘Agent Orange’. I knew that you would be the first to speak up about growing matters that the League or C.D.G.B would be slow on.” He stood to his feet and calmly paced around his office. “It is no secret that the League operates under the C.D.G.B, but what we do in the League is strictly confidential. None of what we do reach the press nor does anything we say reach the press. However, from time to time there are events that break the veil; cause unrepairable cracks in our visage. These cracks are to be maintained at all cost and proper procedures are to be made to ensure that more cracks do not appear.”

“Null Moon,” Agent Orange whispered under her breath with slight distress.

“Precisely,” the Watcher was suddenly to the left of the agent, hand on her left shoulder.

She immediately stood to her feet and made way for the door.

“You know my thoughts. I do expect you to uphold them.”

She stopped at the door, turned around, bowed, and then left knowing exactly what she must do.

‘The more brash they are.. The easier they are to manipulate..’

He moved over to his desk, took the letter from off the desk, and left the office to pay visit to the Queen. However, he had made sure to call up to the estate to let them know that he was on his way. The Queen doesn’t quite like unannounced guests.

So while enroute to the estate, he noticed how the storm was still raging and how bad it was out tonight. He would admit that driving out in this kind of weather was in poor taste, but the information he has had to be brought to her attention so this weather was bearable for him. At least, for now.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

9:30 PM BST

The Nightshade Estate - Unspecified

By the time he arrived at the estate, he could tell that the toxic fumes of her power were fumigating from the building itself. To be honest, he wasn’t feeling any of it, but he had to brace it is order to bring what he needed to bring to light.

So, when his 1953 Austin A30 pulled up onto the curb he was immediately greeted by the main building’s staff who used umbrellas to guard themselves from the rain. And being the gentleman that he is, found his own umbrella to guard himself from the rain (even though it was a bit futile).

“My Watcher,” said the butler with a projective tone, “Our Queen awaits you in her chamber.”

“Good,” he said as he cautiously walked up to them, “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The servants bowed in response before leading the Watcher into the home. He knew that this was going to be the start of a long night.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

9:33 PM BST

Crosshaven Home - London

Agent Grey had been ordered to routinely check on Ms. Crosshaven every three days. This interval of time was not only to give the woman some space, but to apply a sort of security. She is a household name after all, and being a household name meant that she was a target for wannabe attackers (humans and vampyres alike).

However security and social spacing aside, Agent Grey, an average built male of about 120 cm in height, is still ordered to attend to his duties as a member of the League. So, when he pulled up to the home, by rounding a street to the left, he noticed that some of the lights were off. This immediately alerted him to something that was amiss. Thus, he pulled out his Makarov, admist the heavy rain, and rushed over to the door hoping that he wasn't going to find a murder scene.

He came up to door, pulled out a separate key to the home, unlocked the door, and slowly (as well as cautiously) stepped into the residence keeping his Makarov trained on anything that would give any sign of life. He stood in the small foyer for a moment as he called out to Ms. Crosshaven, "Ms. Crosshaven.. Are you in?"

[Mystress of Shadows]

Malia

Spinning the delicate fibers of war was taxing for Malia. Yes. She was a Serine. Yes. She was the first of the vampires. And yes. She was the leader of said vampires, even going so far as creating the first of a weapon of mass destruction: the Reaper. Did she care? Frankly, not even in the slightest. She held her own agenda, participating in the politics only when she felt she could satisfy that agenda. The London Maulings? Sure, she had stepped in on that. Why? Because she hated being accused of something she had no part of. None of the C.D.G.B. had any part in it, and the accusation that they otherwise had, appalled her.

Vile, greedy humans. Your slight tongue is too rash.

Those creatures, those lycans, had brought it on themselves. They were weak and could not survive the turning. It was pathetic to give into raw survival like that. Never would she consider even speaking to one. However, what might have happened if she had followed the same fate?

"Nonsense," she muttered. She hadn't survived for over 300 years just to contemplate what might have happened.

As the wind growled and moaned from outside her walls, she sighed. Such a melancholy day to spend dealing with others, she thought. She was aware of the meeting with the Watcher, and she hated the idea. She sneered, gazing out the window as the rain poured down upon the panes, splattering like tiny blood drops with each consecutive hit. It wasn't a crazy storm by any means, but it was enough to make anyone want to stay indoors. That was fine with her, except for the fact she had to prepare for a guest. She stood with impeccable grace from the chair she had been resting in and stretched.

"Slave!" she called. In a matter of moments, her servant appeared, replying in a monotone voice.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Prepare me for the meeting. And hurry up about it."

As Alexia tended to her, Malia paid attention to every tiny detail. The speed at which Alexia completed the task. The accuracy of her buttoning. The number of times she fumbled with the fabric. Her choice of shoes. Even down to any second of hesitation. And yet, nothing. Alexia performed her task spectacularly, and as Alexia stepped back, Malia could see herself in her mirror. The dress, as many of hers were, was stunning and seductive, drawing the eye to her bosom and the half-sheer bodice that left just enough to the imagination. She frowned. Not at the dress, but at Alexia.

"Will that be all, Mistress?" Alexia asked.

"No," Malia quickly shot back. Alexia stood in silence awaiting her orders. Ah- but there was nothing wrong with what Alexia had done. Not a hair not straightened, not one button misaligned, not one lacy red flower contorted. With a glance at Alexia brimming with disappointment and hatred, she finally gave an order. "Prepare a drink for myself and my guest. Use the man."

As Alexia bowed and left, Malia was left to study herself. She looked perfect in every manner of the word, but she felt-

It doesn't matter, Malia forcefully warned herself. Finish this meeting quickly and rid yourself of this annoyance. With a single moment spared to close her eyes and take a deep breath, Malia walked to the drawing room where she met every guest, sat, and awaited the arrival of the Watcher.

The first thing he would see upon entering was Malia, sitting straight with a stern expression, her legs turned to one side as she emanates a sense of power and non-humor. As soon as he is seated, she speaks directly to him.

"Speak."

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Alexia

To serve Malia meant to dedicate every moment to mundane tasks and live in fear, constantly hoping one wrong move wouldn't send you on a road to unbearable pain. As she tidied the rooms and tended to any preparations necessary for the visit, Alexia held this thought in mind. Make sure not a speck of dust would float into Malia's view. Make sure the vases were filled with fresh flowers. Make sure no light bulbs had burned out. Make sure there were no distractions for the Queen. All while maintaining a stone-walled face.

Eventually, she was called to next attend to Malia's appearance. She was to ensure that her dress was spotless and lacked any wrinkles. She was to ensure that Malia's hair was straight with no knots to maim to her reputation. And above all, she was to ensure that she did all of this in a timely manner for any other directions Malia might give her afterwards. Or, if she failed in any section, the pain that would follow.

She selected a dress that was intended to uphold her mistress' power and slid it on her without a moment's hesitation. Buttoning the tiny button was easy enough for her small hands, and it complimented Malia's natural figure well. Malia's hair, despite being long, was not a problem, either. As it was naturally straight, all Alexia had to do was run a brush through it at the end. The only issue was timeliness.

As Alexia stepped back for Malia to study herself, she felt her stomach tighten. Malia was frowning. She was sure that Malia was attempting to think of some reason to call her performance less than adequate, but as time drew on, Malia would not speak.

"Will that be all, Mistress?" She masked her nerves with a placid tone, biting her tongue to prevent the fear from displaying itself.

"No." This single, harsh word from Malia sent a shiver down Alexia's spine. Any second now, she could be lashed out at. For what reason, she didn't know yet, but she was sure that Malia would think of something.

And yet, another drawn silence took hold. Malia stared into the mirror, and Alexia watched her. She knew better than to speak again, but the longer the silence drew out, the more Alexia felt she might start shaking from the nerves, which in turn only heightened the nerves more.

Malia finally shot a look towards Alexia, one so filled with hatred that Alexia squeezed her hand into a tiny fist to prevent herself from flinching. She prepared herself. For a smack to the face with enough force to throw her to the ground. For possible strangling. For an additional stab wound. For a forced ingestion of poison. Anything.

No pain came. Just a new order. "Prepare a drink for myself and my guest. Use the man," Malia ordered, venom striking ever word. Despite the venom though, every word was a sedative to Alexia. Some way, somehow, she had escaped Malia's wrath. With a quick bow, Alexia hurriedly left the room to fulfill her wish.

With a silent sigh of relief, Alexia half smiled as she retrieved two wine glasses and a knife from the kitchen before proceeding to the dungeons. As the dungeons were below ground, they were warmer than the upstairs, and the lack of windows provided only a dim light from the older light fixtures in the ceiling. Walking past barred door after barred door, Alexia's smile faded. Behind one, someone was crying. A young girl to be exact. Alexia clutched the glasses closer to her body, feeling the empathy for the girl swirl within her. She knew what the girl would be going though. The unbearable pain. The hopelessness. The feeling of losing her mind. Alexia knew all of it.

She could not bear to hear the sobs, so she quickened the pace to another door further along. As she entered the room, the sobbing from the girl down the hall was blocked off and was replaced by silence. Across the room was a middle-aged man chained to the wall, head hung as though long defeated. In all actuality, he probably had been. He had innumerable scars littering his body, his tattered clothes hanging loosely about his hollowed frame. Alexia approached him with caution.

"Are you awake?"

No response. She didn't particularly want him to wake up and flip out while she was taking his blood, so she set the glasses and knife down and went to gently shake his shoulder.

"Hey. Wake-"

Alexia's face saddened as her hand rested on his shoulder. His skin was cold, his muscles stiff. She stopped and listened carefully, only to realize he no longer had a heartbeat. Another soul stolen away by Malia. With pursed lips, she carefully unchained him, allowing his body to assume a more comfortable position against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But at least your in a better place." She paused and winced as she spied the wine glasses. "I still have to take your blood though. I'm sorry."

With this, she picked up the knife, kneeled, and slit his wrist. She allowed gravity to pull his blood down his arm and out his wrist as his heart was no longer pumping to push the blood out. She placed each glass beneath his wrist until they were filled, then tore a strip of his clothing and tied it around his wrist.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. She stood with the knife and two filled glasses and walked to the door, sparing one last glance at the body before leaving. As she walked to the drawing room, she took the time to quarantine her emotions, allowing the stony facade to return. She placed the glasses on small table in the room and place the knife back in the kitchen before double checking her appearance. While she was only a servant, Malia still required her to be presentable for any guests. And she was. Afterwards, she stepped outside to await the arrival of the Watcher.

As he pulled up, several of the servants he had assigned to guard Malia from the shadows appeared, one of which approaching him and announcing that the Queen was ready. All of the servants bowed as he approached the house, but Alexia did not. As he reached were she stood, she opened the door and lead him in. "This way," she instructed, leading him down the corridor to the drawing room. She lead him in, gestured to a seat for him to sit, and bowed to Malia before stepping outside the door where she would await the meeting to finish.

[CryoLilly]

Elise had planned a quiet night. Spending the evening reading with a nice glass of O- and two of wine. Naturally, it didn't go as planned.

"Bloody fucking hell!" she cried as her toe slammed into the leg of the coffee table. Again. For being able to see in the dark, she was shockingly good at homing in on every possible obstacle in the darkened house and hurting herself on it in some way. She hadn't even started drinking... yet. She collapsed into an armchair, rubbing at her toe. With the power out, her plans to read were somewhat delayed. Though she could read in the dark, it wasn't easy and often strained her eyes. She sighed, at least she'd had a candle obsession for a few years (if she was still perfectly honest, she still had that obsession, at least more vestiges of it than most). She'd been distributing candles about the house for a solid twenty minutes now and had about 10 bruises to show for it. She'd only gotten around to lighting a few of the candles and now set to picking up the few she had dropped when the coffee table decided to get in the way of her walking. She lined them up on the table and on the end table next to her armchair, taking the time to light each.

She scrunched her nose as she looked around the dusty room. She'd been busy at the library so much recently that she'd hardly had much time to take care of her personal collection at home. Not even enough to keep the reading room clean. She picked up the crystal wine glass from the table next to her, caressing the stem and swirling the crimson ichor within. The motion released a sweet, coppery aroma into the air. She brought the glass to her lips, taking a small sip and allowing her soft sanguine lips curl into a smile at the flavour. She tilted her head back and downed the rest of the glass. As she brought it away from her lips, she let out a soft sigh with closed eyes. Sure she'd started out hating blood, but one quickly grows used to their only food source. Besides, after a century or so, it had truly grown on her. Though she remained partial to wine. Speaking of which... She quickly poured a glass and took a large sip, allowing it to mingle with the blood still coating her tongue. It was certainly a curious combination. Maybe she'd have to look into vampire cuisine...

Lost in her thoughts she failed to hear the sound of a car pulling up to her house. At the sound of her door opening, she jumped, letting out an indignant squeak as her wine glass tumbled from her fingers, the crystal shattering on her wooden floor and wine splattering across the floor. She growled as she looked down at the mess, crossing her arms and glowering at the floor as the temperature dropped a few degrees. At which point she realized that she was, in fact, floating three feet off of the ground. Glancing at her slippered feet she decided to remain floating as she crossed over the burgundy puddle and into the foyer, drifting towards the kitchen to fetch a rag and dustpan. She nearly failed to notice Agent Grey, having completely forgotten the reason she'd been startled in the first place, until she almost ran into him, or rather, flew.

"Oh! Mr. Gray. Hello." She nodded curtly, "I'll be with you in just a moment, I have a... mess to clean up. Excuse me." She swiftly maneuvered around him and vanished into the kitchen only to return with the rag and dustpan. She moved back into the reading room, after a moment calling out. "You can join me in here if you like, so long as you don't mind the mess. Once I have this cleaned up I can put on the kettle if you like, or perhaps a glass of something stronger?"

[Dire Hoef]

"Oh! Mr. Gray. Hello." She nodded curtly, "I'll be with you in just a moment, I have a... mess to clean up. Excuse me." She swiftly maneuvered around him and vanished into the kitchen only to return with the rag and dustpan. She moved back into the reading room, after a moment calling out. "You can join me in here if you like, so long as you don't mind the mess. Once I have this cleaned up I can put on the kettle if you like, or perhaps a glass of something stronger?"

A sharp noise and then a crash came from his right, but before he knew it, he was suddenly face to face with the perpetrator: Ms. Crosshaven herself.

Rubbing his head slightly, he lowered his Makarov and eventually holstered it.

Ms. Crosshaven, to Agent Grey, was an oddity that he couldn't quite understand fully. Yes she was an important figure amongst the vampyre populace, but her mannerisms are something of a mystery to him. He didn't expect a vampyre, like Crosshaven, to sustain such an...awkward...personality. However, he had come to appreciate Crosshaven's company, more rather he'd often visit her on several different occasions that weren't part of his routine check-ins. In fact, Agent Grey believes to have found himself a valued friend of sorts. No-one, within the League, are particularly friendly with one another, but this is a nice change of pace for him.

But thoughts and feelings aside, Agent Grey found himself within the reading room where he took note of all the candles. 'The power is out.. Huh, I guess that's why I was in guard mode,' he thought with a disappointing sigh. Sadly Agent Grey rarely gets to see any action upon taking this assignment, so he was really hoping there was an intruder that he would get to put down personally. However, that was not the case here.

Thus while thinking to himself, he noticed all the dust that had collected within this room and he scrunched his nose a little at the sight of it all. "You've really got to maintain your personal library Ms. Crosshaven," he said as he took a dusty book from a shelf, "Though some of these books look to be a couple decades old. How long have you been collecting information? A century? And.. I'll take the usual wine." He'd slip the book back into its place before examining more of the personal library.

[Rayfire]

Michael P Crusnik: The Nightshade Mansion
What a beautiful night Michael thought to himself as he sat on top of Malia's mansion. Despite the rain falling everywhere and the raging winds he seems to be leisurely enjoying himself. In fact it seemed not a single rain drop actually managed to touch the reaper, when they all got within a certain distance they simply diverted as if a invisible force surrounds him not even the fierce wind touched him. The moon looked like a full globe just hanging there waiting for someone to caress it amidst dark clouds. The air smelled earthly and the wind whipped about wildly. A perfect night for killing. A word even appeared in Michael's head that fit perfectly "Petrichor" the Reaper says softly.

From his perch Michael had a nice view of Malia's Courtyard and could see the watcher pulling in for his meeting. Servants that where rarely seen would suddenly appear to serve the watcher. Michael couldn't help but sneer. The left edge of his cheek poised up a inch revealing a single fang in detest for the servants. While they remained mostly out of sight, he constantly sensed their presence but restrained himself out of respect to the watcher since they served a purpose.

Michael being a council member himself and the queens proxy at times knew why the watcher was visiting. The london maulings currently being the single most important incident to actually shake the political climate in decades. It wasn't hard to guess what he wanted to discuss. It could be anything from how exactly the BPA gotten past their information screen which suggested they had inside help or what gave the ISC such confidence that they where hiding something. The watcher worked hard to keep dark things out of the public's eye but the cattle was no longer content with their situation.

Despite being in charge of all military and police affairs it had taken more work and time then Michael cared to admit to set up such a predicament far removed from himself. This spoke volumes of the watchers network but patience had turned Michael's little game into something fruitful.

Setting his thoughts aside Michael vaults off of his perch on the highest point of the mansion. Wind whips at him as gravity takes hold and he plummets straight through a shadow on the roof without any sounds of a crash or resistance. His body enveloped by shadows appears in a dark corner in Malia's room. He observed her as she silently went over her appearance for her arriving guest. As usual Alexia didn't fail and she looked immaculate and breathlessly beautiful. If only one didn't know the violent temper this beautiful lady had. While Malia walks to her drawing room Michael doesn't bother moving and instead Shadow travels again to a dark corner in Malia's drawing room. She hated Michael's bad habit of willfully entering her rooms without permission however, due to matters of her safety and simply not caring he constantly ignores her orders on the matter. Remaining completely cloaked in shadows Michael blended into the dark space while erasing any sense or feeling of his presence. A practice the hunter preformed regularly.

[The Texan Queen]

The sound of rain bouncing off the tin roof was the only sound in the house, that and the occasional crack of thunder. All the lights were off, doors and windows locked tight, everyone was a sleep for the night…except for one. Naomi was quietly moving about her bedroom getting ready, ready for what was still a question she hadn’t answered herself. She had lived her entire life locked up in the house, only leaving with protection, never leaving at night, living in fear of those “demon hell spawns” as her father called them.

“Okay,” She sighed anxiously as she went over her checklist. “Guns, knives, holy water…if that even works…map of the city.” She pointed to each item on her list as she went down them to visually make sure she had it. Naomi didn’t realize she was shaking until she went to cross off something on her list and noticed her pen was shaking. Letting out another sigh she set down her journal and pen, turned to the mirror and stared at herself in the mirror. This is something you’ve wanted to do forever! You’ve thought through…mostly everything, you have your escape routes throughout the city… She ran a hand through her red locks, took a deep breath to steady her nerves and looked herself in the eyes again.

“You. Got. This.” Naomi nodded at her reflection and went back to getting ready to leave. She put most of the weapons she took from the other rooms in the house into a black duffle bag, stashing a pistol and knives on her person. She put on a black rain coat, pulled her hair up and grabbed her bag before quietly exiting her bedroom. Naomi didn’t have to worry about unlocking any of the doors and waking sleeping family, she was in charge of lock duty tonight and made sure to leave the back window open.

She didn’t have a plan really, she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to do or what she would do if she actually ran into one of them. All she knew was that she had to get out of that house, alone and explore things. She had an idea that her parents might have the wrong idea about them, or at least she hoped they did. There was something about the mystery behind them that pulled her closer to them. Namoi wanted to know everything about them if she could, talk to one! She had a pretty rose colored idea about the Vampires and she could only hope it was true. Quietly climbing out of the window she knew there was no turning back now. A loud clap of thunder erupted just as she closed the window, she took it as a sign…mother nature was trying to help conceal her sneaking out.

Naomi took one last glance through the glass and into her dark house before pulling her hood up over her head and taking off into the night. What she would find, who she would encounter, the dangers she’d face…it was up to the night and she was excited to see what it had in store for her.

[Rayfire]

Heavy droplets and a overcast sky made for a sea of dark streets except for the few islands of light the remaining street lights provided. From such a dark ally a dozen pairs of bright crimson red eyes peeked out at a fleeing figure. The beautiful figure has bright crimson red hair that sticks out, a bright skin tone and a scent that made it impossible to not know she's a human. 1 vampire peeled off from the group heading towards her while the others quickly made their way towards the house.

The 11 vampires in their rush to get to the front door didn't pay any attention to the sound of heavy boots slowly approaching. 1 vampire had just broken the handle on the door when the others turn around to the sound of footfalls that stopped right behind them. After turning they noticed a tall priest standing behind them. The vampires collectively took a moment to react as their brains was processing just who this figure is.

"For you are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."
The priest said with a strong irish accent as the vampires continued to take in the mans appearance. the man looked like a Priest as he is wearing priest robes with embroidered crosses and white gloves. In his hands the man even carried a bible however what dis-swayed the vampires from believing him to be just a Priest is the large sword he carries horizontally on his back. Not to mention the rumors of a Priest armed with such a sword. The churches weapon they called him. Their was even a bounty out for the Inquisitor. With his words the priest closes his bible and draws his sword.

--------------------------
Meanwhile the single vampire continued stalking the red haired girl unaware of his friends predicament. He carefully watched the red head as he closed in on his prey. He made sure to move in fast and smooth with a vampires grace as he leaped across roof tops. Finally he arrived at a point where he could gracefully land right in front of her and did just that.

The bright blood red eyes would stare at Noami with a sinister smile on his face. The vampire was dressed in normal human civilian clothes that would remind one of a hipster. Everything about the vampire would radiated a aura of danger from his unruly hair, to his disheveled shirt and pants, to the nose and mouth piercings. Despite his looks when the figure speaks his voice is soft almost beautiful and at odds with the rest of him. "Miss are you lost? It's dangerous here at night especially in this weather. Please let allow me to escort you home."

[Dire Hoef]

『CO-POST; Mystress & Hoef』

Once he took his seat, and took a drink of the finest blood this woman had to offer, she had finally spoken to him; powerful and expressionless. He knew that he had to be extremely careful as to what he was saying concerning the next set of minutes, but that is why they appointed him a consultant of the queen. Precisely are these hidden motives that keep him alive on several different occasions. However, he wasn’t going to dilly-dally on such small psychological matters. He spoke plainly, and without wavering. “I’ve come to you tonight, of all nights, in light of recent events that have been brought to the League’s attention.” He’d pull up from the bottom of his mask to reveal the disheveled, dried, corpse of what was a once a normal vampyre so that he can take a sip of the drink she had prepared for her and him.

After taking the drink, and licking his cracked lips, he’d breath out a small sigh of refreshment. It had been a little over a couple hours since he had his last feed, but to drink something of this refinement was a blissful godsend. However, details aside, he continued his tactless briefing. “The League has come to possess startling information when referring to the Lycans and the London Maulings.” He pulled a letter from out his back-pocket and had set it down on the small table in front of him. “My agents have come to discern that a pack of lycans have been sporadically moving closer and closer to london over the past week, and that they seem to harbor basic intelligence that we haven’t anticipated before. However, we only assume that that basic intelligence is an alpha, which were only accounted for as a myths among us vampyres, ordering the rest of the pack to move their hunting sessions closer and closer to london. Our only real lead is that they’ve been using the underground sewer system as their means of traveling undetected until now. I have sent for Agent Orange to initiate the Null Moon Initiative as my response to this whole affair, but that’s not all my Queen.” He waited, letting it all sink before continuing.

As the Watcher spoke, Malia gazed off to the side. She stared at nothing in particular, focusing solely on processing the information being brought before her. “These creatures are causing more and more trouble.” A scowl marked her face as the disgust showed in the wrinkling of her nose. “First the ridiculous accusations from that irritating human, and now this.” She scoffed. “No matter.” This she whispered to herself as though reassuring herself that this would not continue to be a stepping stone in her path.

She turned towards the man in front of her at this point, her posture hardly shifting an inch as she delicately raised her own glass and smelled it, thoroughly enjoying the bittersweet scent. All the while, her eyes never wavered in power, nor did they leave the Watcher, even for a moment. The glass shifted down from her face, though it was still in a position to be enjoyed. “The Initiative is too weak,” she said. “It’s designed to eradicate these creatures discreetly and without any mercy, correct?” There was a subtle pause as Malia sipped from her glass.

“To be discreet is to be useless. It’ll be a handicap to us, plain and simple. It might cause the lycans to attack us? Good. Let them come to us, on our own grounds, where we are strong in numbers and power. The humans? By directly eradicating these pathetic creatures for all to see, we are destroying the very thing those humans have accused us of. As for our own race, if they want to protect those things, then they should be eradicated along with them.

“If it causes fear, all the better. Fear is as much use to us in this fractured world as omniscience.” Her eyes burned with a hatred for the situation. Not for the trouble it had caused her race, but for the trouble it had caused her specifically.

‘As merciless as can be,’ he thought as he let her words permeate the air around him, ‘Though it’s not like I haven’t thought of leaving the discreet affairs out of the equation and slaughtering those creatures where they stand. However, this is more complicated than simply finding them and eradicating them. There’s someone pulling the strings and I want to know who..’

Once she was finished speaking, he shifted his position only slightly to show to the Queen that he stood firmly on the matter regarding the lycans. “If I am may interject,” he said plainly, “The reason why we’ve kept this matter strictly within the upper echelons of the C.D.G.B and the League was because of the political tension between us and the humans. However, that political tension has dissolved. So I can see your need for exemplifying the lycans to the humans. Though we will need to deal with the bulk of them. If we decide to make our lycan eradications known to the public, those that have some semblance of intelligence will use this to make leaps and bounds through our already iron curtain. Defense of London and you, my Queen, is important. By allowing those feral beasts anywhere near inner-city London we would be risking the sanctity of the communities that were set up here post-occupation. We’d be turning London, and surrounding provinces, into warzones. And I’d like to avoid that at all cost.” His cold expression linking with the Queen’s creating a friction that was always present during these visits.

“War.” Malia smirked at the utterance of the word, remembering the death and destruction of the previous war between humans and vampires. Blood had become commonplace rather than a delicacy during that time. However, as she smirked, her hand also tightened around her glass as tension marred her perfect posture. Noticing this, she placed her glass on the table before her, regaining her composure within the second. Despite her image of aptness towards war, Malia also understood how detrimental war could be for the land and population.

“If we ignore the route of war,” she began, “then we should penetrate their forces, destroy them from the center. Continue the eradication, but also send in several spies to different groups and allow them to work their way up through the ranks to the leader. We have some shapeshifters, if I remember correctly. Use them.” She paused, allowing this idea to permeate the air.

“During this time, if they should have to prove their worth, then they have permission to slaughter any unranked vampire and any human they come across without discrimination. We’re overpopulating as it is. A small decrease wouldn’t do us harm.” Now, she watched the Watcher closely, studying his every shift. She did not have his level of perception, but she had still trained her senses due to the numerous attacks on her and her mansion in the past.

Her unbeknownst tension was not lost on the Watcher. He had an idea of what was going through that head of hers, but he did not want to jump to conclusions just wait. He wanted to see what was really under the mental hood. But, he’d have to wait for the time being. So when she was finished speaking, the Watcher gave a small, disgruntled, sigh as he played his part. “Population control is part of our policies, but I will not lie that war is a good form of population control. However, it would be detrimental to our already plummeting food stocks. The more vampyres that are ‘born’,” he does air-quotes, “The more our food stocks suffer. We will need to find another option of controlling the amount of vampyres there are in Greater Britain and in London alone.”

He shifted his position to one that seemed to directly agree with her but harbored doubts on her motives for doing so, “For now. I’ll have my agents look into other alternatives to population control as well as infiltrating Parliament. However, there is one last urgent matter that needs to be addressed. It has something to do with humanity and the power that was bestowed upon us.”

Patience was a virtue, but it was a virtue that was unknown to Malia. The general chatter between herself and the Watcher was wearing on her. She turned away from him, almost as though ignoring him, but in reality, her attention was still strong. She just needed something else to focus on in addition to his words. As such she focused on the decorations on the wall, especially the paintings. She payed attention to the different pigments in the picture as the Watcher rambled on.

She sighed softly as he assured her he would look into population control before continuing to mention his next topic.

“Humanity and our power?” she mused. “ Continue.”

“Some of my agents have been digging into the origins of our power,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “We’ve uncovered a shrine to the north that the Scotts have been trying to hide for the past few centuries, but had been discovered some three or four weeks ago. It seems the shrine was dedicated to a Celtic goddess. But, we’re currently unsure of the name, however some of the League and the C.D.G.B suggest that this shrine is our first clue into the powers bestowed upon mortals. That also poses a question to our Queen, ‘did you have knowledge of this’?”

His hollowed eyes wouldn’t twitch if it meant giving an ounce of pressure upon her without making it seem like he was directly attacking her with a visceral mind game. He attempted to dig at her thoughts; hoping to drum up some sort of abled response that would clue him in on her true thoughts on the matter. As he did this he slowly stood to his feet, exercising the reason the population, as well as the C.D.G.B, called him the Devout Watcher (in terms of public opinion he was only third to the Reapers and then the Queen herself).

“Be careful, Watcher,” Malia said, noticing him stand up in her peripheral. From the tone of his voice to his body language, she could tell he was trying to read her for answers. “Your attempt at establishing any form of control over me could very well be misinterpreted as a threat, and you know how I respond to threats.”

She paused, considering what she knew of the topic. “I do believe I’ve heard of a story about this before. I think it was a children’s story I once was told. I think–” She paused, closing her eyes to concentrate. “I think it went something like this:

“A fair maiden once appeared by moonlight before the world, a goddess of unprecedented power. Like a silver thread she spoke, and like a sharpened needle, she crafted. She saw the world and wondered at the ways of man. She felt the urge to raise them higher above the world, and so she gave each person a little piece of herself. They who had the strongest light shining in their hearts received a larger piece than those who held darkness.

“Soon after, she disappeared, meant to be forgotten by most. She left to watch the world cultivate its new power, and soon enough, this magic became a way of life. However, she… she…”

Malia once again paused, as though in deep contemplation. “There’s more than that, I’m sure,” she muttered. “She came, she gave us power, she disappeared, and then she…”

“Hm. No matter.” She reopened her eyes at this point, looking towards the Watcher. “It’s an old story that used to be quite popular. It seems to have fallen out of common knowledge with everything that has happened. I’m sure if you hunted down some of the older vampires, they might know the rest. I doubt it holds much of a clue, though. I’m not even sure if it’s the truth behind our power’s origin.”

He released a deathly sigh from his lipless mouth, “Some of my agents working on the assignment believe that the power we were given was derived from this ‘goddess’. However most of the League believes that our powers, as well as our race, manifested biologically. They have ordered some of our leading scientists to investigate more into the origin of powers on that front whilst maintaining a sense of skepticism. Though my intentions remain clear my Queen,” he slowly began to step away from the Queen, towards the very edge of the paintings that line the wall, “Even if my words speak as though they were iced blades penetrating your proverbial cranium, I do not mean to leap bounds that were so dutiful laid out before me. I keep to my side, but I know when my Queen falls into a contemplative slumber. Much like your Reapers.” He’d idly glance to the darkness of the chamber and give a simple “ha” of acknowledgement.

“Have you ever wondered what it meant to be a ‘Devout Watcher’? Why I was only given a title and not a name upon completing my First Song?” He had his back to her, but keeping his thoughts on her. “A boy, no more than twelve, took the reigns of the Holy Trinity in hopes of being absolved of his sins. However, what he didn’t know was that his priest was one of bloodsoaked innocence and made the young boy dance the sweet tune of death until he was of age to sing his own tune. Or so the story goes of I.”

“Frivolously telling stories is enjoyable in company,” he said as he stepped past the seat and towards the door, “But I shall be on my way. And oh, tell Michael that I’ll be awaiting his presence at the C.D.G.B office. He’s got some paperworks to do on your behalf. It seems the humans want answers, and he’s going to have to come up with them. Cao.”

He left the chamber before anything further could be said, and as he did this he quietly walked down the vacant hallway to where he would find himself in the foyer once again; seeing that storm was still raging on outside.

He’d breathe out a sigh of discontent before donning his umbrella and exiting the main house; the “servants” saying their goodbyes to the Watcher.

‘We’ll need to talk further my Queen, but it seems I’ve overspent my welcome.’

[CryoLilly]

"Oh, I try to keep the place clean," She waved off the comment about her library as she mopped up the spilled wine and used the rag to sweep the crystalline shards into the dustpan, "But I could never bear to pay for a cleaning service, nor would I allow them in here, and I've just been busy at work and all. I've found some incredibly interesting articles on forging and armor in ancient times. There was, in fact, one variety of sword the Vikings used-" She stopped abruptly, "But you don't want to hear about that, sorry rambling again." She dropped the soiled rag into a trash bin and emptied the dustpan into it, quickly swooping to drop it in the kitchen sink before returning with two, unbroken, wine glasses. She poured both glasses, cradling one while passing the other off to the Agent. "This is a nice 15-year-old Cabernet, I have probably half a case in the cellar and have been enjoying them quite a bit."

She finally floated to a rest, lounging comfortably in one of the armchairs with a grace in startling contrast with her earlier erratic movements. She fixed her glasses which had become askew, pushing them up her nose and straightening them. "I have had some of these books since my early childhood. Most are at least fifty years old, though some are relics from my grandfather. I wish I had more time just to sit and read them all. I really should bring on some new hires at the library, but it's almost always been just me and I do like it that way. Besides, they'd probably notice the... how should I put this? Unchanging nature of my features?" She jumped slightly at a sudden clap of thunder. She gingerly picked up a book left open on the coffee table and snapped it closed, scanning the shelf for the proper place. As she found it, the book flew from her hands and carefully slid back into place. Her fingers idly drummed at the arm of her chair as Elise turned her gaze back to her guest.

"Now, I know these social calls are far more by order than by choice just as you know that I think it's absolutely ridiculous and that I am certain nobody will attack me and that even if someone did, I can defend myself well enough. Besides, I know how to contact the police. However, that does not mean that we cannot make these interesting." She smiled, the fangs she so rarely showed glinting in the candlelight. "I propose a trade of information. After all, we both deal in information. Your 'organization' in the gathering thereof, and myself in the cultivation of the same. Recent events have taken quite the interesting turn what with these... 'maulings' and I would like to know more about them than rumors and what I have gathered from extrapolation of said hearsay. So, why don't you tell me what you know, and I will tell you what I can about what that may mean. I'm sure your reverent leader has his own opinions, but perhaps my perspective could be enlightening. What do you say?" She lifted her glass to her lips, searching eyes never leaving the man to whom she spoke.

[Dire Hoef]

"Oh, I try to keep the place clean," She waved off the comment about her library as she mopped up the spilled wine and used the rag to sweep the crystalline shards into the dustpan, "But I could never bear to pay for a cleaning service, nor would I allow them in here, and I've just been busy at work and all. I've found some incredibly interesting articles on forging and armor in ancient times. There was, in fact, one variety of sword the Vikings used-" She stopped abruptly, "But you don't want to hear about that, sorry rambling again."

He held up a hand in protest, "None taken, I do like your ramblings." This was all he could manage in that instant.

"This is a nice 15-year-old Cabernet, I have probably half a case in the cellar and have been enjoying them quite a bit."

He'd bow his head as he accepted the woman's offering of Carbernet with no real remarks or comments. He instead returned to his investigation of the bookshelf hearing Ms. Crosshaven's comments on said bookshelf.

"I have had some of these books since my early childhood. Most are at least fifty years old, though some are relics from my grandfather. I wish I had more time just to sit and read them all. I really should bring on some new hires at the library, but it's almost always been just me and I do like it that way. Besides, they'd probably notice the... how should I put this? Unchanging nature of my features?"

A clap of thunder came and interrupted his thoughts. He was honestly intrigued by the age of some of the books, but not particularly the content. Agent Grey wasn't a book reader by any means. All he ever read were educational books, and thus hadn't developed a fascination for the fictitious. However, book reading aside, something had caught him off guard; causing him to choke on his wine.

Now, I know these social calls are far more by order than by choice just as you know that I think it's absolutely ridiculous and that I am certain nobody will attack me and that even if someone did, I can defend myself well enough. Besides, I know how to contact the police. However, that does not mean that we cannot make these interesting." She smiled, the fangs she so rarely showed glinting in the candlelight. "I propose a trade of information. After all, we both deal in information. Your 'organization' in the gathering thereof, and myself in the cultivation of the same. Recent events have taken quite the interesting turn what with these... 'maulings' and I would like to know more about them than rumors and what I have gathered from extrapolation of said hearsay. So, why don't you tell me what you know, and I will tell you what I can about what that may mean. I'm sure your reverent leader has his own opinions, but perhaps my perspective could be enlightening. What do you say?"

'Shit..' That thought crossed his mind as he, vainly, reasserted himself with his refined stature. Although, knowing that he was pulled into a verbal trap, he couldn't back down from this and try to switch the subject. He knew that he'd be dealing with a woman that would press the matter until he couldn't fight against it.

So, he'd groan realizing this fact before finally turning to her and seeing her eyes search through him like a sniper searched for his target. It pierced him, it pierced his soul.

His expression hardened to someone who was going to commit murder.

"The maulings," he paused as he took a sip of his wine, the wind howling in the background, "As you may know, were a series of connected cases of fatal animal attacks on humans. However the B.P.A leading investigation team, led by a man named Kayden Armstrong, concluded that these cases were not of animals, but of lycans." A crash of thunder and a flash of lightening came moments later, but had not fazed him; he, instead, continued speaking. "Armstrong and his team pointed their fingers to the C.D.G.B as the guilty ones. Of course the C.D.G.B tried to damage control to keep the situation from getting any worse, but it only got worse because of one human: Hilton Blackwood. Humanity's Serine here in London. His support against the C.D.G.B only made the political climate that much more hostile, but the League believes that this was all a ruse to create this hostile atmosphere." He'd start pacing around the room keeping his voice firm and steady as he spoke.

"You see, lycans aren't incredibly bright creatures and have always stuck to their instincts. But, for them to come so close to London is a problem in and of itself. Lycan packs are usually secluded out in the countryside, and for them to come to London only means that there's something leading them here. We speculate that the lycan packs are being lured, or even ordered, here by someone or something. Many ideas are being tossed around such as an alpha, but the main idea is that the C.D.G.B are using the lycans to finally further their plans. What might be their plans?" He inquired as he came to stop in front of Crosshaven, "To wage war against the humans. We have the population advantage, and we even have the Reapers. What's not to say that C.D.G.B won't instigate a war between vampyres and humans? It's a perfectly plausible plan, if not a bloody one."

He takes a sip of his wine, and moves back over to the bookshelf. "This information is strictly confidential and I will hope for you to uphold it. After all, should the C.D.G.B or the League find anything I just told you, they will certainly kill me and then you."